DANGEROUS GAMES

Conclusion

By Dino Pollard

“Come again?” asked Fury.

Kitty Pryde looked away from the one-eyed man, and instead fixed her eyes on Scott Summers.

“I said I created the viruses,” she replied.

“You’re responsible for this?” asked Fury.

“Well… indirectly…” replied Kitty.

“So I’ve got you to blame for fucking up the stock market?” asked Fury. “M, contact SHIELD’s headquarters, tell them we’ve found the person behind the Arcade virus.”

“Hey, you promised nothing would happen to me!” exclaimed Kitty, her eyes suddenly shifting back to him. Even she seemed surprised by her sudden outburst, and her gaze became fixed on the metallic floor.

“In that case, I’m breaking my promise,” said Fury.

“You can’t do this to me,” she said.

“Just watch me. Beast, restrain our guest.”

Hank McCoy looked over to the rest of his teammates, then to Kitty. All the X-Men had their eyes cast downward. They were all unsure of what to say. At least with Xavier and Wolverine to a certain extent, they knew what they could get away with. But Fury was still a virtual unknown to them, and truth be told, he was also a little bit frightening.

“Umm… I’m not too sure about that… sir…” he said.

“Are you disobeying a direct order, McCoy?” asked Fury.

“Not so much disobeying as… y’know, questioning,” replied Hank. “Sir.”

“Sir, I suggest you consider this decision first,” said Monet. “If she created the viruses, maybe she can uncreate them.”

“Plus, she’s a mutant,” said Scott. “Maybe she could help us out.”

“There’s no shortage of mutants in the world, Summers,” said Fury.

“How about we make a deal,” said Kitty. Her eyes slowly drifted back to Fury’s. “I tell you everything I know about these viruses, as well as help you write an anti-virus, and in exchange, you don’t prosecute.”

“You really think you’re in the position to make a deal, kiddo?” asked Fury.

“Yeah, I do,” replied Kitty. “Because, like it or not, you need my help. So what say we start talking?”

Fury removed the cigar from his mouth and glanced down at the floor. He closed his one good eye and sighed deeply, as he ran over his options in his head. He looked up and stared Kitty directly in the eye.

“You’re all dismissed,” he said. “Pryde and I are gonna have a little chat, so why don’t the rest of you go take a walk or something?”

“I dunno if that’s such a good idea…”

“Just do it, Proudstar.”

Fury stood his ground and folded his arms. Kitty looked directly into his eyes and kept her position solid, as if she were glued to the floor. The X-Men slowly began to walk towards the door. Scott was the last one to leave, and he glanced back at Kitty and Fury one final time. He almost considered arguing with Fury so he could remain in the room as they talked. But, he thought better of it. He stepped out the door and it closed behind him.

“Start talking,” ordered Fury.

<“Our operations began many years ago in Japan,”> said Shingen Yashida. <“The Clan Yashida has been in existence for centuries, but we became extremely influential once the opium trade began. While our nation was more concerned with war and territory, my family was concerned with money. We have made a life of hiding in the shadows.”>

The use of the Japanese language felt odd to the man called Logan. Although he was fluent in it, as well as in several other languages, it still felt odd for him to be speaking in such a tongue after so many years. He was surprised he even remembered it anymore.

<“Now we’re in America,”> said Shingen. <“The Promised Land. Where dreams come true. Where a poor man can become a rich man. And where a rich man can become a richer man.”>

<“Is that why you’re here?”> asked Logan. <“Money?”>

<“Obviously that was the catalyst,”> replied Shingen. <“We also have more freedom and autonomy here in the States than we have in Japan. American law enforcement is quite sloppy. They spend half their time tripping over their own laws.”>

Logan covered up his distaste at Shingen’s choice of words rather superbly. One of those reasons was the fact that he knew, at least to a certain extent, that Shingen was right. As an agent of SHIELD, it was a difficult thing for him to admit.

<“Do you have an assignment for me, yet?”> asked Logan.

<“Direct and to the point,”> replied Shingen. <“I like that in an assassin. And to answer your question, yes, I do have an assignment.”>

<“Which is?”>

<“I must warn you in advance, it is quite difficult.”>

<“Difficult is no problem for me.”>

Shingen smiled at this comment, something which Logan took careful notice of. He was beginning to gain the crimelord’s trust, and that was something which could only spell good things for him and his mission.

<“As I said, this is no easy task,”> said Shingen. <“I have many enemies, some of whom are even within the Clan Yashida. There is one whom continues to pose a threat to me, even now.”>

<“Who?”>

<“My nephew,”> replied Shingen.

The paper of the cigarette turned to ash as the cinders slowly burned away at it. Remy LeBeau discarded the ash in a nearby tray before bringing it back to his lips. The paper recinded at a faster rate as he drew the smoke, tar, and nicotine into his mouth.

Simply by looking into this man’s eyes, you could tell that he was worried. Worried for the fate of his protegé, a young woman named Ororo Munroe. A woman whom he had come to share something more than friendship with in the time he had known her.

“Y’ nervous, Remy?”

“Don’t you got something better to do than watch me, Gris?” asked Remy.

Gris Gris leaned back in his chair and placed his hands behind his head. He grinned, and his yellow teeth were a sharp contrast to his black skin. Remy looked down at the cigarette he held between his fingers, and for a moment, he considered charging the cigarette and using it to remove the smile from Gris Gris’s face.

“Nope,” said Gris Gris.

Okay, maybe Remy considered it for longer than a moment.

“This is totally fucked,” said John. “Who the hell does that guy think he is?”

“I don’t know,” said Monet. “Our commanding officer, perhaps?”

“Don’t you have some of daddy’s credit cards to max out?” asked John.

“Enough…” muttered Hank.

“Stay outta this, fatboy,” said John.

“I weigh less than you,” offered Hank in retort.

“Yeah, but where I got tone you got flab.”

“John, please, you’re not helping…” said Ali.

“I’m not helping by just sitting around doing nothing, either!” exclaimed John. “C’mon, look at this bullshit! We’ve got this hacker-dude on the loose, the Prof’s comatose, O’s still missing, and Wolverine’s off on a mission. And to top it all off, big man Fury won’t tell us a goddamn thing! Scottie, you agree with me, right?”

Scott Summers looked up from his seat with a questioning glance. He opened his mouth to speak, and at first, no words came forth. It took him a moment to consider what he would say, but finally, he found the proper way to phrase his thoughts.

“Well… sort of,” he said. “I know you’re pissed. Hell, so am I. Maggie’s still at ESU with that psycho running around.”

“So what are we waiting for, man?” asked John. “Let’s go help her.”

“We… we can’t,” replied Scott. “The last time I rushed into things on my own, it almost got me and Alex killed. We gotta trust Fury on this, man.”

“I can’t believe this shit,” said John. “There’s gotta be someone here who agrees with me!”

John’s eyes looked over his teammates. Hank McCoy, Scott Summers, and Alison Blaire all averted their eyes. Monet St. Croix simply met his eyes and shook her head. A voice came up from behind him.

“I do.”

John turned to see the form of Kurt Darkholme, perched atop a chair in a crouched position. The former young terrorist who called himself Nightcrawler stared at Thunderbird with glowing, yellow eyes. Eyes which stood out brightly from his pitch-black skin. Kurt’s sister, Marie, looked at him with confusion.

“We have to put an end to this Arcade,” said Kurt. “And from what we’ve been told so far, he sounds quite dangerous.”

During this entire situation, another X-Man besides Storm has been absent from the gathering. Her name is Jean Grey, and she’s currently sitting in the infirmary. Her chair sits right next to a bed where the comatose Charles Xavier lays motionless. Her eyes are closed. One might think upon seeing this that she was asleep.

Quite the opposite.

In reality, Jean Grey, the mutant called Psyche, is deep in concentration. Her telepathic powers are being pushed to their limit. Her task? To try and bring Charles Xavier back from wherever his consciousness has wandered off to.

She recalls one of her training sessions when “Charlie” showed her how to access a different plane of existence. Where all minds are connected as one. The Astral Plane, he called it.

“Think of it as the Internet,” he had told her during their session. “Each mind is like a computer, and the Astral Plane is the network or server that connects them all together.”

“What do I use it for?” she had asked.

He smiled when she asked this question.

“Anything at all.”

Jean has never made an attempt to venture into the Astral Plane on her own. Each time, she always had Xavier by her side. She concentrates, and she can feel her mind leaving her body. She feels the entire world change around her, and when she opens her eyes, she is standing in nothingness.

There is white as far as the eye can see, and no apparent end to this vast space. There is no edge, no walls, no doors, no ceilings, no floors. This is the Astral Plane.

Jean walks (or is it flies, since there is no floor to speak of?) across the space. Her eyes dart back and forth, trying to find some area of familiarity. Some way to let her know she is going the right way.

She thinks of Charles. She closes her eyes, and the white changes into something else. She opens her eyes again and suddenly, she’s in Central Park. There are two men sitting at a table with a chess set between them. One is Charles Xavier. The other is a man with short, silver hair.

“Magneto…” mutters Jean.

“We don’t get together as often as we used to, Charles.”

“Whose fault is that, Erik?” asks Charles.

“Tell me, Charles. Do you remember the last thing I said to you?”

“‘It doesn’t matter if we live in the land of the free and the home of the brave, or if we fight by their side. No matter what we do, humanity will never accept us.'”

“And tell me, in those six years, have I been proven right?”

“I can’t answer that question, Erik. Not yet, anyway. It takes more than a few years for mutants to be accepted. Even today, minorities which have been officially accepted are still persecuted. It’s a price we have to pay for acceptance.”

“Need I remind you of what my father went through in Germany? Need I remind you of the discrimination my family faced upon arriving in this country? So, you beg and grovel, and they throw you a few scraps of food – just before they spit on you. Is that what you call acceptance?”

“That won’t happen. But terrorism isn’t the answer. Violence will only prove that the people who fear us are right. You’re only making things worse for us, Erik.”

“You’re an idiot, Charles. An idealistic fool.”

“Do you really think so, Erik?”

“Why are you showing me this?” asks Jean. “What does this have to do with anything?”

The world melts once more, and now Jean is standing amidst a sea of protestors holding picket signs. At the forefront are two men. Charles Xavier and Erik Lehnsherr.

“I remember this,” says Jean. “I saw it on the news. This was the mutant rally of ’96, wasn’t it?”

“What do we want?!” demands Charles.

“MUTANT RIGHTS!” the crowd shouts.

“When do we want it?!” demands Erik.

“NOW!” the crowd shouts.

“Charlie… what’s all this have to do with anything? I know about this stuff, you told me that you and Magneto used to be friends.”

Again, the world seems to melt away. Jean finds herself now standing in a very familiar room. A room from the mansion, Xavier’s study. She sees Charles sitting at his desk going over some papers. The door opens and Erik walks in.

“What’s going on, Charles?” he demands.

“I’m not sure what you mean,” replies Charles.

“You know damn-well what I mean,” says Erik. “You’ve been acting strange ever since you returned from your trip.”

“I’m the same man I’ve always been,” says Charles. “But now, I have a… new perspective.”

“Don’t try and tip-toe around the subject,” says Erik. “I’ve read your files. What you’re planning, Charles, it’s manipulation.”

“No,” says Charles. “It’s evolution.”

“What’s this all about?” asks Jean. “You told me you and Magneto had a falling out, that you had different ideas in mind… but this doesn’t seem right. In this memory, you don’t sound the same. That last comment, that’s something Magneto would have said.”

“No, it’s not.”

Jean turns around and sees the form of Charles Xavier standing before her. He walks closer to her with a smile on his face.

“Charlie…?” she asks. “Your legs… but how?”

“This is the Astral Plane, Jean,” he replies. “Here, all things are possible.”

“What’s this all about?”

“Control, Jean,” replies Xavier. “That’s what it’s always been about. You already know that Mystique was part of my past. Erik, Raven, and myself. But what you don’t know is that ever since then, there was another who always worked from the shadows.”

“I’m not liking the sound of this, Charles.”

“I’m not surprised,” says Xavier. “When I killed Raven, something set me off. I discovered the truth. He’s been in here with me for years. Before I was approached by the President, he was there. There’s a lot more to this than you understand. He’s in here, Jean. And he’s taking over.”

“Who’s here, Professor?” asks Jean. “Who’s taking over?”

Charles opens his mouth, but it closes right away. He tried again, but with no effort. His fingers rush to his mouth, trying to pry it open, but to no avail. The room begins to change shape again, a swirling palette of grays and blacks surrounding the two telepaths. From the ground shoot up bars of cold steel, surrounding Xavier in a prison.

“NO!” exclaims Jean.

She runs to the bars and pulls on them. She’s suddenly forced back from them. In the darkness, she sees a pair of glowing eyes.

“You cannot save him.”

“What’s going on?”

“He’s mine, now. A prisoner of the shadows. And you do not belong.”

Nick Fury looks over Kitty Pryde carefully. He removes the cigar from his mouth and sits in a chair. He motions to another empty seat, and she takes a seat.

“I’ve got an offer for you,” he says.

“I already told you my deal,” says Kitty. “I eradicate the virus, and you don’t prosecute.”

“I don’t like that deal,” says Fury. “So here’s mine. You eradicate the virus, and to make up for creating them, you stay onboard.”

“What do you mean?”

“Not as an active field agent,” says Fury. “But we could use someone with your computer skills.”

“Seriously?”

Fury nods.

“Will I get paid?”

“Not at first,” replies Fury. “Consider it working off jailtime. If you want to stay onboard after your sentence has ended, then we can talk about compensation. But not a moment sooner.”

“I’m in,” she says.

“Good,” says Fury. “Get cracking, Pryde.”

“Call me Shadowcat,” she says.

“Pardon?”

“My codename,” she says. “You like?”

Fury rolls his eye.

“Just do your job,” he says. “Fucking teenagers…”

Ohmanohmanohmanohman… I don’t know what the hell I’m doing here. Let alone with a gun. This was all just supposed to be for fun. Just a gag. I didn’t mean to fuck up the stock market like that. I didn’t mean to try and kill a mutant. What’s going on here?

You did marvelous.

Who said that?

I did.

Who’s there?

I’m that little voice in the back of your head, Arcade. I’m everywhere. I tell people to ignore their conscience. To just do what they want. And you listened to me. You used the virus created by young Katherine and you unleashed it on the stock market. If the virus continues like this, it would cause another depression. Possibly anarchy. Glorious anarchy.

You’re crazy… whoever you are, you’re crazy…

I like to think of myself as a visionary.

What the hell is this?

Truth be told, friend, you were a pawn. I just used you to bring mutants out into the open.

But I’m not a mutant.

Oh, I know that. But what you don’t know is that you think you’re a mutant.

What? No I don’t.

Your gun, Arcade. Put it to your forehead.

No!

Do it!

I… I can’t stop myself… what are you doing?

Oh look, here comes a crowd.

Don’t… please, don’t do this…

Come on, Arcade. Let’s have us a show.

“FOR MUTANTKIND!” shouts Arcade before pulling the trigger on the gun.

Students and faculty watch as the young man takes his life.

And in the shadows, someone smiles.

“Remy…”

Gambit looks up to the open door. He sees Stephen Strange standing there, leaning against the doorframe as if he were going to collapse.

“You okay, Strange?” asks Gambit.

“He’s back…” mutters Strange. Then, his body begins to convulse with electricity.

“No…” says Remy.

Ororo Munroe hovers from the open doorway, the winds whipping about her, her hair supercharged with electricity. She looks at Gambit with glowing red eyes and smiles.

“Hello Remy. Been awhile.”

“LET HER GO!!” exclaims Gambit. He reaches into one of the pouches on his belt and hurls several marbles at Storm. Before they leave his fingers, he charges them with kinetic energy. Storm simply uses her winds to direct the marbles away from her body. She then stares directly at Gambit, and electricity flows from her eyes and strikes him. She hovers over to him, and uses the winds to lift his body into the air until he’s parallel to her.

“You sick bastard…” says Gambit. “I thought Strange killed you…”

“Looks like he failed. What did I tell you, Remy? Never go against the family.”

“You’re no family of mine…”

“Is that any way to speak to your father?”

“Fuck off.”

“The Shadow King is back. And now the fun can really begin.”