X-Writers #0 Written by: Rhonda (ginter@vax2.concordia.ca) Emma Frost Interlude -- written by Lee (lia@pioneer.nevada.edu) It could have been a distant planet, populated by fuzzy green aliens. Horrifically, it was Earth. "How can anyone stand this place?" Beatrice thought, as she stepped over a bloody pile of corpses toward the duo by the shelter. "All that aside, where the hell am I?" Nathan and the mystery woman stood, back to back, surveying the mountains in both directions. This ravaged village was located in a deep gorge, surroudned by rocky cliffs condescending even in nature to the men below. Beatrice seemed at once in awe and in shock at the state of this planet. The soil had withstood whatever battle had taken place here, for better or for worse, and it seemed as though Beatrice and her friend were here to pick up the pieces. Recognizing him at once from his build as well as his demeanor, even amongst the shadows, Beatrice approached quickly, mumbling: Damn you, Blaquesmith. Cable turned his head and raised an eyebrow. "What the?! What're you doing here, Dom?" Finally nathan's friend spoke. "I did not bring her with us, Nathan. It must have been Blaquesmith's doing." Nathan walked up to Domino, extending a hand. "Welcome... to my home." And Domino let the hand slip. **** "Centre 3, on a decouv----" That is all that is heard through the screaming. For the past few hours, that French search team had been responding to a report of magnetic activity in Secteur 6, suspecting mutant involvement. Apparently, the research station's theory was accurate. The team was struck down by a mutant wielding amazing control of magnetism, reports would suggest. Their body-suits -- the sole defense against the raging cold of Antarctica -- were ripped apart, along with their frame, by a massive attack that could only lead to three known mutants: Polaris, Zaladane, and Magneto. The first being an agent of America's government-sponsored X-Factor, the second appearing very dead among the rubble of a fallen Savage Land citadel, the identity of the perpetrator was evident. Meanwhile, as the world speculated, a frost-bitten white-haired body was dragged away from the scene. **** A scarlett figure, envelopped in a purple cape; helmet glittering in the light. Where is the light coming from? Lorna thought. She woke up suddenly; the nightmare had shaken her. Alone in bed, with Alex still in Alaska, Lorna wrapped a sheet around her and walked toward the window. The night air was so unwelcoming, she thought. She opened the window and stood by it, considering everything that had happened. "Jamie... Guido... Rahne... and now Alex... everyone I care about has fallen so low," she mutters to herself, shifting positions. Returning to bed, she remembered her dream, one so similar to a chain of dreams that she had had for months. Had it been years? No longer would she shrug it off. **** Another dreamer in paradise; in the arms of one who loves him. Kwannon and Bishop, in a warm embrace. Her lips touched his and he honestly felt as though he couldn't be happier. Yet, in the back of his concious mind, he knew what a dark world it was and he stopped... Bishop felt someone touch his shoulder and jumped, opening his eyes to see Kwannon herself. Or did she call herself Elizabeth now? The time-traveller's disorientation, his confusion, and his utter innocence were exposed for one of the first times in his life. How ironic that it was Betsy who should find him in such a state. She calmly placed a hand on his, so tense. "I heard you. You sounded..." Bishop maintained his composure, but felt a warmth to his cheeks, as though he were blushing. "I'm...quite fine, Elizabeth," he muttered. But his eyes could not leave her gaze and, when she hopelessly left the room, her image did not abandon his memory. Not for a long time, until he fell asleep again, and not even then. **** Police flooded the scene, collecting evidence, making observations, taking photographs. WARC-TV reporters, demanding a look-see, were denied any such liberty. "The media will get a fair shot at this situation," promised a spokeswoman, "but, please, let these officers do their jobs." This murder reflected more on society than on the individual responsible. A couple killed, their nine-month-old baby resting noisily in his carriage -- a society permitted this, manipulated such a situation. Yet the law persisted in prosecuting the accused, often faced with failure. How beautiful America is. Charlotte Jones was the first homicide detective to be called in, if only because one of the deceased was her partner. Tears flooded her eyes, but she quickly wiped all sorrow away and faced the others stoically, eager to bring this murder to resolution. Indeed, this death was not the first in her 'family'; her husband had been killed years earlier, another tragedy that she could not soon forget. "Oh God..." she muttered as she saw the corpses wheeled away by the coroner. "I'm sorry, Charlotte... The captain'll understand if you can't do this," Detective Hidalgo sympathized, rather seriously. Jones simply shook her head. "No, it's my case, my partner... It's my responsibility." And the mystery would unravel slowly... and more death would follow. **** "'...and the Friends of Humanity will continue to serve the men and women of this nation because we see what the mutant threat, their disease and their powers, have done to our society. Ask not what America can do for you, but what you can do for you country. What better way than to end the carnage that Homo Superior has caused by their very presence?' That was Graydon Creed, founder of the Friends of Humanity, at the Ellison Banquet in Washington, D.C. this evening, announcing his official plans to run for President in 1996. "In other news: Kirkland, Wyoming was rattled this morning as restauranteur Frederick Hines was attacked at his Palm Cafe. One suspect has been identified as Cain Marko, better known as the dangerous Juggernaut, who was recorded entering the restaurant----" The television, computer screen, lights, and clock blink ed off simultaneously, instantly turning back on. Robert Kelly heard a scream from the doorway to his study, where his daughter knelt, fingers gripping the doorway for support. "Jesus... What happened, Jessica?" His fourteen-year-old daughter said nothing but slowly gazed up at the senator. She only muttered under her breath, apparently in pain and particularly in shock. Finally speaking, her words neither calmed nor resolved the situation. "It hurt me... I don't know what happened, but it hurt, Daddy." Robert heped her up and to a chair, promising to her that he'd help her figure out what'd gone wrong. But he already feared the worst. **** "...Juggernaut, who was recorded entering the restaurant. The video camera was destroyed, however, so the later events of that time are uncertain. No witnesses saw anything news-worthy. "In Philadelphia, an industrial break-in led to possible mutant activity, reports the Federal Bureau of Investigation. The Brand Corporation was broken into, alledgedly, though there are currently no suspects. Whereas the FBI believe that theft was the prime motivation, another party speculates----" The old woman at Tel Aviv International Airport pouted and screamed, "NO! Those fools... they don't know who they're dealing with!" Causing quite the scene, she glanced around her and pulled the hat lower over her wrinkled nose. The harsh Arabic-accented voice muttered, "They don't know who I am..." A wry smile crossed her lips. **** Emma Frost, known for so long as the infamous White Queen of the Hellfire Club, realized that she was doomed. She glanced around the room she reclined in, thinking how it was only yesterday that her whole life had gone exactly as her 10 Year At A Glance Calendar indicated. White Queen -- it had taken her many long years of hard, painstaking work, but, finally, she reached the top. Well, the top of that ladder, anyway. Now though? Well, now here she was, her precious Massachussetts Academy converted to Xavier's Academy for Gifted Youngsters, and she was in charge, yet again, or a group of young, unexperienced mutants. Truth be told, she wanted nothing to do with this group, no, not at all. Well... maybe a little. Maybe she wanted to make ammends for her children, her Hellions. Maybe she wanted to see this group, these young children, make it. Maybe... just maybe... Xavier was right. Maybe his way was the One True Path. Maybe... She didn't have much time here in Sean's house, where se was currently living, before she was interrupted. Two children walked up the front steps and knocked, politely, on Sean's screen door. Her body tenses unwittingly, but she managed to say, "What do you want, children?" One of the oys, the more dominant one, stepped forward. She quickly signaled him to stop and remain outside of the house. He looked dejected for a second, but quickly covered it. "Leech and Artie want to visit their friends. They want to go to the X-Men's home." Leech's smile was bright and innocent, innocent as all children were at that young stage and with his background. No well, he was the last of the Morlocks, the strange and disfigured collection of mutants living in the sewers of New York City. Certainly not the best place to live, so it was more amazing that he was still so naive, still so capable of enjoying life. He waited for her to respond. His partner and best friend, Artie, created a hologram above him. It was a scene of Upper New York in fall. Tall trees presided stately over their respective streets or gardens, and the leaves were everywhere. It was a heat-wrenching scene, though she didn't take it into consideration at all. She knew that place, and of course she knew what they wanted. "Well," she said, pausing deliberately. Her gaze fell from one to the other before she finally decided to press on. "I can see what you want, and, if we can arrange it, I will escort you to the mansion." The young boys grined wide, their joy unable to be held back. They hopped and jmped in place, their arms flung out wide to the world. Leech quickly said, "Leech and Artie thank you, White Queen!" She tuned her eyes to heaven and let out a sigh. They were so genuinely happy, cavorting about in their overwhelming display of emotion. Her gaze returned to them and she almost hated herself for what she had to do. She almost told them that they couldn't go, that they couldn't see their friends, and that they couldn't comfort their friends in their time of need. She almost told them to stop it, that she was only going to use them for her own ends, no matter how unselfish those ends might actually be this time. Almost... **** "He who hath the foresight to make me what I am, he who hath the power to undue what I have become." The immortal, pained Bloodscream held the boy's neck firmly in his grip, squeezing viciously. "The necromancer... your fatehr informs me that this merlind doth live in Madripoor, High Town. Feeding off his destitute victims' riches. Off mine own life!" The boy's blood trickled down his left cheek, paving a crimson line from his slit eyelid to his chin. Bloodscream ran his nail along that path, and licked the blood. "I feed off your life, as he hath fed off mine." The fishing ship saild slowly through the rippled ocean, destination -- Madripoor. Bloodscream wanted an end put to his own misery; whether the end result be power or death was of no consequence. **** San Francisco nights. The fog lay quietly on the bay, providing that infamous air of mytsery that romanctics live off of. Vanessa quickly got into her car, starting it anxiously. Driving off into a world that had never expected anything from her, she wanted to surprise everyone. Garrison didn't know that she'd left him. Right now, he was sleeping on the couch. They'd been arguing -- again. He had little more than Cable and the future on his mind, having never forgotten his teime spent fighting the Canaanites. She had little more than Cable and Tolliver and her past on hers and now, faced with more drive than ever, she determined to put it all behind her through brute force and cunning. Looking ahead, all she saw was mist. And then a woman, a blond woman. On closer look, she did not recognize her but noticed the spandex and technology and knew it meant trouble. Beside the mystery woman stood a black man, in similar apparel, aiming his hand at Vanessa's moving car. Vanessa tried to swerve... the situation had caught her completely by surprise. Before she could react further, she felt a brilliant light against her. She felt the air currents around her heat up, and twist, and she was twisted with them, pulled into a portal along with her car, in a radiant flash... When she awoke in what might have been only ten seconds later, she found herself in the desert. A might, dark shadow stood over the car, smashing in the roof quite suddenly. Vanessa squirmed and tried to move, but a hand reached in and grabbed her by the collar, pulling her through the hole in the roof of the car. She screamed and glanced at her attacker's face. It was not that of her attackers in San Francisco. Rather he was a man she had once faced in New York City, along with X-Force at the World Trade Center. The man was Cain Marko. "Well... who the hell are you, lady? Where the HELL am I??" **** Zoe Culloden and her partner faded out, setting the cloaking device on. "The gateway's closed... well done. Time to call it in." Adjusting a dial on her communicator, she spoke into it. "Ophrah, Team 1 reporting." A whiny voice on the other end said rapidly, "Target acquired successfully. Marko and Carlysle are safe and sound. It's hunting time again." "Who's it this time? Do we go after the X-Man yet?" Culloden's friend inquired. "Another operative will take the X-Man. Your next and if successful, last test target is Wilson. Get that mercenary and your contract is expired," the voice reported. Culloden grinned and nodded. "Alright, his coordinates?" The coordinates were fed into Culloden's database. "Right... we'll port over and have him within minutes. You just tell Mr. Gideon to get the cheque ready for ca deposit." The other voice chuckles and a resonant click is heard. "Let's go, hombre. I just want to get this job over with." Zoe opened another gateway and the two were sucked in. Destination: A quiet little mental institution in Vermont. Target: Deadpool.