The E. Barrett Prettyman Federal Courthouse
Washington, DC
Now

“All rise.”

Every body in the chamber followed the bailiff’s commands, standing at attention. Alex Summers stood at the front of the courtroom, facing an empty bench. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d worn a suit. Most of his attire these days consisted of leather riot gear. His lawyer, appointed by his benefactor, the Reverend William Stryker, stood by his side. Cameras were located all around the courtroom. Not only would this arraignment be filmed, it would be broadcast live.

“The Honorable Judge Julian Powell presiding.”

The judge entered. He was an older man, with a full, white beard and thick-rimmed glasses. Powell had received numerous criticisms by civil rights organizations for an anti-mutant bias. Frequent citations were made showing that he levied harsher sentences against mutant defendants than he did against human defendants for the same offense. The American Civil Liberties Union also lobbied, unsuccessfully, for his dismissal from this case due to public donations he made to the Reverend Stryker’s Church of Humanity.

“Be seated,” said Powell.

As Alex sat, he glanced behind him. Seated in the front row, directly behind him and his lawyer, was Stryker himself. Powell looked through the documents. “The People v. Alex Summers. Will the defendant please rise?”

Alex did.

“Mr. Summers, you are charged this day with treason and several acts of terrorism against America and her allies. I understand that you have a rather unique plea for these charges?”

Alex nodded. “Yes, Your Honor. I would like to plead guilty by reason of temporary insanity.”

“Temporary insanity? Mr. Summers, you are not the first man to make this plea. What makes yours unique?” asked Powell.

“I was not in control of my actions, Your Honor. The reason for this is a simple one: manipulation of my very thoughts,” said Alex.

Sandstorm
Egypt
Two Hours, Thirteen Minutes Ago

Ahmet Abdol strolled through the corridors of the CIA-controlled black site nicknamed Sandstorm. After the destruction of Iron Hell in Cambodia, Sandstorm was built next. Abdol, who had been working with the Mubarak regime, was appointed to head up the facility. Fortunately, this appointment predated the Arab Spring and spared Abdol from any loss of power.

He came to a row of cells and peered into one of them. James Proudstar, the Apache called Warpath, was one of the X-Men’s strongest members. Superhuman strength and speed to match a savage instinct. He didn’t appear too powerful now after a personal interrogation session at the hands of Abdol himself. Now he lay unconscious in his cell, cuts and bruises covering his bloodstained skin.

Abdol moved on to the next cell. Rachel Summers, the latest mind-witch to take on the Phoenix identity. Abdol attempted to use his own telepathy on the woman. Her battle with Madelyne Pryor rendered her powerless, so he thought a psychic interrogation would prove quite fruitful. Instead, Phoenix was prepared for that. She used the last of her powers to shunt herself into a self-imposed psychic coma. Completely dead to the outside world and yet another dead end for Abdol and his superiors.

In another cell, Dominic Petros continued to pound against the walls, attempting to trigger the vibrational powers he possessed as Avalanche. The power dampeners would last far longer than Petros’ stamina, but rather than remind him just how futile his “plan” was, Abdol instead found himself amused by the scene. Another cell held Kuan-Yin Xorn, who possessed a miniature star for a brain. Even with the dampeners, his iron helmet pulsed with a dim light. Xorn had spent much of his life in a Chinese prison known as Feng-Tu before he was liberated by the man called Cable. No amount of torture phased him and even now, he simply sat in his cell, meditating.

“M’sieur?”

The Cajun accent was unmistakable. It clearly identified Remy LeBeau. Abdol approached the cell and peered inside. “What do you want, Gambit?”

“I was just wond’rin’ when the bellhop be showin’ up t’ take my order,” said Gambit with a grin. “Y’see, a torture session tends to make one a mite peckish, so I could do with some grub.”

Abdol smiled. “I hope you enjoy these little jokes, Mr. LeBeau.”

“My Daddy always said laughter was the best medicine.”

“I suppose your father was never acquainted with water-boarding then.”

Another cell served as home to Stacy Leevald, or Ecstasy as she chose to call herself. With her control over her physiology and nervous system, she was able to transform all the neural pathways associated with pain to pleasure. Any attempts to torture her only resulted in squeals of joy. Lila Cheney stood up to the torture for a good few hours, the only thing she gave up were her upcoming concert tour dates.

Only one remained.

Abdol continued down the corridor and opened the heavy, iron door. Alex Roberts sat chained down, the dampeners preventing him from transforming into his Skullfire state. “And how are we today, Mr. Roberts?”

“Pretty good, actually. Been doin’ a lot of thinking today.”

“And what have you been thinking of?”

“I have a bit of a problem. I can’t seem to decide exactly how I’m going to kill you once I get out of here,” said Skullfire.

“Amusing. You truly believe you’re going to escape?” asked Abdol. “You and your friends are terrorists, Mr. Roberts. Thanks to your government, that means you have been labeled as an enemy combatant and have no rights. You are located in a place that does not exist. And we can do whatever we want with you. So unless you cooperate with us and tell us everything you know about Magneto, I will make this torture last indefinitely.”

“Big man on a power trip,” said Skullfire. “You have no power. You’re just a tiny coward. Aren’t fit to live in my world. And once I get out of here, I’m going to show you what real power means.”

Abdol laughed at this. “Power, Mr. Roberts? I know all about power.”

The Egyptian man’s skin began to lose its color, turning ashen as his body bulged and grew. His eyes crackled with cosmic energy and his voice grew deeper. Skullfire just watched in shock at the event transpiring before him. “You’re not one of them…you’re one of us. Like those bastards working with Stryker.”

“I have no need of your pathetic little politics. X-Men, the Brotherhood, they are all nothing,” said Abdol. “If you want to know about power, then the Living Monolith will teach you the true meaning of the word!”

His deep laughter echoed throughout the prison.

Washington, DC
Now

“Would you like to explain that statement, Mr. Summers?” asked Powell.

“Certainly, Your Honor. For the past several months, I’ve been under the control of a mutant with very powerful psychic abilities, a woman who calls herself Rachel Summers,” said Alex. “She’s a very disturbed young woman, who believes she is my niece. Now, I do have a niece named Rachel, but she’s a toddler—not a woman in her early twenties. This young woman is a paranoid schizophrenic who believes she’s from the future. Not only that, she believes that her time is a post-apocalyptic wasteland where a war between humans and mutants have led to the creation of concentration camps. She believes that the only way to prevent this future is to strike at mankind before they can strike at mutants.”

Powell sighed. “This is a very bizarre defense, Mr. Summers. Do you have any proof to back this up?”

Alex glanced down at his hands. “Unfortunately, Your Honor, this is not the first time I’ve been susceptible to mind control. For much of my life, I’ve been manipulated by other people. I believe this has caused a weakness in my mind’s natural defense against invasion, which allowed this woman to make me her puppet.

“As you can see from my file, my past actions are not indicative of terrorism against mankind, but rather service to mankind. I tried to avoid associations with my brother and the X-Men as much as possible, always finding myself dragged back into their wars. After being forced against my will to work for the corrupt apartheid government of Genosha, I took part in the rebellion to overthrow that government and spent some time there helping the reconstruction effort. The only reason I left was because I had been asked to work with the United States as leader of the government-sanctioned mutant strike force, X-Factor.”

“Mr. Summers, I also see here other accusations of terrorism. Just prior to a supposed demise?” asked Powell.

“I had infiltrated the terrorist organization called the Brotherhood of Mutants as a spy in order to prevent a crazed mutant scientist from infecting the human population of New York with the deadly Legacy Virus. You’ll see I received a full pardon for all crimes associated with that period and following that, I became a teacher at the Xavier Institute.”

Powell peered over the black rim of his thick frames, staring intently at Alex. Suspicion, perhaps. But Alex knew what this verdict would be before he even set foot in the courtroom. Powell sighed and leaned back in his chair, rubbing his beard with two fingers.

“Okay, Mr. Summers, I’ll play along. Tell me when this supposed possession began.”

Vieux-Québec
One Hour, Forty-Eight Minutes Ago

Since the dissolution of X-Corps, Jean Philippe, the man called Fantomex, had been on his own. He returned to the vocation he had initially taken on once he left Black Womb many years ago—that of a thief for hire. He was in the middle of a job in Old Quebec, hired to steal a Riopelle painting from the Musée National des Beaux-Arts du Québec, the historic city’s famous art museum.

He stood on one of the pavilions, one which was once a prison. As he moved over the tarmac silently, he detected a slight shift. Cocking his wrists so his hands were at a 90 degree angle triggered the mechanisms beneath the sleeves of his ivory coat, and two handguns slid rapidly and quietly into his waiting palms. In a fluid movement, Fantomex spun on the balls of his feet, raising the guns and finding them aimed right at the head of a young, Japanese woman with purple hair and a strange, red tattoo over her left eye.

“And here I thought I was being quiet.”

“You were, but not even a Hand-trained ninja is good enough to get the drop on me,” said Fantomex. “What do you want, Psylocke?”

“For starters, how about you lower those guns,” said Psylocke.

Fantomex hesitated for a moment but then did as she asked. The guns retreated into his sleeves. “How did you find me? My mask is supposed to protect me from telepathic intrusion.”

“You know my ex, he has his contacts. Found out about this job you were on and from there, it was simply a matter of tracking you down. A Hand-trained ninja is pretty good at that sort of thing,” said Psylocke. “Speaking of, stealing from a museum in the middle of the day? Brash, even for you.”

“What’s life without a little risk?” asked Fantomex with a sly grin beneath his mask. “What can I do for you, Ms. Braddock?”

“We need your help.”

“X-Corps is finished.”

“This isn’t about X-Corps, it’s about the X-Men,” said Psylocke. “I trust you’ve heard about Washington?”

“Of course. I do keep up with that sort of thing,” said Fantomex. “The X-Men are finished. What do you expect to do?”

“We have a plan,” said Psylocke. “What do you say?”

Washington, DC
Now

“For months now, my mind has been in a cloud twenty-four hours a day.” Alex moved from behind the table to the center of the courtroom, the perfect position for the cameras. “I feel like I’ve just woken up from a terrible nightmare. My memory of the past few months is sketchy at best, I’m sorry to say.”

“When we attacked the Nephilim, one of their number, Madelyne Pryor, took on the Phoenix. Her attack broke Phoenix’s hold over me and for the first time in ages, I felt free.”

“Is that so?” asked Powell. “Mr. Summers, I see here that you then continued fighting, even after this woman who held sway over you was taken out of the fight.”

“It took some time to break out of the trance, and once I did, I realized that what I was doing was wrong,” said Alex. “I realized that I’d been going down a bad road for far too long and it was time to change that.”

West Virginia
One Hour, Four Minutes Ago

Ape-like hands uprooted the tree from the ground and laid it down on the grass. Narrow optic blasts cleanly separated the trunk into small logs. The bearded, red-haired man gathered the logs up in his massive arms and the feathered wings extending from his bare back carried him over the terrain, back to a cabin far from civilization. As he lowered himself towards the ground, he was surprised to find something he’d never seen since moving out here—a visitor.

“Calvin Rankin. Alias: The Mimic,” said the woman. Her skin was pale and her jet-black hair was pulled into a bun, with loose bangs forming a frame around her face. She also wore a pair of sunglasses and held what appeared to be a smartphone in her hand. Her voice was nearly monotonous as she spoke.

“I know you?” asked Calvin as his bare feet touched down. With his telekinesis, he neatly stacked the logs against the side of the cabin.

“My name is Tessa Hartley, I work for your most-recent employer.”

“Guessing you mean Wisdom,” said Calvin. “Thought he went MIA after X-Corps collapsed.”

“He’s back now, and he requests your presence,” said Tessa.

“How’d you find me?”

Tessa held up her phone, which displayed a map of the state and one bright, red dot blinking in an area of the map. “I developed a Cerebro app for my phone and coordinated a few satellites.” The way she described the process made it seem like it posed no more difficulty than programming a DVR.

Calvin just blinked. “So you’re saying you could have found me anywhere?”

“More or less,” said Tessa.

“Somethin’ big happening?”

“The X-Men have been arrested.”

Calvin sighed. “Well, I was gettin’ a little bored out here anyway…”

Washington, DC
Now

“I’m not asking for the charges to be dropped. I’m not even asking for leniency,” said Alex. “Even with the mind control, I still had some awareness of what I was doing and even made to feel like it was the right thing to do. But I know now that it was wrong and I’m going to spend the rest of my life trying to make amends for all this.”

Genosha
Thirty-Four Minutes Ago

Magneto sat in his office watching the events unfold on the monitor. Hovering above his hand was his helmet, held aloft by his magnetic powers. This was a rather strange turn of developments. And Erik Lehnsherr knew there had to be more going on than could presently be seen.

“Just what are you playing at, Summers?”

Washington, DC
Now

“As I understand it, there is someone in this court who would like to speak on your behalf, Mr. Summers?” asked Powell.

That was Stryker’s cue. He rose from his seat and moved towards Alex, appearing before the judge. He laid his hand on Alex’s shoulder. “That would be me, Your Honor. My name is William Stryker and it was me whom Mr. Summers and his X-Men attacked at the capital.”

“I have witnessed firsthand this young man’s desire to redeem himself for his indiscretions. There is no one he holds more accountable for his actions than himself. He has discovered the Word of God and wishes to repent. He has generously offered to make up for his crimes by serving the interests of mankind.”

The Xavier Institute for Higher Learning
Two Minutes Ago

Since his conversation with his brother, Scott Summers had been more or less ignored at the Institute. His teammates now knew he sanctioned Alex’s team to commit acts of terrorism in the X-Men’s name. And now, Alex was in custody, having surrendered to the authorities. What’s more, his actions seemed to indicate a very different man than the one Scott thought he knew.

Now, as he watched the footage from the trial, alone, for the first time in a while, Scott Summers had no idea what to do.

Bangkok, Thailand
Now 

Khao San Road was known for attracting a large share of tourists, so a blond Australian stumbling through the streets, completely smashed drunk, was hardly a rare sight. He pushed through the crowd, moving slowly back towards his hotel, never realizing the entire time that he was being followed.

Once he climbed the stairs to the second floor and entered his room, he launched from the entrance, landing right on the bed with a slight bounce. He shut his eyes in a futile attempt to stop the room from spinning, but it didn’t even come close to doing the trick.

The hinges squeaked as the door swung open. The blond man opened one eye. “Whozzat?”

No response came. The Australian slowly rolled onto his back and tried to pull himself into a sitting position. All he could see in the lightless room was the outline of some uninvited guest. The darkness was pierced by the flame from a lighter the intruder held in his hand as he positioned the flame over the tip of a cigarette.

Big mistake, the Australian thought. He reached out with his ability to psionically control fire, but in his state of inebriation, all he could manage was causing the flame to wobble ever so slightly.

“Not exactly what I’d expect from the great St. John Allerdyce.” The man spoke with an English accent.

“An’ just who the hell are you?” asked Allerdyce.

The Englishman closed the lighter and reached his hand to the switch on the wall. The room flooded with light, causing John to shrink back and shield his eyes. After a moment of adjustment, he focused his blurred vision on the intruder. The Englishman wore a dress shirt with a loosely-tied not and an open collar. The sleeves were rolled up, probably due to the heat in Thailand. He had dark hair and a goatee, with a cigarette clasped between his fingers.

“Name’s Pete Wisdom,” he said.

“I know who you are,” said John. “What, you X-chumps wanna take me in?”

“Yeah, I heard all about that, how you posed as Bobby Drake after your pals in the Brotherhood killed him. Then the Weapon Plus fiasco,” said Wisdom. “In fact, I was partly responsible for getting that operation shut down.”

Wisdom waved his hand forward and two white-hot blades fired from his fingertips, piercing John in each shoulder. “Argh, what the hell’s the matter with you?”

“Weapon Plus may’ve restored your DNA, but the damage you caused, it’s time to make amends, Pyro,” said Wisdom.

“What’s this, some kinda work-release program? I be your bitch, you let me go?” asked John. “Stuff that, mate. Rather be dead than beg for charity.”

“Oh, I know that.” Wisdom sat on the foot of the bed. “But what about your old buddy Dominic?”

“What about ‘im?”

“He’s been working with a special team of X-Men, and now he’s been captured,” said Wisdom. “So if you ever want to see him again, maybe there’s a way we can help each other.”

“Just what’re you talkin’ ‘bout?”

“Christ, you are out of the loop, huh?” asked Wisdom. He waved his hand once more and the hot knives dissipated. He picked up the remote control near the TV and turned to CNN.

“We’re here with the latest update from the arraignment of Alex Summers, the mutant terrorist called Havok. For months now, Summers has served as the leader of the mutant terrorist organization known as the X-Men. But it was during an attack on the nation’s capital that the X-Men were captured by another group, known as the Nephilim, formed by the Reverend William Stryker.

“Allegedly a group for mutants who wish to reform for their past misdeeds, the Nephilim defeated the X-Men with the aid of Summers, who turned on his team in the heat of the battle and then surrendered to the Reverend Stryker himself.

“Today at his hearing, Summers pleaded guilty, but by reason of temporary insanity due to psychic manipulation. And, in a shocking turn of events, Reverent Stryker, who also leads the anti-mutant lobby known as the Church of Humanity, petitioned the court to take Summers into his own custody. Judge Powell agreed with the assessment and has turned Summers over to Stryker, where he will serve as the leader of Stryker’s Nephilim group.

“As for the remaining X-Men, there has been no comment from Homeland Security on their current whereabouts or when their own trial date will be set. When asked about the matter, a representative from Homeland Security simply cited the provisions of the National Defense Authorization Act and assured the media that the X-Men are indeed in custody and currently undergoing questioning.

“We’ll have more as this story develops.”

Wisdom turned off the set. John now sat upright, rubbing his head. “So Dom got himself pinched? An’ you want me to help you? What’s the plan?”

John caught something out of the corner of his eyes. He looked again and watched as four other individuals emerged from the shadows—Psylocke, Fantomex, Tessa and Mimic. They came to stand at Wisdom’s side.

“Would think that’d be obvious by this point, Johnny,” said Wisdom.

FOREVER ENDEAVOR

Part II

By Desmond Reddick and Dino Pollard

I wanted to give everyone a brief history of this title now that we’ve passed the big fifty issue milestone. And seems like I’m more qualified to do that than anyone else since, although I wasn’t here when this title launched, I have contributed to more than half the issues and have written more issues for it than any of the other writers.

Way back when Marvel Omega was still part of Marvel-X, Uncanny X-Men and X-Men were the two books that set the tone for the entire site. It all began with a fracture among the team, with one team splitting off and trying to be more proactive (Uncanny X-Men) and the other team staying at the Mansion and working with Professor X (X-Men). And while Uncanny X-Men sprung along under the direction of Ryan Hagie-Krupienski for its entire run, X-Men never really had its own voice. There was a succession of writers that never lasted more than a handful of issues.

I came onboard the book in late 2002 (and my first issue debuted at the beginning of 2003). Ryan and I had been friends for some time and we even discussed me coming onboard to co-write Uncanny X-Men with him at one point, but that never really happened. When he decided to relaunch Marvel-X’s X-Men titles, he turned to me—he had a vision in mind and wanted my help getting it off the ground. And we did a pretty good job.

But even with a regular writer on the book, X-Men still never really found its own voice. That’s why Ryan and I decided that after the SuperNova crossover (and also the official break-away from Marvel-X and formation of Marvel Omega) to cancel X-Men and replace it with X-Corps (which unfortunately didn’t work out so well, butc’est la vie). And that was the legacy of X-Men—a succession of writers for a title that never really found its own voice and never really got out of the shadow of its sister title.

Enter Chris Munn.

Chris is not exactly a guy who thinks inside the box, nor does he exist in anyone’s shadow. Back in 2006, Ryan and I had a pretty strict policy—no mutant team books. We had enough of them at that point. And Chris, in addition to being those things I mentioned above, also doesn’t give a shit what your policy is—if he’s got an idea for a book, he’s damn-well going to write a proposal no matter what.

So he sent us a proposal for X-Men. And holy shit, was it ever perfect. With issue #33, Chris brought back X-Men from cancellation with an awesome premise—the X-Men as terrorists. But unfortunately, Chris didn’t have the time to fully commit to the book, so after the first few issues, he said he may not be able to continue with it.

I put my foot down and told him he needs to stay on this book and that I’d come onboard him with it, if it meant he’d stick around. Fortunately, he agreed and it developed into one of the best co-writing experiences I’ve had in fanfic.

But time passes and Chris has a lot of things on his plate at the moment. So he regrettably had to step down from this title. We were right on the verge of the big fiftieth issue and we had the rough plots all thrown together (as well as some rough ideas for where to go from here). I didn’t want to quit and Chris gave me his blessing to do whatever I wanted with those ideas we came up with together.

I put a call out on the mailing list for a co-writer and got a response from Desmond Reddick. Des is relatively new to MO, but he’s made a real big splash at the site. He’s taken two obscure books that were left pretty much dead in the water—Alpha Flight and Liberty Legion—and brought them back. I thought these books would never see another writer, but Des made them better than ever. So when he said he was interested in co-writing X-Men, I was psyched. We started tossing ideas back and forth and we came up with a pretty cool way to handle the position Chris and I have maneuvered the book into.

From this point on, there will be some cosmetic changes to the book. There’s a new team rising from the ashes once this arc will pass, and it’s actually the same team Chris and I decided upon before he had to leave the book. I’ve been looking forward to writing this team for a while, so I’m really excited that Des was completely onboard with the characters.

And even with the changes, the tone of this book will remain the same. Chris gave this title something it never really had—its own voice. Des and I have no intention of silencing it.

-Dino Pollard

Hi. You might know me. I’m the new guy here. Both on this site and this title. I have to admit it’s a little daunting, even after writing a couple dozen issues for the site, to be dipping my toe into the X-Continuity here. Nah, I’m diving in head first!

The truth is, Havok is one of my all-time favorite Marvel characters. The chance to write him was something I couldn’t pass up. I’ve loved what Chris Munn and Dino Pollard have done with him here, and I’m very happy Dino’s seen fit to have me along for the ride after Chris’s departure.

As we speak, I’m going back and trying to read as many of the X-Books I can to wrap my head around its very unique circumstances here at Marvel Omega. But, with Dino around to keep me on track, you can be assured that we’re going to do some pretty amazing things with this book. Starting with Forever Endeavor, we’ve got some pretty badass stuff going on. I think Dino will think it’s okay for me to speak for him as well when I say that you’re going to love it.

-Desmond Reddick