THE AGGREGATION OF THE HORSEMEN

Part II: Post-Apocalyptic War

By Shawn Gauthier and Jeff Axtman

Somewhere in the vast wilderness of British Columbia, Canada…

It is morning, and the sun has just risen over the horizon, bathing the land in its ephemeral light. But here, on this barely blazed trail through the heart of a lonely Canadian forest, the sunlight is filtered through a tangle of leaves and branches. Odd shadows are cast about the trail, creating an almost surreal effect for the three exhausted members of the tracking party. The dogs strain against their leashes, barking and keeping their noses close to the ground as they track the scent of their target. Occasionally, one or two of them will pause and look up, their ears twitching. It is close, the three officers of the British Columbia Provincial Police agree. Finally, after days on its trail, they have located their elusive killer.

Nearly a week ago, a wild animal of some kind tore through the small city of Dawson Creek, British Columbia, killing two young people in the process. The authorities had guessed it was a cougar defending its territory from the encroaching human populace. It had seemed to be heading north as of late, away from any civilization. Now, after countless kilometers and endless hours, they have finally caught up with it.

The tracking party, consisting of Officers Clark, Howell, and Davies, ready their rifles. Each one looks intently in all directions, straining to see through the dense foilage. The dogs’ barking gets louder, their tails wagging more excitedly.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this one, Davies,” Howell says, his hand shaking slightly as he fingers the trigger. “Ain’t never heard of a coug who runs from the law.”

“Quiet down, Howell,” Clark warns. “We’ve come this far, eh? No sense in losing ‘im now ’cause o’ your loud mouth!”

Davies ignores his companions’ bickering, silently surveying the forest around him. He senses some other presence near them, watching them from a hidden vantage point, studying their every move. Surely a cougar would not dare to attack three armed, full-grown men?

Suddenly, one of the dogs breaks free of Clark’s grip, darting off toward a thick growth of underbrush, the leash trailing loosely after it. The dog disappears behind the bushes, but his barking can still be heard by the dumbstruck police officers.

“Laddie! Get out o’ there, boy!” Clark yells, wanting desperately to run after his beloved bloodhound himself. The dog’s barking becomes fainter, but still as excited as ever. Then, with a screeching yelp that pierces the morning air, the dog suddenly becomes very silent. The rest of the dogs begin to whine uncontrollably. Lying down and resting their heads on their paws, they put their tails between their legs.

“Laddie…?” whispers Clark.

Something runs through the bushes mere meters from where they stand. Howell whirls around, his gun trained on nothing. Davies stands very still, his rifle lowered.

“Howell, Clark…” he begins, his eyes unmoving, “Get outta here, now! That ain’t no cougar!”

With that, their intended target springs from the bushes behind them, its teeth bared and claws outstretched. To their surprise, it speaks.

“You know… I ain’t never met a mountie I didn’t like!” the man-beast growls as he lands in front of them, the bloody carcass of the missing dog clutched in one claw.

“W-who… what ARE you?!” Howell stutters, the rifle in his hands temporarily forgotten.

“Oh come on, you ain’t ever heard o’ Sabretooth before?!” he replies with a toothy grin upon his face. “I’m hurt, boys.”

“Under edict of the Chief of Police of British Columbia,” shouts Davies, mustering up all the bravado he can manage, “you are hereby under arrest for the murders of two children in Dawson Creek, B.C.! Surrender peacefully and we will not use lethal force!”

“Don’t make me laugh, son,” Sabretooth hisses. “‘Lethal force’ never worked on me before, and it ain’t about to start now!”

Davies fires a wild shot from his rifle, the bullet whizzing harmlessly over the feral mutant’s head. Enraged, Sabretooth howls as he leaps forward. With two quick slashes of his claws, he guts the bloodhounds. Then he goes for Clark, Howell, and Davies.

They barely have enough time to scream.

Half a world away, near an ancient temple in Bani Maza, Egypt…

Nowhere else in the world is the sound of silence more deafening than in the desert of Bani Maza. The still, lifeless wasteland is usually a place devoid of sound… save for the sound of silence. Tonight, that silence is shattered.

A sandstorm howls through the desert, the wind-swept grit swirling and churning across the dunes. The silvery moon in the starless sky above offers little solace to any nomadic traveller that would dare to trek across the sands in these harsh, unforgiving conditions. Yet, incredibly, human footprints imprinted in the sand can be seen leading towards the temple in the distance.

The owner of the footprints, however, is nowhere to be seen.

Suddenly, the desert winds increase in their intensity, the torrent of sand and silt raging through the barren land. In the heart of the storm, something moves, the sediment deflected off some unseen barrier in its path. Through the blinding gusts of stinging sand, the shape of a large, invisible man can be seen making his way through the storm.

The form, cloaked by an invisibility field, reaches the mouth of the great structure as the blowing sand covers his footprints behind him. The stone walls of the ancient Egyptian temple stand up to the winds’ eroding effects, proving its worth as a time-tested monument to the gods of old. But the invisible man’s purpose tonight is not to admire the temple’s durability. Rather, his is a mission of far greater importance.

The silent figure stands in front of the entrance to the temple, which is sealed with a huge granite slab. A fiery blast of energy explodes from what appears to be a cannon mounted on the figure’s back. The slab shatters into a thousand pieces, revealing behind it an open entrance way. Stepping inside the temple and out of the elements, the man disengages the cloaking device. The invisibility field wavers and then disappears revealing a muscular, blue-skinned man with vast technology surrounding his strong frame.

“Post has arrived. Weapons systems: primed and ready. Apocalypse will not be without his defenses,” he says as he journeys further into the temple. The mutant called Post activates a small spotlight protruding from his back to light the way. Before him, he sees the shattered rubble of the ancient temple as well as the destroyed remains of Apocalypse’s advanced technology.

“My analysis of this temple leads to the conclusion that a battle of great proportions was fought here some time ago,” Post states. “I wonder… did my eternal enemy, Cable, fight his own hated adversary, Apocalypse, here? Obviously, this citadel has since been abandoned by Apocalypse… but why?”

Post continues to investigate the nearly-destroyed temple. He discovers a room that is unharmed, and filled with Apocalypse’s incredible technological advancements. He approaches a large circular construct that appears to be Apocalypse’s teleportation matrix.

“Perhaps the evaluation of this temple was not all for naught as I had first suspected. This matrix must be uplinked to all of Apocalypse’s major strongholds across the globe. I must locate Apocalypse, for he alone holds the key to defeating Cable once and for all!”

Driven by the need for revenge against Cable, Post begins to tap into the teleportation matrix’s destination protocols. He discovers that Apocalypse has another secret complex not too far away, hidden beneath the sands of the Libyan Desert. Choosing this as his destination, he steps into the metallic ring that makes up the teleporter.

Meanwhile, back in the Canadian wilderness…

“Come on, give me yer best shot!” taunts Sabretooth as he races through the dense foliage of the forest. All around him, beams of bright orange energy explode in a fury of light and sound. One blast hits the ground in front of him, creating a huge smoldering crater in his path. Effortlessly, he leaps over the obstacle and glances over his shoulder, grinning wildly. “That’s all?!”

“Surrender yourself, Creed! Bow to the will of Apocalypse!” shouts Trial as he chases after Sabretooth. All around the mechanical being, several metal orbs float about, beams of energy arcing from small antennae afixed to them. The orbs race after their feral target, trying in vain to stop him dead in his tracks. Sabretooth, however, is much too fast even for their advanced targetting systems, and they only manage to land a few shots.

One globe lunges forward with lightning quickness, firing a wave of energy blasts at Sabretooth as he dodges and darts among the trees of the forest. The beams find their intended target, and with a scream of rage and pain, Sabretooth jumps up and knocks the orb out of the air. The damaged mechanism falls from the sky, sparks trailing wildly behind it.

Sabretooth continues further into the forest, trying to gain the upper hand by being in an environment with which he is familiar. The metal globes continue their pursuit through the thick branches and leaves of the wood.

“What’s the matter, Sparky?” Creed calls back to Trial, who struggles across the forest floor several meters away. “Can’t keep up?”

Suddenly, seemingly out of no where, a small form somersaults through the air toward Creed, slamming into him with incredible force. Sabretooth staggers and turns to see a small Tuskette landing a short distance away. Standing above the underling is its master, the Dark Rider called Tusk.

“You have been chosen by the High Lord, Sabretooth!” he growls, teeth clenched. “Do not relinquish the oppurtunity for power you have been given.” More Tuskettes begin to emerge from his back, until Sabretooth is surrounded by Trial’s orbs, the Tuskettes, and Tusk.

“I’ll never join yer band o’ flunkies!” Creed yells in reply, a thin stream of saliva escaping his open jaws. “Apocalypse can kiss my hairy…!”

Sabretooth becomes silent as he looks up into the treetops, his enhanced senses detecting a slight movement above. Before he can react, something drops from above him onto his back.

“Well done, Dark Riders!” shouts Danielle Moonstar, struggling to remain on Sabretooth’s back as he flails about. “Our plan worked perfectly! You led Sabretooth directly to me… and now I shall deliver the killing blow!”

Summoning all her strength, Moonstar focuses her powers into the form of a psionic lance, the sum total of her newly-enhanced mutant abilities. She thrusts this manifestation of her new power into Sabretooth’s skull, hoping to effectively stun him. The results, however, are just the opposite.

“S-something’s… wrong!” Dani screams as her eyes go blank, a feedback of pure psionic energy coursing through her body.

“Nice try, darlin’,” Creed hisses evilly as he tosses the unconscious Moonstar off his back, “but you psychics don’t work on me like you used to. Not since the runt put a whole through my brain.”

“Then perhaps we can prove to be more effective,” Trial says coldly as he and Tusk – along with several Tuskettes and mechanical orbs – encircle Creed. With a blood-curdling howl, Sabretooth lashes out at Trial, his claws tearing through the wires and circuits that make up the man-machine. Trial flies backwards and tumbles down a steep incline behind him. With a thundering splash, he lands face-first in a small stream. The flowing water soaks his entire mainframe, short-circuiting his electrical systems and effectively rendering he and the metal orbs inoperable.

“Now that Sparky’s outta the picture, it’s just you an’ me,” Sabretooth says to Tusk. With barely a spoken command, Tusk’s Tuskettes set upon Creed, several of them jumping on him at once. Slashing and swiping, he tears through the onslaught of underlings, but wave after wave replace the fallen ones. He is pushed back out of the forest into a grassy field as his unrelenting attackers continue their offense.

Yet Creed is not one to give up. Finally, his shoulders rising and falling with every heaving breath, Sabretooth stands over the bodies of all the defeated Tuskettes. He slowly makes his way to Tusk, who is weakened by the tremendous strain he’s put on his body by releasing so many Tuskettes. With a devestating backhanded blow to the head, Sabretooth knocks Tusk out cold.

In the blink of an eye, the three defeated Dark Riders are teleported away. The only remaining evidence of their presence is the devestated forest area and the burn marks and bruises upon Sabretooth’s body. Even these signs are slowly disappearing as his super-fast mutant healing factor kicks into overdrive.

“Seems like everyone’s wantin’ somethin’ from me these days,” mutters Creed to himself as he begins to re-enter the deep forest. Just as he turns to leave, a long, dark shadow is cast over him. Sensing danger, Sabretooth spins around. Straining against the glare of the evening sun, he sees a silhouetted figure standing high atop a precipice, overlooking Creed and the forest below. The form steps forward out of the harsh shadows to reveal its true identity.

“You!” Sabretooth snarls. “I should have known you wouldn’t be far behind!”

The eternal mutant known to some as En Sabah Nur and to others as Apocalypse folds his large, muscular arms across his barrel chest. “Greetings, Victor Creed,” he says in a voice as cold as his heart. “I trust you fared well in your battle with my new Dark Riders.”

Sabretooth, his neck craned as he stares up at Apocalypse, snorts mockingly. “Dark Riders? They were nothin’ but a bunch o’ pansies! I beat ’em all by my lonesome!”

Apocalypse fixes his gaze on the mutant below. “Flawed as they are, Sabretooth, I am pleased with my Dark Riders this day. For not only did they work together as a team, they also proved that you are one of the strongest of the strong… one destined for greatness by Apocalypse’s hand!”

With that, Apocalypse steps off the edge of the steep cliff and hovers slowly down to ground level. All the while, Sabretooth keeps his senses alert and his temper high. Finally, Apocalpyse touches down on the long, brown grass a few meters across from Creed.

Sabretooth jumps forward, his claws extended before him. With one huge swipe of his claws, he etches four parellel cut marks on Apocalypse’s armored chest. Apocalypse looks down at the wound methodically, and then up at Creed again, his eyes glowing red with wrath.

“You have made your final mistake, Creed,” he says, his tone icy. “It appears that you can comprehend nothing, save brutal force. Then so be it. Brutal force you shall receive.”

Lifting his arms high above his head, Apocalypse transmutes his limbs into huge hammer and club-like forms. Having virtually no time to react, Sabretooth is caught under a barrage of crushing blows. He fights it at first, trying to block the blows in order to get in a few shots of his own. Soon, he can barely hold onto consciousness. Bones break and ribs snap under the unrelenting attack. In minutes, Sabretooth is beaten within an inch of his life… and his healing factor can barely catch up.

Satisfied, Apocalypse scoops up Creed’s crushed body and flings it over his shoulder. He heads towards the forest, and just before entering it, looks back toward the horizon. The sun has just crept below the earth, and the sky is ablaze in a fury of pinks and purples.

“War is mine, but time is of the essence. Now must I gather the one I shall call Famine.”

NEXT ISSUE: The Aggregation Of The Horsemen Part 3! Apocalypse adds one more to his ever-expanding ranks! But just who will become the new Third Horseman, Famine?! Plus: Post has arrived in Apocalypse’s underground fortress, but this time he’s not alone!