X-men 2099UG #4

"In essence, I do not know where the next murder will take place," the mutant known as Book said, resting his gaze on the two people in front of him. Their names were Timothy Fitzgerald and Shakti Haddad, and they were both members of the self-made mutant activist cell called the X-men. They were the Protectorate of the city, Book knew, although Shakti had since quit the Protectorate to keep an eye over the burgeoning teenage mutant populace of the city. (Though one look at the smoldering remains of where Exodus destroyed a good portion of the city trying to get to those same kids and one might say that she wasn't doing her job too well. Book wasn't going to be the one to tell her that, though. Never pick a fight with a telepath.)

"You're kidding me, Book," Skullfire said to him. "You know everything!" Tim gestured wildy with each word he said, which sent his body gently sailing in a random direction each time he did it. Zero-gravity navigation was hard to learn, and harder to master.

"You are certain?", Shakti asked, her face a mask of cool intellect and reserve. Her outward appearance commanded a sense of respect from everyone she interacted with. And even if it didn't, her keen martial arts reflexes and psionic power did. Shakti was by no means an easy target, Book knew, which made him wonder what kind of environment and what kind of hardships would shape a woman to be that way. He'd have to look it up later.

"I am, Cerebra, the killings follow no discernable pattern that I can find," Book responded.

"We may be dealing with someone mentally deranged, then?", Cerebra, nicknamed so for her ability to sense nearby mutants, said.

"That is a possibility," he responded, his stony grey bulk floating gently in the middle of the chamber. His body was much too heavy for his muscles to support it for any useful length of time, so he required a zero-g chamber with which to live and work in comfortably. Which was where they were now, a 50-foot high chamber in the shape of a tube. The one place in Halo Tower where gravity did not exist.

But where his body failed, his mind prevailed. He had a sharp intellect and a superhuman memory, his mutant gift, which he used to collect and analyze data. He had a knack for finding patterns in the data that constantly streamed before his eyes. He was known for his ability to know.

"If every resident in Halo had a psychological profile, I would be able to give you a list of candidates for your murder suspect. Or suspects," Book continued.

"That's a nice idea, but it's kind of damaging to civil rights," Skullfire said. "I would think that just the condition the bodies are found in would be enough to begin the finger pointing."

"It would, if there were anyone in Halo capable of causing the body trauma that is apparent on all the victims," Cerebra responded.

"Yes, the burst blood vessels, the crushed alveoli in the lungs, and the deteriorated state of the inner ear and eyes. The victims appear to have been exposed to a vacuum without a protective suit," Book informed them.

"Except the body is not functioning after the attacks take place. If you were quickly exposed to a vacuum, then your body would continue to function, albeit shortly, after the exposure. The skin would be frozen, as well. Those signs weren't there in the victims. It's as if they just...stopped," Cerebra said, finishing Book's explanation.

"And the most puzzling aspect of these murders is that, mentally, the victim is brain dead. All activity is stopped. There is a statement here from a telepath who was brought in after the second victim was found. In it he says that he '...cannot find any trace or presence of the mind or soul that inhabited this body. It is as if someone completely wiped it out of the person, and then broke their body to pieces as an afterthought.'," Book said, consulting one of the many floating data terminals that circled the room, gingerly, he pushed it aside. "I've taken all the facts presented to me and have come up with nothing."

"No telepathic/vacuum-power wielding mutants living here?", Tim jested.

"None, Timothy," Book stated gravely.

"Tim, how can you make light of this?", Cerebra asked him.

"Because if I don't then I'll end up interrogating every person I see on the street. I want these murders to end, Shakti, probably more than you do. But I can't let frustration get the better of me," Tim responded. Cerebra nodded.

Book continued with his explanation. "Although I can't give you any more information on the identity of the attackers. I do have a rough estimate of when the next attack may happen."

"What do you have?", Tim asked.

"If you space out each murder by the number of days between them, you get a minimum and maximum amount of time in which the murder will take place. Essentially, the killer or killers have not gone more than six days without striking again, and no less than four days."

"Must not be a very smart killer, striking so soon after his last murder," Tim said.

"Smart enough to elude Book, the Guardians, and the X-men," Shakti mentioned, rubbing her temples.

"What's wrong, Shakti?", Tim asked.

"Nothing, just have a slight headache. It doesn't seem to want to go away."

"Cerebra, Skullfire, there is something else I should mention," Book said.

"What?"

"The first murder occurred when Desdemona Synge arrived in Halo to discuss her business plans for the city with the X-men," Book stated. "The second one when she met with the City Council to discuss her business plans with them."

"That was the same day the She-Hulk tore up the Market District," Tim mentioned. Book nodded.

"The latest murder occurred shortly before the recent attack at the Haloplex Mall," Book continued.

"And we were busy fighting Random...or about to," Tim muttered to himself.

"What was Desdemona doing that day?", Shakti asked.

"Nothing, actually. The connections between the murders and Synge's actions are illogical at best, but they are there. I felt you should know about them."

"She may not be behind the murders, but what about the recent mutant attacks? That Random guy definitely mentioned being hired," Tim asked Book.

"She very well may be. It is an easy trick. Land an exclusive rebuilding contract with a city, then hire others to destroy more of it. A large profit for a small investment." Tim seemed to simmer with the information Book presented him with. Book sensed his attitude. "However, Tim," he continued. "Traditionally that is not the way Desdemona Synge operates."

"Is there any proof that Des is behind the mutant attacks?", Tim asked.

"No."

Tim paused before responding, Shakti thought she heard him sigh. "Keep an eye on it, Book."

"I already am."

"I believe I should leave now, Book," Shakti said, her eyes clenched in pain. "This headache is resisting my attempts to soothe it. Could you contact Rachel for me? I was going to meet with her after this but I'll have to cancel on her."

"I will," Book said, drawing a vidpanel closer to himself.

"I guess I'll head out, too, unless you have more?", Tim said.

"No, that is all I can give you for now. I will update you immediately if anything changes."

Below them, the hatch at the bottom of the chamber opened, light spilled in and illuminated the floor forty feet beneath them. Tim looked down and gulped, it was easy to forget how far up you really were. Shakti voiced a final goodbye to Book and walked out.

Grabbing a bar on the wall nearby, Tim pushed himself down. "Thanks for your help, Book," he said, floating downward. "Keep me informed if you find anything out about Des, too."

"I will, Fitzgerald."

The door slid shut behind Tim, and once more, Book was alone with the world.

*     *     *

Shakti laid down on the thin mattress of her cot-sized bed. The rail-thin width of the bed and the small amount of bouyancy the mattress gave were meant to make the user forcefully choose to stop moving. Moving would only you have you dangling a limb crookedly off the bed. And if you situated yourself in one spot on the mattress then you would get comfortable and not fidget. It was all meant to quiet the demands of the body and let the user concentrate on peacefully and calmly drifting to sleep. Or in Shakti's case right now, a peaceful and calm state of concentration.

Usually she could take care of the pains in her body in this fashion. Letting herself relax and her body take care of itself while she utilized the full extent of her psionic powers to erase the pain from herself.

And also usually, it worked. For some reason, Shakti couldn't completely banish her sudden migraine. She had gotten used to headaches ever since she took charge of X-Nation, but this had been troubling her all day. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't discern a source for the pain, couldn't find the area it was affecting. There were no pinched blood vessels, no over-stimulated nerves, no tired aches, no physical reason why she should have such pain.

"So what's this I hear about you cancelling on...me?", Rachel said, barging cheerfully into Shakti's room. Immediately Rachel paused as she got a good look at Shakti, lying on her bed in only a white T-shirt and underwear, her whole body drenched in sweat and her eyes clenched tight.

Abruptly, Shakti gasped for air and opened her eyes wide, surprised out of her trance by Rachel. Groggily, Shakti swung her legs off the bed and sat up.

"Ooooh, bad move," Shakti groaned, clutching a hand to her head, her headache worsened as the effects of her trance faded away.

"Shakti dear, what's wrong?", Rachel asked, sitting beside her. Next to Shakti, Rachel always looked diminutive. Age had done that to her, Rachel was pushing seventy and, like most people her age, had shrunk a few inches from the height she was in her prime.

As far as the friendship between the two women went, though, age was not a problem. The two had met long ago when Shakti's powers were still developing. She had managed to elude the forces of her father, the red market czar Zail Haddad, when she met up with Rachel. Rachel was a telepath, the most powerful one Shakti had ever encountered. But she lived the life of a hermit, isolated from most human contact. Rachel could not control her powers, and didn't want to risk hurting anyone.

Together they journeyed the world and got to know each other well. Shakti teaching Rachel how to concentrate and control her abilities, and Rachel teaching Shakti how to make the best use of her admittedly limited psionics. In each other they found a friend, a confidant, and a grateful teacher. The bond between them grew thick, and even when Shakti left to help form the X-men with Xi'an, Shakti stayed in contact.

Recently Rachel had come to Halo to live out the rest of her life. Immediately, Shakti sought her out and found that even through all the years, the bond remained as strong as ever.

Rachel took Shakti's hand and held it softly. "You look dreadful, Shakti," she said, putting up a hand to Shakti's sweat-soaked forehead. "And you're hotter than the devil in July. You have to see a doctor."

"Wasn't this bad before....honest," Shakti muttered quietly, her eyes drooping. "S'just a headache."

"I doubt that. Come on, girl, we're going to the hospital with you," Rachel said, beginning to lift Shakti onto her feet.

"No!.....No..., sorry to yell, Rachel..."

"It's alright. Why don't you want to go to the hospital?"

"It's not that...it's just...why don't you try to take care of it first?"

"'Scuse me, dear?"

Shakti sat back down on the bed. "I've been trying to pinpoint the physical source of the headache but I can't find anything. It may be I'm just not strong enough to affect whatever's...afflicted me."

"And you want me to go swimming through that psyche of yours?", Rachel said, a look of disbelief.

Shakti smiled weakly up at Rachel. "There's no one I trust more."

Rachel smiled. "Flattery is the key to many doors in this world, Shakti. I think you may have found one of them." Shakti snorted a laugh as Rachel sat down on the bed.

"Now lay down," Rachel said. Shakti acquiesced and closed her eyes, taking a few deep breaths. Rachel shifted to face her and closed her eyes. Ever so slightly, she loosed the constant reign she kept on her powers. Enough to seek out Shakti's mind and envelop it with her awareness. The power brimmed in Rachel's mind, seething and rolling, looking to push farther outwards, wanting to do nothing but expand forever. But Rachel kept it in, she had to, if left unchecked, she knew her telepathic powers would devastate the minds of all those around her. To be the cause of such suffering was too much for Rachel to bear.

Immediately, Rachel was upon Shakti's mind, searching and probing for the source of her friend's pain. She had done this kind of thing with Shakti before, not often, but enough not to be too disoriented. There was something odd about this time, though. Perhaps it was just that Shakti's power had been developing. Rachel always knew Shakti would become a formidable power in her own right.

The sensation Rachel was getting didn't feel that way, however. It was...something, it was definitely something alright. Rachel homed in on the feeling, determined to know what this something was.

Abruptly, the feeling vanished before Rachel would get any closer. Rachel swept her awareness around Shakti's mind but found no trace of what she had just felt. Slowly and carefully, Rachel withdrew from Shakti's mind and tightened the reign on her power once more.

Shakti opened her eyes and breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh shock," Shakti breathed, putting a hand up to her forehead and smiling slightly. "That feels so much better...thank you, Rachel."

"Anytime, dear, anytime. I'm glad to see you're feeling better," Rachel responded, a look of puzzlement on her face.

"What is it?", Shakti asked. Her eyebrows furrowed in sudden wonder.

"Well, when I was...when I was fishing around in there I felt this strange sensation. I haven't felt it before at all. The thing is, when I got a little closer to examine it, it disappeared."

"Huh."

"I don't know what to make of it."

A worried look appeared on Shakti's face. "Neither do I."

*     *     *

"You may like this class, kids," Ten Eagles said.

Ten Eagles stood before a group of seven kids in colorful clothes, all sitting (some of them slouching) on the hard aluminum floor in front of him. They all had names: Clarion, Wulff, Twilight, Metalsmith, December, Willow, Nostromo, and according to their guardian, Sister Nick of the Howling Commandments, they were all slackers of the highest order. Ten Eagles' instincts told him differently.

These were all teenaged alpha mutants, he knew, as he scanned his eyes over them. Some of them, as Wulff came into his view, from the worst kinds of places. The recent fight with Exodus made it all too clear the types of trouble that could happen if the children of Halo weren't trained in their powers. For their survival and for the safety of others.

"Doubt it, sir," Wulff said, clapping a hand over his yawn. "The words 'like' and 'class' don't belong together unless there's an 'I don't' in front of them."

"Why is that, Wulff?", Ten Eagles asked him, stopping in front of Wulff, crossing his arms.

"That's a loaded question, sir," Clarion said.

"This is a loaded class, kid," Ten Eagles said, turning away from the group. "The fight with Exodus has driven home the fact that you kids need training. Sister Nick and Cerebra had hoped simply educating your minds would suffice." Ten Eagles turned back to the kids. "They've changed their minds, obviously."

"So you're here to spar with us?", Clarion asked.

"Part of Sister Nick's new 'Off The Streets, On Your Toes' program, maybe?", Nostromo kidded. The group giggled.

Ten Eagles ignored the comments. "Look around you, kids, what do you see?"

December feigned looking around, "Looks like you remodeled our basement. You moving in?"

"Looks like a gym without all the equipment, actually...," Metalsmith said quietly to himself.

"You're right at that, Metalsmith. Except all the equipment is here already," Ten Eagles said, turning and walking away from the kids. Ten paces away, he turned around again and faced the kids. "This exercise is for Wulff only, everyone else stay right where you are," Ten Eagles called from the distance.

"What?", Wulff said.

"Computer," Ten Eagles called. "Hunter prey scenario one. Deactivation key Ten Eagles only. Start."

Before any of X-Nation could voice their startlement, the very environment around them changed. The grey-white walls disappeared, replaced by a sprawling jungle all around them. Trees thicker than buildings with vines creeping over their surfaces rose around them. Rays of sunlight shot through breaks in the canopy, lighting up mossy patches of the ground. All around them the sounds and calls of miscellaneous animals could be heard. A quick streak of grey scrambled in front of the kids, abruptly set upon by a mass of dark mottled feathers. The bird speared the rodent with its beak, little spurts of blood pouring forth, and just as quickly took flight again. The kids could hear the rodent's dying squeaks as it was carried away. Suddenly the darkness between the trees seemed to grow. The forest jungle around them becoming more and more oppressive.

"Great shock!", December called out.

"This is heavy," Metalsmith said.

"Where did this COME from?", Clarion asked, up on his feet.

"A VR trip? Maybe Ten Eagles built us a great big video game," Nostromo answered.

"'Bout time!", Willow said.

"I read an article about stadium-sized cyberspace interfaces recently," Twilight added. "Maybe this is like that."

"Cyberspace?", Metalsmith said, turning to her.

"Yeah, for large-scale events or wealthy aristocrats. Why go out to the world when you can bring the world to you with one of these things?"

"I don't think so, Twi...," Wulff said, his words broken intermittently with sniffs. "It smells...almost real."

Suddenly, Ten Eagles voice boomed out from everywhere. "This exercise is for you, Wulff. Find me in this jungle and and you get the rest of the day off."

Wulff grinned. "Only so many places you can be in here."

"You have 90 seconds."

"What?!"

"As for the rest of X-Nation. If you stay in that small clearing then you'll be fine. If not, you'll have to contend with the denizens of this jungle," Ten Eagles continued.

"Birds and rats? Mr. Ten Eagles, please," December said.

"Yes, birds and rats...and lions and bears and the occasional tyrannosaurus."

"Oh come on! Lions and dinosaurs aren't supposed to be in jungles!", Clarion said.

"People aren't supposed to be able to turn sound into force, either, Clarion. But here we are," Ten Eagles answered, Clarion grumbled.

"Oh man...," Wulff went, thinking of the animals Ten Eagles had just named.

"Wulff. Begin!"

Immediately Wulff ran off into the darkness of the jungle. The irises in his eyes grew wide, taking in more light, as his vision adjusted for his surroundings. The claws on his fingers lengthened as Wulff lycanthromorphed slightly. Heightened senses and reflexes came when he did this, but he was careful never to push it too far...he knew the consequences of that all too well.

Suddenly a scent trail wafted by his nose, it's smell was almost spicy, with a tinge of musk. Pheremones, Wulff knew. Something was upwind, waiting. The scent got heavier, thicker, the something was getting agitated or active. Wulff pricked his ears up and listened. The leaves were rustling all around him. No...wait, to his left...

A cougar lept out of the bushes to Wulff's left, roaring a deep rumble. Like fluid lightning, Wulff pivoted and crouched, grabbing the cougar by the underside and speeding its momentum forward...into a nearby tree.

The cougar landed with a sick thud and dropped to the ground motionless. "Pushed it too hard...," Wulff muttered quietly. Instantly he remembered his objective, and stalked further into the jungle, alert and ready.

*     *     *

"Time's up, Wulff," Ten Eagles voice said over the loudspeaker. Immediately the holographic jungle vanished, leaving the kids sitting exactly where they were - with Ten Eagles right behind them - and Wulff all the way across the room.

"AGH!", Nostromo said, surprised by Ten Eagles. "Sir...with all due respect...don't DO that!"

Ten Eagles smiled. "This is the Danger Room, kids. Expect surprises and challenges."

"Danger Room? What kind of name is that?", Clarion muttered quietly.

"It combines advanced holographic technology, conforming force fields, air and olfactory filtration systems and environmental control units to synthesize an artificial environment so detailed that it can fool even Wulff's senses," Ten Eagles explained, sweeping a hand to Wulff, who was still across the room. "You kids will be trained in the use of your powers here every day," he continued.

"You mean we get to beat stuff up?", Nostromo said.

Ten Eagles smiled. "Heh. Only if you're good."

*     *     *

"Any problems so far?", Krystalin asked, walking into the control room attached to the Danger Room below. "You seem to be working them hard," she said, glancing out of the one-way window that allowed a view of the entire room. The room was currently partitioned into seven pieces, with one of the kids in each.

"Krys...," Ten Eagles turned to greet her, smiling. "How goes the toil?"

"Pretty quietly, considering the events of the last few days. I thought I'd get some shopping done before I came to check up on you."

"You didn't have to check up on me."

"I wanted to." For a moment there was a pause between them as they stared at each other. "And," Krys continued. "I thought I'd accompany Sham here. She's not far in age from these kids. I don't know, I thought someone should be there watching."

"Feeling motherly?", Ten Eagles joked.

"Absolutely NOT," Krystalin stressed.

Ten Eagles smiled, turning his gaze back to X-Nation. "Their exercises aren't quite done yet. Where is Sham?"

"She's watching from the entrance, I think. I can only imagine what her impression of all this is. I bet she's thinking we're dropping her from the X-men."

"Her concerns are well founded, I would drop her. She is inexperienced and a liability. For an alpha-level she is quite limited in the use of her powers. Her tricks only work once."

Krystalin gave Victor Ten Eagles a level look. "Good thing you're not leading, then. She proved herself at the Slaughterhouse and with Graviton. She was put in a coma fighting for us***. It would be the cruelest thing to do to exclude her for that."

*** X-men 2099UG: Gravity

Victor grunted. "The X-Nation kids have a minute left."

Krystalin stepped closer to the window and Victor. Peering, she caught sight of what each of the kids were doing. "What do you have December doing?"

"That's the Human Torch. One of the New York superheroes. December can gather moisture from the air and turn it to ice. I thought it would be an excellent gauging of her abilities to face her with an opponent made of fire."

"How's she doing?"

"Poorly, she's not yet enacted the defense that I had hoped she would."

After Krystalin gave Victor a questioning look, he continued. "She is content with merely manifesting her abilities in the form of bursts of cold and ice. I was hoping the battle would push her to enact a casing of ice around herself."

"Trying to turn her into a Robert Drake?"

Victor turned his head to Krystalin. "Yes."

"Remember what happened when we encountered someone who was already trying to do that?", Krystalin said, referring to the first time she had met Victor. They had gone to a ranch in the southwest to investigate the possible existence of one of the twencen X-men.

What they found was harsh and twisted. The mutant mind master Zhao, who had led his own team of X-men decades ago, was trying to create facsimiles of the original team of X-men. What he made was twisted and corrupt. Accelerated mutants with no morals to speak of. People who were going to die because of what Zhao did to them. One of them, a copy of Iceman called "Frostbite", had killed 20 people on a farm reserve simply to steal some information.***

*** X-men 2099 (regular series): 7-9

"Please, Krystalin, comparing that psychotic Zhao with me is a bit of a stretch, isn't it?"

"I'm sorry, Victor, you're right. It's just kind of unsettling seeing you pushing these kids like this. I mean, you've got Clarion doing calisthenics, and that's fine. But you have a million pieces of metal flying at Metalsmith. Wulff's in some sort of jungle, fighting it looks like. And December's battling the Human Torch! I can't even TELL what Willow and Twilight are doing."

"You're worrying too much. The safeties are still on. And besides, don't you think it's good that the Danger Room can be pushed this far? It will make a great training ground for the X-men, as well."

"Just be careful with them, Victor."

"I will."

The console below them emitted a beeping sound, interrupting their conversation. "Time's up," Victor said absently, deactivating the programs running in the Danger Room. Below them, Krystalin saw all the testing scenarios vanish, leaving seven exhausted kids slumped around the room.

Victor turned on the Danger Room com. "Good job, kids. See you here same time tomorrow." The voice echoed throughout the cavernous room. Krystalin thought she could hear groans and moans.

"Except for you, Clarion. You're staying after," Ten Eagles said.

"Aw, why me?", Clarion yelled.

"You'll see."

"I thought we were here so I could work out," said a voice coming from the doorway. Krystalin and Ten Eagles turned to find Sham staring at them.

"Your turn's next, actually," Victor responded, walking towards the doorway with Krystalin following.

"But you just said that..."

"I know what I said, Sham, let's go meet him down there."

Krystalin, Victor Ten Eagles, and Sham walked down to the Danger Room entrance in silence. At the bottom of the stairs they were greeted by a seemingly exhausted Clarion.

"What did I do wrong, teach?", Clarion asked, his uniform slung over his shoulder, sweat staining his grey T-shirt. "You only had me doing exercises."

"Nothing wrong with a little exercise. I had the others doing exercises concerning their powers, but I held off on you until Sham got here," Victor explained.

"What?", Sham said.

"You two are both going to be testing yourselves out. On each other."

"I'm inclined to agree with Sham on this one. What?", Clarion said.

"Let's get back into the room," Victor said, walking past them and into the Danger Room.

"Hey Victor, I think I'll be leaving now. You seem to have things in hand," Krystalin said.

"I'll see you later, then?", Victor asked. Krystaling paused, puzzled.

"Er...later?"

"You went shopping, I'm sure there's enough food in that kitchen of yours to make a dinner for two," Victor said, smiling.

"Victor!"

"Is that a yes or a no?"

"Say yes, Krys!", Sham teased.

Krystalin shot a mean look at Sham, then looked puzzlingly back at Victor. "Er, um, yes, I suppose."

"Fantastic. See you at 8 then. Come on kids," Victor said, going into the room.

"I'm not a kid," Sham responded, as she and Clarion followed Victor into the Danger Room. The door slid shut behind them, leaving Krystalin grumbling by herself.

"Dinner at 8...Is there something wrong about wanting an evening to oneself?", she said to herself, walking away. "I hope he likes microwave stew then."

*     *     *

"Sham, you have the ability to create projections of light and sound, yes?", Victor asked her.

"You got my number, Eagles," Sham tossed back.

"Ten Eagles, if you will. Now, if I were the one to posess this kind of mutant ability, I'd realize somewhere down the line that the illusions I can create would not work all the time with an opponent."

"I get by."

"I think what Mr. Ten Eagles is trying to say, Sham, is that as offensive weapon, your mutant powers stink," Clarion told her.

Sham grimaced at Clarion. "If this is just going to be you two berating me then I'm just going to leave."

"No, wait Sham," Victor said. "We're not here for that. I want to teach you how to use your mutant powers as an offensive weapon."

"Eh?"

"You have mastery over light and sound. You can pull both out of thin air. Most of the time, you make due with creating illusions to fool your opponents. Have you considered using only sound, however? How high a decibel level can you reach?"

"I don't know, I've never tried."

"You will now."

"So that's what I'm here for...," Clarion said. "You want to gauge my abilities while she's developing hers."

"Two birds with one stone, Clarion. I've got dinner plans, remember. You up for it, Sham?", Victor said.

"I don't know. How is sound going to be my weapon?"

"Say an opponent you know is out to hurt you. He knows this will be an easy mark because he knows all you do is create harmless illusions. Imagine his surprise when you throw him across the city with a wave of sound so loud and so intense it wakes everyone up within a mile radius."

An impressed look appeared on Sham's face. "Let's do this, then."

*     *     *

Desdemona Synge shuffled through the papers on her desk, making an inventory of them in her head. Almost unconsciously, she seperated them into piles to be filed away later. One of the piles she kept in her hand, there were still some matters to be taken care of today.

She glanced at the papers in her hands. They were cost estimates for the reconstruction of certain buildings that had been demolished in the fight. Her contracting team, with input from the Council, had already marked which buildings got priority and which would be abandoned in favor of new installations. She was getting offers daily from businesses vying for available space. The amount of work that had to be done was enormous, but Des shirked from none of it. In the end she was the one who would benefit the most, and the more she kept her finger on the situation, the better the outcome would be.

"Ms. Synge, your 5:00 appointment is here," buzzed the com. Des had been finding herself in her office so often already that she had hired a secretary. If she was going to be pigeonholed into a room, then she would stand to make things a bit easier on herself.

"Send him in," Des said absently. She was meeting another potential investor in one of the open sites. The fourth one she had met today.

A tall, heavily muscled man entered. He looked well-built, but the smooth lines of his tailored suit hid any unsightly bulges he might have. His hair was slicked back on his head, revealing a sharp widow's peak. His face was gaunt and set, yet under his bushy eyebrows Desdemona saw two eyes affixed straight on her. This was a man who was used to getting his way, Des knew.

"Ms. Synge," the man said before Des could speak up, pulling a chair out for himself. "I understand that you may not have enough money to cover construction costs."

"Excuse me?" Des lifted an eyebrow. "Ignoring the brashness of your comment, what you said is completely off the mark. And anyhow, it is not my job to supply the funds to rebuild a city that isn't mine."

The man crossed his arms and leaned back, his eyes still on Des. "No, of course it isn't. It's the city's, but even so, you and the city are interlinked for the remainder of this project of yours. And you know that the city is going to have a hard time paying you."

"Hard, but not difficult. There are several commercial interests in Halo that provide for the city's healthy economy."

The man smiled, unfolding his arms to rest on the chair. "And I would like to join them, Ms. Synge."

A tired tone crept into Des' voice, she had to restrain herself from sighing. "Of course, I believe that's why you're here, Mr...," Des stumbled on the name.

"Shaw. Alexander Shaw."

"What is your proposal, Mr. Shaw?"

And so he told her. Shaw wanted to set up some sort of social club in Halo. There were chapters all over the world, or so he claimed. Some existing well before the Heroic Age came about. The stranger went on and on about how Halo was the next emerging major city. That its unique values and social atmosphere would soon be leading the nation in kind. He was anxious, he said, no, desperate to be a part the city that he was sure would lead the nation in the new century. The club would help Halo in terms of society and economy, the man had said. And Halo was sure to help them.

It was mostly frosting as far as Des was concerned. A social elitist club existing in a city without a class system. But, as she did with all the applicants, she promised she would consider it and get back to him in due time.

"That's all I can ask for, Ms. Synge. All I can ask for. If you like I can leave you with a detailed description of what I am proposing on paper."

"That would be quite helpful, Mr. Shaw."

"Excellent then," Shaw said, getting up and reaching inside his suit. He pulled out a small card and placed on Des' desk. "Here is my contact information if you have any questions."

Des took the card and shook Shaw's hand. "I'll be in touch." Shaw nodded, smiling, and left.

Des took a look at the card. It had a logo on it of a blazing shield with two swords crossing behind it. The shield was divided into four quadrants. The letters H and C were on it in gold lettering. Des took a look at the contact info.

"Hellfire Club...," she muttered to herself.

*     *     *

Right now La Lunatica can't clap her hands together. Make a joke out of that though, and she'll show you how much pain she can bring you with only one hand.

"How long will it take to grow it?", Luna asked the doctor scraping her skin as she sat on the med chair.

The doctor looked up at her. "It's a small limb so it'll only take about three days for it to grow out. Once we attach it to you though, it'll be two weeks or so before you get full feeling in it. The nerves will need time to reintegrate themselves. There, done." The doctor took the petri dish with the flakes of Luna's skin on it and wiped her arm with a wet wipe.

Luna rubbed the arm the doctor had been scraping from unconsciously. "Are you sure this will work?"

"Oh yes, Ms. Lunatica, luckily the wound was cauterized soon after the incident. As long as you don't do any more damage to the area then it will be in perfect condition for attachment."

"It's frustrating...," Luna said.

"I imagine it is...but it won't be long. Just keep that numbing solution on the area and you won't feel the pain...," the doctor advised, slipping a sample of the skin into the examing scope. "Oh my..."

"What?"

"This DNA is like nothing I've ever seen or read about."

"So?", Luna said. Getting off the chair and rubbing the stump where her hand was. It was still an odd feeling to not have it there. "I'm a mutant."

"Yes...but this is...there's more than a simple X-factor here."

"Probably just a mutation," Luna said dismissively.

"Perhaps...but I would like to study this further. Do you mind if I keep a sample of your DNA on file?", the doctor said, peeking up from the examining scope and looking at Luna.

"Do I have to do anything?", Luna asked, heading near the door.

"Er...no."

"I don't care then. Knock yourself out," she said, the door opening with a swish as she neared it.

"Thank you, Ms. Lunatica. I'll contact you when we're ready to do the attachment."

Luna headed out the door, still touching the stump. "Whatever."

*     *     *

"Why couldn't those nanotechs have given me some fur?", Henri pondered, looking out the open window in his quarters. The view from his foyer was magnificent. It faced west, where the Alaskan mountain range stretched before him. Its rounded peaks and rolling hills covered in an unbroken blanket of snow. The ice caps among the mountain tops shone in the moonlight, curving down the mountainsides. Sometimes, when the moon was full, it would shine so brightly that you wouldn't need a flashlight to go outside. The reflection of the moonlight off the snow was enough to light your way.

But for a man who had lived in the Southwestern desert for so long, it was colder than hell. Winter lasted six months up here, and they were smack in the middle of it.

It had all started a month ago, when Morphine Somers came to him and asked him for his help. A malicious group of elitist mutants calling themselves "The Hellfire Club" were making plans for Halo, Somers had said. He had been invited into the Club, but wanted Henri along for surveillance in case things got too out of control.

Henri sensed something missing from his words, this was Morphine Somers after all. But if the situation were as Somers had described it, Henri would do well to take up his offer. The X-men needed him, Henri knew, especially after the battle that decimated the city, but they might need him even more as what he was now. A silent informant in the Hellfire Club. Maybe Henri could prevent another Exodus-type event from happening to Halo again.

So under Morphine's advice, Henri had nanotechs inserted in his body to change his physical appearance. His mutant powers remained intact, as did his mind, but everything was different. In some ways it was a frightening process, serving only to remind him of his former friend Jordan Boone. His best friend once, injected with nanotechnology, and driven insane from it.

Abruptly, the com panel on Henri's desk beeped and flipped open. An incoming message. Henri knew who it was before he turned around.

Morphine's sharp and cruel features materialized on the small viewscreen. His physical appearance hadn't changed at all. "Christopher, you there?", Morphine said.

Christopher was Henri's cover name, they weren't taking any chances. "Yes, Morphine," Henri answered, coming in from the window and shaking the cold from himself.

"Rentaro wants to see me. If this is what I think it is, then you should be here."

"Am I allowed?"

"As far as I know, everyone is. It's down in the main hall."

"They only use that for proclamations," Henri said.

"Yuh huh. Better haul ass down here, Chris," Morphine said brusquely.

"I'll be there soon," Henri responded, shutting off the com.

Henri made his way slowly to the main hall. It was on the upper level of the Complex, not all too far from his quarters. For a man gifted with enhanced speed though, it was an arduous walk. He couldn't dare use his powers while he was here, so he was forced to live the slow life of a human. The one big drawback from living at the Hellfire Club's Alaskan Complex.

The massive wooden doors to the hall were already open when Henri arrived. Gathered inside were the most important people in the Complex, the Inner Circle. The Black Queen and Black Bishop were there, balanced out by the White Queen, King, Rook, and Bishop. Shaw, the Black King was conspicuously absent, Henri noted. It was strange of him to be gone, Henri thought, if this was truly what he thought it would be. But then again, Shaw had a lot of business to tend to.

"Made it here without running, did ya?", Morphine ask, sliding up beside Henri to walk with him.

"I can do without if I really have to," Henri said back.

Morphine grinned that serpentine grin of his. "Good thing. This game's about to get even more serious."

Silently, they entered the hall together. It was a massively large room, hung along the walls were oil paintings, large and small, of what Henri assumed to be past members of the Inner Circle. Two small tables with refreshments were situated in the corners next to the large oaken doors. The doors themselves were ornately carved with the sigil of the Hellfire Club on each of them. A blazing shield with an H on one door, a blazing shield with a C on the other.

The hall was in the same Neo-Victorian style that the rest of the Complex was. Everything seemed geared toward flashy showmanship first, comfort second, usefulness above all. Henri knew there was at least one holographic facade in the main hall hiding a computer terminal. Maybe a couple.

The floor of the hall was raised at its north end, presumably to draw attention to whatever was up there. Behind the raised floor, almost the entire wall consisted of glass. Completely clear, divided into equal squares, and running all the way up the wall and stretching across the roof. Delicate chandeliers hung from the glass ceiling, giving the whole room a warm glow. Extravagance was the style of the day, and every other day, in the Hellfire Club.

Morphine and Henri strode up to the raised floor where the Inner Circle stood. Lining the way were a myriad of faces that Henri didn't recognize. This was Alaska, where did all these people come from?

"That's far enough, Somers," Martin Rentaro, the White King said. All of the Inner Circle were dressed in royal garb. "Kneel before us."

Henri stayed behind Morphine and supressed a smile. Morphine kneeling? He was sure to hear some choice swears from Morphine on that. To Henri's surprise however, Morphine did as he was told silently.

Beside Henri was a face he did recognize, though. Gavin Rentaro, also known as Graviton. A brash young kid who did whatever his father told him. The X-men had tangled with him when he tried to kidnap his younger brother Quiver. He wasn't an official part of the Inner Circle, but was still considered his father's soldier. He seem puzzled at the moment though. Henri ignored it.

The White King looked forward and clapped his hands once. Immediately a servant came walking up with a ceremonial vestment. It was white.

Gavin caught sight of this all too well. "Father!", the kid yelled out.

"Be silent, Gavin!", Rentaro bellowed. Henri kept a straight face, something was up between them.

"You can't possibly have chosen him! Him? Over your own son?", Gavin took a few defiant steps forward. Morphine turned his head to look at Gavin, his face was expressionless.

Rentaro gave his son a stony stare, then turned back to Morphine, taking the vestment from the servant. "Morphine Somers," Rentaro said solemnly. "You have proven your resourcefullness and cunning both to me and to the Inner Circle..."

"I have served you faithfully for YEARS, father," Gavin spoke angrily. "And you deny me like THIS?"

"Servants," Rentaro said harshly. "Remove my son from the room. He is not mature enough to attend this ceremony." Rentaro gave his son a distasteful look. "You will leave this hall now."

Henri observed Gavin without emotion. He expected an angry outburst, a flaring of Gavin's gravity powers. Instead, a tinge of fear flashed across his face. The servants came up behind him and grabbed him by the arms. Without struggle, Gavin left the hall. Henri noted it all with interest.

Rentaro turned back to Morphine. "As I was saying...Morphine Somers, you have garnered our respect, the respect of the Inner Circle."

Gingerly, Rentaro placed the vestment over Morphine's shoulders. "Rise, Somers, and complete the Circle as the Hellfire Club's Black Rook. Rise and take your place among us."

Morphine stood up and walked the rest of the way onto the raised floor. He turned to Rentaro, the vestment's gold inlay glittering from the light of the chandeliers and the shine of the moon reflecting off the white satin. He took Rentaro's hand and shook it.

"It is an honor, my King," Morphine said sincerely.

The room burst into clapping, the Inner Circle joining in. Morphine and Rentaro both smiled.

Henri joined in the clapping, but he wasn't smiling.

Next Issue: An X-man falls as Halo City plunges into chaos.