X-men 2099UG #43

There is a saloon in the town of Saba'Ur that was supposed to never see business again, but today seven customers have arrived to go over business of their own. The Lawless have returned to the town. After they began their attack on the town, many fled to their homes in the desperate hope that they would be safe, because they were too easy targets on the streets. Even some who believed in the one called yaweh and his messianic son attempted to mimic a saint and a prophet by spreading the blood of their livestock on their doorways, to create a new passover for themselves. Fear can make people do the strangest things. Businesses like this saloon were emptied when the attack began. There are no bodies or vestiges of battle here; it is the best place to sit down and catch up with old friends.

Mongrel, the blue-skinned beast-man, adorned in leather, chains, and jewelry sits in his wooden chair clutching his glass. Junkpile, the only other mutant member of the Lawless, looks no different from when his companions last saw him. He still wears sunspecs with armor composed of scrap metal and iron on his body. Auntie Maim, the Thorite, with long red hair and earrings, wears a costume in honor of the gods long-dead. Her trusty hammer, Josephine, leans against her chair at her side. Ten Eagles, the bald Keewazi man, wears a loose green silk shirt and khaki pants. He examines each of his friends carefully. Haiku, entombed permanently in neurotech, sits to Ten Eagles' left. She never moves her body and is the only one without a drink. The Reverend, in the garb of Catholic priest, sits in his chair looking at the others behind his sunglasses. He put his small arsenal of guns, bombs and other offensive weaponry on a chair behind him. Xi'an Chi Xan, the leader of the Lawless, wears the costume of his old handle, the Desert Ghost.

"So it looks like we're a team again," the Reverend comments to break the silence.

Junkpile looks across the table with an arched brow. Victor puts his glass down and bitterly makes a comment of his own, "It's good to know that this place is the one thing that brings us together."

Junkpile glances over at Victor and asks, "And you're mad that we're together again? You went all soft after we disbanded, just like Xi'an over here. You gotta remember who you were because you were one of the best."

"I'd prefer never again to think about the person I was," Victor says to Junkpile, trying to direct that statement to everybody else as well.

"Well, being here ain't therapeutic for that attitude," Junkpile says, taking another swig from his drink.

"Just shut up!" Auntie Maim shouts, directing her command to both of them. "I don't care about how Junkpile feels betrayed that his friend became some soft businessman. And I don't care how Ten Eagles carries a big weight on his shoulders for who he was. We all have that weight, and we all have to deal with it. Attacking each other doesn't help."

The room goes quiet again. Maim is right, of course. Both Junkpile and Ten Eagles know it, but neither would surrender their argument publicly. They are both so stubborn they would rather look like complete asses than admit they were wrong. Fortunately, they deny their instinctive reactions to Maim's point and decide to keep quiet and no longer press into the matter that eats them up.

Xi'an hasn't touched any of the alcohol in his glass. He doesn't know even know why the Reverend even went through the saloon's stock. Sitting in a bar drinking with a bad attitude isn't going to stop the memories. They are all here to confront the past; to attempt to sort out something they don't understand. It's time they got on with it. But before Xi'an can say anything someone speaks up.

"This," Haiku stresses, "is not helping, either." It is unsettling for them all to hear her voice come from an artificial source. She was once a beautiful woman with an equally beautiful voice. It is the same voice now, but it is not quite so beautiful when projected from speakers without her red lips moving and her adoring green eyes narrowed to supplement her point. "If we are here for a reason, then we have to do what we must. I do not care about the rest of you, but I have a business to get back to. Just by being here, I am sacrificing delicious information that passes me by on the cybertrack every day."

The Reverend, adorned in the uniform of a Catholic priest, lowers his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose and looks at the rest quickly. "Haiku's right. Let's see if we can't solve this mystery and get back to our lives as soon as possible."

Suddenly, from outside, a voice calls out, "Hell-l-l-o-o!"

The group rise from their seats, except Haiku, of course, and turn their heads to the front door of the bar. The person who belongs to the voice wasn't calling out into the silence as some lonely traveler might, but it was directed to the seven people in the saloon. Somebody knew they were back in Saba'Ur. The Reverend reaches for his weapons sitting on the nearby chair and glances at his friends. Perhaps they would fight together again?

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Outside, a tall man dressed in a red, plaid shirt and blue jeans with boots stands in the middle of the street, facing the tavern. His hair is black and curly. His thin face is covered in sweat and three day-old stubble. The Lawless step out the front door onto the porch area of the bar. They are ready to battle, and they come out with caution and baring weapons. They see an unarmed man staring at them, as though he expected them.

"Speak now, stranger. Who are you and what are you doing here?" Xi'an asks, wanting answers quickly.

"You.... You were the ones who killed my people! I'm the only survivor of the Saba'Ur Massacre!" he shouts to them, with a hint of a southern accent on his voice.

Xi'an sighs and before he can respond, so the Reverend decides to do it for him.

"Looks like we missed one." Xi'an darts an evil look at his teammate, clearly expressing that the Reverend's comment was not appropriate.

"Yeah, you 'missed one'. I remained well hidden from you during the slaughter. I lost my family and friends to you," the stranger says.

Xi'an quickly answers before anyone else decides to offer another creative response, "Sir, we have reason to believe that perhaps the slaughter here was not completely our doing. There may a third party involved. We are here to investigate."

"Investigate? What's to know? You're savages," he mutters loud enough for them to hear, shaking his head.

"Your name. What is your name, stranger?" Ten Eagles asks, with a plasma rifle in his hand at his side.

The man turns and looks down the block and answers, "Seth. Rolam Seth."

"The hel?" Junkpile whispers to his teammates. "What kinda pretty-boy name is that?"

"It's prettier than your ugly mug, I'm sure," Seth retorts quickly.

Before Junkpile can even react, Ten Eagles, Maim and Mongrel hold Junkpile so he cannot move. It requires all of their strength, but it works. The mutant would have killed Seth without a thought for such a comment.

"You little punk," Junkpile calls to him. "If these shockers weren't holding me back, you'd be deader than the rest of your clan here!"

"Enough!!" Xi'an shouts. "No one speak!" Junkpile grits his teeth, and calms himself. Rolam shoots a smug look to him, seemingly pleased he angered the mutant. Xi'an quickly looks everyone over, as though trying to figure out what is going on. Ever since they all met up by chance in Saba'Ur, things haven't felt right. Now with the appearance of this supposed survivor of the senseless massacre, nothing seems right.

Seth blinks slowly, a smile still pursing his lips.

"I think you should better tell us just what you've been doing during these years, Seth," Ten Eagles suggests.

Rolam Seth unfolds his arms and his hands rest at his sides. "Fine," he answers. "Follow me."

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"I can't believe we're following this guy. Where is he taking us?" Maim whispers to Ten Eagles as the Lawless follow the stranger calling himself Seth along a dusty road. They trail the pack, who walk mostly in pairs behind Seth and Xi'an. They are all a little cautious, keeping their weapons a heartbeat away in case things get 'funny'.

"We're almost there," the group hears from Seth, who apparently heard Maim's question.

"Good," Mongrel quickly snaps.

"I survived the massacre," Seth begins. "I remained hidden after my family was killed by your hands. We lived here for a short time before you came. Since that time years ago, I've been traveling the country, seeing what else it offers its people. I've been gone, but I always come back here every two months to remember them. I was going to give my people a proper burial, but I learned some time ago that if we as a species are to learn from our mistakes, we have to face them. Gravestones can invoke memories, but the sights here invoke pain. You remember pain, and it seems this is the only way people will learn."

"Makes sense," Junkpile mutters, looking up at the mid-afternoon sun.

"I just returned two days ago. I sleep in a church a few blocks from here. There are no bodies there; no destruction. It is peaceful. There I meditate and honor my people."

"Whatever heats your meat," Reverend comments, pushing his sunglasses farther up the bridge of his nose.

The group walks a few more yards when Seth says, "Here. This is good enough." Seth stops and turns to look at the seven. The Lawless stop as well and realize they haven't arrived anywhere. They are still in the middle of the dusty street, not close to any special landmarks or buildings.

"What is this, Seth?" Xi'an asks, taking two steps back to join the rest of the group.

"This," he says, pausing. "This is where all the questions will be answered. Here we can figure it out together."

"How do we do that here, meat?" Junkpile asks, a sneer across his face.

"Meditation," he answers. "We will take a journey through your minds and discover the truth by entering an ancient meditative process."

The Lawless look at each other quickly, each of them suspecting that Seth is not speaking whole truths. Junkpile leans forward and whispers to Xi'an, "You're into all those hokey religious-cleansing deals. Can we do what he's saying?"

"Perhaps," Xi'an answers. "I've studied only a few religions that describe specific meditative techniques."

"This technique is from a time you have never known. Now, do you want to do this or not? The answers are there," Seth says.

"I'm willing. But do not try anything funny," warns Ten Eagles.

"Yes, we will all do this. If you do try to deceive us, Seth, you will regret it," Xi'an says.

Seth shakes his shoulders and tells them, "Fine. Don't worry about it. Now, this practice is done standing up. This will take concentration, so just relax and close your--"

"I shall remain seated," Haiku interrupts.

"As you wish. Now stand straight. Relax yourself." Seth lowers his voice to a calm and warm tone. The Lawless do as he commands. "Close your eyes. See the blackness. Look around your black world by moving your eyes slowly back and forth. Breathe slowly and count your breaths. Keep moving your eyes very slowly. Now imagine a bright color. Pretend a small bit of that color is somewhere in your black world. Imagine it coming into clearer view as your eyes move over it. See it off to the side as your eyes move away. Keep count of your breaths and move your eyes and see the color."

His words are so smooth and inviting. It is as though he isn't speaking any longer, but each do as he describes. Each of the Lawless can see the bit of color in the blackness. They continue to count their breaths as their eyes move back and forth. Soon, as Seth's words describe, the bit of color changes shape. It begins to move and change as their eyes move toward it and then more as they move away from it. The shape takes a definite form and suddenly, more colors are added. The new colors form other shapes. Soon, a new world is formed.

Xi'an finds himself standing in the street at the foot of a set of stairs leading onto a porch of a house. He looks around and notices everything has a slightly brown hue to it. The sky is cloudy, and it seems to be late afternoon. Xi'an realizes that the truth he is searching for is beyond the wooden steps. He lowers his head and begins to ascend the stairs.

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Ten Eagles and Junkpile are back to back on another street. They see the same brownish hue on everything. They turn to each other then they examine their surroundings. They look around, confused. Where could the truth can be found here? Suddenly, however, they hear a man screaming in pain. Junkpile and Victor turn and begin to run down the block toward the source of the scream.

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Auntie Maim and Haiku suddenly find themselves in the street as well, outside a store window. The window is dusty, and the brown hue and the angle of the sunlight makes it difficult to see in to the dark store. Maim notices that Haiku is still wrapped in her neurotech, seated in her hoverchair. They notice the wind is blowing and it is rather quiet out. Suddenly, the wooden door leading into the store is forced open by the body of a bleeding man. The man falls to the ground with a grunt and he does not move. The two women approach the man slowly, and as they come closer, they hear the sound of a laser rifle charging up behind them.

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The Reverend and Mongrel are in the middle of a long alleyway. The buildings they are between are rather tall and the lack of sunlight makes for an eerie setting. They notice the brick walls on either side of them and the random, darkened shapes along the alley. Suddenly, there is a crash and the two remaining members of the Lawless turn around to see a man being picked up from the ground by two other men. The man is weak and he struggles against his antagonizors. Their silhouettes reveal that the bigger man is muscular with a lot of hair and chains. The other man is about half his size, holding a large blunt object in his hands. Mongrel and the Reverend realize they are looking at themselves.

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Xi'an reaches the top step and surveys the porch. Directly ahead of him is the front entrance, an oak wooden door with a green door frame. There is a rocking chair to the right of the door, worn from years of use. The wood porch looks like it used to be a shade of green, but it too is worn. The familiar odor of cut wood permeates the air. The brownish hue makes everything look dead. Xi'an continues on and pushes the door open. The hinges squeak as the door swings inward, revealing the inside. There is a staircase with a gray carpet covering against the left wall leading upstairs. To the right, a long corridor leads into a kitchen area. Xi'an is starting to remember this place, but he cannot remember everything. He was here all those years ago. These were simple people, Xi'an thinks. And now they are all gone.

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At the end of the block, Junkpile and Ten Eagles see them. It is themselves, but from a few years ago. They are torturing a man in the street. Junkpile, who looks the same as he does now, holds the man by the arms with his large hands, smiling with delight. Ten Eagles, wearing a brown leather vest and black pants, backhands the man while he struggles, a devilish smile on Victor's face. The man's face is a bloody mess. His orange shirt is torn and ruddy from the blood spilling from his wounds. The man looks like he wants to say something, but he struggles in pain, and tears and sweat stream down his face, washing a small bit of blood away.

"We look like we enjoyed this," the real Ten Eagles says to his partner.

Junkpile looks on and replies, "We did, Victor."

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Auntie Maim spins around to see a younger and more human-looking Haiku standing in the doorway with a plasma rifle in her hand. Maim notices the gun is pointed directly at her.

"No... wait...." Maim pleads. But she hears the shot and prepares herself for the pain. Except the pain doesn't come. Maim hears another grunt from the man behind her and she realizes the shot went straight through her.

"By Odin's beard," she mutters to herself.

The real Haiku, in her hoverchair, moves toward Maim and says, "I don't remember any of this."

"I do," Maim replies. Any second now, that window's gonna..."

And before Maim can finish her sentence, a loud crash is heard as the younger Maim's Josephine comes flying through the store window, with her quickly following. Maim looks no different, she still wears the garb of a thorite follower. The younger Haiku wears black pants with a white tee-shirt.

"I warned him not to fight us," the young Haiku says.

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"What're we doing to him?" Mongrel asks his companion, as they watch their younger counterparts beating an old man in the alley.

"Apparently, we're kicking the hel outta that guy," the Reverend answers. And he is right. The man doesn't even fight back as Mongrel and the Reverend take turns bludgeoning the man with their fists or a large wooden board.

"But, he doesn't look like he could be a threat to us," Mongrel says, his eyes filled with regret.

"That's what made it fun for us."

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Xi'an reaches the second floor of the house. Actually, he reaches another hallway extending both left and right at the top of the staircase. Xi'an turns left and walks a few paces, noticing the wood paneling of the hall. He also sees a door to the right a few steps ahead and a door at the end of the hall. The noise of hurried footsteps makes Xi'an turn around and see a man running straight toward him. The man has the brown hue to him, and Xi'an knows he is from the past. He stands and allows the man to pass through him, knowing he would not be an obstacle. He doesn't realize what the man does, because Xi'an sees someone else in the hall.

The savage Xi'an Chi Xan used to be walks down the hall slowly. He wears a black leather outfit and in his hand is a plasma rifle. The real Xi'an looks at his counterpart with wonder. He remembers the person he once was, and it is strange to able to look at himself from a different perspective. The younger Xi'an exudes a coldness, he notices. He allows his younger self to pass through him. As he does, Xi'an turns around to see his younger self stop at the door to the right. His counterpart kicks the door open with his right foot and smiles. He raises the plasma rifle quickly and fires.

Xi'an's eyes widen and he rushes toward the door as his young counterpart moves on to the last room in the hall. Xi'an enters the bedroom to see the man lying on his stomach, dead on the floor at the foot of the bed. He lowers his eyes and walks toward the body slowly. He kneels down, whispers an apology to the man, and then recites a small prayer in his mind. Xi'an begins to stand up as the closet door on the right wall opens. A small boy, of maybe five or six years, with short black hair wearing jeans and a white shirt, approaches the body. Xi'an sees the boy and turns his head to the doorway.

"No, no. Please, no," he pleads. The boy doesn't know the armed Xi'an is still in the house. He doesn't realize the danger he is in. He looks back and forth at the doorway and then the boy. He knows his counterpart would have to come back this way. "Please...." Xi'an begs to no one in particular. "Please...."

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"I know we did not let anyone mess with us, but this man has obviously lost. Why would we keep doing this to him?" Victor asks.

"We ain't gonna be doing it much longer," Junkpile says. "Look." He points at Victor's counterpart and they both see that he has pulled a knife from his boot.

"No. Oh, no..." Ten Eagles whispers to himself. He sees the evil smiles on both of their faces, and he can't believe this all actually happened. "We..." he begins, but he cannot finish because he is at a loss for words.

Junkpile and Ten Eagles watch as the blade is brought back and it seems to glow in the sunlight. Then Victor plunges the blade into the beaten man's stomach and all three men growl when he does. The man's actually sounds more like a howl. Junkpile releases his grip on the man and allows him to fall to the ground, dead.

"I... I...." Victor stutters. "I would not have done that," he says, watching his counterpart smile viciously.

"You sure?" Junkpile asks.

"Yes," he returns quickly.

"Huh. I don't know if I would have, too. I only hurt those who deserve it," Junkpile comments. "There's no fun in pounding on weaklings, 'less they're all full of themselves."

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"The little punk thought he could run from us," the young Haiku says to her partner.

"Yeah. It was fun trashing his cute little store, too," Maim says.

"We beat him good and then he actually fought back," Haiku laughs.

The real counterparts look on and are puzzled by what happened. "Look at the smiles on us. We never got so much delight out of a job, I think," Haiku says.

"You're right," Maim agrees. "We wouldn't do this for no reason."

"It seems that it truly is not us there. But some sort of warped version."

Maim shakes her head. "No, Haiku. That was us. It's just that something had control."

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"You're going to kill him, aren't you?" Mongrel asks his friend.

"Of course," the Reverend answers. "In another minute or so, I wager."

The two Lawless members observe their counterparts. After Mongrel punches the man kneeling on the ground, he holds his head up by his light brown hair. The Reverend kicks the man in the neck and the man begins to gag and choke. The Reverend holds his wooden board a little tighter and swings. The crack can be heard up and down the alley and immediately everyone knows his neck is broken.

"Less than that, I guess," the Reverend says with a snort, watching as the man's body falls to the ground.

"You enjoyed that, didn't you?" Mongrel asks his teammate.

"Then, I'm sure I did. Right now, perhaps I wouldn't have been so... I don't know... cruel. Sure, I'd kick him around once or twice, but I wouldn't torture him," the Reverend says. "I wouldn't have made him suffer, is all."

"Something ain't right about this," Mongrel comments.

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"Get out of here," Xi'an futilely pleads with the boy. "You're going to...." He stops when he notices his counterpart in the hallway. The cold Xi'an stops and slowly turns to look into the room. The boy is kneeling next to the man, presumably his father. The boy's eyes meet with young Xi'an's.

"Don't. Please don't," Xi'an begs to his younger self. He looks into his counterpart's eyes and notices something that wasn't there. There is resistance. He doesn't want to do it.

The younger Xi'an raises his plasma rifle at the boy's head. The boy just stares up at him with an innocent look. He would have fired by now, but something is holding him back. His eyes reveal it all. He does not want to kill the boy, and he probably did not want to kill the man and anyone else before him. The real Xi'an notices it and finds hope.

"Yes, that's it. Fight it. Don't do it. Turn around and get out of here. Just...."

BLAM! His last words are cut off by the blast of the gun and the light thump on the wooden floor. The hope drains out of Xi'an, and he shuts his eyes tightly, tears escaping through his eyelids. The boy, who could have had a long and fruitful life, is dead. The murderer: Xi'an Chi Xan.

Next Issue: Munch concludes the Lawless storyline in #44 with shattering results for the members of the Lawless. Be here next week!