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Issue #18 |
"Total Eclipse" Part Seven of Ten Written By Tom Moses |
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A near silent burst of air and a dark plume of smoke disturb the still air. Out from a minute tear in the dimensional fabric that none could ever hope to see, a form drops to the ground. Nearly invisible within the cloud of dark smoke that lingers just above the floor.
His yellow eyes scan the room, shining through the dissipating haze as he hopes the sight would intimidate a potential enemy. Sight reveals nothing in the form of human, the room empty of a single living object. Computers, monitors, and televisions line the walls; from corner to corner the entire room is a digital wonder to behold.
Nightcrawler stands slowly, perhaps contrary to his better judgment, with his eyes in continuous motion. Surveying the near countless pictures and keeping his ears tuned to find something outside the electrical hum that fills the background. The ominous silence fills his mind with paranoia and his stomach with dread.
"Havok," his heavy Germanic accent permeates the entire room, the hollow silence ending as the single word trails away into the background. "The layout is correct, I'm inside the control room and Sinister's own surveillance says no one's home."
The small device mounted upon his shoulder releases an audible click the moment Nightcralwer releases the sensor attached to his palm. "Roger that Kurt, any sign of X-Factors missing kid?"
His eyes lock onto a monitor with a most curious sight. The black and white color only camouflages the scene for a moment, but not enough to hide the sight of a child's bedroom indefinitely. Nightcrawler depresses the button at the bottom of his palm once more, "negative. He knew we were coming."
"Say again?"
Havok's voice is broken though the anti-jam frequencies and emotion is hard to read through the broadcasted sound. "The facility is empty, the child is gone and there is not a sign of Mystique either, what do you want me to do?"
"Come back to the Blackbird Kurt, no delay."
"Acknowledged," Nightcrawler's voice fades with the release of the comm sensor and the blue mutant fills his lungs slowly with air. At the very instant his mind builds a sensation of the X-Men's modified aircraft the world seems to move with a sense of slow motion. The sounds distributed by the different monitors, and even the low hum of electronics in the artificial environment stretch into his ears. Before his eyes a tear appears and more of the dark smoke flows out as Nightcrawler jumps inside. His eyes are closed tightly as the whole world as everyone else knows it disappears entirely, only for his environment to completely change.
"Welcome home." The sound of Havok's voice sans the anti-jam scattering is a welcome enough sensation, and the nausea passes with the release of the breath Nightcrawler held in his lungs.
All the eyes inside the spacious aircraft fall on Kurt Wagner and not a soul moves from his chair. "What now?" The single female passenger's voice calls out. "No brat, no Sinister, we're back where we started."
"Not quite," Havok voices without moving from the Navigator's station. "We continue with the plan, and we return home to figure out the next course of action. Kurt, return to the control room and set the bombs, Bobby likes the bright and shiny explosions and we still have to satisfy the children on board."
The alarms are hardly more than a nuisance, with the ruse intact the real danger is away playing hero. Two injured X-Men and a baseline human are little more than an obstacle, only an annoyance to keep under watch and perhaps an interesting addition to the game near at hand.
Nathaniel Essex stands with his hands joined behind his back. Studying the pictures on wall of Charles Xavier's office, witnessing the pictorial history of the X-Men unfold through the many pictures adorning his walls. His ruby eyes shine with the reflected sunlight emanating off the framed glass. "Jaunt." Essex addresses the silent entrance of his disciple. "Everything is in order?"
"Dex shall have the alarms disabled in a matter of moments, Archangel and the whelp are secure; but, may I ask why the dramatic display?"
"No you may not, just do as you are told and prepare the others."
"Aye." The construct voices as he disappears as silently as he appeared.
Essex breathes in through his nostrils, savoring the cleanliness as he paces the office admiring the oak furniture about the room. All the pictures, the citations, and his attention rest solely on the books setting on the side by side bookshelves. "You're the clever dreamer Charles Xavier," the rumored mad scientist mutters under his breath as he reads the spines displaying the works of people such as Aristotle, Martin Luther King, and a curious sighting of Mien Kampf. "Truly Xavier, you are such a wonderful question to ponder."
The southernmost point of Charles Xavier's property melts away in a holographic illusion of normal woodland. Adjusting nozzles make corrections and speed brakes make amends for the violent speed as the forward swept wings pass through the hangar bay doors and inside and under the mansion without one suspecting eye witness. Coming to a halt at the large rectangular outline marked in red, a hydraulic hiss sounds as the X-Men's Blackbird begins its descent into the maintenance port.
The pilot's seat is the first sign of movement inside the aircraft as Alex steps from his seat in the lead chair. "Still no word from upstairs?"
"No signal of distress and no word uttered."
The descent is marked in uneasiness, and one terrible sight drops the entire crew into a state of disbelief. The hydraulics lock into place and the plane settles into its home stowage, but the eyes of everyone inside the aircraft stare straight ahead as an injured and winged X-Man dangles unconscious from a hastily made platform. An Angel crucified, strung up by his shoulders and arms, tied tightly to the area just facing the nose of the Blackbird.
"Cecilia." Havok only mutters her name and doesn't realize she is halfway down the ramp leading to the hangar. The rest of the X-Men are not far behind the doctor, scrambling to the stained concrete floor.
Iceman and the resident physician of the team bring Warren Worthington down from his bindings. The group keeps their distance as the doctor works her trade, and in unison they all jump as Warren 's head violently leaps from the ground as the bones in his shoulder grind and crack. Cecilia moves Warren 's arm without the slightest hesitation and pulls at his wrist and elbow, the loud audible pop that follows sic ken's Havok's stomach.
"What's the prognosis?"
Her head twists back slightly and she gives Havok a look they all know too well in the short time they've all known her. "I'll tell you when I know for sure, but he's alive."
Havok backs the group away several paces, giving their friend enough air in the near claustrophobic inducing surroundings of the maintenance hangar. "We've got to let Cecilia work, Warren should be safe with her; but in the meantime we have to find the others."
Three men, each a different covering of blue huddle around the man they titled field leader. The blue furred Beast, the blue and demonic Nightcrawler, and the frozen frame of Iceman kneel in front of their Alex, waiting him to come up with the perfect plan his older brother always had a natural affinity. "You aren't suggesting we merely walk upstairs and stumble into Sinister's stratagem?" Beast says quickly, "Surely he's taken into account our mental instability. He's expecting us to charge in without thinking."
"Sinister is waiting for us no doubts about that," Havok says mostly to himself, "We'll have to give X-Factor our apologies later, we've got our own to take care of." Havok whispers to the three men close to him, "He's a hell of a strategist; but, he's on our turf this time."
Nightcrawler's eyes glow a bit brighter as an approving grin stretches across his face, "Do I sense a plan forming mein feund?"
"Bobby and I will lead through the halls; his vision inside the heat spectrum will give us an advantage of anyone hiding wanting to get us trapped. Hank you stay with Cecilia in case we find any more wounded." Havok's knees crack with a hurried return to standing, "we'll do a clean sweep find Storm and Zelda and make sure Sinister knows he isn't welcome here."
The group of four breaks as the final word leaves Havok's lips. Three X-Men climb the metal stairs to the heavy armored door leading out of the maintenance hangar. Iceman, taking the lead point in the triangle formation steps a few paces ahead of the other two as they pour into the hallway with clear intentions on their mind.
The frozen point man motions the all clear and points ahead to the direction of an elevator several hundreds yards ahead of them. Each mutant is ready, ready for the off chance that Iceman detects a single hint of stray heat emitted by anyone. Eyes scan every direction to aide the point, not a thing is out of the ordinary, and yet with their home invaded there is bitterness shared between these three different X-Men.
They scale the hall, corridor by corridor, and keeping a sharp eye on their already covered ground. Not a thing disturbs the sterile air outside their own movements, as paranoia beings to settle in their minds. Each one sure they walk to deliver themselves into a trap, ready to spring without a moments warning.
A section of the soft blue wall pulls away with only a minor grinding sound. The elevator door is open and offers no invitation to entice the three to enter. Iceman's frozen face glances back with a questionable expression, looking to the man with the plan.
Havok's fists nearly ignite the air around them. Yellow rings of plasma circle randomly from wrist to fingertip on both hands. A small show of force he hopes will give the other two no question to how sure he is of the situation, "Let's go," he whispers.
The blue demon-man rests with his back to the wall, while his compatriots ready for the welcoming committee they expect to encounter. His finger inches away from the mechanism that keeps the door closed off to the mansions' main sitting room. Heat and cold fight for dominance in the tight confines of the elevator as the X-Men wait for Havok's final go ahead, the yellow light shining brighter thanks in part to the bitter cold frost that coats the walls.
A single door opens almost slow enough to entice fear in lesser men. Iceman takes a knee, building a thick wall of ice to barricade the three; while Havok's vision projects a blinding flash forward into the open room.
Seven plumes of deep purple smoke haze the room as more yellow illumination streaks across the room as though it were lightning. Nightcrawler settles behind a couch overturned in the mayhem he created, depositing Havok directly beside him. The pair then overlook the sitting room waiting for the scene and the smoke to clear.
Their vision impaired by the homemade distraction, Havok grinds his teeth as the sound of clapping emanates through the dark smoke. "Very creative Alex, I would have never suspected Scott to think this quickly. You both continue to surprise me even after all these years."
Through the smoke, Havok made sure his presence is easily seen. His eyes, closed fists, and chest burn with his tell-tale incandescence, intense enough to burn away the sulfur smoke. "Where are my people?" His voice not bothering to sugarcoat his demand.
"I like your choosing of words, keep you focus by dehumanizing these friends of yours for the moment. Careful though, you may lose yourself in the process. At least I did, so many years ago."
The room cools into silence for but a minute before Nathaniel Essex snaps two fingers. The dissipating smoke is instantly consumed with no visible show of force, simply vanishing with an intense wave of heat felt by each X-Man. "This game you play with me is becoming tiresome Alex," Essex 's typically expressionless voice rings with boredom. "Your angelic friend seems to have some vendetta he simply will not exorcise; I may have been too excessive when I had his spirit culled."
"You invaded our home."
"And you believe I allowed you to decimate mine?" The scientist turns his head to search the faces of all three X-Men. "I came here to deliver a gift to Xavier, but where has he run off to?"
"How about you tell me where our friends are?" The New England accent of Iceman shines through a demand of his own, "Now."
Essex smiles, "Rash, emotional, demanding, and intent. I enjoy watching you grow Robert."
"Great fun I bet," he spits as he steps from the elevator, the air becoming bitter cold the closer he steps toward Essex . "I don't care about you goddamn riddles or the attention you want me to give you. You're going to tell mw where Zelda is, or you're going to find out how long invulnerability will keep you warm."
"You dare threaten me," the hollow voice oozes a question that doesn't shake Iceman's resolve in the slightest.
A sharp cold stings the air and everyone else besides the frozen X-Man. "Ask my friends over there, I don't threaten very well. I swear this much to you, if she's hurt there will be nothing you'll like about that."
"From what?" Do you put ice in your snowballs?" A new voice enters the fray. A voice almost mechanical, emitted from by a man whose skin is black enough to be without feature.
"Return to your post Jaunt," the order comes immediately and the construct returns to the door way with his attention remaining on the room in front of him. "Perhaps our frozen adversary has found a way to earn my respect after all."
"Funny, you act like that is what I was gunnin' for."
"Do not think me a fool, Robert. My constructs hold your consort as well as the weather witch, and it's their safety that depends on the outcome of the next few minutes." His twisted grin flaunts a mouthful of sharpened but perfectly white teeth. "Overzealousness will only ensure you and your loved ones will never rest comfortably again."
The phrase is frighteningly simple as is the revelation in Iceman's mind. Every shade of emotion melts from his face if no related to fear or worry. His hands fall open from the clenched fists he formerly held as pictures flood his mind.
His eyes flinch to the staircase. I believe I underestimated you again, Robert." Essex moves to say more but the wind is stolen from his lungs by a surprisingly potent burst of cold. Ice forms out of the very air starting at Iceman's feet as a continuous column of ice takes flight to the mansion's second floor.
The oak door splinters before it has time to freeze. Crumbling to the ground and pieces snapping under the weight of Bobby Drake's boots, the wood mixes into the carpet and the X-Man stands in the door aghast. His knuckles turn white and crack with the force he puts behind them, his jaw protrudes with the grinding of his teeth.
His focus is a tunnel, Bobby's eyes look only on a single target in the small room he calls his own. The young woman laying atop the quilt his grandmother made for him is unconscious and still bleeding. Her bright blonde hair stained with a crimson hue of her own blood. Zelda's left arm is bent a full ninety degree opposite its natural movement, her left femur has broken the skin only inches above her knee. The lacerations are countless. Both her eyes are black, dried blood is gathered around her lips and nostrils, the liquid still pooled just below her face.
He tries to call for help; but the words can't form. Bobby is frozen, and unlike his usual aptitude with the cold and normally unmovable, the feeling at the moment is horrendously painful. There is no humor to be found, no wall to hide behind, his terror is straight in front of him. "Oh God," he repeats in a whisper over and again and once more in only a handful of moments words come with a difficulty for him.
Three steps to his bed are the longest few seconds of his life. Ignoring the slippery and slightly sticky crimson liquid still seeping from her scalp, Bobby cradles Zelda's head in his lap, and freely the tears begin to flow.
Bobby Drake holds the woman of his dreams as she lies motionless and not breathing. The one of all the women he had ever been with where there were no pretenses, no worries of the past or the future. Everything with their relationship wasn't perfect; but, it was on the road they both wanted. "I'll find them Zel. Sinister, his goons, all of them."
His vision is reddened by rage and anger pollutes his mind, and suddenly the sound of clapping fills his ears and his attention snaps to the closet. "And heroes call your adversaries inept," a scrawny, pale skinned man steps from the closet continuing the slow clap of his hands. "You think you could get away with it all and then hide up in your mansion protected from anyone who would do you harm. So nice, warm and safe up here isn't it Iceman?"
Bobby doesn't say a word, his eyes scowling at the intruder. He gently lays Zelda's head back onto the bed, slowly standing with his eyes remaining frozen on the face of the intruder and his jet black hair. "You did this?" His breath chills the air, icicles fall from the air it touches, "Why!"
"You hurt her," electricity dances from around his eye balls and strands of his hair roam randomly from their neatly combed placing. Sinister's scrawny lackey smiles with only half his lips, the corner of his mouth twisting up baiting Iceman's anger. "One good turn deserves another X-Man."
Icy breath stings the face of Sinister's lackey. Bobby grabs the minion, violently pushing him into the wall, and still his twisted smile does not vanish. "What the hell kind of Monster are you!"
Every muscle in Bobby's body tenses and with a single motion he tosses the lackey to the ground. His body flash freezes without a single command of his mutant ability, slight pain forces his knees to buckle; but, on his way to the ground a frozen hand closed tight with rage shatter the cheek of the Construct called Dex.
Blood spatters across the floor and the Construct's eyes roll backward into this head. Bobby never gave the man a chance to speak a word, he takes a small effort to stand and kick the unconscious man's ribs as he gains his footing. The X-Man stands above Sinister's minion, looking down at him with disgust in hi eyes and he wills a cylindrical spike to form within his hand. He doesn't say a word; he doesn't waste time on a single thought. Raising the weapon of his own creation over his head, ready to strike down.
"Oh sweetheart," a sarcastic voice smeared with the sound of a deep southern accent sounds from the bed, and what's more, a male's voice. "I had no idea you cared."
Zelda's twisted and battered body stands and Bobby's frozen face jumps with surprise. His hand opening during the shock, allowing the spike to roll from his fingers and down toward the floor. The top heavy weapon performs just as it was intended, impaling the abdomen of the beaten down Dex.
"What have you done!" The male voice roars from inside Zelda's body. Its anger releases the tight control of concentration needed to maintain itself and the sickening sound of melting wax reveals a shape shifter's true form.
The Shape shifter leaps from the bed, brandishing a set of shining metal tipped hands and lunges at the frozen X-Man. Metal digs deep into Iceman's torso and he feels no pain. With the metal fingers imbedded into his side, Iceman reaches down and closes a frozen hand around the new Constructs' forearm. A look of terror molds on his face immediately and mixes with a cold numbing of his flesh. Iceman snaps the lackey's forearm as if it were a brittle twig.
His scream is quickly muffled by Iceman's free hand striking the shape changers jaw, unhinging the bone from its anchor. The X-Man steps back from the impersonator digging his hands into the constructs skin, well past his clothing, he throws the lackey over his shoulder with no small effort, partially caving in the wall that supports what's left of the door frame.
"Please Alex my boy, there is no need form more violence." He pauses to sidestep the structure of ice left behind by Iceman. I come here to deliver what you are looking for after all."
Havok and Nightcrawler both keep their distance as Essex moves freely toward the door of Xavier's study. The once herald of apocalypse sighs, "Xavier brainwashed you quite well; to continuously react on instinct; but no matter. I came to return the whelp."
Nothing is just that simple with you Sinister." Alex mutters in a low voice, "Since when do you concede something you chase?"
The century old scientist stops in mid-turn of the doorknob and turns to face Havok, "Whoever said I was conceding?" He laughs quickly. "I have what I intended to take, to put it in simpler terms, I am only helping you lose more graciously."
He doesn't wait to hear what Havok has to say, if he could find the words to begin to express the insult. Essex disappears into the room for les than a moment, walking out with a small child at his side, "Jacob, these nice men will return you home. Run along now."
Five year old Jacob Grey smiles and runs to Nightcrawler curiously amused by the tail snaking through the air. "This is far too simple for you to just give us the kid Sinister." Alex's disbelief continues to plague his words.
"You confuse the situation Alex. I have everything I need and there is no need for me to harm the child in any way." He shrugs the questions off, "If you would like me to spell everything out for you again, it's over, I win."
Nathaniel Essex stands in the doorway flanked by the creation he calls Jaunt. The pitch black man and his master look onward to the X-Men about to speak when the column of ice crumbles to the hardwood floor and evaporates.
A quick succession of low impacts forces the attention on the human frame of Bobby Drake as he makes his way down the stairs. Clutched in his hand, Bobby drags the battered, broken, and bleeding figure of the unconscious shape-changer down the stairs, adding insult to injury by dragging the youths head down the stairs without care.
