She no longer answered to her birth name. Instead, she chose a different name, one which honored her genetic gifts and set her apart from the flatscans. She called herself Wicked. The name itself derived from her ability to summon and speak with the ghosts of the departed.

It was coming on the one-year anniversary of a day when rogue Sentinel units were unleashed on the mutant population, resulting in the deaths of millions of mutants. The day had come to be referred to in the mutant community as the Hecatomb.

Only days away, and Wicked as well as her other mutant companions had one goal in mind—contact the spirits of the dead mutants, bring them back to life using Wicked’s own powers. It was hoped she could push herself to those limits.

"You sure you’re ready for this?"

Wicked looked over at the man who had asked her the question. He had chosen the name Amp, and could boost her power output. She would need him more than anyone else.

"Yeah," she said. "I’m ready."

Amp nodded. The two of them and the other four mutants present all joined hands. Once, Amp had jokingly referred to them as the Mutant Liberation Front, but none of them actually took the name seriously. But they all knew that once they resurrected the dead mutants, they would need to come up with one. Something that identified them for the history books.

Amp began the ritual, drawing on the energy from his fellow mutants and channeling it into Wicked. She felt her own powers beginning to expand and her influence extended.

The lights in the room began to flicker and the temperature seemed to drop by several degrees. All the mutants opened their eyes, save for Wicked who appeared to be in a trance. The frigid air gave her breath visibility as she panted harder. Her body shook, first a little and then grew to convulsions.

They released their hands and Amp grabbed Wicked by her shoulders. He started to shake her. "Wicked, wake up!" he shouted. She seemed oblivious to his attempts. "Wicked! Wicked!"

Her eyelids slid open very suddenly and her eyes were glowing bright red. She had a look of intense fear on her face and then she only said, "they’re here… God help us, they’re here…"

And the world went black.

Marvel 2000 Proudly Presents

The Reunion of X-Men Omega

WAKE THE DEAD
By Dino Pollard

On the other side of the world in Japan, Elisabeth Braddock stood poised with a katana blade held in her small grip. Her concentration was focused on the man who stood before her, dressed in black clothing complete with a matching cloak. His long, dark hair framed his Spanish features and a broadsword was held in his own hands.

Her opponent was also her bodyguard and right-hand man—an assassin called Vargas. He had been in her employ for a little over a year now. Psylocke had recently come full-circle in her life and she was now the head of an order of ninja assassins called the Hand, as well as holding the top spot in the Jigoku crime syndicate.

"What are you waiting for?" she asked. "Attack!"

Vargas charged forward. Psylocke braced herself for his attack and blocked it with her katana. His strength was greater than hers and she knew it, but for the moment she held against his onslaught.

Suddenly, Psylocke backed away and Vargas stopped himself from falling forward. She leapt over his head and thrust forward with her sword. Vargas tried to dodge, but she was quick and when she withdrew her blade there were a few drops of blood on the tip. Vargas looked down at his arm where his sleeve was cut and saw the red mark.

"Is that all you’ve got?" asked Psylocke with a sly grin.

Vargas grimaced and charged forward, swinging his broadsword with all his might. Psylocke parried his strikes, leaping and dodging and delivering her own strikes when she could. She slid to the side and her right leg shot up, kicking Vargas in the jaw. Psylocke moved in for the kill, but once again Vargas’ sword was there to protect him.

"You’re getting slow," she said. "Too overconfident. You’re too used to relying on brute force against your opponents."

Vargas pushed forward with his sword, the momentum shoving Psylocke back and putting some distance between the pair. "It’s been working so far."

"Except when you go up against someone who can outmatch you with skill as opposed to brute strength," she said. "You have to learn to—AGH!"

A massive migraine suddenly struck the British ninja. She fell to her knees in pain as her mind was assaulted by some unknown force. Vargas dropped his broadsword and moved to his mistress’ side, helping her to her feet. Psylocke panted heavily until the pain finally subsided.

"What happened?" he asked.

"I… I don’t know," said Psylocke. "There’s some sort of massive disturbance… something is tearing its way through the Astral Plane."

"What?" asked Vargas.

"I’m linking my mind with yours, seeing if we can get to the bottom of this," said Psylocke as the pink butterfly avatar appeared around both her head as well as her bodyguard’s.

With Vargas linked to her, Psylocke had access to the mystical abilities bestowed upon him by the Crimson Dawn. They were abilities Psylocke herself once possessed. And now she used them, trying to see if the combination of mysticism and telepathy could identify this strange disturbance.

She ventured through the shadows, pushing into the Astral Plane. The red mark of the Crimson Dawn appeared on the black shadow form that was her avatar in this world.

"Who are you?" she asked. "What are you?"

There was something there, off in the distance. Psylocke tried to approach but before she could get any closer, it looked at her. She was overwhelmed by its power and forced back into the physical realm, where her body convulsed in Vargas’ arms. She relaxed and opened her eyes once again, looking up at her bodyguard.

"Well?" he asked.

"I tried… but it’s too powerful," she said. A sigh escaped from her lips. "As much as I hate to admit it, I’m going to need help with this one."

Wicked awoke to the wonderful feeling of a stiff neck. She pulled herself into a sitting position and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Once she was coherent enough to form thoughts, she realized she was lying on hard concrete.

She took in her surroundings and found she was in an alley. Wicked pulled herself up and stumbled a little. How did she get here? The last thing she remembered was linking hands with the rest of the group and then everything after was a blur.

Her head was in pain. She looked at the slim watch on her wrist and was shocked to see the time. Four hours had passed. Something had happened in those four hours and she struggled to remember what it was.

Wicked looked to the end of the alley and got a flash of something. It was the same alley, except there was something else. The flash came again and she saw a few others standing with her, wearing some sort of militaristic uniform that linked them all.

She shook her head and the flash came again. This time there were dozens of red eyes glowing in the darkness. She heard someone say, "they’re here!"

"What’s going on?" asked Wicked.

The flash came again, but this time it remained. She found herself surrounded by these strange men and women. One of them was a young woman with long, black hair and an odd device of some sort on her forehead. What looked to be a transparent fairy flew into the device and the young woman’s eyes became fearful.

One of them, a young, dark-skinned man who had an X bleached into his black hair, began to glow, lighting up the alley. Electricity arced from his fingertips at the red eyes in the darkness.

They were insects, or at least they appeared to be. Mechanical insects, at least in part.

"Run!" the young man screamed.

"We’re not leaving you, Bedlam," said another of the costumed agents.

"No real choice in the matter," said Bedlam. "Get outta here or else there won’t be much of a Mutant Underground left."

Wicked shut her eyes as the swarm engulfed Bedlam. When she opened them once again, she was floating in a pool outside of a hotel. Wicked swam to the edge and climbed out. Her clothes were now soaked and if the sunlight peaking over the horizon was any indication, she had lost another few hours.

Just what was happening to her? What were those visions she kept seeing?

Kevin MacTaggart kept his eyes focused on the cup of coffee sitting before him. On the other side of the table was his mother, Moira, a pair of round glasses covering her eyes as she read the morning paper and sipped her own coffee.

For quite some time, Kevin believed himself to be Joseph or Charles Lehnsherr, the son of Rogue and Magneto from an alternate reality. Only recently did he discover he was actually Kevin MacTaggart, a powerful mutant with the ability to warp reality. Years ago, Proteus as he called himself, killed many people during a rampage. He was stopped by the X-Men, seemingly killed by Colossus.

From there, it got complicated. Needless to say, Kevin had taken on a form almost identical to a younger version of Magneto, complete with those same abilities. His memories were now restored but if Kevin accessed them too much, this body would quickly deteriorate just as others had in the past.

Once he discovered the truth of his past, Kevin returned to Muir Isle, intent on rebuilding his relationship with his mother. The reunion was not the joyous one mother and son had hoped for. Instead, it was filled with many moments of awkward silence.

"There’s somethin’ in here about those Sentinel attacks," said Moira.

"From last year?" asked Kevin.

Moira nodded. "The mutant community have been callin’ it the Hecatomb. Seems the leader of that Gene Nation group from Sydney came up with the term."

Kevin remembered both his experience with the new Gene Nation as well as the Sentinel attack. A joint effort, a fusion of Sentinel technology with the alien race called the Phalanx. The things he saw on that day still haunted his dreams.

"So… what’re yuir plans?" asked Moira. "Now that X-Corp has been bought out."

"Oh… I’m not really sure," said Kevin.

"Goin’ back t’ the mansion?"

"I… I don’t know," said Kevin. He rubbed the back of his neck, fidgeting slightly. "I haven’t given it much thought."

"What about that girl yeh were seein’?"

"You mean Clarice? …that’s… well… things aren’t that simple with us."

"Well… yeh know yeh can stay here as long as yeh like," said Moira.

"Oh… yeah I know, but… I don’t want to impose," said Kevin.

"No, not at all," said Moira. "I mean, you’re not an imposition."

The silence resumed again. Kevin stood from his chair and walked to the window with his coffee. He looked out over the coastline and struggled with the thoughts that plagued him. So much of his life was stolen from him, his memories manipulated, left at the beck and call of others.

But as the shadows came alive in a corner of the room, Kevin was forced to come to the realization that he would still have to answer some calls. Two figures emerged from the shadows and Kevin almost instantly prepared himself for an attack.

"Relax, Proteus," said Psylocke.

"Betsy?" he asked.

Psylocke and Vargas stepped forth from the shadows. Moira herself was just as stunned as her son.

"We’re not here to fight, I need your help," said Psylocke.

"What kind of help?" asked Moira.

"There’s been a massive disturbance on the Astral Plane," said Psylocke. "I tried to probe it myself with the aid of Vargas, but all I got was feedback. With your Cerebro unit, I think I might be able to pierce the veil."

"Sounds serious," said Kevin.

"It may very well be," said Psylocke.

"Then why here?" asked Moira. "Surely yeh should go to th’ Institute, get Jean’s help."

"I’d rather not raise an alarm until I have all the facts straight," said Psylocke. "I’m going with my instincts on this one."

"Understood," said Moira. She stood and adjusted her glasses. "Follow me."

Wicked grabbed a towel from the side of the pool and dried herself off as best she could. Her clothes, unfortunately, were soaked. She needed to get home and change, assuming she could even figure out where she was.

Her eyes followed up the height of the hotel, taking it all in. When she looked at one of the balconies, another image came to her. This one was also in a hotel, although she was on the balcony. And when she looked up in the sky, she saw a fireball break through the clouds. Inside the flames, she could make out a face, screaming in agony.

The vision was gone as quickly as it came. But in her head she could hear a voice.

"It’s time…"

On Muir Isle, Psylocke sat in the Cerebro chamber and lowered the helmet over her head. From a console nearby, Moira examined the chamber’s output as Vargas and Proteus both looked on.

"Ready when you are, Betsy," said Moira.

Psylocke’s only response was activating her psychic abilities and reaching out with her telepathy. Cerebro amplified those abilities to a global scale. Psylocke’s mind was connected to every single mind on the planet. She scoured through them, touching each mind only for a fraction of a second until she came on one mutant, on the move from San Francisco, heading north.

There was something odd about this one. Psylocke was picking up multiple signatures in the girl’s mind. From the computer, Moira monitored the data Cerebro was compiling and found a surprise herself.

"That cannae be right…" she muttered.

Psylocke tried to probe deeper into the girl’s mind, but the instant she attempted to initiate further contact, the Cerebro unit started to overload. The psionic backlash was intensified and warning alerts went off.

"No!" cried Moira.

Vargas leapt into the chamber and was about to pull Psylocke free, when he was stopped by a magnetic force field. Proteus hovered a few feet away, his eyes glowing. "If you try to pull out her body while her mind is still connected to Cerebro, you could kill her."

"Do you have any better suggestions?" asked Vargas.

Proteus’ eyes and mouth exploded with bright orange energy. A massive avatar of energy leapt from his body and he fell to the ground. The energy being leapt into Psylocke’s body. Using his powers of possession, Proteus took control of Psylocke’s body and forced her to disconnect herself from Cerebro. Once she was safe, he returned to his own form.

Psylocke removed the helmet from her head and Vargas helped her on her feet. She leaned on him for support and she looked up at Proteus. "Thanks," she said.

"Don’t mention it," said Proteus. "Did you figure out what this is all about?"

"Not really," said Psylocke. "But the disturbance is connected to a young mutant in California. When I made contact with her mind, I touched more than one consciousness inside her. She’s housing multiple thought patterns."

"Schizo?" asked Proteus.

Psylocke shook her head. "No, it seems she’s being possessed somehow."

"We’ve other problems as well," said Moira. "Betsy, look at some of these genetic signatures Cerebro identified from our database."

Psylocke carefully balanced herself and walked independently of Vargas’ support. She approached the computer and looked at the same screen Moira was viewing. "Nils Styger… Jude Black… Jesse Aaronson… Fred Dukes… Tom Cassidy… Carter Ryking… Eileen Harsaw… dear God…"

"What?" asked Proteus.

"Don’t you recognize those names?" asked Psylocke. "Every single one of them was killed in the Hecatomb."

"But that’s not possible," said Proteus. "If they’re dead, how is Cerebro identifying their signatures?"

"That’s what I’d like to know as well, and this girl is our only link to what’s happening." Psylocke looked over her shoulder at Proteus and Vargas. "You do know what this means, don’t you?"

"What?" asked Proteus.

"X-Men emergency," said Psylocke.