Author’s Note: This story takes place several months after Love & Marriage.
She sleeps soundly, dreams of a happy time and place filling her slumbering mind. She is a deep sleeper, always has been.
So the footsteps of the men in her room do not wake her.
Nor would they wake a light sleeper, no, the footsteps are trodden by well-trained men. Men trained to sneak around unnoticed. Men trained to get in and out without a trace.
There are three of them. One stands to the side of the window, just out of the moonlight so he is not seen from outside. Another peeks cautiously through the crack of the door left ajar, the light coming from the hallway illuminating the side of his face slightly. The third man rests a hand gently on the sleeping girl’s forehead. His other hand presses something to her arm, producing a slight hiss.
She stirs a bit and lets out a slight sigh. The man quietly lets out a hush as his hand moves to gently caress her hair to calm her.
She remains asleep.
The third man looks to the other two and nods.
Each of them reach to their belt buckles and, with a slight press of a button, disappearing from the room without a trace.
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- ICEMAN
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- STORM
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- NIGHTCRAWLER
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- HAVOK
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- SCANNER
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- NICK FURY
THE MARKERS
By Jason Kenney
The large metal fist came at her from behind. It only took her a split second to notice it and change so the fist crashed harmlessly into the ground. She reappeared behind the robot, her arms crossed and head shaking.
“Is this really necessary?” she asked aloud. The robot turned and swung for her, missing as, yet again, she disappeared. She reappeared on top of the robot, but in electrical form, and reached into its head, shorting out circuits and shutting the bulk down.
She leapt off the thing as it crashed to the ground and shouted again.
“Why do I need to do this? I know you all have seen me fight before.”
“True,” said a voice from overhead as the robot lay motionless, “but it’s been a while and it doesn’t hurt to train a little.”
“Training with tin men isn’t going to teach or prepare me for anything but a little exercise.”
A door opened on the far side of the room.
“Perhaps, but a little exercise can be good for you,” said Kurt Wagner as he stepped into the Danger Room, “especially after your stay with S.H.I.E.L.D., nein?”
“Months of inactivity have not made me rusty, Kurt,” said Scanner.
“Perhaps, but I doubt that would have gotten the first move against you if you were in your prime,” said Kurt, gesturing toward the hulk of metal on the floor.
“Perhaps I am not as young as I used to be,” replied Scanner as she stretched her muscles to keep them from tightening.
“And that is why we need to see what you can and cannot do after months of inactivity.”
“She was hard headed even in custody,” said Nick Fury as he observed Kurt’s and Scanner’s exchange from the observation booth of the Danger Room.
“All of the Acolytes generally are,” replied Ororo Munroe as she watched as well, leaning on the control board. “That we once betrayed her trust in giving her to S.H.I.E.L.D. before does not help.”
“No, I doubt it would. Are you sure you want her?”
Ororo nodded as she straightened up and crossed her arms. “We have been short members for a while now, and the loss of Spark and the Professor’s departure certainly hasn’t helped.”
“True,” said Fury as he gnawed on his unlit cigar, “but with friends like that…” He didn’t finish his comment as he nodded toward Scanner.
“You said so yourself that she was cooperating more than the other Acolytes. She has also been the most cooperative in the past with us, I think she will work out well.”
“Hmmm,” was all Fury responded. “Well, I hope things are going better for Drake and Summers.”
“I’m sure they are,” said Ororo as she turned with Fury and they started to leave the observation booth. “And thank you again for giving us Timothy’s assistance.”
“My pleasure,” said Fury as he stepped aside and let Ororo leave the room first, “he can use the training and I think it would be good for him to get out of the S.H.I.E.L.D. environment for a while. Kids get restless in there.”
Ororo nodded. “Nonetheless, thank you for the help.”
“If all goes right, by the end of the week you’ll have a lot of new faces around here,” said Fury. “I doubt I’ll be able to recognize you all.”
“So do I,” said Ororo.
“It didn’t just happen overnight, I mean, I think we all would have been better off if it just had.”
Robert Drake kept the serious look on his face as he nodded. Seated across from him at the table, Laura Hopkins held back tears as she explained her son’s situation to him. Alex Summers leaned on the kitchen counter and looked serious as well, but his eyes glanced around the room more, taking in the surroundings.
The kitchen was small, as are most kitchens in apartments like this. The wallpaper probably used to be white, but had turned a hue of yellow from cigarette smoke through the years. Furnishings and knick-knacks on the walls were the typical efforts to make a New York city apartment seem more like a country cottage, but the noise bleeding through the walls and windows betrayed all efforts.
Alex’s eyes stopped as he looked through the doorway of the kitchen and into the living room. There, two young men moved their hands to speak to each other. One he just recently had gotten to know, Timothy Gaines, who liked to be called Apt when nicknames were appropriate. He was a member of S.H.I.E.L.D. on loan to the X-Men. He picked up on things just by thought, almost as if he could reach into someone’s mind and just learn what they knew. But he only picked up on skills, not actual thoughts. S.H.I.E.L.D. had him for the longest time and wasn’t really telling any of the X-Men Timothy’s true abilities, but Alex made another mental note to himself to try and get Jean to look into his head.
The second young man was whom Laura Hopkins was talking about. Calvin Hopkins, a good kid who’s hearing wasn’t. But not just his hearing, all sound from him.
Two years ago, Calvin was your average sixteen-year-old concerned with getting his license, a girlfriend, and surviving high school. He was an average student with average looks and an average home with an average mom. His father had passed away years earlier, but no one had said exactly how. One day, Calvin woke up and the world was muffled to him. He only heard things as whispers. His own words came out like he was telling someone a secret. Even his loudest shouts were barely close to his normal speaking tone. And it all kept getting quieter from there. Eventually he couldn’t make a sound, or hear any. Even when walking, no matter how hard a sole on his shoes and how hard a surface he walked on, there was no noise.
Doctors were puzzled over his condition. There was no physical reason for his hearing and speaking to be gone. They sent him to a psychologist, who saw no reason mentally for any problems either. Test after test was run, until one blood test came back with a result no one expected.
Calvin was positive for an active X-factor.
Calvin was a mutant.
That certainly didn’t help his depression, but one of the doctors was thankfully very talkative. Cecilia Reyes told Robert Drake about Calvin after overhearing this doctor’s discussion and reviewing his records. The results weren’t very specific, they simply said he had the X-factor, no mention of what abilities he possessed because of it, or how long it had been active, but it was there, and that was enough reason for Robert to want to move in and help him.
So, they were here, Robert, Alex, and Timothy, trying to find out what the true extent of Calvin’s abilities were and whether or not they could be of any help.
But, they couldn’t possibly identify themselves as The X-Men. Again, S.H.I.E.L.D. loaned them something, ID’s. People will tell S.H.I.E.L.D. agents anything.
“Can you help him?” asked Laura Hopkins as a couple tears broke free from her eyes.
“Well, Miss Hopkins,” said Robert, leaning forward and looking over to Calvin in the other room, “there’s really nothing that can be done to change his, well, for lack of a better term, condition, but we can help him to cope with it better. He has a very unique, very special gift.”
“His father’s rolling over in his grave,” said Ms. Hopkins as she dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. “His son, a mutie.”
Alex felt his spine tingle a bit, but he assumed that he did not show any tension over the tone in Ms. Hopkin’s voice. Even Robert remained remarkably still. They both were used to the negativity associated with mutants and the bigotry as well. The only thing that Alex could think was that Ms. Hopkins would be talking completely differently if she knew she were the only non-mutant in the apartment.
“But, you’ll help him?” she said again, “S.H.I.E.L.D. will help him get better?”
Robert leaned back. “S.H.I.E.L.D. will help him every way it can so he can live with his abilities and better himself in a world that will not cut him any slack. It’ll be tough, but he’ll do just fine with our help.”
“Just make him better, please,” said Ms. Hopkins as she began to cry.
The group stopped as the man in front did. He looked up, stared at the bricks above him, and then back down to eye level, looking around.
“We’ll take the next right,” he said as he started forward again, bringing the gun slung over his shoulder into his hands and ready. The group followed.
The six of them stepped lightly through the sewers under New York City, trying to make as little noise as possible. They were on the hunt.
As they came across an intersection they slowed, but, without stopping, moved with a well-practiced efficiency as two of them swung their sight and aim down the corridors to their sides as they stepped into the open. Two more followed suit and the group paused, looking for any signs of trouble.
After only a couple of seconds, the two men on the right corridor started forward, the rest of the group coming up behind, the two on the left corridor moving after everyone else had. Their eyes remained focused behind the group as they all moved forward. The man who was originally in front moved back up and led.
He suddenly stopped, tightening his grip on the gun in his hands. A quick glance over his shoulders and a nod of his head down the corridor told the group all they needed to know and they moved to the walls of the sewer and started back down the corridor to the intersection. As they got back to the crossing they filed to different sides of the opening, one turning and focusing his attention down the corridor behind them, the others against the wall along the side, just peeking around the edge of the opening and down where they were heading.
Light spilled across the ceiling at the other end of the corridor, getting brighter as something approached it. Then, it stepped into the open.
It was once a man, but now the creature was nothing but a flaming skeleton, walking through the sewers of New York.
It stopped in the middle of the opening. The group tightened up, preparing for whatever was coming. The creature did not move for a few moments. Then, it started walking again, past the corridor the group looked down, and right out of sight, never even looking toward them. The group did not move, keeping its focus down the corridor until the light was gone.
The group started to move down the corridor again, but the man who was leading the way stopped and looked down the corridor to their left. A blob suddenly hit the man in his face, knocking him into the sewer water with a splash. The rest of the group turned and fired on a mass that seemed to seep from the wall and then back into it.
One man pulled the one who had been hit from the water, but was careful to avoid the slime on the man’s face.
“That would be Membrain,” said one of the group as they pulled back down the corridor they were first in to give anyone attacking them fewer areas to get at them.
“How’s Hawkshaw?” asked another.
“He’s fine,” said the man who pulled him out of the water as he picked him up and slung him over his shoulder. “Out cold, but he’ll live.”
“Okay, boys, hunker down, we’re not leaving until we have a tag. Delta, get Hawkshaw out of here.”
“Roger, Alpha,” said the man carrying Hawkshaw, and with a touch of his belt buckle, the two men disappeared.
“Heh, Bravo, you can be the one to tag the flamer,” said one of the men as he flattened against the right wall.
No one responded as the four remaining men stationed themselves in the corridor for a fight, the one man flattening himself against the right wall, another laying into the sewer water and the two others against the right wall. There they waited.
But, they didn’t have to wait long as they started to see light down the corridor. The man in flames was coming back. They all tightened their grips on their guns.
The man in the sewer water hesitated a second as he felt the flow of the water change directions, first it was flowing away from his face, now it was towards. He glanced over his shoulder and in a split second was on his back, firing at the creature pulling itself from a hole in the floor that it created.
The other three men turned and fired as well as the creature struck out with a spiked limb, hitting the floor in front of the man in the water, splashing water and rock all over the corridor. One chunk of rock flew into the air and tore through the pipes above.
“Gas! Hold your fire! Move back!” shouted Alpha as hot water from the broken pipes sprayed into the creature’s face, stalling him. The four men stepped back to the intersection as one pulled a small pistol from his belt, aiming at the creature.
“DOWN!” shouted one of the men. The one with the pistol glanced over his shoulder and quickly dropped into the water as a fireball raced down the corridor.
The four of them sat in the back of the armored limousine and Robert Drake was completely uncomfortable. If they were going to be impersonating S.H.I.E.L.D. agents on a recruiting run they had to travel like S.H.I.E.L.D. agents on a recruiting run, Nick Fury had told him. Didn’t mean that Robert had to like it.
Too many eyes looked at them as they traveled through New York. Or, Robert felt that too many were looking. Yes, escorted limos were common in New York, but that was not the thought going through Robert’s mind as they turned a corner.
He wanted out of the limo, out of the suit he was in, and out of the cover of being an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.
Timothy and Calvin ‘spoke’ as they sat across across from Alex Summers and Robert. Robert tried to make sense of what they were signing, but having no grasp of sign language and no idea what they were even discussing to pull context from, he was at a loss.
“I can’t wait to be out of this monkey suit,” said Alex as he leaned back in the seat.
“I’d think you’d be used to it after your time with X-Factor and all the wonderful government functions,” said Robert.
“Well, are you used to it after your time there?”
“Good point.”
“Besides,” said Alex with a yawn, “this whole pretending to be S.H.I.E.L.D. thing just doesn’t really sit well with me.”
“Necessary evil,” said Robert. “Can’t really go around introducing ourselves as the X-Men and get the same results.”
“Yeah, but I’m uncomfortable trusting S.H.I.E.L.D. after what they were like over there.”
Robert nodded. Though Alex hadn’t filled him in on all of the details of what happened to him in the alternate universe he was in, he did say what S.H.I.E.L.D. was like.
Robert was about to say how he knew what Alex meant, but he was interrupted by the car suddenly being tossed into the air as an explosion tore up from the street below it. The limo landed on its side on top of other cars that had been parked along the curb, but were now in the sidewalk, and then rolled through the now open side of a hotel and onto its top in the hotel’s lobby.
Robert shook his head as the world slowly came back into focus for him. He looked out the now-missing car window and saw the hotel lobby strewn with broken glass and people, some hurt, some possibly dead, but no one unscathed. Little patches of fire burned here and there and a smoking heap was doubled over the checkout desk.
Robert then looked to the other passengers and was glad to see some of them moving a little bit. Alex was bracing one hand against what was the car’s roof as his other hand unbuckled his seat belt. He pushed himself sideways so he didn’t roll into anyone else and slid himself out of the broken car window as Robert and Timothy started to do the same. Calvin hung upside down from his seat, out cold.
“Tim, take care of Calvin,” said Robert as he slid himself out of the limo. “Alex and I will check things out.”
Robert stood up and looked around. The place was a mess. He looked out what was the lobby window and saw the street strewn with cars and debris, a gaping hole in the street opening to the sewer below.
“Driver’s dead,” said Alex as he stood up from stooping at the driver’s window. “Gas main?”
“Awfully big one,” replied Robert. Both men turned as they heard groaning behind them. The smoking heap pushed itself up from the desk slowly. “What the…” Robert instinctivly made a physical change on the molecular level, his body turning completely to ice, preparing for any trouble. He was the physical embodiment of his handle, Iceman.
“Hemingway,” said Alex as he moved to a more reactive combat stance.
Hemingway suddenly stood upright and yelled as a dart landed between two of the many spikes on his back. He fell back onto the desk as Robert and Alex turned to see a man standing in the lobby, putting a pistol into its holster on his belt as he brought his rifle around and held it ready. He looked to Robert and Alex with a smirk and nodded.
“Gentlemen,” he said, and then he touched his belt buckle, disappearing in a red haze.
He hit play.
The red haze gave way to a view of the insides of a hotel, the outer windows blown away by an explosion. A pistol came into view, the trigger was pulled and a smoking heap across the desk on the other side of the hotel lobby arced back and howeled in pain. The view panned to a man turning to ice and another taking a ready stance next to a limo on its hood. Then, the red haze returned.
He hit rewind and watched the scene again. Then he did it again. Overall he played and replayed the scene ten times before hitting pause on the shot of the two men by the limo.
“Who are they?” he asked, the men sitting around the table behind him looking to each other for some sort of answers.
“We aren’t certain, sir,” said the man at the other end of the table, his arms crossed, an air of authority around him, “but Hawkshaw said they looked like members of the X-Men. Then again, he is still recovering from his injuries.”
The first man simply nodded. “And what do you make of the S.H.I.E.L.D. flags, Alpha?” he asked, pointing to the little flag that hung limp from the front of the upside down limo.
“Can’t say I noticed that before, sir,” replied Alpha as he remained in his seat with crossed arms. “But, if they are SHIELD, it’s not likely those were X-Men.”
“But we can’t be certain, can we?”
No response.
“I’ve pulled a few strings,” said the first man as he turned and sat at the head of the table, “the media’s playing it like it was a gas main. Lucy for us that S.H.I.E.L.D. was also involved, last thing they want to do it look like they couldn’t handle a fight, so they’re going along with the gas main story publically. Privately, though, we have to be careful.”
The other men at the table nodded.
“Lower profile, gentlemen, and less urban excursions. There are plenty of mutants we can tag outside of the city.”
The man turned his chair and faced the screen again.
“I don’t want these people to become a problem,” he said, his jabbing his thumb over his shoulder to the screen. “If they do become a problem…”
“Don’t worry, sir,” said Alpha, “they won’t.”
NEXT ISSUE: A new writer! A new direction! And it all ties into Uncanny X-Men #25. See you there!
But you all don’t have to worry about that anymore.
Dino Pollard’s coming on board with Ryan helping out and they’re gonna kick seven kinds of ass in ways you never thought possible. And me? Well, I have other projects in other groups I’m playing with, but I’m certainly not done with this group, not yet.
There will be a mini-series to end all mini-series in the upcoming months, just you wait.
Okay, so I’m done, hope you all liked the mess I created, hope Ian can deal with it.
Later,
Jason S. Kenney
April 22, 2002
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