THE DAY THE WORLD WENT AWAY

Part I

By Chris Munn

There have been times in me life, relatively short as it’s been, that I’ve had to ask meself a few questions. The first of ’em is an easy one, namely ‘who am I?’ Ye may think that this’d be an easy one to figger out, that I, of all people, should know the answer t’it. Sadly, this is the question that’s popped up the most out of ’em all, buggering around in me head like a swarm of bees that just got their nest smashed all to bits.

On a superficial point, the question is easy to answer. Me name is Jonothon Evan Starsmore. I hail from a small borough of London, nestled on the isle of Great Britain. I’m twenty-one years old. Those are the facts, mate…no denyin’ those. What’s the problem, then? The problem is that those superficial answers don’t explain a git about me, really.

I first asked meself that question on me eighteenth birthday. I know it seems like a big coincidence that the change of my life happened on that day, but true enough, it did. I was enjoying me life as a musician and teenager, had me a lady love named Gayle to keep me warm through the nights, and was settling in quite nicely to a life of abandoned excess. Unfortunately, that eighteenth birthday brought along a whole new world with it.

That was the day I found out I was a freak.

Gayle and I had nestled up for the evening when the change happened. I’d been feeling sick for the few weeks prior, but o’ course I was too stubborn to go to the doctor ’bout it. Not that it would’ve done any good, I guess. What was happening was that me body had began to mutate from flesh n’ blood to biochemical energy. That’s right, mate. Pure. Psionic. Energy. Me body had been turned into a containment shell o’ sorts fer this energy, a suit that kept the shite in check. Finally, on the eve of me eighteenth, the shell cracked…and I exploded.

The energy came out of me like a dam bursting, blowing through me chest and the lower half of me face in the process. Gayle took the brunt of the explosion, and the impact shattered the gel’s spine. I crippled the one person that cared about me. Could ye imagine that that must’ve felt to a bloody kid? The poor gel’s still trapped in a wheelchair, and because o’ what happened, she hates me with a passion. I can’t say I blame her, just like I can’t blame her fer all the times she tried to kill me and me mates. I’d probably feel the same, were the situation reversed.

Anyway, the bottom line of me whole sodding existence boils down t’that day. In that one day, I found out that I’m not like everybody else. I’m different. I’m a bloody mutant.

Because o’ this, a thought creeps into the back of me head about once a day.

Maybe, just maybe…I’d be better off dead.

Jon Starsmore wasn’t one to scare easily. He’d seen his entire life fall apart at the seams, his long-sought after dreams of being a musician smashed, and had the love of his life taken away from him not once, but twice. He’d lived, until recently, with a disfigured face due to the onset of his mutant powers, forcing him to be an outcast amongst outcasts.

Jon didn’t scare easily…but he was scared now.

His eyes shot open, limbs flailing desperately on the steel table below him. A raw scream ripped from his throat as he raised up, frantic in his realization that he was alive once more. He remembered the explosion, the searing flame that burned every inch of his flesh as it passed over him in wave after agonizing wave. He felt his life slipping away, the psionic energy that made up his body dispersing into the ether as the shell crumbled and melted under the onslaught.

Then he woke up.

After a few moments spent calming down, Jon realized that he was naked, the steel top of the table cold to his skin’s touch. That wasn’t his most pressing concern, however. “Jaysis, I need a cigarette somethin’ fierce,” he mumbled to himself as he climbed down from the slab, scratching his head in confusion. He didn’t feel dead…just tired. Out of it.

“Smoking’s bad for your health,” a male voice said from the other end of the room. Jon jerked his head around, the man’s voice startling him out of his confused state. The stranger was young, even more so than Jon, and carried with him an almost hangdog expression. His eyes, peeking through the platinum blond bangs, looked almost haunted. “Then again, I don’t guess you have much to worry about when it comes to that, do you?”

“Can’t be Heaven, this,” Jon said to the stranger, “so are we in Hell?”

“Not quite,” the stranger said as he walked across the length of the room, “we were starting to worry about you, though.”

“How so?” Jon asked as he took notice of the man’s features under closer observation, seeing that he was, indeed, much younger than he.

“We thought you might actually make it,” he replied, extending his hand toward Jon. “I’m Doug. Nice to finally meet you, Jon.”

“So this is what, the wanker welcome wagon?” Jon asked with a grin. “Where’s yer horns and all, mate? The fire, the brimstone…I have to admit, I’m a bit unimpressed so far.”

“It’ll all start making sense soon, trust me,” Doug answered, turning back toward the door. “Now, if you’d like to put on the clothes on the table over there, there’s somebody that’s just dying to talk to you.”

“This isn’t right,” he whispered to the young woman cradled in his arms, “we shouldn’t be in this place.”

Monet St. Croix smiled slightly as she nuzzled against the young man’s chest, the two locked in an entanglement of limbs. The single sheet provided for the bed was folded and wrapped between their interlocking bodies, the only thing keeping their otherwise naked bodies from being exposed to the air. “You’re just being paranoid,” she replied softly, “happiness seems to do that to people. You keep expecting the worst to happen, when all it means is that your mind can’t accept the perfection of the situation.”

“You’re talking like a text book again,” he commented. Everett Thomas was staring at the ceiling as he lay on his back, confusing thoughts running over and over through his mind. “Where are we, M? Do you remember coming to this place?”

“I’ve learned not to question such things, dear,” she answered, raising her head from his chest. Everett broke his gaze at the ceiling, looking down until his eyes locked with hers. She smiled, a gesture Everett was still getting used to seeing from the self-proclaimed ‘ice queen’, and offered one final piece of advice. “Just be content.”

“You’re smarter than this,” he muttered, returning to the ceiling, “and so am I.”

“Look, Everett,” Monet began, positioning herself in a sitting position on the bed, “we were lost, and these people found us. They’ve given us a home, given us sanctuary. We owe them everything.”

“If they found us,” he interjected, “then why haven’t they found the others?”

“I don’t follow.”

“I can’t even remember their names anymore,” he sighed.

“Mister Thomas? Miss Saint Croix?” a voice buzzed through the speaker at the top of the room’s door, interrupting the discussion. “Your presence has been requested in the Reception Room, in approximately an hour. Adam has a surprise for you.”

Everett pressed and held a button on the wall beside the bed, activating the intercom system. “Thanks, Kevin. We’ll be there.”

“Maybe this will answer some of those questions of yours?” Monet teased as she moved under the thin sheet. She took one last look into Everett’s eyes, a wicked smirk displayed on her face, before her head moved under the cover as well.

A second later, his eyes rolled back into his head and a deep moan escaped his throat.

“Quite the big place you’ve got ‘ere,” Jon commented as Doug led him down the hall, the floor and walls nothing but featureless silver, “what’s its name, like?”

Doug laughed slightly before answering. “The official name of the place is unknown, even to those of us that are stationed here. We in the staff have given it our own little name, though.”

“An’ that is?”

The two stopped at a large, steel door at the end of the hallway, where Doug searched through his pockets. Finally, he pulled out an identification card and placed it in the door’s electronic card reader. The door slid open silently, and the blond-haired man turned back to his follower. “Wonderland,” he finally answered, throwing Starsmore a wink.

Not really knowing how to reply, Jon simply remained silent as Doug led him through the door. The room they entered looked like the waiting room to a doctor’s office, with several people sitting in chairs along the walls. Doug strode through the reception area, making his way to the secretary that say behind a wall of glass.

“We got another new one,” he explained with a nod backward at Jon, “just came in. Another one of Xavier’s kids.”

“‘Bout time he finally got here,” the receptionist said with a sigh, “we’ve been waiting on this guy for over a week now.” Doug moved out of the way, allowing the confused Englishman to step forward. “Jonothan Starsmore,” the woman began, “I need you to fill out these forms and have a seat. We’ll call you when it’s your turn.”

Taking the clipboard and pen, Jon shot an incredulous look at his tour guide, prompting a shrug from the man. “You know how it is, man,” Doug stated, “but it’s cool. Soon as you get done with your physical, I’ll come back and pick you up.” Jon nodded hesitantly, to which Doug only smiled and then walked toward the door.

“Bloody fuckin’ hell,” were the only words Starsmore could mutter as he took a seat in the far corner of the room. His eyes scanned over the questions on the information sheet.

Please List Your Mutation Here: ________
Please List Any Affiliations with Known Mutant Groups: _________
Age When Mutation Became Active: _________
Reason For Being Here:
a) Natural causes
b) Hate crime
c) Complications resulting from mutation
d) Wolverine
e) Other

“What the hell kind o’ questionnaire is this?” he asked himself. He glanced up from the clipboard to take a look at the other people in the room. Sitting a few seats down from him was a girl that looked as if she could be his age, if not younger. Spikes of bone and cartilage seemed to protrude from her body and face, and for some reason Jon kept thinking that he’d met the girl before. Realizing that he was staring a hole through her, the young woman looked at him.

And hissed.

“Excuse me all to blazes,” he muttered as he looked away, returning to the bizarre form in his lap.

“What do you think the surprise is?”

Everett raised an eyebrow at his companion’s question, a slight frown forming on his lips. “I don’t know. I don’t even know whether to be worried or excited.”

The two walked down the steel-bordered hallway, arms interlocked in the way that couples usually do. Everett walked slow intentionally, despite Monet’s various attempts to quicken his pace, almost as if he were afraid of the man that the two were going to see. “I’m nervous,” he said, stopping in the middle of the hall, “and I don’t know why.”

“I think Adam’s used to people being nervous around him,” she answered, pulling on his arm in an attempt to get him moving again, “being who he is, and all.”

Everett hesitated slightly, furrowing his brow at the girl. “Touché.”

“Now come along, my dear boy,” Monet said, finally budging him from his position, “we shouldn’t be late.”

Turning a corner, the two young mutants came in sight of the large man standing beside the door at the hall’s end. Monet waved pleasantly as they approached, the muscular Native American returning the gesture with a slight smirk. “It’ll be just a minute,” he said, holding out a hand to halt the couple’s advancement. “Adam’s going over some things.”

“No problem, John,” Everett muttered, still feeling uncomfortable.

“Give me information,” the long-haired man behind the oak desk commanded, his fingers scratching the goatee that grew from his chin. “What did the physical show?”

The three men standing across the room all fidgeted involuntarily at their leader’s voice, none of them wanting to be the first to speak. The bearded man sighed, pointing his finger at the spectacled man in the white lab coat. “Doctor Essex, you go first.”

The similarly bearded scientist cleared his throat before speaking, raising his clipboard from which to read. “The Starsmore lad is not human, lord…at least not in a conventional sense. His body is simply a shell for a mass of psionic energy. When that shell cracks, it releases this energy in a rather destructive way. This, unfortunately, is what caused the delay in his arrival. When his body perished in the explosion, it dispersed his energy matrix into the ether. It took us weeks just to bring him all back together again.”

“So he’s a shell,” the man behind the desk reiterated before turning to the youngest of the three men. “I take it you helped out in that regard, Kevin?”

“Yes, lord,” the man with the glowing green eyes answered, “our bodies are not altogether dissimilar, after all. Once we deciphered his energy matrix, it was simple to replicate his housing facility.”

“We do have a problem,” the third man interjected, “considering that Starsmore is a walking psionic furnace, it’s going to be impossible for our telepaths to keep his memories disjointed. He’s already starting to pick up on what’s going on, and there’s nothing we can do to stop it. I also suspect that his power would be too much for the amalgamation chamber.”

“That’s…disappointing, to say the least, Carter,” the bearded man stated.

“If I may be so bold,” Dr. Essex began, “I think we’re playing a most dangerous game here. With the exception of the Ferguson child, these new arrivals are all potential Omega level mutants. Not only is the Starsmore boy becoming aware, but our conditioning on Everett Thomas is starting to slip as well. And God help us if the Saint Croix girl starts to figure things out.”

“Not to worry, Nathaniel,” their lord said, propping his sandal-covered feet atop his desk, “I’ve already got plans for these children.”

“Sir?” a voice interjected from the far door to the room, the four men turning to see Doug’s head poking through. “Starsmore is ready, and both Mister Thomas and Miss Saint Croix are here.”

“Excellent,” he answered, jumping up from his chair. “You three are dismissed. We’ll talk more about this at length later.” He watched as the three men walked toward the second door in the office, his eyes locked upon the last in the line. Dr. Essex stopped and turned, just before he reached the door, and his eyes locked with those of his leader. The stare held for the smallest of moments, until the scientist broke away and went through the exit, closing the door behind him.

“Adam?” Doug again interrupted, coming through the first office door with Everett and Monet in tow.

“Ah, my dear friends!” Adam said, a smile plastered across his face as he stood from his desk. “I have someone very special I’d like to reunite you with, if you don’t mind. Mister Ramsey, if you would be so kind?”

Doug nodded complacently, exiting through the door he’d just entered. Monet and Everett stood awkwardly, alone with Adam. “Sir, I have some concerns,” Everett began, despite Monet’s covert attempts to silence him, “about this feeling of…well, dread, I guess…since we arrived here.”

Adam laughed slightly before answering, tying his long hair back in a ponytail as he expressed his humor. “It’s to be expected, Everett. You all went through a most traumatic experience, the same as every other arrival to this place.”

“That’s just it,” the Thomas boy continued, “I can’t remember what this ‘traumatic experience’ was, exactly.”

“No worries, Ev,” a familiar voice said from the doorway, “I have a feelin’ that’s what we’re to find out about.”

Everett and Monet both turned around, their eyes full of shock and disbelief as they saw Jonothon Starsmore walking toward them, followed by Doug. Both of them threw their arms open wide, embracing the English lad in a desperate hug, both of them expressing their feelings of joy at seeing him again. Adam continued to smile at the scene, waving Doug out of the room once again.

“It fills my heart with joy to see such friends reunited,” Adam interrupted, prompting all three youngsters to give him their attention, “but I feel an explanation is in order.”

“Damn right it’s ‘in order’,” Starsmore commented, “what th’ fuck are we doin’ in this soddin’ place?”

“What’s the last thing you remember, Jonothon?” Adam asked, disregarding the boy’s aggressive tone.

“I…I remember being in a fire, I guess,” he answered hesitantly, Monet and Everett nodding in agreement, their memories validating their teammate’s.

“You were in a laboratory owned by a company called GeneTech,” Adam continued, “where you were being held prisoner. Despite the attempts of your friend Jubilation to rescue you, an explosion destroyed the building and killed everyone inside.”

“Wait a minute,” Everett interjected, “what do you mean ‘killed everyone inside’?”

“I mean just that, Mister Thomas,” Adam said with a frown, “everyone in that building died that night. Including yourselves.”

Monet gasped at the revelation, while Jon and Everett could only give confused looks. “But, what…I mean…” Everett stammered out. “How is that possible? What is this place?”

Adam sighed. “I supposed you could call it what it is, my children.”

He paused.

“Heaven.”

Nathaniel Essex cursed to himself as he entered his quarters, damning the existence of the man he was forced to call ‘lord’. Adam, Wonderland, the entire situation as a whole, it all flew in the face of everything Essex believed in. He was a man of science, of genetics, of finding and twisting the make-up of the mutant body. To him, this place was one giant slap in the face…an insult.

“Doctor Essex?”

The scientist looked out the corner of his eye, spying the lanky brown-haired man on the far side of the room. He sighed as he removed the small set of glasses from his face, rubbing his eyes with thumb and forefinger. “The Starsmore boy has arrived. Adam is reuniting him with your other teammates as we speak.”

“Jon’s here, too?” the man said with disdain. “Did none of us live through that explosion?”

“Despite my efforts,” Essex continued, “I have been unable to locate the missing Miss Ferguson. Being a teleporter, she is being held under maximum security guard somewhere in this facility. It is only a matter of time, my dear.”

The brown-haired man walked forward, meeting Essex at his desk. “I want to thank you again for saving me, Doctor,” he stated. “I owe you everything.”

“We’re sowing the seeds of revolution, my girl,” he replied, “but please, feel free to discard that for you’re wearing. We are safe from prying eyes.”

The man nodded in acknowledgement, raising his hands to his face. His fingers dug deep into the flesh of his cheeks, and with a downward motion he pulled, ripping the skin away from his body. After a rather disgusting moment, a blonde-haired teenage girl replaced the man, her eyes filled with sadness at her situation. “How can we stop this, Doctor Essex?”

“It will take considerable planning, child,” he replied with a curious smirk, “but I must insist that you not call me ‘Essex’ any longer.”

The girl blinked in confusion. “Why not?”

“Because my name, Miss Guthrie…is Sinister.”

All she could feel was the pain.

She’d awakened on a slab, doctors and scientists crowded around her as she attempted to assimilate the sensation of once again being alive. As she’d struggled for breath, the doctors were slapping chains on her wrists, on her neck and on her feet, shackling her away from any free movements. They’d attempted to talk to her, to explain their actions, but she didn’t hear. All she could think about was the other girl she’d left behind. The girl that she’d sacrificed her life to save. She cried for this other girl. Then she cried even harder when she realized she’d forgotten the girl’s name.

Drugs were administered through needles, bruising her lavender skin as the doctors frantically searched for veins. Other men were dulling her wits in different ways, rooting around inside her mind, selectively erasing and destroying memories and thoughts as they stomped through her brain. She’d already lost the memory of her first puppy, the smell of her mother’s perfume, her first kiss from a boy, her first kiss from a girl…all gone in the telepathic assault.

They’d locked her in the tiny room, her shackles locked to the floor and walls. Cold, naked, her face stained with the tears that had long stopped flowing, the young girl’s arms felt as if they were going to rip out of socket from the strain of hanging by them, her wrist chains attached to the ceiling. Time had blurred, as she had no idea how long she’d been captive. Spread-eagle and suspended in mid air, all she could do was pray for a release…to die again.

Then the pain came again, like a knife twisting in her stomach in a constant counter-clockwise motion. She felt ripped from reality, as if her body was shifting across the spectrum of energy that held the world together. It was the same feeling she felt when she used her mutant abilities, only one thousand times worse.

“Try not to think about the hurt,” a voice came from the shadows, causing the girl to flail in surprise, her chains keeping her movements to a minimum. She watched as the speaker emerged from the darkness, though still only visible through her clinched eyelids, the pain of her torture making it difficult for her to focus.

“They’ll forget about you soon,” the speaker, a little blonde-haired girl that couldn’t have been older than eight, said with a slight smile. A doll rested between her arms and chest, a plush facsimile of the X-Man Nightcrawler. “My name’s Illyana,” she said, her voice laced with a thick Russian accent, “will you be my friend?”

Clarice Ferguson could offer no answer. All she could do was scream.

NEXT ISSUE: The Day The World Went Away Part 2. While Jon, Everett, and Monet are taken on a tour of the Wonderland facility, Dr. Essex starts to put his plan into motion. Plus, what is the secret of the Amalgamation Machine?

The End Of The Beginning

Well, it took me almost two years, but I’ve finally made my return to Generation X, a book that’s near and dear to my heart. What you’re reading now has been planned since before the ending to volume 1, and I’ve got to thank site-master Ryan Krupienski for allowing me to tell such an off-beat story with this series. I’ve also got to thank Ryan for keeping the mystery of what happened to these kids going during my absence from the site.

For those of you who may be coming into this series with this issue, here’s a little history lesson. In Generation X volume 1, the students of Charles Xaiver were battered emotionally and physically, almost to the breaking point. Friends died, others turned against them, and by the time I came on board as writer (with #13, to be exact), I was left with several subplots to finish up in a short amount of time. In my first arc, school headmaster Sean (Banshee) Cassidy left to spend time with his fiancée, Moira McTaggert, new team member Nuclear left the team, and one of the original students, Skin, left after the conclusion to a long-standing love triangle between himself, Husk, and Chamber. The remaining students were left in the care of Emma Frost, who in that same arc had fallen prey to the dark side of her own telepathic abilities, turning her into an uncaring, evil woman.

In the second arc of my run on vol. 1, assisted by Mr. Krupienski, the students were kidnapped by a group of scientists working for the GeneTech corporation. When the only free member, Jubilee, attempted to rescue them, a mysterious explosion destroyed the labs, killing everybody inside. With Jubilee being the only survivor, she was left at the not-so-tender mercies of Emma Frost, who was eventually revealed as (possibly) being the person responsible for the explosion that killed the rest of her students (for more information on THAT particular story, you should check out the excellent X-Men: Generations mini-series by Ryan).

And then here we are, with the first issue of Generation X 2.0. Now, I’m sure a question came to everyone’s mind when this series was announced: “how the hell can there be a new Gen X series when all the characters are dead?” All the answers will be given in the next four issues.

Until next month,

Chris Munn ~ riot bastard
09.07.03