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We are the X-Writers, we are taking over the world via 
devious and subtle means. Until we succeed in this venture 
we will continue to write non-profit making stories featuring 
characters and locations licensed to those lovely people at 
Marvel, the House of Ideas.  We make no claims to be the 
House of Ideas. We're more a Shed of Afterthoughts. Have 
a nice day. Enjoy your freedom whilst you can.
Mwa-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!

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    Uncanny X-Men #329 - Innocence and Guilt
    Written by Andrew Wheeler (aw108@york.ac.uk)
    Edited by Marysia. 
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 Running.  Just keep running. He would be there in no time 
if he could just keep going.  He could see nothing, looked 
for nothing, except the way ahead. He wasn't sure when he 
had last run so fast, pushed himself so close to his limits. 
But he had to get there as soon as possible, give her every 
ounce of time he could. If he was right about his suspicions, 
he would need that time. Ahead, it drew near.  At last he 
was there. He saw the grounds, the gate, the front door.
He managed to halt himself just before running straight into 
Henry McCoy. Hank stretched out his arms to take the 
child.
 
 'She...' gasped Quicksilver, more breathless than he could 
ever remember being, as much through panic as exhaustion. 
'She... I think she has...'

 'He knows, Pietro.' said his wife, the Inhuman Crystal, as 
she stepped out through the doors. Behind her, in the 
corridor, Pietro could see the bulky figure of the creature 
known as Lockjaw.

 'Take her inside, see what you can do,' insisted Pietro.

 - - - - 

 Inside the Mansion, Beast gave a heavy sigh. The world 
was falling apart this morning. The radio in the laboratory 
blurted out the latest unfoundable reports on the battle 
being waged in the South Pole and over Britain. He wished 
he could be there.  Being slaughtered alongside his team-
mates, no doubt. Not a word of it was encouraging. He 
hoped it was all being exaggerated.  But he knew better 
than to hope.

 He placed young Luna in a monstrous crib, a confection of
lights and wires. The last inhabitant had suffered greatly 
before dying. He would not let that happen again.

 'Well?' asked Pietro.

 'You have to be a little patient, Pietro,' muttered Beast. 
'Just this once.' He was not in a happy mood. 'Alice, run the 
tests would you? See if she has Legacy. I have to go and 
see how our other patient is faring.'

 Beast lumbered into the next room in the infirmary, to 
Gambit's bedside. Gambit was awake and sitting up, but 
was still very woozy.

 'Wha's goin' on?' Gambit asked.

 Beast gave him a withering stare. 'You realise all hell just 
broke loose, do you?' he asked. Gambit, though, had no 
idea. Two nights ago he had vanished, with Sabretooth in 
tow, and been found with a severe concussion. Only now 
had he regained full consciousness. In the intervening time, 
Psylocke had gone to Muir and returned - and lucky for her 
that she did - and Bishop had searched fruitlessly for the 
missing Sabretooth. Storm, Cyclops and Cannonball still 
had not come back from Mojoworld, and most dramatically 
of all the X-Men and Avengers, together with the might 
of Shield, the UN, even Doctor Doom, were facing 
Magneto, Pietro's father, in an intense battle... and losing. 
And then there was Warren, of course...

 - - - - 
Yesterday:

 Charlotte Jones charged out of her apartment, past the 
guard on the door, and down the staircase. The guard tried 
to grab her, but she shook him off. She was going to work. 
No-one could stop her from saving her own little boy, even 
if it put her own life at risk.

 Archangel swept down from the apartment window ahead 
of her and gripped her wrists. He was about to warn her, 
tell her that he and the police were the best people to do 
this. But then he saw her face, the eyes red with agony, 
focused, hard, bitter and determined to carry on.  He 
couldn't stop her, he had no right to stop her. He hadn't the 
strength to stop her.

 She ran on, leaving Warren standing on the sidewalk, too 
resolved to cry again. As she ran, two arms came up 
beneath her shoulders and hoisted her into the air. Her feet 
swept clear of the ground, and the two of them took to the 
sky.

 - - - -
Today:

 Quicksilver was trembling as he sat by the side of his dear 
Luna. This, he decided, was the worst day of his life. His 
daughter, the daughter he had only recently got to know 
again, had a fatal disease. His father and sister were on 
opposing sides of a raging war that would doubtless effect 
the entire world. His team-mates, according to reports, 
were dead. 

 His wife sat by his side, stroking the sleeping Luna's hair. 
Luna had been anaesthetised whilst Dr Yeung performed 
her tests.  Neither one of them wanted to say a word. They 
hadn't said a word since the tests had begun. Blood 
samples, X-rays, scanning, it seemed to go on and on. But 
there couldn't be much doubt.  Hank had only had to take 
one look at the growths upon Luna's leg, barely sprouting 
now, but still horribly familiar, to know without a doubt 
that this child was yet another victim of Legacy. What 
disturbed Hank about this most was that it proved one
terrible truth. If a child whose DNA could only barely be 
classed as human could contract this disease, anyone could.  
And they were still no closer to a cure. 

 Still, Beast could distract himself with some therapy right 
now.  He turned back from the doorway, through which he 
had silently been staring at Luna, and returned to Gambit.

 'Fit to answer a few questions, Le Beau?' asked Beast.

 'I don' much like dat tone, Hank,' replied Gambit as he 
climbed out of the bed.

 'Sit down, you're not going anywhere,' insisted Beast.

 'You think you can stop me?'
 
 'You think I can't?'

 Gambit paused for a moment. Beast's body filled the door 
frame. He considered how strong Hank was, considered 
how weak he was feeling, and reconsidered his actions. He 
sat down on the bed.

 'Good,' said Beast. 'Now, where to begin?'

 - - - - 
Yesterday:

 They had to begin where it had all begun, back at the 
house where the young mutant known as Anthony had 
slaughtered his family.  Nothing had changed about the 
deathly place. Still a shell, still scrawled with that same 
name, etched all over the walls. But he wasn't here. The 
police had the whole building under surveillance, and he 
hadn't turned up here.

 Charlotte crumbled to her knees as she stared around her. 
She didn't want to imagine what the monster had done to 
her poor boy. She couldn't imagine. Archangel looked in 
vain for clues, because he thought that was what he was 
meant to do, and because he didn't know what else to try. 
He glanced across to Charlotte, and was caught in her glare. 
She seemed to expect him to know what to do next. She 
was relying on him to know what to try.

 But then she looked away. He obviously had no idea. She 
couldn't rely on him. She already *knew* he was 
unreliable.  It was up to her to do the thinking. It was up to 
him to catch the killer. She rose to her feet once more and 
headed for the door. 

 If I were Anthony, where would I go? Warren asked 
himself.  Then he realised... he was already there.

 - - - - 
Today:

 'Damn it, Le Beau, the man is a serial killer! A psychopath! 
What the hell did you think you were doing? No, what 
*were* you doing? You've already beaten him up, what 
were you going to do this time, kill him?' raged Beast, 
throwing his huge arms in the air to emphasise every 
sentence. Gambit dodged and ducked with each gesture, 
half sure Beast was trying to hit him.

 'I don't know,' said Gambit pathetically.

 'My dear friend, you must have had some idea, even as 
inebriated as you quite evidently were. You don't go around 
abducting lobotomised murderers on a whim,' said Beast, 
thrusting his face, with those terrifying rows of big white 
teeth, up to Gambit's nose.

 'That's just it, I was drunk,' said Gambit. 'I took Sabretooth
'cause I was drunk, and angry, and...' he gave up. Beast
folded his arms, also now half sure he was trying to hit
Gambit. 

 'Elucidate, please,' said Beast in a slow, menace-laden tone.

 'I don't know,' said Gambit again. 'Hey, I'm no school kid, 
McCoy, I don't have to sit here and be questioned by you.'
He rose to his feet. A giant furry hand slammed into his 
chest and knocked him back onto the bed. 'I need a 
cigarette,'  Gambit complained.

 'No smoking in the mansion,' said Beast at once. 'And 
especially not near sick children.'

 'What sick children?'

 'Don't change the subject.'

 'I didn't change the subject!' insisted Gambit. 

 'Fine,' muttered Beast. 'So you won't tell me *why* you 
took Creed, you can at least tell us where he went. We 
found you unconscious in the woods, surrounded by Tarot 
cards, with no Sabretooth. What happened?'

 Gambit *really* wanted a cigarette. 

 - - - -  
Yesterday:

 Archangel and Charlotte Jones sat in the police station, her 
reading the case notes from all those years ago, him 
thinking, trying to work out where someone like Anthony 
would go. The boy killed his family when his powers 
manifested themselves, because they were terrified of what 
had happened, The he swore to kill the police team that 
arrested him, because they too didn't treat him like a human 
being.
 
 And he claimed he wasn't a killer. He claimed he was a 
victim.  His powers controlled him, his powers made him 
kill the people he hated. 

 Warren placed a finger at the top of the sheaf of papers in 
Charlotte's hand, and tried to read the page upside down. 
She pulled the page back up, so that he couldn't see it. 
Then he saw the other file, lying on her desk. A report on 
the latest murders.  He picked it up and looked through. 
Pictures of the bodies of the officers and their families, that 
name ripped into their bodies, reports on how each victim 
was found, the circumstances of the crime scene...
 
 But why had he kidnapped Timmy? All the other victims 
had had their families killed, either with them or separately, 
so why did he kidnap Timmy? Why was Charlotte 
different?

 He stared up at her, but she remained focused on her 
reading.

 - - - - 
Today:

 Gambit stared at his feet as they hung over the edge of the 
bed. He didn't dare look up. Not looking at Beast, he could 
almost believe he wasn't there.

 'Ahem.'

 Almost.

 'Le Beau, I want an answer.' 

 'Where's de Professor?' asked Gambit. 'Shouldn't he be 
askin' these questions? Or Storm, or Cyclops. Any o'them.' 

 'Not here,' replied Beast. 'I am the senior ranking X-Man in 
the mansion, you will answer to me. What happened.'

 Gambit sighed. Perhaps if he closed his eyes.

 He opened them again when his spine collided with a wall, 
clawed fingers wrapped around his neck, a long, brawny 
arm holding him aloft. 'I have better things to do, Gambit, 
so give me an answer,' he insisted.

 'Ain't you s'posed t'be 'gainst beatin' up on the prisoners?' 
asked Gambit.

 'I'm making an exception,' replied Beast. 'What happened? 
I won't ask again.'

 Gambit considered a witty response, then felt the claws, 
and changed his mind. 'Sinister,' he choked. 'Sinister 
attacked me. He took Creed.  There was nothing I could 
do. He took me by surprise.' Beast let go, dropping Gambit 
to the ground with a thump.

 'Finally,' said Beast. 'We have an answer.'

 - - - - 
Yesterday:

 As ideas went, it wasn't a brilliant one, but it seemed 
appropriate.  The Morlocks were mutants who saw 
themselves as freaks. Anthony was a mutant who felt the 
world saw *him* as a freak. There was a sense of irony to 
the idea that he might have come into the sewers.

 As ideas went, it was a ridiculous one. There was no 
reason to believe Anthony had ever even heard of the 
Morlocks, unless he heard about them from one of the 
other inmates when he was locked up. Charlotte knew they 
wouldn't find him in these foul sewers, but they had 
nowhere else to go. This was their safest bet. She scanned 
the walls with her flashlight, almost wishing to see that 
name somewhere on that sweeping arch. But it wasn't going 
to happen.

 It was cold, it stank, it was dark, every sound echoed 
around the cavernous walls, and the taste of the putrid air 
filled their mouths. They didn't want to be here. Charlotte 
spotted a ladder heading back up to ground level and 
headed towards it. 

 Then she heard a splash. Someone had just landed, 
jumped down into the river of waste. She flashed her torch 
around, caught sight of Warren who was also looking about 
him. She slowly returned to his side.

 'I can't seem to get you all to myself, Detective Jones,' said 
a voice.  'So I may have to kill your friend as well.'

 - - - - 
Today: 

 Beast left Gambit alone and returned through to the main 
sector of the infirmary where Quicksilver and Crystal 
awaited the results of the initial tests. But even to them the 
truth was quite clear.

 'Doctor McCoy, can you confirm these results for me 
please?' asked Dr Yeung. He warily crossed over to her side 
and reviewed what she had written down. He looked up 
and saw the parents mournfully watching him.

 'Let me make one thing clear,' said Hank. 'These are only 
the initial results. Some of the tests will not come through 
for a while longer.  But from what we've seen so far, I'm 
afraid to say it looks like your daughter does indeed have 
Legacy.'

 Crystal, elemental, Avenger, the woman who had betrayed 
her husband for another man and robbed him of precious 
days with his child, sat frozen. Suddenly she knew, she 
understood what it had meant for him to have missed even 
one moment of Luna's life. For now, it appeared, she was 
to lose her daughter forever. 

 Quicksilver, mutant, Avenger, the man who had betrayed 
everyone he knew in the madness of taking a world for 
himself, now felt the world slip away from him, felt every-
one he held dear leaving him, except for the woman at his 
side. Normally a stoical man who never let any emotional 
weakness show, he was now overcome, and as he began to 
weep into his hands, the two Doctors wondered if they 
could possibly stop what now seemed inevitable. 

 - - - - 
Yesterday:

 The light from two torches was all that illuminated him. It 
was difficult to see him clearly, but he looked young. 
Sixteen? Eighteen? Warren couldn't remember how old he 
was supposed to be. There was a little extra light, but not 
enough to make a difference. It came from the boy's hands, 
an orange corona, a smear of flame.

 'I have followed you since you left your house this 
morning,' stated Anthony. 'I wanted you alone, suffering, 
and at every step there were others, not least this man. The 
police, the passers by in the street, the surveillance team at 
the house. I thought I would never have you.  Until you led 
me here.' 

 Charlotte reached for her gun.

 'Kill me and you won't know where the brat is,' said 
Anthony. 'I know how it works, I know you can't kill me.'

 'Where is he?' asked Charlotte. 'Have you hurt him?'

 Anthony was silent. He began to step forward through the 
pitch shadow.  His hands were raised. Two hands that 
could slice through anything, disrupting the very matter 
they came in touch with. With these hands he had messily 
decimated all those people, all their families. Charlotte
was the last.

 'You had to be last,' said Anthony. 'You had to suffer the 
most. It was you that said what the others were thinking. It 
was you that told me what you think I am. You called me a 
freak. A bastard freak, a monster. Those were the words.'

 Archangel cast a look at Charlotte. She noticed, but she 
ignored him. 'You are a freak,' claimed Charlotte. 'I saw 
what you did to your own family, I saw how you treated 
them. If you were a normal human being you couldn't have 
done all that.'

 'I didn't do all that!' screamed Anthony. 'It wasn't me! I 
loved my family, I couldn't hurt them. But my powers drive 
me to it. They manipulate me, force me. I have to do what 
they say.'

 'They don't say anything. It's your own sick mind!' claimed 
Charlotte.

 'No! You have no idea what it means to be like me. You 
don't understand.  Just because my power makes me kill 
doesn't mean *I'm* evil. They are the evil ones, they are the 
ones that cause me pain. Every day they cut into me, burn 
my entire body, rip me apart with the agony, and it's only 
when I use them, only when I let them go, that I'm free, just 
for a moment,' Anthony explained. 'The powers want me to 
use them to hurt those that hate me. If I don't they hurt me. 
And no-one understands.  For all these years I've been 
locked away, unable to find release. No one came to help, 
no one asked why I screamed. Because you call me freak, 
and you call me monster, and you prefer not to face what I 
really am. You prefer not to think of ME as the victim!'

 He stepped forward in a lurch, reaching for Charlotte. In a 
flash of steely light, two metal wings rose from Archangel's 
back. With perfect symmetry they unfurled, arched into the 
air, caved around Warren's body. Then one wing broke the 
pattern and stretched out, swatting Anthony away, back 
into the shadows.

 'You're not the only one who has suffered, Anthony,' 
replied Warren.  'I know how difficult it can be to control 
your powers. Come with us, I'm sure we can find you help.'

 'I'm not falling for that,' claimed Anthony. 'Detective, let 
me take your life. Then I will tell him where to find the 
boy.'

 Charlotte didn't know what to do. She again avoided 
looking at Warren. He would play no part in her decision. 

 'Detective. You won't find him without me. Not where he's 
gone.'
 
 Charlotte rested her torch in the mire at her feet, and 
stepped towards the shadows. Warren pointed his torch 
after her.

 'Don't do it, Charlotte. I can't let you die,' insisted Warren.

 'It's not your choice, Warren. You lost whatever influence 
you had on me when you ended our relationship without 
even telling me. You find Timmy, Warren, and you make 
sure he's okay.'

 Anthony appeared at Charlotte's side, his hands grabbed 
her arms and began to burn into them. 'I can tell you where 
the boy is,' said Anthony.  'In little pieces, in a waste bin 
somewhere in this fine city.'

 Charlotte gave out a scream, either through pain or grief. 
Archangel dropped his torch and it's light bounced from the 
two great wings as they shot forward, unleashing a pair of 
honed blades into the darkness.  Anthony gave a scream, 
then there was the sound of a shot. Warren picked up the 
torch again. Charlotte stood, smoking gun in hand, her
arms bleeding, over the body of the mutant Anthony, His 
own arms had been sliced clean off by Archangel's blades.

 'How did you hit him so accurately?' asked Charlotte, 
momentarily stunned.

 'It was the wings,' replied Warren. 'They do what I want 
them to do.'  He passed her his torch, and retrieved hers 
from the sludge. 'You can find your way back, can you?'

 'What do you mean? Where are you going? Don't leave 
me, Warren.  He's killed my little boy. You can't leave me 
here on my own. In the dark,' she wept. He turned and 
walked away. 'Warren! What are you doing?' 

 'I thought you understood, Charlotte. I thought you of all 
people were sympathetic. But you judged that boy, you 
refused to help him. If you had listened, if you had tried to 
understand that he was in pain, that his powers were 
torturing him, he might never have killed again, not with the 
right help.'

 'No!' screamed Charlotte. 'He was a monster, Warren. He 
was a freak!'

 'He was a victim, Charlotte.' replied Archangel, 
disappearing into the shadows.

 - - - -  
Today.

 Hank made his way upstairs, up to Warren's room. The 
events of yesterday had shaken him up, disturbed him. 
Even those he might trust, might love, could turn out to 
be... to be the monsters, the people who weren't willing to 
listen. As Hank had heard the story, the boy hadn't been 
innocent of his crimes. But he wasn't the only one who 
should bear the guilt of those later murders. Hank was 
taking Warren something to eat, and some company. It 
wasn't healthy to brood, and there were other crises in the 
world to deal with. 

 Then, as he reached the top of the stairs, he heard a voice 
cry 'We're back!' Unmistakably Lila Cheney. Beast left the 
tray on the landing and bounded downstairs to greet the 
returning quartet.

 'Hank! Anything happen whilst we were gone? You missed 
a great concert. Had to do it in the open air, of course, after 
what happ...'  but Scott was cut off simply by the look of 
urgency on Hank's face. 

 'What's happened?' asked Scott.

 'Don't get comfortable. You may be off again soon.' 
claimed Beast.

  To Be Continued...

******************************************************* 
See the final instalments of the thrilling Shadow King story 
in  X-Men and Wolverine before coming back here to see 
the aftermath, and learn just what has become of Xavier's 
Dream...
*******************************************************
--
*Marysia* | The Original Holy |  "Just love me, fear
 Keeper of the  |   Virgin of the   | me, do as I say and I
Labyrinth Flame | Church of Xbooks  |  will be your slave."
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