The last thing Alison Blaire remembers was standing in London beside her fellow teammates in the X-Men. They were facing off against a mysterious, six-armed mutant who called herself Spiral. She danced and hurled glowing orbs at each of them and then the world went white for the woman called Dazzler.

When she opened her eyes, she found herself here. She was sitting on a plush couch in a spacious office surrounded by headshots of actors and actresses. There was a large desk in the office, but no chair was behind it. She stood from the couch and began exploring.

She walked over to the desk and fished through the drawers, but they were all empty. As if the occupant of this office never did any actual work. Like the desk itself was only there for show. She wasn’t sure exactly what was happening, but she intended to find out before the day was through.

The door opened and a tall, lanky man with long hair pulled back into a ponytail stepped inside. He held the door open and a large, blubbery man in a suit came in, sitting in an odd electric wheelchair. He had multicolored dreadlocks and yellow skin. His smile was wide and despite his mass, his four fingers were long and bony.

“Well, wellwellwell,” he said. “Isn’t this cozy?”

“Who are you?” asked Dazzler. “Where are my friends? What is this place?”

“Domo,” said the large man. Domo, apparently the name of the lanky fellow, stepped forward and held out something. Dazzler took it from his hand and looked at it. It was a business card that read “MOJOVISION STUDIOS.”

“What is this?” she asked.

“Didn’t you read the card?” asked the man. “Domo, didn’t I tell you to give her a card?”

“I did, your largeness,” replied Domo.

“And did you give her a card?”

“Yes.”

“And did she read the card?”

“Yes.”

“SO WHY IS SHE ASKING STUPID QUESTIONS?!?”

“I’m not certain, sir,” replied Domo. “Perhaps you should ask her yourself.”

“Good point,” he said. He looked at Dazzler. “Why are you asking stupid questions?”

“Who. Are. You?” asked Dazzler once again.

“Mojo,” he replied. “Mojo is my name, media is my game.”

“What?” asked Dazzler.

“Mr. Mojo is the head of MojoVision Studios,” replied Domo. “We’re an entertainment company. We work through all different mediums, but we specialize in movies and television.”

“So you kidnapped me… for what?” asked Dazzler.

“Let me put it to you straight, sweetheart,” said Mojo, moving his chair closer to her. He set his hand on her knee and smiled at her, but Dazzler pulled away from him. Mojo shrugged and then continued. “You, are Ali Blaire, correct?”

“I am,” she said.

“The pop star?” asked Mojo. “Actually, let me rephrase that—the former pop star?”

“…yes,” muttered Dazzler, a hint of regret in her voice.

“I want to make you a star, baby,” he said. “I want you to have the biggest comeback in history.”

“You want me to go back to singing?” asked Dazzler.

“Oh fuck no!” exclaimed Mojo. “No, that part of your career is over. I’m talking about making you an actress.”

“But I can’t act,” said Dazzler.

“So?” asked Mojo. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“It just always seemed like something of a requirement,” said Dazzler.

“Think baby, think,” said Mojo. “Ben Affleck. Jennifer Lopez. Keanu Reeves. Tara Reid. Can any of them act?”

“Well… no…”

“Exactly,” said Mojo. “To make it in Hollywood, all you need is to have charisma. And you’ve got it, baby. I’ve been following you since you left the music biz and you’ve impressed me.”

“Wait… what?!” asked Dazzler.

“Your mutant exploits,” replied Domo. “The very public battles against Magneto in Times Square, those other mutants at Liberty Island, the incident with that Brotherhood organization… we’ve been following your public battles very closely, Miss Blaire.”

“You’re tailor-made to be an action star,” said Mojo. “So, here’s my idea: I want you to become the co-star on the TV series, Longshot. I want you to be his romantic foil, to turn the tables on him. Cut him down a few pegs.”

“What about my friends?” asked Dazzler. “They were with me when I was kidnapped. Where are they?”

“We’re… auditioning them,” replied Mojo with a large grin.

MOJOVISION

Part III: Auditions

By Dino Pollard

Scott Summers shook the cobwebs from his head as consciousness returned to him. The man called Cyclops brought himself to his feet and quickly scanned the area he was in. It seemed like he was in the middle of a large forest, but he wasn’t sure where. He started to walk through it, but couldn’t see beyond the trees. It was then that he heard a familiar sound.

*SNIKT*

Cyclops spun on his heel just in time to see the Wolverine leaping towards him, claws extended. Cyclops leapt back, narrowly avoiding his former teammate’s claws.

“Logan?!” he exclaimed. “What the hell is going on?!”

“Think you can just toss me t’ th’ curb like that, one-eye?” asked Wolverine. “Didja think I wouldn’t come back for you? Think I wouldn’t come after you?”

Those were the last words Wolverine spoke. The only thing Cyclops heard from him after that were feral growls. He did his best avoiding the savage mutant’s claws. His hand went to his visor and he unleashed an optic blast. The force of the blast sent Wolverine flying.

“I don’t know what’s going on here—I don’t even know where ‘here’ is,” said Cyclops. “But I don’t wanna fight you, Logan.”

“Your funeral, kid,” said Wolverine. He ran towards Cyclops. The X-Men’s new leader fired off an optic blast, but Wolverine was able to dodge it. He leapt in the air and drove his booted feet into Cyclops’ head. He picked Cyclops up by the leather fabric of his costume and lifted him in the air, claws poised to strike.

“Payback time, Summers.”

John Proudstar opened his eyes and groaned in pain. He brought himself to his feet and rubbed the back of his head. He glanced around and realized where he was—his old high school’s football field. The last time he was here was before he joined the X-Men, when he accidentally took the life of a rival player.

“Is this some kind of sick joke?!” asked Thunderbird. “Whoever’s behind this, it isn’t funny!”

“You think I’m laughing?”

Thunderbird looked over his shoulder and saw Ororo Munroe sitting in the bleachers. His eyes grew wide in shock when he saw her.

“O…?”

“Yeah, it’s me,” replied Ororo. Like Thunderbird, she was one of the original X-Men. A former thief with a bit of a past behind her, her ability to manipulate the weather granted her the name Storm. She was possessed by the Shadow King and while under his control, attacked Liberty Island. She was accidentally killed by Rogue, another of the X-Men, in the attempts to stop her.

“This isn’t right,” said Thunderbird. “It can’t be. I saw you die.”

“By the way, thanks for the help with that,” said Storm. “I thought you cared about me, John.”

“I did,” said Thunderbird.

“So when I went missing, why didn’t you try to find me?” asked Storm. “Too busy cozying up to the former pop star, huh?”

“Ali?” asked Thunderbird. “What are you talking about, Ali and I never—”

“Oh shut the hell up!” she exclaimed. She hovered from the bleachers. The winds she rode blew her silver hair and Thunderbird noticed that some of the strands were beginning to stand on end, charged with electricity. “Think I never saw the way you looked at her? The way she looked at you?”

“O, listen, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Thunderbird. “There’s never been anything between Ali and I.”

“Oh really?”

“Well… okay, I’m attracted to her, but that’s it,” said Thunderbird. “But that’s not the point—what happened to you?! I saw Rogue kill you, how can you be alive right now?”

“I got better,” said Storm. She lifted her hand and lightning coursed from her fingertips. The arcs of electricity struck Thunderbird and his body began to convulse.

“Oh ho ho!” exclaimed Mojo. He sat before a row of large monitors. His elbows were perched on the arms of his chair and his fingers interlocked so his head could rest on it. The gigantic smile never faded from his face. On each of the monitors, he could see the four X-Men being put through their paces. Dazzler and Domo stood nearby watching as well.

“Such delicious drama!” said Mojo. “This is seriously better than a soap opera!”

“What’s happening to them?” asked Dazzler.

“It’s all in their heads,” replied Domo. “We have psychics putting through these trials, using their memories and their fears as the base for them.”

“Technology—ain’t it grand?” asked Mojo.

“Something’s wrong…” said Dazzler. “I only see Scott, John, Peter and Hank. Where’s Jean?”

“Get up.”

The voice was gruff and Peter Rasputin did not have to look up to know who it was. Still, he slowly opened one of his eyes. The moment he did, a larger, older man with long black hair and a goatee grabbed him by his neck and pulled him from the bed, knocking him to the ground. Peter groaned in pain, but it didn’t stop the older man from kicking him in the chest.

“I said get up, you little fag,” said the man. “I’ve orders from Papa. Time to turn you into a man.”

“Leave me be, Mikhail,” said Peter. Mikhail Rasputin grabbed him by the throat and lifted him up. He slammed him up against the wall.

“Shut up,” said Mikhail. “You do as I say, little brother, you understand? You’re an embarassment to this family and if you think I’m going to let you humiliate us, you’ve got another thing coming.”

Mikhail threw him from the wall. Peter struck the ground hard and grunted in pain. Mikhail turned him onto his back and drove his fist against his younger brother’s face. He continued to pound his fists against Peter and the younger brother had no defense against the attack. He could only lay there and allow his brother to have his way.

“You like this, don’t you?” asked Mikhail. “Maybe this turns you on, eh?”

“Stop…” muttered Peter. “Just… just leave me alone…”

“Always with those sculptures and paintings,” said Mikhail. “You’re weak, Piotr. You can’t do anything for yourself. I’m going to turn you into a man if I have to beat the fag out of you.”

Hank McCoy felt the throbbing pain of a massive headache when he opened his eyes. His glasses were missing, he couldn’t find them anywhere. He assumed he must have dropped them before Spiral teleported them away from London. Although where she teleported them, he hadn’t a clue. The Beast found himself in a laboratory. There was another man in the room with him, wearing a white coat. His back was to Beast, and the X-Men could see he had long, black hair pulled into a ponytail.

“Nothing but a failed experiment,” said the man.

Beast’s eyebrow raised in curiosity when he heard the voice. The man turned and the Beast found himself staring at… himself. Or at least the way he looked before he was left near-death by the Marauders. Moira had told him that his body had undergone a “secondary mutation” to save his life, a mutation that caused blue fur to grow all over his body. His nails became claws and his canines became fangs. His own mutant abilities of superhuman strength and agility were also enhanced by the mutation.

“Did you hear me?” asked the human McCoy. “I said you’re nothing but a failed experiment.”

“I’m not an experiment,” said Beast. “I didn’t do this to myself.”

“You’re not even human,” said McCoy. “Look at you. Despite your intellect, your mutation causes you to slide further down the evolutionary ladder. From man to beast. What’s next, I wonder? What form will your body take on after this one?”

“I don’t know,” said Beast.

“Maybe we should find out,” said McCoy. His massive fist shot out and slammed against Beast’s abdomen. He drove his elbow against the Beast’s skull. He picked up the X-Man and slammed him against the wall.

“Stop…” muttered Beast.

“Oh come on, don’t be so weak!” exclaimed McCoy. “Let the Beast come out and play!”

“Delicious! Simply delicious!” exclaimed Mojo. “I couldn’t get better drama and inner turmoil if I paid for it!”

“Are you insane?!” exclaimed Dazzler. “You’re killing them! How could you find this entertaining?!”

“Because sweetheart, it’s drama baby,” said Mojo. “It’s what makes the world go ’round. It’s what brings people back every week for more. And it’s what keeps the sponsors paying through the nose for ad space. Genius, pure genius is what it is. I abso-freaking-lutely love it! Love it, love it, LOVE IT!”

“Perhaps we should put this on the air instead of Longshot,” said Domo.

“Shut up, Domo!” exclaimed Mojo. “Can’t you see I’m trying to think?!”

“My apologies, oh bulbous one,” said Domo. He tapped Dazzler on the shoulder and held up four fingers. Then three, then two, then one and at the exact moment he lowered his final finger, Mojo spoke again.

“Wait, I’ve got it!” exclaimed Mojo. “Listen to this, Domo, this will blow your mind!”

“What is it?” asked Domo with a sigh.

“Instead of keeping Longshot’s show on the air, we make him part of the ensemble cast of a brand new show!” exclaimed Mojo. “We’ll call it… the X-Men! And we’ll have the X-Men play themselves! Brilliant, isn’t it?”

“Most brilliant,” said Domo. “Your creativity knows no bounds.”

“Of course it doesn’t, that’s because I’m a creative genius,” said Mojo. “You can’t spell genius without Mojo! Well… you can, but my point still stands! This is the greatest idea I’ve ever had, it’ll totally revolutionize the way people watch television! We’ll have Longshot and Dazzler there as this star-crossed couple! And as both having former experience in pop culture, they’ll be relatable icons! Then the other X-Men will be there, which will make for perfect drama! It’s perfect, flawless, can’t fail!”

“Of course it can’t,” said Domo.

“What?!” exclaimed Dazzler. “You can’t be serious. We’re not going to buy into this crap of yours, not after I’ve seen what you’ve done to my friends! We’ve already been puppets for the government and Magneto, we’re not going to be your puppets, too!”

“You don’t have a choice in the matter, Ali-baby,” said Mojo.

Above Mojo’s office, in the air ducts, Longshot gritted his teeth in anger.

“Cancel my show?!” he muttered beneath his breath. “He can’t do that! And for what, so I can play the charming, mystery guy on some ensemble show? I don’t think so, Longshot works solo! I’m not about to share the spotlight with anyone!”

Longshot moved through the air ducts. He was flawless in his movements, easily able to move through without making a sound. He was created to be the perfect action star. Handsome, charming, mysterious and able to handle himself in any situation. He made his way towards the one room where he knew he could put an end to Mojo’s plans for making the X-Men the latest new stars.

He found his goal and kicked open the air vent. He dropped down to the room beneath and saw a young woman strapped down to a metal table. She had some sort of helmet on her head, with LED lights on it that kept flashing on and off. He looked her over and smiled to himself.

“So, you’re the one they call Phoenix, huh?” he asked. “Let’s see how well Mojo can maintain his hold on those auditions when I free the X-Men’s resident deus ex machina.”