Chapter 3
Jesse, Terry, and I walk slowly towards security central, where I know Alex
will be. The Bedlam brothers walk a respectable distance behind me, quietly
talking and chuckling about some story between themselves. Probably about
some night in Heaven. I wish I could have their peace of mind.
I scowl hard at my own self-pity as we walk. I don't even notice how the
many troopers we pass by in the corridors quickly get out of our way, like
they know something big is going down. The only thought on my mind is how
to deal with Alex.
Eventually we get to security central, passing through the heavy blast door
that's flanked by two of the largest Infinites McCoy has ever made. I don't
even look at them as I stride through the opening door. I walk into a
large, open room, filled with electronic equipment, dozens of monitors,
sensors, and computers. Half a dozen or so Rooks in the security division
man several consoles and posts, all busily working. In the center of the
room is a raised dias, where the officer on watch can give commands,
watching everyone and everything.
Sitting there now is Alex. Tall, with short-cropped blond hair, he probably
would have had the attention of every female within miles if it weren't for
the perpetual scowl he always had on his face. He is wearing a uniform
similar to mine, except his has some sort of jacket with rolled up sleeves.
He doesn't wear any armor, just a red utility belt and a commo unit over
his ears. He sits there, oozing so much superiority that you could almost
feel it in the air.
To be honest, he almost has a right to do so. His mutant ability is to
channel the ambient cosmic rays around us all into plasma. Simply put, he
can blast the hell out of most things. He revels in his power. Besides
myself, I've never known anyone to have so much control over so much power.
Normally, he projects his plasma blasts from his hands, but that's
dramatics. He can form his power around him in just about anyway he wants,
giving it even shielding capabilities. He doesn't wear armor because he
doesn't need it.
You'd figure that Alex, with all his power, would command a higher position
than he does now. Unfortunately, his power isn't tempered by control. He's
a zealot, a radical, and really can't be controlled. He doesn't understand
that to command takes more than power. Mr. Sinister knows that Alex will
never be a herald for the next generation of mutants; it's more likely that
he'll destroy it. But Alex is a good soldier, so he's in charge of
security. And my second in command. He's always hated me for that. That,
and his twisted belief that Mr. Sinister has always favored me over him.
It's always been that way, no matter how I try to make him understand that
it isn't true.
Ever since we were kids, all the way through the Ascension, Alex has let
his jealousy, his arrogance, his hate for me cloud his judgement. The
recent incident was just another example of this. If it weren't for the
fact that he was my brother, I would have killed him long ago. I just can't
do it, though, for some reason. Maybe it's because I know he can really
help our cause, if he'd just drop the arrogance, the zealism. Maybe I'm
still hoping that he and I can someday be like Jesse and Terry. I doubt it.
I shake the melancholy thoughts out of my head. "Alex," I growl, and I
sense Jesse and Terry take supporting positions off to my sides.
He turns slowly in his chair, feigning a look of surprise on his face.
"Scott. I didn't know you had arrived." What a load of shit. He's probably
been watching me since I stepped off the transport. His two lieutenants,
Sam and Elizabeth Guthrie, rise from their posts to stand behind their
commander's chair. I keep a close eye on them; out of all of Alex's people,
they're the most dangerous. Sam, with his power to generate an explosive,
invulnerable field about himself, and Elizabeth, his megamorph sister, are
just as zealous as Alex, and they followed his orders to a fault. I know
Terry and Jesse will watch them, but I keep them in my field of vision
anyways.
"Cut the crap, Alex. What the hell do you think you're doing? Do you know
what kind of damage you've done?"
Alex smiles an insipid, fake smile, shrugging his shoulders dramatically.
"What are you talking about, Scott? Things have been normal here since you
were gone."
I sweep an arm viciously behind me, finger pointing. "Don't pretend, Alex!
I'm talking about that massacre you led on B-Block! What the hell were you
thinking? You've set back McCoy's timetable by months, maybe years! Not to
mention the material loss!"
Alex shrugs nonchalantly. "The prisoners attempted to escape. I did what I
had to do. I couldn't let them escape, could I? Give the other flatscans
and gene traitors hope? Besides, they were just dregs; McCoy will find
others."
I storm up to him and jab a finger in his chest, growling, "That's not the
point, and you know it! The genetic code of those prisoners was what McCoy
needed exactly! We may never find similar ones again!"
Alex launches up to his feet, snarling and glaring into my face. "You treat
them like they were one of us! They're just genetic waste, and nothing
more! They tried to escape, they hurt some of their betters, they deserved
to die! I'll do the same thing again, given the chance!"
I ball a fist under his nose, getting angrier by the second. I sense the
Guthries moving in closer, trying to flank their boss, in case he needs
them. Fortunately, I feel Terry and Alex do the same. You can almost feel
the tension in the room, it's so thick. "You've lost it, Alex! All you care
about is destroying what you can, you don't think about the damage this has
done to our future! You shouldn't be in charge of a garbage detail, much
less the security of the Pens!"
He slaps my fist away, his own hands starting to glow with plasma power.
"You left, Scott. I was in charge!" he snarls.
I feel my own anger growing, my visor and power flashing. "A mistake I
won't make again, Alex! You and your cronies did enough damage, for once!"
Sam Guthrie, Cannonball, finally spoke up. "Ya ain't got no right ta accuse
Prelate Havok o' that! Those flatscans d'serve what they got!"
I ignore Cannonball and snarl at Alex, "Keep your dregs in line, Alex,
before I get really angry!" I also happen to notice Terry shifting towards
the arrogant punk, who is too blind to notice it. Unfortunately, his big
sister does, and grows about three feet taller.
Alex is livid now, his face turning so red I think that vertical tattoo on
his face might melt off. "You overrated, pompous, lousy excuse for a
mutant, I ought to..."
I growl right back at him, my visor flashing, "Come on, take your best
shot...." I bring my fists up and bend slightly at the knee, ready and
willing to take him on.
"Well, well. I see today's Summers' family reunion is just as eventful as
the last."
All the heads in the room turn as one towards the danger-laden silk voice
near the door, all arguments and anger cast aside.
Mr. Sinister's voice has that effect.
There he is, tall, powerfully built. His usual garb of part soldier, part
scientist, and part priest offsets his long, dark hair, goatee, and red
eyes in a way that makes him seem regal, royal. Only his ash-white skin and
red diamond on his forehead give thought to his background. Mr. Sinister is
the Second Horseman of Apocalypse, and except for perhaps our Dark Lord
himself, is probably the most powerful, most deadly, and most intelligent
mutant on the planet.
I am proud to be his step-son.
He saved me and Alex; orphaned at a young age, abandoned by our parents, he
rescued us from a Nebraska orphanage. He recognized our potential. He
showed us how to use our mutant abilities, trained us in their use. He
showed us how mutants were being persecuted, how the humans wanted to
destroy us. We learned that mutants are the evolution of humans, and that
we should be the ones in charge, that we should not only defend ourselves,
but we should be the rulers.
He introduced us to Apocalypse, and his teachings --Survival of the
Fittest.
Alex and I threw ourselves into the cause; we and the EMF were instrumental
in the Ascension. We destroyed the toughest human armies. We lead the
assaults on the strongest fortresses. We hunted down the human terrorists.
Alex and I, ourselves, were responsible for the destruction of most of
Washington.
Mr. Sinister is our father, teacher, mentor. And his very voice is enough
to stop Alex and I from killing one another.
Mr. Sinister smiles slightly, folding his arms across his chest. "Scott.
Alex. I hear something is remiss?" His slight smile almost makes you want
to relax, but we both know better.
I turn, nodding. "Yes, sir. I was...discussing the recent breakout with
Alex, and how badly he handled it."
I can almost hear Alex scowling. "I did what had to be done! It was a
security matter, and I'm Chief of Security, and I handled it!"
Mr. Sinister chuckled lightly, waving his hands dismissively. "Boys, boys.
It happened in the past, and is over." He walks towards us slowly, his
quasi-robes swishing around him. I suddenly notice that Alex and I are the
only ones standing in the room now; most of the others had slowly backed
off when Mr. Sinister entered the room.
Mr. Sinister placed a hand on each of our shoulders, and looked at us. "We
can't change what happened, can we Scott, Alex? We can't regain the
irreplaceable genetic material. We can't recover the improvements our race
could have had. We can't increase our genetic knowledge with the
experiments we could have run. Can we?" He is now staring, hard, at Alex. I
can almost see Alex break out in a sweat. "Let's just see that it doesn't
happen again. Is that understood? Alex?"
We both nod, Alex a little nervously, gulping.
Apocalypse's Horseman nods slightly, giving us both a charming smile.
"Good. Now, Scott. Welcome back. Come, walk with me." He gives my shoulder
a squeeze, and walked towards the door. I look at Alex for a moment, and
see the look of absolute hate on his face. I sigh to myself, and follow Mr.
Sinister. He suddenly stops at the door, as it opens for him.
"And Alex?" He looks back slightly over his shoulder.
"Sir?"
"Make sure B-block is up and running. Immediately. See to it yourself."
Alex scowls, but nods. "Yes, sir."
Mr. Sinister leaves without a look back, and I follow him, respectfully, a
few steps behind. I'm always amazed at the way he walks; like he owns the
world yet doesn't know it. One of the most powerful people in the world,
yet he walks casually down the corridor. I try to act the same way, but I
never get it right. I wonder how he does it. I just resign myself to
following him, as we walk along.
********
It seems like we walk for hours, in silence. I follow Mr. Sinister through
the depths of the Pens; past the Kennel, where we hold the animal-like
mutants; past McCoy's lab; past the demolished B-block, where I swear I see
him shake his head slightly. We walk on and on in silence. To tell the
truth, it's a bit unnerving; I'm starting to wonder if he's angry with me.
Soon, however, we approach the Black Tower, where the Brain Trust resides
along with Mr. Sinister's private chambers.
Even with my psionic dampening skull implant, I can feel the Trust bearing
down on me. I shake my head slightly, to clear it, and wonder again at Mr.
Sinister's power; he doesn't have an implant, and he doesn't even flinch. I
harden my jaw, and follow him in as he strides past the disembodied brain
guardian.
We walk the dark halls of the Tower in silence; only the low hum of the
power conduits that line them can be heard. Eventually, we reach Mr.
Sinister's private chambers, and after he gains access, stride through the
thick doors.
Every time I walk into his private domain, I am awed. The amount of
scientific equipment, the technological level, the experiments being done;
it's simply mind-boggling. Before I saw this place, I thought McCoy's lab
was the highest of mutant technology. Now I know it's just a child's room
compared to this, Mr. Sinister's inner sanctum.
But we don't stop to examine any experiments, or check any equipment.
Instead, I follow my still-silent Father out onto a large balcony, one that
overlooks most, if not all, of the Pens. It's a good, commanding view; I
would have liked it, given the choice.
I stand there, behind him, as he places his hands on the railing, and leans
slightly forward, surveying his domain. I stay silent, knowing he'll speak
when he wishes. I remain somewhat at attention, what Mr. Sinister calls the
'inbred soldier stance.' I just feel comfortable, prepared, like this. I
think I've done it all my life.
He finally speaks, quietly but with power and authority. "What's happened
is over, Scott. I want you to forget about it. Move on."
I scowl. "Alex is becoming too dangerous, sir. Wild, uncontrolled. He needs
to be controlled."
I'm almost shocked to see him smile. "Like some of our 'guests,' Scott?"
I frown. "That's not what I meant..."
He nods, waving a hand in a soothing manner. "I know, Scott. But Alex is
more like you than you wish to see. More than you wish to know."
I raise an eyebrow underneath my visor. "Like me? He's nothing like me!
He's arrogant, violent, stuck-up, obstinate, zealous..."
"...Authorative, powerful, commanding, opinionated, combative, and strong."
Mr. Sinister chuckles, "Yes, very much like yourself. Different, yes, but
very much alike. You two share so much more than your unique genetic
heritage. If only you both would see it, the better off you would be."
I must have some sort of a surprised look on my face, for he gave a short
laugh. "I know it's a shock to you, Scott. But it is true. I also know you
won't believe me; at least, not yet. Still, it is true."
I frown. "Yes, sir."
He walks up to me, and puts his hands on my shoulders, as a father would.
"Scott, I know it was hard for you to accept this, and I know it will take
some time. I do have plans for Alex; plans that are important to me. Try to
get along with him, if you can. At the very least, try to not kill each
other."
I nod, somewhat relieved, for some reason. "Yes, sir. I'll...try."
Mr. Sinister nods once. "Good. I know you will, my son." He turns back to
the banister, looking out. "Now, tell me about your trip."
For the next hour or so, we talk about my trip out west, about the material
I brought back, and about the plans for them. We discuss some of the normal
operations of the Pens, and of upcoming plans and events. Eventually, he
dismisses me in a fatherly way; a stout clap on the shoulder and a nod.
Feeling better than I have in days, I leave the tower, heading back to my
quarters. It's been a long day and all I want to do is sleep...and as
commander of the EMF, I intended to abuse my authority for the next 12
hours by sleeping through anything and everything.
I get back to my quarters and quickly change into some boxers, throwing my
uniform into the reclimator. I literally dive into bed and turn off the
light. I don't remove my visor; I've learned that the few seconds of trying
to locate it, blind, can be the difference between life and death. Instead,
I just close my eyes beneath the visor and settle down into bed. I've had
it for so long, I don't even notice the visor while I'm sleeping. Sighing
tiredly, I start to drift off, thoughts of Alex, visions of his hatred, and
Mr. Sinister's words of 'plans' in my head...
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