Uncanny X-Men

PAST TENSE

Part II: Revolving Door

By Ryan Krupienski

The Xavier Institute; Six Months Ago

Ororo Munroe stood near the steel-blue, highly-customized Bentley that was to be her ride to the airport, as soon as her ‘chauffer’ arrived. She was in no rush… her plane didn’t leave for several hours, and the peace and quiet she had at the moment was just what she needed.

She’d finished saying goodbye to her friends and teammates, which wasn’t quite as hard as she thought it would be. She’d gotten used to that over the years… it seemed that no matter how many times she bid farewell to the people she loved – no matter how many times some of them died – they truly were never all that far away. If Ororo weren’t so in love with all of the people she’d come to think of as family, she might feel trapped.

In a way, though, that was how she’d felt after Charles’ death… trapped. Trapped playing the role of ‘den mother’, the matriarch of the X-Men, the Institute’s ‘heart and soul’… Jean had left that void wide open when she departed for Genosha, and to most if not all of the mansion’s residents, Ororo was the only one who could fill those shoes. Only this time around, Ororo wanted no such thing.

She cared about the school and its students, and wanted nothing more than to see them succeed. She had done her part in helping reopen the school and getting the curriculum established, and it fulfilled her… to a point. She needed more. She needed something different. She needed change.

Her teammates understood and accepted her decision to join the X-Corporation rather easily, though she could tell that Scott was a bit upset. They could talk about it more on the way to the airport. She knew he’d be just fine… if she had any doubts, she wouldn’t be taking off so quickly.

It excited her, the thought of returning to Cairo. Sure, she would be working in a stuffy office… yes, she’d be dealing with headache after headache, and probably receive hundreds of death threats. She wasn’t a fool, but she wasn’t a coward, either. She’d been through too much in her life to back down from any challenge, especially one with such great potential to do good.

More than the thought of having a hand in possibly crafting a new positive worldview of mutants, though, Ororo felt elated to be returning to the one place on Earth that was most like home to her. Being in Cairo was what felt right for her, more so than being in Westchester. She didn’t quite know how to describe everything she was feeling, even to herself, but she could feel home calling for her. It was one of the few certainties she had right now.

And then there were the uncertainties. Her place with the X-Men she’d questioned since Charles’ death… it impacted her greater than she ever could have conceived. It had left a hole in her heart, and she knew the rest of the team felt the same way. And of course there was also her pseudo-relationship with Beatrice… regardless of knowing her whole life she was attracted to both men and women, openly loving another woman was still a concept Ororo couldn’t quite wrap her head around. She wasn’t quite sure how to convey that feeling to Bea, either, at least not without potentially hurting her.

Ororo slowly walked through the expansive garage, which held at least a dozen vehicles. Her heels clicked loudly against the hard cement with each step she took, and the tail of her thin, baby blue jacket rustled ever so slightly in the soft breeze being let in through the open windows. She thought for a moment of her greenhouse, which she would miss dearly, but she felt content in knowing that Piotr had promised to look after the plants. She also knew he would greatly enjoy painting up in the attic.

Anxiety hadn’t set in quite yet, but Ororo could feel its onset waiting in the wings; she truly was ready to go. She’d packed all her belongings, said all her goodbyes, taken her final look around… she was done. But was everyone done with her?

The door that connected the garage to the main house open with a slight creaking sound, and Ororo turned her head to see the woman who made her heart skip a beat – which could be a good or bad thing – step out. Beatrice was beautiful as ever, her snow-white skin always flawless and her long, black hair vibrant and silky as usual. The light red capris and matching blouse she wore complimented her complexion greatly, and Ororo found herself compelled to smile, but she couldn’t – she knew why Bea was here, and hoped beyond all hope that things wouldn’t get ugly.

“Okay, you know what? We’re not done,” Beatrice said, walking sternly towards Ororo, their eyes locked on each other the entire time. “That was not a goodbye. You owe me more than that, damn it.”

“Please, I… I just want things to be okay between us. I don’t want this to hurt,” Ororo responded, as Beatrice came to a stop a mere two feet in front of her.

“Too late for that!” Beatrice said, throwing her arms up in the air in a huff. Ororo had been acting a little strange lately, but Bea wasn’t prepared for her departure. It had totally floored her, and though she’d never admit it in a million years, she wondered if there was something she’d said or done to scare Ororo off.

“We agreed on ‘no strings’… how many times do I have to bring this up?” Ororo asked, almost pleadingly.

“And just like I told you yesterday when you came and surprised me with your big announcement… I thought we also agreed that there was more to this than just sex!” Beatrice retorted. She raised a hand and pointed a finger at Ororo as she added, “If you weren’t sure, you should have just told me so! But no, here I am thinking maybe I could fall in love with you… and you still want to classify us as friends with benefits!”

“You are more to me than that and you know it!” Ororo hadn’t wanted this, but now there was no avoiding it. She would do her best to keep things amicable, though.

“Well you sure have a funny way of showing it,” Beatrice said with a shake of her head. She turned from Ororo as she felt tears starting to well up in her eyes; she was just as confused as Ororo, as she didn’t know she had the capacity to care about another person in this way. It had happened, though, and not only was she struggling with a myriad of emotions, but now the bitch was leaving.

“You make me crazy, you know that?” Beatrice said, her back still turned to Ororo. “We have great sex… we like doing a lot of the same things… we seem to really understand each other, or at least that’s what I thought. But more and more you’ve just been pushing me away, it feels like… and I don’t fucking get it!”

“Please, calm…”

Ororo’s sentence was suddenly ended as Beatrice spun around and took the white-haired woman in her arms, pulling her close and locking their lips together. It was a deep, long kiss, the kind to close one’s eyes for, the kind that makes the heart beat a thousand times per second. It caught Ororo off guard, and while it felt so good, it hurt even more. She knew what she would be missing by going to Cairo, but it was what she had to do. She hated Beatrice at that moment for reminding her.

Neither woman pulled out of the kiss, instead it just sort of ended mutually, and for what seemed like a hundred years afterward, they just stood there, staring into each other’s eyes. Ororo felt so unsure of what to do or say, and all Beatrice could do was look at her would-be love with sad, defeated eyes. She knew that Ororo was still leaving, but she had to kiss her at least one more time.

“Please don’t say anything,” Beatrice asked, finally breaking the awkward silence between them. She pulled away from Ororo as she continued, “You know where I stand. I wish I could say the same. Just go… and maybe someday, if you sort out whatever the hell is going… maybe… but I don’t wait around for anyone, not even you.”

The words came out harsher than Beatrice had intended, but she wasn’t about to apologize for anything now. She took a deep breath, and Ororo did the same, also moving her gaze away from the black-haired woman. They were done; it was plain as day.

“Goodbye,” Beatrice said, turning and walking away from Ororo briskly. She hadn’t meant to cause such a scene, but at least she’d said – and done – what she needed to. She didn’t necessarily feel any better, but it would be one less regret she’d have. Bea reached the door leading back into the mansion and, without looking back, stepped through and closed it behind her.

Ororo swallowed back a lump in her throat and just stared at the door for several moments. Her heart hadn’t stopped racing, and she didn’t know if it would anytime soon. She hoped she could calm down soon, though; she didn’t want Scott to see her like this.

Letting out a sigh, Ororo stared at the door for a moment longer. Before turning away and heading towards her vehicle, she whispered, “Goodbye, Bea…”

The Danger Room

They came at her with the utmost of ferocity, vicious battle cries sounding out as the group lunged at her from all sides. It was nothing short of what she’d expect from them, and though she knew they were just holograms, there was an eerie realism to everything from the way they moved to the way they talked to the way sweat beads formed on their foreheads. Anna Hong knew what the technology in this room was capable of and had become more than familiar with it since coming to live at the Xavier Institute, but even so, she would never quite get over how real these scenarios always seemed.

The woman otherwise known as Kwannon had once been a part of the pack of mutants currently surrounding her – the Marauders. The name should have given everything away, but Essex had saved her life, taught her to use and control her mutant ability, and for the longest time she believed his story that the Marauders were some sort of bounty hunters who went after dangerous mutants. She had also felt that even questioning Essex would be a betrayal, and silently fell in line with his wishes.

Back in those days, she called herself Chyna; to her it was a ridiculous name, but Essex had selected it for her. She went on a mere handful of missions with the Marauders, doing Essex’s bidding in helping gather research materials, samples of mutant DNA, capturing ‘dangerous’ and ‘evil’ mutants. It wasn’t until she eventually saw the Marauders’ true brutality for herself that she came to seriously doubt her position with the group, and later she would discover that behind the stories and excuses, something truly sinisterlie.

Riptide, Arclight, Vertigo, Scrambler, Blockbuster, Scalphunter, Prism, and Harpoon closed in on Kwannon, but she did not have an ounce of fear running through her veins. She knew she could deactivate this program with a simple voice command, of course, but she’d run through this scenario many, many times… and she had never lost once.

Twirling her double-bladed lance in front of her, Kwannon moved the weapon above her head and first struck Blockbuster in the face, sending the behemoth stumbling backwards into the simulated walls of Sinister’s former base of operations. Vertigo and Scrambler were the next two to reach her, and Kwannon gracefully took them down with a roundhouse kick to the head and a slash of her lance across the abdomen, respectively.

So far it had been easy, but then she always liked to get the riff-raff out of the way; this is where the fight usually turned intense. Kwannon back-flipped several times to remove herself from the huddle she’d been caught in, and now her remaining foes all faced her from the front. Blockbuster would rejoin the fight soon, she knew, and Arclight and Scalphunter might be the next easiest enemies to dispose of. Same scenario each time, but the fight was always different.

Suddenly, a swarm of steel shurikens began flying at her, and Kwannon put her natural agility to good use, narrowly dodging all of the objects. She began striking at them with her lance, sending many back in the direction they came from. Riptide did not relent in his attack, grinning and laughing maliciously as his teammates continued to advance on Kwannon. She continued batting at the shurikens and managed to send a trio of them flying right at Prism; his crystalline body shattered in a split second, as a result.

That was one more Marauder down, but Kwannon didn’t give herself time to rest; instead, she struck at one more shuriken with the utmost of precision and force, and it darted through the air directly at Riptide’s head. It struck the man directly in his face, subsequently halting his attacks, but the rest of the Marauders continued to move in towards their former teammate.

Kwannon changed tactics suddenly and dashed at the assemblage of hard-light holograms and slashed with her lance first at Arclight, and then at Blockbuster, who had rejoined the group. Arclight went down in an instant but Blockbuster did not fall so easily; Kwannon used one hand to pivot on the enormous man’s shoulder and then vaulted over him, landing on her feet behind the murderers.

Kwannon cried out, finally putting a voice to her pent-up aggression, and charged with her lance in both hands at Harpoon, impaling the stocky man from behind. She wasn’t a killer by any means, but these were simply holograms; mercy was no object.

Harpoon fell to the ground with a loud thud just as Scalphunter and Blockbuster turned to face Kwannon, whose lance had suddenly started to glow with a bright energy. She didn’t do this very often, use her mutant ability, but when she did, she really used it.

A wave of yellow and orange particles exploded from one of the blades of the lance and struck at Blockbuster with enough force to send the man flying through the air and crashing into a group of machines that proceeded to electrocute him. Scalphunter had barely dodged the blast and wasted no time in charging at Kwannon full-force, knocking the woman to the ground and straddling her.

Scalphunter always seemed to be the last of the Marauders standing, which was appropriate as Kwannon remembered him as the most disciplined of the group. He had been their leader, and with good reason; he was the most ruthless, the coldest and most calculating of them all. Even so, he didn’t stand a chance.

Kwannon struck Scalphunter in the face with her elbow, giving her the leverage to push him off of her and hop to her feet. Leaving her lance behind, Kwannon relied solely on fist and foot as she barraged him with a flurry of physical attacks, striking him in both shoulders and in the abdomen. Her hands would be bruised slightly thanks to the man’s armor, but she didn’t care – this was a good workout.

Scalphunter fell to the ground at Kwannon’s feet, and once again, the X-Man stood victorious. However, she wasn’t quite done; she’d added an extra element to the program this time around. She knew many of her teammates would question the wisdom of her actions, but she felt it was time to take things to the next level. Though he too was dead, she had not been able to shake him, get him completely out of her system… and facing a mere hologram of him wasn’t going to make everything better, but it sure would help.

Footsteps suddenly became audible in the distance, the sound of metal against metal, and a familiar man clad in a dark blue body armor stepped into the room. He surveyed Kwannon’s work, and after a moment began to clap. “Very impressive, Chyna. Very impressive.”

“I don’t talk to holograms,” was all Kwannon said, and she dashed at Sinister with her fists clenched tightly. She’d wanted so much to be the one to kill him, to make him pay for everything he’d done, but instead Jean Grey was the lucky winner of that contest. Watching him die had been gratifying in many ways for Kwannon, but then again, part of her didn’t believe that he was actually gone.

Part of him lingered… his voice was still in her head from time to time, and whenever she used her mutant ability, she had flashbacks to the times he had taught her how to control it. And of course there were Scott and Jean, who had suffered far more at the hands of Sinister than anyone else. He had tried to destroy their family on so many occasions simply so he could attain what he believed would be the most powerful mutant ever to walk the face of the earth, and she knew like her own, those wounds would never truly heal. It was over not only both having lost a child but the scars inflicted by the mad scientist that Anna and Scott had truly bonded.

Sinister stood his ground as Kwannon approached, simply raising an arm and releasing an energy blast from the palm of his hand. Kwannon dodged to the side and swiftly moved into position to come up behind her employer, and she charged into his back with all the force she could muster. She heard a plethora of bones crack but she knew it meant nothing; Sinister’s form was malleable, and this doppelganger was built to spec.

As expected, Sinister’s back recovered from being caved in and he turned to face Kwannon, coming to a halt after a couple of steps. It was to be expected; the man rarely got his hands dirty, practically never engaged in actual combat, and the way he so casually regarded the fight perfectly demonstrated the extent of his arrogance. If Kwannon didn’t know any better, she wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between this and the real thing.

Scooping up her lance, Kwannon held her position for several moments, her eyes locked with Sinister. She knew she could best him, but she also knew it wouldn’t mean anything. This hologram perfectly emulated the man she hated more than anyone else, but it wasn’t him. He was dead, and she would never truly have her revenge. Perhaps it was better that way, though she would never truly know why Sinister had taken such a vested interest in her.

Kwannon charged her lance with every last ounce of energy she could muster and began twirling it in front of her, creating the effect of a small teleportation portal. She charged at Sinister and before he could muster any sort of defense, Kwannon brought the lance down on the man. The blade, coupled with the energy particles, tore through the man’s torso diagonally, severing an arm and shoulder and sending him to the ground. Kwannon stood over her nemesis and finished the job by bringing the blade of her lance down on the man’s neck, effectively severing his head.

It was done, but then, she had done nothing. In a few minutes the dark, dreadful landscape of Sinister’s old lair would fade away, along with the nine holographic ‘corpses’. Kwannon would walk out of the room with a good sweat, and nothing more.

Looking down at the dismembered man, Kwannon gulped back a lump in her throat as a new sense of dread washed over her. She had never quite fully accepted the fact that Sinister was dead; it seemed too easy. She never doubted that someone as powerful as Phoenix could destroy the man, but he was a master manipulator – he always had a trick up his sleeve.

Dead or not, Sinister was far from finished – of that, Kwannon was certain. It would only be a matter of time before his legacy reared its ugly head again…

The Courtyard

Both dressed in t-shirts, short, and a pair of sneakers, Bobby Drake and Peter Valentino ran up and down the concrete surface of the enclosed basketball court, one constantly trying to block and steal the orange ball from the other. Peter was at the top of his game, beating Bobby by twelve points, but he didn’t know if it was because he was having a good day, or his friend was having a bad one. Bobby usually won by a landslide every time, but lately he’d not been up to his usual standard. He’d not been himself in a lot of ways, in fact.

If only Peter knew the young man he was playing against was not, in fact, Bobby Drake.

Peter dribbled the ball gracefully and dashed towards his opponent’s hoop, and with scant hesitation jumped and took a shot that just barely made it. Peter clapped his hands together and laughed, giving Bobby a sarcastic look. Bobby just rolled his eyes as he retrieved the ball; this game was really getting old.

“So that’s eighteen for me, three for you,” Peter said as Bobby started advancing down the court. “You really suck, you know that, Bobby?”

“Blow me,” Bobby muttered as he sped past the younger man and dashed toward the hoop. He knew he wasn’t going to win this game, nor did he really care, but making one more shot wouldn’t hurt. He had to at least create the illusion that he was trying.

With Peter trailing mere feet behind, Bobby ran to the hoop, trying to keep the ball in a steady dribble as best he could, and without a second thought went for a slam dunk. The ball missed, and went bouncing off the rim of the hoop and over the court’s fence, landing quietly in a gathering of bushes.

“Oh fuck this,” Bobby said with a grumble, shaking his head. “You win.”

Peter stared at his friend for a moment, confused; something was wrong, and he couldn’t figure out what. Normally he’d take this opportunity to gloat, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Bobby had been acting strange for the last month or so, and Peter knew he wasn’t the only one who was noticing it. Bobby’s attitude had shifted right after Charles Xavier’s death, and that was the only explanation that Peter or any of the other X-Men could conjure up.

“Hey, are you all right? I mean, relax, it’s just a game… no big deal. You used to beat me all the time, remember?” Peter said, trying his best to calm Bobby down. “Sorry if I acted like a jackass…”

“Whatever, it doesn’t matter,” Bobby said with a shrug of his shoulders. He seemed indifferent and exhausted at the moment, but secretly he was fantasizing about setting Peter aflame, if only he had his real powers. Peter in particular had been getting on his nerves from the day he stepped into the Iceman’s shoes, and he couldn’t wait for the day when he would finally lead the X-Men to their slaughter.

He didn’t know how long it would be until that day would come, though, and he’d been warned that it could take months… but for whatever reason, he’d taken the job anyway. He must have been really, really bored.

Snapping back into reality and the part he’d been genetically altered to play, Bobby sighed and looked at Peter apologetically. “Look, man, I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’ve been in these moods so much lately… it’s like I just don’t have any energy anymore. I feel like I’m drained, and I’m just walking around like a zombie or something…”

“Are you sleeping okay?” Peter asked, dabbing sweat from his forehead as he moved closer to Bobby. “You feel sick? When was the last time you ate?”

“Whoa, ‘Mom’, calm down a bit,” Bobby joked. “I’m a big boy, I can take care of myself. I’ll have Cecilia check me out if I think it’s necessary.”

“Well I just hate seeing you like this,” Peter said, an almost ambivalent look crossing his face. “We just… I don’t know… we used to joke around like crazy, but now it’s almost impossible to even get you to crack a smile. What gives?”

“Hmph,” Bobby said, shrugging his shoulders. “I don’t know… maybe I’m going through one of life’s changes?”

Peter stifled a laugh. “Menopause?”

“No… manopause,” Bobby replied, and both he and Peter bust out laughing. This was the Bobby Drake that Peter remembered; hopefully it was a sign that he’d be back for good soon.

“You are nuts,” Peter said, still laughing. “Don’t forget to tell that one to Jubilee.”

Bobby nodded, and then a thought came to him, something he could use to keep his act up. He didn’t necessarily want to get on that particular topic, but it would definitely get Peter off his back for a good while.

“Uhm… hey… I forgot to ask you, how’d it go with Cameron the other day?” Bobby asked, shielding his reluctance almost perfectly.

Peter’s eyes widened with surprise; he hadn’t expected Bobby to bring that up, but he was happy for it. He’d been trying not to think about it, but he had to talk about it withsomeone. Otherwise he’d be pulling the same don’t-talk-to-me-I’m-brooding act Bobby was.

“Well, he’s straight,” Peter told him, trying to make a joke out of it. “He wasn’t freaked out or anything… and he said he was flattered. But, yeah… that’s about it.”

“Ah, that sucks, but hey, at least you still got him as a friend, right?” Bobby said, patting Peter on the back sympathetically. “Could have been worse, and at least now you know. Plus, there’s plenty of fish in the sea…”

“Not in my sea there’s not,” Peter said with a slight pout.

“Ah, right, you’re more into the sailors,” was Bobby’s next wisecrack, and Peter’s face turned slightly red as he started laughing once again.

“You really are crazy, you know that?”

“So I’ve been told.”

“Okay, well, just keep it coming, okay? This new bitchy Bobby Drake isn’t quite cutting it,” Peter said.

“Hey, it’s working for me, but I’ll see what I can do,” Bobby promised.

Peter nodded and looked at his watch. “Well, I’m off. Almost time for my session in the Danger Room. See ya.”

“Have fun,” Bobby said, and as Peter turned and walked away, the tranquil look on the supposed Iceman’s face contorted into a menacing scowl. He knew he could keep this up as long as he had to, but it wasn’t going to be very much fun.

“Bloody fucking queer,” Bobby muttered to himself as he took a deep breath. “I’m going to stab your eyes out one of these days.”

The War Room

Sean Cassidy and Jubilation Lee stood before the large plasma monitor that covered most of one of the walls in the large room, watching as files on several individuals they were both plenty familiar with came into view. A young, bald-headed black man; a spiky-haired young woman with fuchsia skin; a gorgeous mocha-complected young woman with long, black hair and piercing eyes; a young brown-haired man with fiery energy bursting from his mouth and chest; and two blondes, one around the same age as the other individuals and the second clearly a grown woman in her late thirties.

It seemed like a lifetime since Jubilee had seen her former teammates in Generation X. Everett Thomas, Clarice Ferguson, Monet St. Croix, Jonothon Starsmore, and Paige Guthrie had all supposedly been killed in an explosion after being captured by the GeneTech corporation for experimentation. Captured, or more accurately, sold to GeneTech… by Emma, after she first sent Sean away for a fantasy life with Moira MacTaggert. She had it all planned out for a while, but the burning question was why?

Jubilee had been the only one to escape the explosion after attempting a rescue mission, but that freedom was short-lived, as Emma subsequently kept her trapped at the Massachussetts Academy for half a year. She only escaped with the X-Men’s help, and not too long after the team encountered Emma at a Weapon X facility in Russia. No questions had truly been answered, though, and why Emma did what she did was still a mystery, as were her current whereabouts.

“Still not a trace o’ any one of ’em,” Sean sighed, disappointed that even with the enhancements Henry had recently made, Cerebro was still unable to locate Frost or his former students. “An’ still no answers. I just wish we knew why…”

“I think she just snapped, to be honest,” Jubilee said matter-of-factly, recalling her brief confrontation with Emma in Russia. “She said something about Professor Xavier messing with her mind… she was really pissed about it. You don’t think he might have… I don’t know… mind-controlled her?”

Sean shook his head. “Doubtful. He’d have kept her locked up first. I can’t give you an explanation for all that she did, and I can’t take it all back, but…”

“Oh, don’t even… Sean, it’s not your fault you left us, okay? She made you leave. I don’t blame you, and Angelo doesn’t blame you,” Jubilee told him, still looking at the different images of her friends. “She’s insane. Plain and simple.”

“And she’s also on the loose with her new genetically-engineered Hellions.” The thought of Emma being free to cause all the carnage she wanted was enough to make Sean’s blood boil; he hated the woman for what she’d done. “Honestly, there’s got to be some way o’ findin’ her.”

“I’m sure Hank will figure it out. I mean, she can only hide so long from alien technology, right?” Jubilee quipped, and Sean cracked a small smile. He always admired Jubilee’s oddball way of being optimistic.

“Well, Cerebro’s on full twenty-four hour alert looking for them all… somethin’ will come up. I’m sure of it,” Sean assured her, trying to assure himself as well in the process. He was trying to be positive, but at times he found it difficult; with everything that had happened recently, it didn’t seem logical that their luck was suddenly going to change.

“We’ve at least got a possible lead on the Brotherhood, though,” Sean said, breaking the silence in the room.

Jubilee perked up at the announcement. “Oh?”

“Mutant terrorist group in Berlin with biological weapons… Scott seems to think there’s a connection, so we’re going in to investigate. We’ll be having a full briefing once Scott gets back from dropping Ororo off at the airport.”

“Yeah, how about that… Ororo taking off, and so suddenly, too. Can’t say I blame her, though.”

Sean cocked an eyebrow, curious. “Why’s that? Things haven’t gotten that bad around here, have they?”

“Not bad, just…” Jubilee contemplated her words for a moment before continuing, “…Weird. It doesn’t really feel the same way it used to. Maybe I’m being paranoid, but it doesn’t feel as safe.”

“Aye, that’s a good way of puttin’ it,” Sean agreed with a nod of his head. “Cassandra really took away our sense of security, that’s for sure. But she’s gone now, so we don’t have to worry about her.”

“Yeah, but if she got to us the way she did, who’s to say someone else couldn’t come and do the same thing all over again? Especially now, when we don’t even have any freakin’ telepaths around!”

“An’ that’s somethin’ me an’ Scott are workin’ on, trust me,” Sean said, again doing his best to reassure the young woman. She didn’t quite know what to make of everything, and rightfully so; Sean wasn’t quite so sure himself, either.

Jubilee placed a hand on her hip and declared, “Well, I guess if we can at least get a line on Mystique and take her out before she pulls something, that’ll be a start.”

“That’s the plan… find the enemy and detain them before they strike. A little aggressive for my tastes, but I recognize the need for it. Especially in dealin’ with Mystique… the woman is our biggest concern right now.”

Dismissing the threat of Mystique with a roll of her eyes, Jubilee said, “She’s all talk if you ask me. We’ll take her out, easy. How hard can it be…?”

Highway I-684

The steel blue Bentley Continental sped down the semi-crowded highway at about seventy-five miles an hour, with every intent of making it to the JFK International Airport within the next forty-five minutes. Normally the car’s driver and its passenger, Scott Summers and Ororo Munroe respectively, were used to the super-sonic speeds of the Blackbird jet; they could have been blazing down the road at over a hundred miles per hour and still felt as if they were going at a snail’s pace.

A woman’s voice accompanied by a jazz instrumental emanated softly from the car’s speakers, and the windows were rolled down slightly to allow for a gentle breeze to come in. It was a beautiful afternoon and Ororo was glad the traffic was light, as it made it easier to enjoy the view around her. She was anxious to get to the airport, especially after her encounter with Beatrice… it had not gone well at all. But she wouldn’t think about it any longer – she had many other matters that would need her full attention.

“Ororo, can I be honest with you?” Scott asked, turning his head for a split second to glance at his friend.

“I wouldn’t want it any other way,” Ororo responded.

“I wish you were staying,” Scott bluntly told her. “I really, really wish you were staying.”

“And I’m glad to be going,” Ororo retorted playfully. “How’s that for honesty?”

“Perfect,” Scott said. “I am happy for you, for the record. I just wish you were going somewhere closer… like, Manhattan, perhaps?”

“And if Melissa Bennett didn’t already have that office covered, perhaps that’s where I’d be. I’d rather be in Cairo, though. It’s home.”

Scott nodded in understanding. “I know. I just hope you don’t forget that you always have a home here with us, too.”

“I could never forget. But I’m at a point in my life where I need a change. I know I sprung this on you, on everyone, very quickly… but it feels right.” Ororo ran one of her hands through her newly cropped hair, and relished in how it felt; she’d never get tired of doing that. Besides, who wanted a big head of hair that was always getting in the way?

Slyly changing the subject, Ororo asked, “I know you’ve probably been asked this a million times in the past week, but have you talked to Jean lately?” Ororo knew Scott had been more reclusive since Jean left for Genosha, and hadn’t really talked to anyone about it. Perhaps she could be the one to get through to him, even a little?

Scott swallowed back a lump in his throat as he considered his answer. He knew this would happen, but in a way he was glad. He knew he couldn’t keep everything bottled up inside forever, and what better outlet than Ororo? For whatever reason, he always found it easiest to talk to her more than anyone else. She was like Jean in so many ways.

“No, I haven’t talked to her. Not since she left,” Scott finally answered, and Ororo was surprised by the revelation. “I don’t really have anything to say to her.”

“That’s not true,” Ororo countered, “and we both know it. I also know that you miss her, regardless of how much you may try to deny it.”

“My wife just up and left… she took off with a day’s notice, left me and left her own daughter without a second thought. I could never miss someone who’s capable of doing something like that.”

“I don’t understand why she left, and so suddenly at that, but she’s still your wife. She’s still Jean. She’s going through a difficult time, just like all of us are.”

Scott had so much to say, so much to get off his chest; he even wanted to cry. Would he feel better, though? Yes and no. He’d get it out, but nothing would change. Jean would not come home. Rachel would not get her mother back.

“I appreciate you, you know that? And I’m mad you’re leaving because you’re one of the few people I feel like I can really talk to. I know it’s selfish, but it’s true.”

“I’m only a phone call away,” Ororo remarked. “And I’ll miss you too – you’re a good friend. You’re also a good father… and husband. Don’t ever doubt yourself.”

Scott regarded Ororo’s compliments with a slight smile but did not respond. Ororo always had that special way of humbling a person while at the same time boosting their ego; it was one of the things he admired most about her.

“Well, we’ve got about a half-hour to go,” Scott estimated, glancing at the navigation panel in the dashboard. “What else should we talk about?”

Ororo smiled as she suggested, “Old times, perhaps? Back when things weren’t so complicated…”

Salem Center

Each step he took towards the door felt like a new betrayal, and more and more he wanted to just turn around and walk away. He could do it, but there would be consequences – and not just for him. He hated coming here, doing what he was doing… it was his job, but it felt wrong. Be that as it may, there was nothing he could do about it.

The young hispanic man with the buzzed hair walked into the dim, smoky bar and eyed his usual meeting spot. A gray-haired caucasian man was sitting in a corner booth and raised his glass of whiskey while winking to signal it was okay to approach. Cameron Dalin nodded, and moved swiftly over to take a seat across from the man.

“Anything to drink?” the man asked, his voice deep and raspy.

“No, it’s one in the afternoon, but thanks,” Cameron quipped, and the man grunted.

“Hey, it’s a bar, can’t draw attention to myself by sitting here and drinking water,” the man said. “What d’you have for me?”

Cameron held out his empty hands in front of him and shrugged. “Nothing. Nothing that’s ‘secret’, anyway. Piotr Rasputin just returned, and Ororo Munroe is gone, she’s going to work for the X-Corporation in Cairo.”

“Is that it?” the man asked between sips of his drink. Cameron was infamous for holding out on providing information, but he always caved in the end.

“Yes,” Cameron told the man. “That’s all. No more suicides, crazy twins, alien warlords, monsters in the basement… things are pretty calm.”

“What about the Brotherhood? Any progress on that front? You told us they were after Darkholme,” the man insisted, and he could tell by Cameron’s demeanor that there was more. “C’mon, Dalin… don’t fuck with me!”

“Berlin… they’re going to Berlin soon. There’s a group of mutants there with bio-weapons, they think there might be a connection to the Brotherhood.”

“Hmph,” the man said with a nod, and with a final swig he finished off his drink. “Water, please,” he called over to the bartender.

Cameron laughed at the irony for a second but quickly his heart sank once more; he hated being in this position. He had hated it when he was posing in the Mutant Underground as well, but the X-Men had in some odd way become something of a family to him. Reporting everything he knew about them and their operations, even if it was to a legitimate agency, even if it was his job, made him hate himself.

“Got somethin’ new for ya, kid,” the man said, pulling a small cigarette case from the inside of his coat. He slid it across the table to Cameron, who eyed it curiously.

“Okay, first, can you stop calling me ‘kid’? Please,” Cameron said as he took the case and opened it up, revealing a small device no bigger than a box of Tic-Tacs. “What’s this?”

“This, Dalin, is your newest assignment. You’re still staying on the inside, still gonna be an ‘X-Man’, and while all the intel you’ve been passing to us is incredibly helpful, we need more. That device is a wireless hard drive, the contents of which we can wirelessly access back at HQ. What we need you to do is hook it up to the mainframe of the Cerebro system, and from there it’ll feed the entire database back to us. Every file on every mutant, every mission, every transmission…”

“The Xavier Protocols,” Cameron said. “Is that what you guys are after?”

“Huh, ‘you guys’? Last time I checked you’re CIA too, kid,” the man said with a snort, rolling his eyes at Cameron. “But yeah, those files too. We’re talking about dozens of alpha and omega-level mutants here.”

“Okay, how do you even know this will work? They operate on alien technology. And they’re not stupid, they’re going to find out…”

“No,” the man interrupted. He shook his head and said again, “No. You don’t need to worry about that. It’s completely compatible, and undetectable. Trust me. When you meet your new handler, you’ll understand.”

“New handler?” Cameron commented, somewhat surprised but at the same time relieved. He was tired of dealing with this arrogant grump, and he was certain the new guy would be halfway decent.

“Yes,” came a new voice, a woman’s voice this time. Cameron looked at the man, puzzled, wondering if he was hearing things.

“Uh, come again?” Cameron requested.

The man took a sunglasses case out of his jacket and placed it at the edge of the table, and in a split-second his visage changed from a grumpy old man to a beautiful twenty-something brunette who looked incredibly familiar. Cameron was in shock, and didn’t know what to think; was she in fact his new handler, or had he been found out? Was this some sort of trap?

“Whoa… what…” Cameron turned to look at the other patrons in the bar, thinking that somebody else must have seen what just happened, but no one was paying them any mind. He turned back to the woman, confusion still apparent on his face, and wondered just what the hell was going on.

“The case, it’s an image inducer. I’m sure you’ve heard that term before,” the woman explained, remaining perfectly calm and collected. “Everyone still sees me as Agent Braxson, but you can see me as I truly am from inside the projection field. My name is…”

“Wait a minute… what the hell? Couldn’t you have warned me? And how do I know you’re even actually CIA?” Cameron asked, his tone and demeanor becoming more demanding. “I want some answers. Now.”

“I am CIA. I’m new to the department… Gastow recruited me five months ago, and up until recently I’ve just been working on upgrading various op-tech.”

“Five months and you’re a handler? Give me a break, I’ve been doing this for years…”

“I was selected for this operation specifically because of my familiarity with your new… friends. Maybe you recognize me…”

Cameron eyed the woman for a moment, and she was right, he did recognize her, but he couldn’t put a name to the face. He’d figure it out though.

“You want answers, explanations, and you’re entitled to that. I’ve got nothing to hide,” the woman continued, speaking in a strangely pleasant monotone. “But why don’t I introduce myself first? Like I said, you may have heard of me before. My name’s Katherine Pryde.”

The Present

St. John Allerdyce stormed through the halls of the… wherever the hell they were… and approached the door to the room that had become his leader’s makeshift office. He had the urge to kick it open but decided to compose himself. He’d still cuss her out pretty good, though.

The door to the room swung open and Allerdyce stepped inside, grabbing the attention of its two occupants. Raven Darkholme and the young man known only as Nocturne turned and watched as Allerdyce literally stomped towards them, looking about ready to burst with rage. Mystique nonchalantly took a step towards the man and placed a hand on her hip, not phased at all by his demeanor.

“Well, good evening, Mister Drake. You look a bit… flustered,” Nocturne said, and while Mystique chuckled, the imposter Iceman was not amused one bit.

“What the bloody fuck was I knocked out for?! Mesmero said you ordered him to take me down… WHY?!” ‘Iceman’ yelled, his voice reverberating throughout the room. “After all the shit I’ve endured at that fucking mansion for the past six months, you stupid bitch!”

Mystique scowled and back-handed ‘Iceman’ with enough force to draw blood. “Do not talk to me like that, ever! If you would listen and not act like a raving lunatic, perhaps you would understand!”

“Well then by all means,” ‘Iceman’ said, dabbing at the blood trickling from his nose, “make me understand.”

“You’re not done yet, the show isn’t over,” Mystique told him. “You must still pose as Robert Drake for a while longer. And regardless of the fact that the X-Men we have in our custody are locked up… I’ve learned to never underestimate them. So we had to ‘capture’ you as well, and it had to be authentic. Is that simple enough for your mind to grasp?”

“And what the hell do you want me to do now? You’ve got the X-Men! They’re beaten! So let’s blow something up!” ‘Iceman’ declared.

Mystique smiled wryly as she answered the man’s question. “Go back to the Xavier Institute. Tell them you escaped, help plan a rescue mission, whatever. Just don’t lead themto us.”

“Fuck, I don’t even know where you are half the time…”

“Just get back in, do what you have to. Then I want you to take a trip to X-Corporation headquarters in Chicago, meet with your ‘old friend’ Warren Worthington…”

“And then what?”

“Well if you’d stop interrupting me,” Mystique said with a roll of her eyes. “I’ll make it very easy for you – go see Worthington, and painfully, maliciously, publicly… kill him.”

NEXT ISSUE: Past Tense Part 3! Things start to heat up as the X-Men head into battle, but will the end result bring them any closer to Mystique? Plus, Emma Frost is on the run and considers a desperate last resort, while in the present one of the captive X-Men is in for a rude awakening!

Author’s Notes
Well, this issue took longer to churn out than I thought, mostly because I rewrote a couple scene several times. Some things just weren’t working. Overall I’m happy with the end result. Things slowed down a bit from all the action last issue, but hopefully there was enough in here to keep the energy up.

Now I know there were many people who weren’t too fond of the Storm/Domino relationship idea, but their ‘split’ is not a cave-in to pressure – no sirree. If I want to do something, I do it 🙂 Now just wasn’t the right time. If the opportunity arises to explore it again, though, who knows? I am keeping all options open. There are just other things I care to focus on right now

No comment on anything else for the moment. I like the try and leave things open to speculation nowadays – makes it more fun IMO. Hopefully the issue was enjoyable though.

The plan is for two issues in May, but I won’t promise anything but one 🙂 Adios for now.

~Ryan
04/28/05

 

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