"It all started when Banshee approached me several months back to infiltrate the X-Men," the platinum blonde woman clad in white leather began. She flipped open the silver zippo in her hand, rolled back the flint wheel, and allowed the flame that came from the lighter to ignite the thin and elongated cigarette hanging from her lips.

A wicked grin suddenly crept up on the woman's icy demeanor as she took a drag from her cigarette and leaned back into her large backed, rolling office chair. Musing to her audience, she exhaled a cloud of smoke and confessed, "Suffice to say, I didn't much like the idea and it made me quite moody for the entire stay."

Her audience was made up of both a man and a woman.

The man's name was Scott Summers, who stood tall and lithe with brown hair, whose most distinguishing feature was a gold visor with a ruby quartz center covering his eyes. He wore a pair of black combat boots, black fatigue pants, black fingerless gloves, and a long sleeve black shirt with a small yellow 'X' on the left breast, the sleeves rolled up.

The woman was his once estranged wife, Jean Grey-Summers. She was about half a foot shorter then Scott with long, fire red hair tied back into a ponytail and piercing, emerald green eyes. Her clothes were similar to his, only she wasn't wearing a pair of fingerless gloves and her shirt had short sleeves.

And neither one appeared to appreciate Emma Frost's brand of humor.

"The problem was I didn't much like the idea of being in a federal prison for the rest of my life, either," Emma explained as she averted her eyes from the two, examining the silver zippo in her hand. Her eyes were transfixed in the diamond encrested in the center of the lighter as she continued, "In exchange for my duties, the Byron Agency wiped my criminal record clean and have even advised me of some... very beneficial stock opportunities that'll help rebuild my lost business empire."

Emma looked back up to Scott and Jean, more-so towards Jean, her icy blue eyes locked with the redheaded woman's emerald greens. "Could you really blame me for jumping at the offer?" she asked, taking another drag from her cigarette. Jean narrowed her eyes and leaned into the other side of Emma's ask, palms firmly against its edge.

"Do you mean can we blame you for not having a conscience?" she asked in disgust, her brow growing firm and tense. "For having complete and utter disregard for others? For possibly selling out your own kind and for not accepting responsibility for your crimes and not staying in prison?" she said before pausing and looking over Emma's stone cold, unmoved composure. "Yes. Yes we can blame you."

Jean leaned off of the desk and took a step back away from Emma, shaking her head. She turned away from Emma and walked over to the massive set of windows overlooking the former Massachusetts Academy that made up an entire wall to the right of Emma's desk. Emma stared into the back of the woman's head, narrowing her eyes.

Wanting to break the tension, Scott raised a fist to his mouth and cleared his throat quietly. Emma turned her attention to him and raised her eyebrows, as if  inquiring whether or not he had something to say. His response was followed with a gleam of light flashing across his ruby quartz visor.

"You were saying, Emma?" Scott asked simply enough. She nodded to him cordially and leaned back into her chair, crossing her legs.

"The Xavier Protocols are, by nature, a very unique and valuable commodity," Emma continued as she flicked the ashes from her cigarette into an ashtray on her desk and focusing her attention on Scott. "While various government and military organizations are working on their own mutant eradication methods, no one person had as much extensive knowledge and information on mutants as Charles Xavier.

"His protocols for dealing with unruly mutants would be more potent then anything any one person or government could create, no matter the methods, within the next twenty years," Emma said, each word spoken ever so precise and some would say there was a hint of admiration in her cold eyes as she spoke. "Xavier dedicated his life to learning about - and understanding - mutants the world over. While men like Nathaniel Essex have tried to succeed him, Xavier's work has been by far more brilliant."

Emma found herself lost in thought for a moment, considering the source depth of her words. When she turned her attention back to Scott and Jean, she realized there was one lingering question she hadn't answered. Even though her telepathy had been back in working order for some time, Jean was blocking her from their minds. It didn't matter, though. She knew they had been waiting for it.

"I stole them after the Shadow King's 'X-Men' attacked the mansion and disabled all of the security parameters," Emma stated openly. "Furthermore, even when the power came back on, the whole lot of you left the place in shambles."

"It'd have been the perfect opportunity," Scott admitted as he crossed his arms over his chest, but he wasn't convinced just yet. "Jean doesn't make it a point to read people's minds without permission, but she still can't help but pick up on malicious thoughts from time to time without helping it. How come she never knew?"

"My diamond form is immune to telepathy, which is one of the reasons why the Byron Agency chose me," Emma replied and she took one last drag from her cigarette before she put it out in the ashtray. "It's why Jean never saw anything coming until the last moment when Apollyon and her confronted Addison and the Brotherhood.

"You have to believe me, though," she pleaded in the most dignified way that could muster. "I never wanted to hurt anyone the way I did or expose other mutants to being vulnerable to the Byron Agency. They would have forced me one way or another, anyway - Sean's working for them, isn't he?"

"Nice little sob story you have there," Scott said with a steady nod, but then his head suddenly shook side to side in ill repute. "I don't think I buy it, though. Why would Banshee betray us after all of this time?" he asked as he approached the desk Emma sat at and eyed the woman from behind his visor. "Sean's been an ally to the X-Men for a very long time now. Why would he go along with the Byron Agency's games if it came down to something as serious as this?"

"Much to my chagrin, your wife is likely the most powerful telepathy on the planet right now," Emma countered as she leaned in over the desk, nodded to Jean, and pointed to her own temple. "She's in my head right now, Mr. Summers. I can feel her. Even with my skills, wouldn't lying be a little hard to conceal from her?"

"I couldn't say," Scott remarked as he took a few steps back away from the desk. He glanced to his wife, who still was standing at the windows with her back to the two and her arms crossed. He nodded his head in Emma's direction, asking to the redheaded telepath he went home to every night, "How are things going in there, Jean?"

"Well..." Jean started to say to her husband and she turned her head fully in Emma's direction, revealing a glowing red Phoenix avatar over her left eye. "I'm a little hard pressed for metaphors at the moment, but think of it like this. Her and I are playing a little game of telepathic Chess in her mind right now," she explained, unfolding her arms as she began to slowly walk back towards Emma and the desk she sat at. Jean's eyes lit up briefly. "And like the best Chess players, I can tell she's trying to plan ten moves ahead of each single move she actually makes."

Before Emma could respond with even the slightest of quips, Scott broke in with a bit of a sneer. "I like to plan eleven moves ahead, myself."

To her surprise, the edge of Emma's desk suddenly shot backwards into her stomach and forced her back into the wall behind her. She gasped before the blow caused her to fall breathless and she found herself wedged between her oak desk and the wall behind her. Telekinetic flames danced across the desk, rippling passively.

"Sorry, Emma," Jean said with a mischievous smile. She telekinetically pulled the desk back into place and gave Emma a little wink as the woman slumped down the wall, gasping for air as she fell to her hands and knees. "I just had to break your concentration for a moment so I could get past your defenses without all of the bull."

"You always did have a way with finesse," Emma scoffed in a fit of coughing and wheezing. Ruffled, she weakly gripped the edge of her desk and moved back up to her feet, eying Jean the entire time.

"What's the verdict?" Scott asked of his wife as Emma took hold of her chair and rolled it back into place at the desk, sitting down.

"She's telling the truth," Jean stated matter-of-factly as she turned back to her husband. She shrugged and added, "Well, at least she thinks she is, anyway."

"Do you think you could find anything else of use in her mind?" Scott implored further. His wife's eyes lit up at the question.

"Maybe if you let me rough her up some more," Jean suggested with a snicker.

"Christ!" Emma barked out in repugnance. Scott and Jean looked her way as she flung her arms in the air. "I told you that I'm more then willing to tell you everything I know. I want to help! What else do you want?"

"Okay, Emma," Scott said with a hint of satisfaction in his voice as he stepped back up to the front of Emma's desk and put his hands on his hips. "If that's the case, I want you to give me some answers that'll help us find some more answers."

"Where is the Byron Agency located at?" Jean asked in a calm and cool tone, straight and to the point. Emma had to resist the urge to chuckle a little at the question.

"Heh, well, that's a little bit harder to answer..." Emma said slyly as she leaned back into her chair. "I mean, where aren't they located?"

Scott and Jean glanced back at each other tiredly, unamused. Engulfed with telekinetic flame, the chair Emma was sitting in suddenly flew out from underneath her and she let out an exasperated yelp as she fell backwards onto the floor.

"Um, Agent Cassidy?" a somewhat fearful voice asked. He was Hollis Hodges, a 24-year-old Nebraska native. Dressed in an expensive suit, he was recently acquired by the Byron Agency by pulling a few strings with the FBI. But his question was all but ignored by the average-sized Irishman who stood in front of a series of two-way glass windows.

Sean Cassidy rubbed his fatigued face over the rust-colored stubble on his chin as he watched a small hairy man resist his restraints. The cell was covered in adamantium, so it was doubtful Wolverine would ever escape. Still, the man once known as Banshee fought alongside him--and would never want to be against him.

On the other side of the glass, Logan perked his ears and his nose rose into the air as he tossed his mangled restraints to the cold tile floor of the cell. It was a tricky game the Agency was playing. They wanted Wolverine alive, but to do that, they couldn't inhibit his powers lest he succumb to adamantium poisoning...which also meant they couldn't sedate him.

For long.

Sean walked up to the glass and pressed a green button. A yellow mist suddenly vented into the cell. An unholy roar erupted from the man's throat as Logan's claws burst from his hands, but were quickly sheathed as he lost consciousness.

Agent Cassidy finally acknowledged the man behind him, "Th' next time ye interrupt me while observin' Prisoner 181, I'll make ye into a deaf guy with a splitting headache. Didn't ye read the Protocol? That man will kill all of us if he gets out."

"Sorry, sir," Hodges said as he cleared his throat. He bit his lip, "But you requested my services. It sounded urgent."

"That it is," Sean said as he began to walk down the corridor of similar-looking cells. He passed a white-skinned woman restrained and heavily sedated. Her powers were extremely dangerous and could be an even bigger threat than Wolverine if released. Domino just had a sense of femininity and grace to her violence. Hodges followed his superior as he glanced at each of the prisoners.

"If I may ask, sir," Hodges wondered, "why are the others being kept alive? Didn't we only want--"

"That's classified. Even for me," Sean shot back. He sighed, "But from what I gather, it was more of a personal favor t' me." He stopped and looked at a teenaged Asian girl as she simply sat in the corner of her cell, a sense of suppressed rage in her eyes. Jubilee was always a firecracker. A prized student, Sean thought.

Sean kept walking to the right and came upon a cell completely filled with a strange green chemical and a blonde-haired man floating in the midst of it. Although sedated and breathing through an oxygen tank, the chemicals of the cell counteracted the bio-chemical blasting field Cannonball was known for. His daughter fought alongside Sam; it would be a shame to disappoint her.

Next, Sean finally paused on the next cell, from which screams of pain came from. He muttered, "Emma Frost has been talkin'."

Hodges nodded, "I'll send a strike team to--"

Sean held up his hand without taking his eyes of the screaming prisoner, "No use. The X-Men are involved."

Hodges gulped as he tried to suggest another alternative, but all he could come up with was, "Oh...shit. I didn't think they were that proactive, I mean...I thought their intervention in Washington was sort of a last hurrah."

"Hardly," Sean retorted with cynicism. "But don't worry. We've got our own force to deal with them. Three special agents and two freelancers. Two of the agents are some of my former students. I want you to send them in."

Hodges nodded, "What should their orders be? To do with the X-Men, I mean?"

Cassidy lowered his head as he leaned his hand up against the glass of Monet St. Croix's cell. Various high-frequency lasers and adamantium-vibranium knives were probing and cutting through her nigh-invulnerable skin at almost every nerve center on her body. The Algerian teen bravely stood up to the pain, but she'd break eventually. They all did.

"Tell 'em to do what they must," Sean ordered.

Washington, D.C.

Robert Kelly never dreamed about sitting behind the desk Thomas Jefferson once used in the Oval Office. Surprisingly, even after the Juggernaut's rampage through the old White House during the riots, it was one of the few pieces of furniture that remained intact. Regardless of the nostalgia, it didn't change the fact that a barrage of reporters hounded him as he tried to work himself into the role of Commander In Chief.

"...who will be your vice president?"

"...what is your stance on the mutant situation?"

"...are you still affiliated with the Friends of Humanity?"

"...who will replace your seat in the Senate?"

"...will your Cabinet remain the same?"

"Ladies and Gentlemen!" a firm female voice yelled. The reporters stopped their jabbering, but a few photographers still snapped photos of the visibly tired President. Helena Weaver shook her black hair out of her green eyes and continued, "If you will please step outside with me to the press conference room, I'll address any and all questions regarding President Kelly's administration."

Although the reporters had somewhat of a political bias on both ends of the spectrum based on their "parent" news stations, they willingly piled out of the Oval Office, leaving the President alone with two secret service agents standing guard behind him.

Before his aide stepped outside to deal with the press, Robert called out, "Thanks, Ms. Weaver."

Helena turned back before she exited fully and looked at President Kelly with her piercing green eyes, "You have important papers to sign. This isn't exactly something we want public yet."

The door shut, leaving the President somewhat on edge. He looked down at his desk and saw a series of papers littered about. Apparently, it was something George W. Bush was either going to veto or compromise with in Congress. Based on current events, part of the former senator from Massachusetts knew that he didn't have much of a choice. The Registration Act would never work in America...he knew that. Robert looked out the window at the cloudy mass in the sky. After a moment's pause, he signed the bills.

From that moment on, government-sanctioned Sentinels were legalized in the United States.

"NO! Don't! Don't!" Monet screamed as an adamantium needle attached to a robotic appendage punctured her in the neck, through the sternocledomastoid, just below the jawbone. The Algerian teen tensed up as she struggled to free herself from her restraints, but seemingly couldn't.

Sean Cassidy stood silently as he painfully watched his former student go through agony. He sighed in defeat, "Alright, stop it!"

"No," came a voice from behind. "Continue the procedure."

Sean clenched his teeth, "Damn it, what did ye put in that needle? Some kind o' muscle depressant? She cannae even break free! I know she could if the lass wanted tae!" He approached the person cloaked by shadow, but a gesture stopped Cassidy's advance.

"There is nothing in the needle. It's just a resilience test," the voice spoke calmly. "And proving my suspicions..."

"What?" Sean gasped as he turned his attention back onto the female prisoner. Monet continued to struggle, but something began to happen. It almost seemed like her skin began to shrink. As if for a brief moment, in one simultaneous flicker, the molecules of her body tensed up and hardened. She gasped one last breath of air before she turned into a being of crimson organic diamond with opaque, cyan eyes.

"My God...," Sean breathed in horror. He shook his head, "The Protocols said that Penance was just a shell that Monet was trapped in--and her twin sisters merged to create a new Monet...or some such. I never understood that mystical shite."

"It appears the son of Apocalypse and Jean Grey had an agenda of his own. The girl thought to be Monet St. Croix was Yvette Delareese -- Penance -- all along," the voice pondered with frustration and intrigue. "Formulating this facade extended beyond impersonating Scott Summers, whilst keeping the real one locked away with Ororo Munroe..."

Sean bit his lip, "Which means...what? The real Monet is alive somewhere?"

"Perhaps," said the voice, "we will need to schedule a meeting with Ambassador Cartier St. Croix."

"Very mature," Emma observed as she sat up from the floor of the former headmistress's office once again. The telekinetic flame that had been gripping her chair dissipated and she lifted it back up right, taking her seat again. She averted her gaze from her two interrogators and ran a hand through her long, platinum blonde locks of hair as she muttered of the redhead across from her, "Benign little twat..."

"Havin' a hard time figuring out who's the bad cop and who's the badder cop, Em?" a familiar voice asked, abruptly catching Emma's attention. A man of average height and build walked into the room with a leisurely sway to his step.

While his clothes were similar to those of Scott and Jean's, Bobby Drake was ever the individualist. His fatigues were actually those more along the lines of snow camouflage, his sleeves were rolled up like Scott's, and he wore a black necklace with a small crystal hanging off of it. Somewhere in his knowing smile she saw a sense of delight.

"That's hardly appropriate, Robert," a woman's voice, that with a light African accent, chided Bobby passively. From behind him came an African woman with unnaturally white hair, her uniform also similar to her teammates'. Ororo Munroe stood at Bobby's side, tilted her head sideways in his direction, and she frowned slightly, raising her firm and commanding brow. Bobby shrugged with a playful grin.

"We found the Aurora, guys," Bobby said as he and Ororo turned their attention to Scott and Jean. He cocked his head to the side and wiped an imaginary collection of sweat from his brow. "Thank ya lawd, it's still in one piece."

"Good to hear," Scott said with a steady nod and uncrossed his arms. He walked over to the open doorway and glanced down the hallway, raising a brow behind his thin, gold visor. "Rogue and Beast still searching the perimeter?"

"Yes," Ororo confirmed as Scott shut the door to the office and walked back over to Jean's side. She asked, "How have things been going with Emma?"

"She seems to be more or less cooperative, but I can't tell for sure if she's really telling the truth," Jean broke in with the shake of her head. Emma rolled her eyes, seemingly annoyed by the X-Woman seemingly talking about her like she wasn't in the room.

"Perhaps we should just take her back to the mansion and use Cerebro to scan her mind?" Ororo asked suggestively. Scott and Jean traded looks, Scott gripping his chin as he thought over the proposal. Ororo continued, "It would be less hassle, I imagine."

"That's not a bad idea," Bobby added with a firm nod of approval and he gripped his chin thoughtfully, not at all dissimilar from Scott's gesture. "Y'know, maybe then we can find out once and for all if she ever checked out our junk," he said as he waved a finger back and forth between himself and Ororo.

Scott and Jean traded looks again, though this time more out of morbid curiosity then thoughtful consideration. Ororo, the bravest of the four others, cleared her throat and dared venture into the train of thought that was Bobby Drake's.

"Errhm... 'junk?'" she asked.

"Yeah, like, when she possessed us..." Bobby explained simply and looked back and forth between Scott and Jean, seeing that they were uncertain. He looked to Ororo and gestured below the belt line of their uniforms. "Don't you wanna know if she ever looked at your junk, too?" Bobby asked with a degree of sincerity. "I mean, she'd probably have to use a mirror in some places with you, but y'know..."

Jean, Emma, and Ororo looked to Scott with raised brows and dumbfounded eyes, as if wanting to know what the X-Men's leader thought of Bobby's little 'suggestion.'

"Uh, I guess I'd want to know if she possessed me..." Scott was the first to admit as he rubbed the back of his neck and gave a meager little shrug. Jean and Emma shook their heads simultaneously, while Ororo chuckled under her breath. "Anyways... Think we can focus here, Bobby?"

Bobby was about to lightheartedly assure Scott that was all he would hear from him, but the sudden flickering of the lights - on and off, light and then darkness - cut him off. The five looked about themselves quietly, unsure of what was happening, but only for just a moment before the lights had died completely.

"A grown woman with all of your cunning and resources can't seem to pay the electric bill on time, Emma?" Jean asked under her breath, her eyes narrowing as she opened her mind and expanded her telepathy to reach across the abandoned estate grounds. "I'm not getting anything, guys. Not even Marie or -- "

Jean's report died in her throat. The nearby echoes of heavy foot steps and creaking wood could be heard growing louder and louder. Whoever it was, they were in the hallway just outside of the room and Jean concentrated harder, but she was still unable to detect anything. Scott looked to his wife and nodded, who then projected his thoughts into the minds of Emma and his teammates.

"Keep quiet, everyone."

The foot steps seemed to stop behind the door of the former headmistress' office. Silence fell on the five occupants of the room and Scott waved a hand at Emma, whom then rose from the seat she sat in and backed away to the corner of the office. Another quick telepathic scan by again Jean and now Emma unveiled no conscious thoughts and the infrared scanner in Scott's visor was still offline much as it was earlier.

Suddenly, there was a loud mechanical whine from the other end of the door - almost like the sound of mini-turbines or jet engines. Before the X-Men could contemplate what it was, waves of bullets began to shoot out through the door and the walls at no one in particular, and a maniacal laughter echoed throughout the halls.

"AHAHAHA EAT SHIT AND DIE COCKSUCKERS!!!" a voice yelled as the flurry of bullets continued to rip through the office's hardwood walls and interior.

Phoenix erected a pinkish telekinetic shield to cover her and Cyclops as they ran for the far left end of the room. The shield wasn't able to block out all of the bullets as they sprayed through the room and Cyclops dived behind Emma's hard wood desk, Phoenix following suit. Emma wasn't far from them, crouching down in her diamond form and covering her head, in the corner closest to the desk.

Iceman and Storm had already made it to the far right of the room, where Iceman was concentrating on sheeting the wall the bullets were coming through with ice thick enough to keep the bullets from coming through. He wasn't having much luck, though, as the hot lead was destroying his barrier before he could finish it.

It was only moments after the attack on the X-Men and their scattering that another one would come on them, as if coordinated. The massive windows on the wall opposite of the one being fired through shattered as steel toed combat boots crashed into their glass plates. Both the X-Men and Emma twisted around at the piercing sound of breaking glass, just in time to see a masculine figure swing into the room from a repel line leading up to the estate's roof, and drop down to the office's floor in a crouch.

The X-Men were offered less then a second to glance at the figure's appearance - made up of a ghoulish facial mask with glowing yellow pupils and gray body suit with black body armor - before he took aim at Cyclops and Phoenix with the large rifle in his hands. Only Cyclops would recognize him as the one time gun for hire, Taskmaster.

Phoenix was the first of the X-Men to rise to her feet in response to the new party, and so Taskmaster took aim at her specifically. A stream of electricity sprang from the satellite dish shaped end of his gun, striking Phoenix before she could propel her attack backwards with her telekinesis. She doubled back as her body jolted and convulsed from the ray of electricity being pumped into her, then she sharply collapsed to the office floor with a thud!

Following his entrance, a lanky figure with green skin sprang into the office from the broken windows with a single bound. He landed on his hands and shoeless feet besides Taskmaster, his eyes darting around at his multiple targets.

"Sic 'em, boy!" Taskmaster quipped as he pointed a finger at Iceman and Storm. Toad was on them, taking another leap with his mighty legs in their direction, and spitting globs of snot-colored slime from his mouth at them. Storm was struck in the face and the force sent her head and body reeling back into the floor, and Toad landed on her, planting both feet into her stomach.

Before Iceman could break his concentration in building the ice barrier surrounding them and defend her, two elongated walls of grayish rubber-like substances suddenly shot down from a vent in the ceiling and took hold over his body. He struggled to fight them off, but they were continuing to spread and wrap even more around his form.

Taskmaster, meanwhile, spud around in mid-crouch to face Emma Frost, who had still been backed into the corner of the room in her diamond form. Just as the ghoulish mercenary was about to open fire on her, the dish end of his gun exploded as a beam of red energy ripping through it. Before Taskmaster realized what had happened, another blast of optic energy struck his torso and sent him sprawling to the ground.

"Everybody spread out!" Cyclops shouted as he shuffled up to his feet from the floor and took another aim at Taskmaster, unleashing a barrage of optic blasts on his fallen form.  "Don't let them box us in! Take the fight outside if you have to!"  

{{ Rogue, do you read me? }} a familiar voice asked in the ear of the woman soaring in the skies along the edges of the orchards. Marie Charleston - the X-Woman by the code name of Rogue - was clad in a brown bomber's jacket with the sleeves rolled up, black fatigue pants, and a pair of combat boots. One of her most distinguishing features was her long and wavy auburn hair and her piercing white bangs.

"Loud an' clear, Hanksta," Rogue said into her headset as she descended from her flight along the estate grounds and touched down onto its still rain soaked lawn. She ran a lock of her hair back behind her ear and asked, "What's up, sugah?"

{{ Cerebro's lost Scott and the others' signals, }} Beast said and Rogue hadn't known it, but her eyes went wide in a sudden realization. {{ They're not responding to their radios, either, and it looks like the power has been cut in the upper levels of the school. }}

"Where were they before they dropped off th' radar?" Rogue asked before insisting, "Ah'll go check on 'em right away."

{{ Just a moment there, Rogue, }} Beast spoke up abruptly.

"Yeah?" Rogue asked, catching herself before she was about to take flight.

{{ I can't seem to scan the school's upper levels with infrared, but the lower levels look to be mostly clear of interference. Someone's down there in the control room, where I think the generators are, }} Beast explained, though his tone sedated as if he was distracted by something -- thoughts of his teammates, perhaps. {{ Not only do I want to be able to keep tabs on you, but I don't want you taking on anymore then you can handle until we find out what's going on in there. Much like the others were when Wolverine and Domino's team were lost... we may be the only ones left. }}

"Jesus H. Christ..." Rogue trailed off as she touched her mouth. As much as she wanted to go and help her teammates, Beast had a point. If they were the only ones left, they couldn't let anything happen to them without going for help. She took a deep breath and then nodded to herself surely. "Okay, Hank. Gotcha."

{{ Do you still remember most of the school's layout? }} Beast asked readily.

"Not a whole lot, t'be honest with ya," Rogue answered, shaking her head to herself.

{{ That's fine. Where you're going is fairly easy enough to get to, but I want you to get there as quick as possible, }} Beast advised, his words firm and calculated. {{ Head to the northeast corner of the estate, but do so from outside. The interference is located solely within the walls of the estate, so I'll still be able to keep a lock on you. }}

"Hang tight a sec," Rogue said as she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, concentrating on sifting through her mental catalogue of absorbed powers and personas. When she opened her eyes, she broke into a four hundred mile per hour sprint toward the area of the estate that she needed to reach.  In the wake of her sprint, the grass beneath her feet ripped from its soil and left a trail of brown earth behind her.

In moments Rogue skidded to a stop at the northeast wall of the estate and took another deep breath, the pure and sudden adrenaline rush unsettling her nerves. "Okay, Hank," she said, breathing a bit heavily as she adjusted her headset. "What now?"

{{ From there... make a "doorway" in the wall and -- as fast as you can -- make a run for the elevator at the far end of the room, }} Beast continued to say, his plan unfolding. {{ Don't bother using it, just break through the floor of it and head straight down into the lower levels. I want to limit the radio blackout between us as much as possible. }}

"Alrighty, Hank," Rogue said, her eyes already closed once again. When she opened them, her skin had suddenly shifted to that of a metallic gray and her hair transformed into a jet black shell. She immediately drew her now steel skinned fist back and took aim for the wall before her. "Ah'll radio ya when ah get t' the sub-floors. Marie out."

From there, it only took one swift strike to bring the wall down.

Taskmaster scrambled about as Cyclops fired optic blast after optic blast at him. He took a dive for the remains of his weapon and went into a roll over the office's floor, snatching the gun up by its handle and chucking the remains at the X-Men's leader. Cyclops threw his arms up to block the weapon from hitting his face and knocked it away at the same time, just as Taskmaster came upon him with a right hook.

Cyclops was pushed back from the stronger man's blow, but he wouldn't miss a beat come the second swing. Taskmaster's left fist came at his face, but Cyclops took hold of his attacker's arm and in one fluid motioned wrenched it upwards to expose Taskmaster's torso. It was there Cyclops planted his knee with as much force as he could muster, forcing the wind out of Taskmaster and causing him to slump forward, then be flipped forward onto his back with a deafening thud! as Cyclops wrenched Taskmaster's arm behind his back.

It was those few movements and attacks that told Taskmaster everything he needed to know about his opponent's fighting style. Being breathless and dazed from Cyclops's assault didn't stop him and he struck right as Cyclops tried to leap back and put space between the two of them. Taskmaster's foot shot out and swept Cyclops's legs out from underneath him, this time sending him sprawling out on the floor.

On the other side of the room, a gust of wind shot forth from Storm's body and propelled Toad off of her fallen form, sending him reeling out the window he came in from. Before even gravity could take hold of the green skinned mutant, a thunderous boom! sounded across the estates as a bolt of electricity shot down from the heavens and collided with Toad's body, sending him three stories down with even greater force.

Storm used her sleeve to wipe away the snot-colored slime covering her face before it could harden over her nose and mouth, then took off into a run for the window after Toad. She jumped out of the window as she came upon it and another gust of wind overcame her, this one softening her fall as she descended upon Toad. Though none of the X-Men in the office could tell what happened next, they could hear the roars of thunderbolt after thunderbolt dropping down from the skies onto the estate grounds.

In his ice form, the danger of Iceman suffocating wasn't exactly a big one. However, the elastic sheets of gray that had tightened around his face and body was more then enough to disorient him and keep him off of his toes. Without the ability to concentrate, he was effectively being pushed further and further out of the fight around him, and instinct was taking over. He began flailing about and grappling at the elastic wrappings around him, freezing them with his very touch.

Iceman wasn't sure through the struggle, but he thought he heard a faint cry of pain high above him, and that was a sign to keep it up. He didn't release the sheets wrapped around his body as they began to coil up and retract from his touch, instead opting to drop the temperature of his touch to even lower degrees of cold. The painful cry came again as the traveled up the elastic substance, and Iceman couldn't maintain his grip. The elongated arms ripped from his body and retracted in full into the ventilation shaft.

He was finally free and he frantically looked about the room, first seeing Phoenix still convulsing on the floor with foam dripping from her mouth, then seeing Taskmaster over Cyclops. Taskmaster had his elbow in Cyclops' jaw, directing the X-Man's face away from his general direction, and he unsheathed a hunting knife from his armored vest.

"Scotty!" Iceman yelled just as Taskmaster was just about to drive the knife into Cyclops's chest. Before he could, a diamond skinned fist struck into the back of his skull, causing Taskmaster to drop the knife and slump down over Cyclops's body in pain. Taskmaster groaned and reached for the back of his head before Cyclops rolled him off of his body and onto the floor.

Emma Frost lifted up a bloody fist, examining it for a moment and then shaking the crimson liquids off of herself. Cyclops looked up to his savior and grimaced, a bit surprised. Iceman was on Taskmaster in an instant, freezing his body to the office floor with a sheet of ice as Cyclops rose to face Emma.

"Thanks," was all Cyclops said, albeit more gruffly knowing who it was he was talking to. Emma nodded to him courteously, before directing their attention to Phoenix. Iceman moved over to her and narrowed his eyes onto her, disturbed much like Cyclops and Emma. Cyclops knelt down beside her with Iceman, asking, "Is she okay?"

"Dude, I think they gave her rabies!" Iceman said, somewhat paranoid as foam spilled over from the mouth of Phoenix's trembling and shaking face.

"I think what she was shot with was a kind of psionic dampening gun," Cyclops speculated as he gripped Phoenix's face, watching her face as it rocked side to side in twisted motions. "Why else would the first thing they do is try to use it to take out both Jean and Emma?"

Before anyone could agree or disagree with Cyclops's words, the office's door, coated with ice and littered with bullets, was kicked in from its hinges and struck the floor. In the doorway where the office door once was a bulking figure in a red and black body suit, wearing a simple mask with two large, white eyepieces. Across his body were chains of bullets and straps holding grenades. Surrounding his feet were small mountains of bullet casings numbering in the high thousands.

"Huzzah! Reloading's a bitch, niggas!" Wade Wilson - Deadpool - shouted as he pulled up a tree trunk sized chain gun from his side. "Now say 'hello' to my not-so-little friend, asscicles!" The components in the gun let out that familiar sharp and high-pitched, mechanical whine just before he was about to unleash all hell on his three opponents.

But before Deadpool could open fire and before Emma and the two X-Men could react, the deafening wail of jet engines assaulted their senses. Gusts of wind were being thrown about from the window of the office, sending the debris inside flying about, as a large metallic wing with gun turrets strapped to it began to show in the office's large window frame, where the glass had been broken out.

"What the funny fuck?!" Deadpool shouted, narrowing his eyes on the small stealth jet that banked fully into view of the office's window frame.

Through the cockpit's windshields the Cyclops, Iceman, and Emma saw the Aurora's pilot - Dr. Hank McCoy, the X-Men's Beast - give a wink and a nod to his teammates. Cyclops scooped up Phoenix in his arms and dived to one side of the room as Iceman and Emma dived for the other side of the room, leaving Deadpool wide open for Beast.

A twin pair of turrets on both wings of the Aurora let out a mechanical whine as they came to life, a whine bigger and badder then Deadpool's chain gun. The red and black clad mercenary's jaw nearly hit the floor and the white eyepieces of his mask grew wide in horror. He knew what was coming.

"Aww, cra -- !" Deadpool started to say before the Aurora's Vulcan canons opened fire.

Helena Weaver quietly entered the Oval Office as a Secret Service agent held the door open for her. She nodded to the black man with a shaved head as he closed the door behind her.

The president looked up as he fumbled through all of the papers on his desk. There were certain legalities of reinitiating the Sentinel program he didn't entirely anticipate. Hence, the horrendous paperwork. Robert cleared his throat, "I thought you were just going to distract the press?"

Helena brushed the jet black hair out of her flustered eyes and shrugged, "I got sidetracked, sir. I went from being your assistant to presidential aide in under a few hours. My responsibilities have doubled...as I'm sure you've noticed yourself, sir."

Robert adjusted his glasses as he sighed, "You were gone for hours. I've been trying to call you, but I couldn't get any kind of signal from your phone. Where the hell were you? I'm absolutely swamped here with Senate hearings and appointing new members of the Cabinet and..." Robert quickly brushed his hands through his hair as he maniacally tried to deal with his frustration.

In an attempt to lighten the mood, or at least change the subject, Helena asked, "Ambassador St. Croix is an old friend of yours, correct?"

"Yes...," Kelly answered inquisitively. His stress level returned to normal as he nodded. He wondered as he folded his hands together, "Um...why do you ask?"

Helena walked up to the desk and carefully sat on the edge, "I think there are some things we should talk about with him. Given America's...situation."

Robert peered at his assistant with worried eyes, "Pertaining to what, exactly? America and Algeria are getting along fine. It isn't an issue--"

"It is," Helena emphasized, "given that St. Croix has mutant children. And that those children might live here in the States while attending school."

Kelly's eyes widened as he looked down at the bill he signed a few hours prior. He didn't even realize the moral implications his signature had. He didn't have any superhuman abilities, but now that he was the President of the United States, he was perhaps the most powerful man in the world. And in that instant, maybe a small iota of Robert Kelly could sympathize with mutants, fearing what others thought of his own power.

"You're right," Robert said, "we need to talk with him right away. This...doesn't need to escalate. We'll just explain the situation and hopefully we'll get this squared away without any kind of diplomatic conflict."

Helena smiled as she stood up from the edge of the desk, "Very good. I'll arrange it right away, sir."

The former office of Emma Frost was just that... formerly an office. Not only had the individual fights with the X-Men's assailants and Deadpool's shooting rampage torn it apart and left it in shambles, but Beast's attack on Deadpool had put the finishing touches on it. It was a surprise to the X-Men that the floor hadn't caved in yet.

"Nice shooting, Tex," Cyclops said to Beast with a grin as he tied up the barely conscious Deadpool, whose costume was in tatters from being riddled with bullets. It hadn't been long since Beast let loose on the mercenary with the Aurora's gun turrets, but his body was already spitting out the bullets it took and healing its wounds.

"Hardcore, man," Iceman said with a steady nod as he looked over Beast's handiwork, then up to Beast himself, impressed. "Hardcore."

"Thank you, thank you..." Beast said with a bit of a lilt in his voice. The blur furred X-Man made motions to his left and began to say, "Canons! To the left of them..." He would be interrupted before he could go on, however.

"Guys..." Rogue's voice came from the doorway of the office as she walked in from the hallway of the estate, dragging in an unconscious, young black man with a shaved head and goatee, wearing a black slacks and a ruffled up white dress shirt. "Ya'll are not gonna believe who ah found tampering with the generators..."

"You're not the only one who found someone unexpected, Rogue," Phoenix said weakly as she rose from her seat on top of what was left of Emma's desk and motioned to a corner of the room, still recovering from the attack on her.

To the far corner of the room, Rogue saw a young Hispanic man with gray skin, unconscious and wrapped up in knots of his own elongated, elastic-like arms. Iceman picked up some of the rope that was by Cyclops's feet and moved over to Synch, tying the man's hands together

"Scott and Bobby found him stuck in the ventilation shaft above the room," Beast explained with a weary nod.

"Okay, first Angelo and now Everette?" Cyclops said as he let out an exasperated sigh. He put his hands on his hips and eyed his team, biting his lip as he said, "I want to know what's going on. Right now."

"Well," Storm said as she glanced over at Deadpool. Cyclops and Iceman immediately picked up on what she was implying, and lifted the still conscious mercenary up to his feet. "Only one way to find out..."

"Spill it, Dead-Between-The-Ears!" Rogue snapped as she rushed into Deadpool and slammed him into the wall of the demolished office room by the collar of his costume. "Tell us everything ya know about th' Byron Agency an' th' Xavier Protocols, an' do it quick!"

"He's clearly insane, Rogue," Beast tried to reason as he approached her side, setting a hand on her should. "Beating the snot out of him isn't going to motivate him to tell the truth any better then throwing money at him would."

"Dude, I'm a mercenary! Sure it will!" Deadpool barked enthusiastically, wiggling and bouncing up and down in Rogue's grasp. "Why do you think I tried to kill all of you? Money, retards!"

"Err... well, too bad!" Beast countered quickly, his brow quirked and his eyes shifting side to side somewhat nervously. "We don't have any money."

"Hank's right," Cyclops said, though not exactly following the former Avenger's train of thought. He looked to Emma and gave her a sure nod, thumbing in the direction of Deadpool. "We'll have to do this the old fashion way."

Emma looked to Deadpool, closing her eyes and concentrating on the distant echoes of his thoughts. Within seconds, she felt a sudden jolt and was inside of his mind. But something was wrong... the imagery she saw was all wrong...

It was night time when Deadpool was dancing around a large body of burning corpses butt naked in the jungles of Africa, though surprisingly still wearing his mask, with the bloody heads of the six X-Men in the room surrounding him on sticks.

Then it was lunch at Trump Towers, where Deadpool was wearing an expensive Italian suit. He gestured towards the six X-Men, twisted and mangled - dead - and laying with two in three wheelbarrows. The Donald chuckled heartily and gestured towards three wheelbarrows of his own, piled high with cash. The two laughed together and shook hands. It was a deal!

Later in a heavily crowded club with disco lights and mist, Deadpool - in leather pants, a satin button-up shirt, and of course his mask - was freak dancing with Emma Frost, who was surprisingly dressed up in the former uniform of the X-Force woman, Siryn. Deadpool was making thrusting motions at her as she was smacking her own behind.

Then, in his grungy apartment, Deadpool - naked again, but still wearing his mask - held Emma's naked form bent over a coffee tabe, thrusting in and out of her from behind. She moaned and gripped at the coffee table in ecstasy as Deadpool ate chips. Silent Bob snuck into the apartment and tried to grab them from him, but Deadpool pulled up an Uzi and pumped his fat ass full of lead. He then kept thrusting in and out of Emma, happily eating chips.

"AAAHHHHH!!" Emma screamed at the top of her lungs as the images overwhelmed her and she fell towards the floor of her debris covered office. Cyclops caught her before she hit the ground, shocked and bewildered at what had possibly happened. Rogue and Beast, whilst still holding Deadpool, couldn't help but stare at Emma.

"Heh," Deadpool said to himself, his white eye pieces twisted in sinister shapes as much as geometric figures could be. He mused, "So... how much do you X-Folk think your dead carcasses will sell for on eBay?"

Cyclops bit his lip and hit a button on the side of his visor, sending a narrow optic beam into Deadpool's temple. The mercenary gasped suddenly and fell limp into Rogue's arms. Beast took hold of him along with her and the two lowered him to the ground.

"You alright?" Cyclops said as he turned his attention back down to Emma, hunching his brows up. She closed her eyes and nodded.

"I think so," Emma said softly, holding the side of her head. A slight smile crept on her face and she noticed, "That's twice you've saved me."

"Stop counting. Please," Cyclops implored of her before releasing her so they both could move to their feet. "What happened?"

"I can't say for sure, but I think..." Emma started to say, but she trailed off and sighed, ashamed. "He's just too insane. I can't sift through his thoughts..."

Cyclops turned to his wife and said, "Jean? Take a shot?"

Phoenix squinted up her face and shot Cyclops a look, then just sort of turned her head away. What had happened to Emma seconds ago hadn't gone unnoticed.

"I think that's womanese for 'Psssh, I ain't goin' in there'..." Iceman chimed in, swaying and rocking his hips side to side in a mock-diva attitude from the corner of the room.

"Still not helping, Robert," Storm cut in, shaking her head. Iceman chuckled to himself and went back to what he had been doing. Cyclops had him disassembling the weapons they had found on their attackers and then freezing them in blocks of ice. Storm looked back to Cyclops and sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "We'll just have to try taking a look inside someone else's mind..."

Emma and the six X-Men looked around the room, almost turning their attention on the green skinned mutant tied up and sitting in the corner of the room. Across his body were electrical burns and bruises beginning to form, his clothes in tatters from where he was struck by electricity over and over again. When Toad realized that his seven captors were looking at him, his head snapped up and shook about.

"Wot?!" he spat indignantly, his eyes shooting all about the room frantically at his captors. Toad demanded of them, "Why me?!"

"It's quite simple, Mortimer," Beast said as he dropped down from the desk he sat on and bounded over to Toad's side. "You see, for all of your genetic enhancements..."

"You're still just a little wiener, sugah," Rogue said with a bit of a chuckle.

"Hank and Marie both have a point, Jean," Cyclops said as he put his hands on his hips, nodding to Toad. "Let's take a look and see what we find."

"I'll bloody show you where to look, mates!" Toad yelped as he ran his elongated tongue over his lips and then clenched his yellow teeth tightly, flinging and throwing himself about in a belligerent matter.

"Oh, for the love of..." Emma gripped the bridge of her nose and shook her head in her hand, looking away from the thrusting and rocking of Toad's pelvis. Beast and Rogue each took hold of one of his shoulders and tried to pin him down to the floor. Though he had his arms tied behind his back, he was putting up one hell of a struggle.

"Just shut up and sit down," Phoenix said as she held out a hand towards Toad, telekinetically forcing him to sit down in the corner of the room. Beast and Rogue let go as his body grew stiff and backed away, giving their teammate the space she needed.

As she entered Toad's mind, telekinetic flames inched out of the pores of Phoenix's skin and her hair seemed to be rifled with an invisible wind. Toad's eyes went wide for that first moment, a deep fire flashing in the recesses of his irises, and then his eyes glazed over. Phoenix released her grip and he slumped down from the wall to the floor.

"They're in Newark, New Jersey," she said as she turned back to Cyclops and nodded to her husband surely. He nodded back to her, determined.

"Then that's where we're going," Cyclops said firmly as he motioned for his team to head towards the office door. "Everyone back to the Blackbird."

Beast and Rogue were the first out the door with Storm and Phoenix behind. Cyclops began to follow the four with Iceman and Emma at his tail, but before they left the room a thought hit the X-Men's leader and he hesitated for a moment.

"On second thought... " Cyclops said as he stopped at the doorway, turning around to face Iceman as the others left the office. "Bobby, I want you to stay here with Emma to guard our 'prisoners.' You'll also need to take the Aurora back to the mansion."

"Guard duty? Oy!" Iceman groaned. He dropped his face into his hands and shook his head side to side melodramatically. "Just like DC all over again... I'm starting to wonder if I did more for mutant kind bartending at Harry's... Err, at least I think those biker chicks were mutants..."

"You'll have the easiest time restraining any of them if or when they wake up," Cyclops explained and he rose his brow at Iceman, who nodded his head half-heartedly in understanding. Cyclops turned to Emma and continued his improvised briefing of the two. "I want you try to knock some sense into Angelo and Everett while we're gone. If they've been brainwashed, maybe we won't have to turn them over to SHIELD..."

Emma glanced over to Synch and Skin, both whom were laying together back to back and unconscious. Rogue had wrapped them both up together tightly in a convoluted mess of Skin's elongated, elastic arms. It wasn't much, especially if Skin was the first to wake-up, but it would hold them together long enough for Iceman to put them on ice if they did wake up. As she stared at them, she couldn't help but wonder if it wasn't brainwashing that did this to them, but if it was her that had failed them...

Cyclops took Emma's silence as acceptance and he nodded to Iceman before turning around and running out the door after his teammates, leaving the two alone. It grew quiet as Emma studied the fallen forms of her former students and Iceman studied her, not in any sexual interest like most men but in deep consideration. There was something he wanted to know and he just couldn't help himself.

"So c'mon, babe. Tell me the truth," Iceman implored as he crossed his arms. Emma turned to him, raising her brows curiously as to ask what he was getting at. He asked in a clear and sober voice, "Did you look at me and 'Ro's junk or what?"

Emma let out an exasperated sigh and rolled her eyes. It was going to be a long wait for that SHIELD transport to arrive... 

"Did they take the bait?" Helena asked as she walked into one of the Byron Agency's many monitoring rooms, a particularly seductive sway in her arms. Sean was sitting at a display of computers with a solemn look on his face.

"Aye," he answered with a nod and he stood up away from the computer console to face Helena. "That psionic suggestion we implanted into Toad's head will put the X-Men on a wild goose chase... leavin' us t' continue well on schedule."  

"Good," Helena said. She half-giggled to herself and looked towards a computer monitor to their right. "And to think, all this wouldn't have been possible without your help…"  

A holographic form suddenly appeared before the monitor, flickering and fizzling until turning into a bulky, solid form. Its body was covered with orange and green plating, almost like armor, with thick metallic wiring making up its apparent 'skin.'

{{ No problem-o, }} Cerebro responded and the reddish glow that made up the sentient hologram's eyes intensified underneath its orange helmet. {{ Now where's that all-access, free Internet pr0n membership we talked about, bizznitches? }}

NEXT ISSUE: Cerebro's a jerk!