X-Men: Red "Aftermath"

Part 3 of 4

Orginally published as X-Men #51 (part A) in a seriously condensed form

by Chris Delaney 

The characters used in this story are the property of Marvel comics and
not to be used from any method that generates profit.  

Special Thanks to:  Art Lasher- technical expert par excellence
	My reviewers : Heather Richards, Becky Teed, Jacob Michaels, and 
Starkalien.  

This was the issue that got me fired from the X-Writers group.  It was my
attempt to build a new team based around the character of Magneto.  Not
everything in this story worked perfectly, but I really liked it.
Perhaps, in retrospect, the Muir Island scene might have been stepping on
toes.  Otherwise, I thought it made an excellent bridge issue given what
was going on at the time in the universe.  You have the right to disagree.  

This is the version that I wrote and it was never edited.  Compared to the
edited version, you will notice very few changes except for some character
substitutions here and there (and some nonsense in the Gambit-Sinister
scene).  It was not co-written (Kielle's C-Fan page to the contrary) and I
still haven't forgiven a certain web page for suggesting anything to the
contrary (a few deletions and some mucking around withwho says what and
changing a few ideas does not constitute a co-authorship; more like
annoying editing).  

The X-Writers group has reformed under the leadership of a perfectly nice
fellow (Andrew Wheeler) and interested people might want to have a gander
at what has happened there since. 


What has gone Before


	Magneto has returned to the mansion and made some degree of peace
with Xavier.  Scott Summers has gone with Magneto for a variety of reasons
includin a wish to see Jean again.  The main team is on a mission to
Genoshoa.  Cable has sucumbed to the Legacy virus and died.  Luna was
diagnosed with the disease and exposed to the Inhuman's Terrigan mist.  


Prologue 



	Victor von Doom shrugged off his growing fatigue and continued to 
concentrate on the results of the MRI scan on the Legacy viriod.  Over 
the past weeks he had isolated the three strains of Legacy virus and 
more than doubled what had been previously known about the virus.  The 
slide from Cable had been particularily helpful; all three types of 
viriod interacting with a techno-organic virus.  Hank McCoy would likely 
contact him soon to confirm his results; whenever that silly misison to 
Genosha was over with.

	The creator had been a technological child, of this he was 
certain.  A midget who had stood on the shoulders of giants to produce 
this.  The ultimate bioweapon and yet the final preparation had been both 
clumsy and awkward.  That might yet yield a weakness but he doubted it.  
The idiot had designed a viroid that would eventually destroy every human 
being on the planet.  Sure the current form wouldn't and neither would 
the next ten or so mutations...   But the long term trend was clear and 
this was something Doom would not allow.

	He glanced at a clock and noted it had been almost 30 hours since 
he had begun work.  No wonder fatigue dragged at him like a dead weight.  
He rubbed the raw mass of blood and pus that made up his face.  It had 
never healed, not even after all these years.  He considered flopping 
out in the cot for a few hours while the computers completed their 
analysis.  Yes, an early night would be a pleasant change.  He 
heard the sound of approaching footsteps and turned to see Moira 
MacTaggert approaching with Kitty and Brain in tow.  She seemed angry.

	"DOOM!  What in blazes have been doing with the security system!  
I tried to enter the garden shed and a laser almost took my head off!"
Moira raved, flinging her arms about as she stormed into the room.  Her 
face looked as if it was going to burst from sheer outrage.

	"It was a warning shot.  If it had been intended to kill then it 
wouldn't have missed."

	"So you admit it!  You varlet, I'll give you a thumping you won't 
soon forget you... you..."

	"Calm yourself woman.  The garden shed is now a Doombot factory 
and you are no longer authorized entry..."

	"No longer authorized entry, my arse!  THIS IS MY ISLAND YOU TIN PLATED 
DICTATOR!" Moira screamed.

	"While you are explaining her garden shed I thought you might 
explain exactly what is going on in my room!  I tried to get in and a bunch 
of robots were dumping all my stuff in boxes and carting it away.  
Needless to say they are no longer functional robots!"  Kitty interjected as 
she crossed her arms and glared at Doom, daring him to come up with an 
acceptable explanation.

	"This habit of yours is getting annoying young lady.  If you keep 
interfering with my servants I will have to take steps..." von Doom began.

	"Take steps!  That is MY room pizza face and YOU... ARE... NOT... 
WELCOME!  There are very few men I want in my room and you, buster, are 
not one of them." Kitty shouted.  She was starting to lose it as well.  
"And while we are on the topic, Ship says to tell you that the next time 
you try hacking into it's main control network it will disintegrate you."

	"While we are talking about private property," Brian cut in, " 
Meggan is still steaming about you expropriating all of the TV sets for 
monitor screens.  When she is upset, I am upset.  She is very upset.  Do I 
make myself clear or would a few broken bones illustrate this point better?"

	"ENOUGH I SAY!  This prattle has grown irritating in the extreme 
and I will tolerate it NO further.  I joined with you because your cause 
was worthy but you have shown none of the vision required to see this 
through to the end."  Doom rose form his chair, his hard eyes boring into 
the the three memebers of Excalibur.

	"Listen Doom..."  Moira started.

	"NO.  While I work here my country is strangled under the boot of 
Flynn who dares claim to be MY son.  Have you paid no attention to the 
reports of atrocities in Latervaria?  To the troop build-up on the 
Serbain border?" Doom clenched his fists in rage, his grim gaze settling 
upon each in turn.

	"Those are exagerations... aren't they?" Kitty asked in a weak 
voice.  

	"Of course not.  Are you all blind.  It has begun again and I am 
helpless to stop it.  You, of them all, should have paid attention, 
Katherine.  For it is your people, Jewess, who once again lead the way to 
the gas chambers while you prattle of renovations and such nonsense.  
Flynn von Doom is a arrogant monster with his hands on the greatest 
arsenal of technological and mystical weaponry ever assembled.  And don't 
mistake me, he will use them."  The three members of Excalibur began to 
search for a quick exit from this glowering madman as he seized a oak 
staff covered with strange runes.

	"But you assembled them..." Brian began, confident he could put 
Doom on the defensive.  

	"Yes.  To assure a world of peace, sometimes it is necessary to 
make war.  But I would have done it to build a golden age from the ashes 
of this cesspit.  Flynn will march us into an era of darkness.  IDIOTS!  
Can you not see the coming storm?  Don't you even care."  The oak staff 
Doom was clutching shattered.  The three fled from the room.  Doom sank 
back into his chair.  All he had accomplished by that outburst was to 
destroy a dozen hours of enchantment.  He unclenched his fist and 
watched as the blood began to spill from his hand to coat the floor.  
Just like his land was bleeding.  They didn't care and they wouldn't 
help, it would be just like last time.  When it was all over people would 
comment on what a tragedy that millions had been put to death for some 
mad ideological dream.  They would vow never again and forget that it was 
their complacency that had allowed it to happen.  He had foolishly dared 
hope Excalibur would prove better than that, but once again he was 
disappointed by human nature.  Bah, it was time to get back to work; 
there wouldn't be a world to save if he couldn't stop this virus and he 
was no longer in a mood for sleep.  As he worked, tears rolled form his 
eyes as he mourned for all who had already died in this senseless game; 
and the millions who would be murdered before it was all over.

Main 



	Charles Xavier emptied his whiskey sour with one quick gulp and 
began to prepare another one.  He had been relying on drink a lot lately, 
it dulled the edge of his guilt and made it easier to live with himself.  
He kept seeing the bodies of the young men as they were loaded aboard the 
SHEILD Helecarrier.  The twisted bodies haunted his dreams and the 
screams of the already dead, who howled in agony as the radiation 
murdered them, echoed in his ears.  A tear ran down his cheek and he 
slowly drank the beverage.  The message he had just been reading lay on 
the desk before him.  

	He recalled bumming around the Mediterrian in his youth.  His 
love affairs with Moira and Gabby.  His friendship with Magnus.  It had 
been the only time in his life when he had ever been happy.  Before that 
it had been hell growing up with an abusive step-father.  Then he had 
gone to Korea as an infantry-man and learned of the horrors of war.  He 
wondered, at odd moments, what his real father had been like.  What he 
had done and why.  Was Hazard right and were there dark secrets buried in 
his family past, or were they just the ravings of a madman?  Still, he 
had been happy as a young man, probably the only time in his life when 
that had been true.

	Afterwards, well afterwards nothing seemed to go right.  He lost 
his legs in a battle with Lucifier and he lost Amelia Voight to his own 
need to control her.  He still felt bad about that.  His X-men were his 
pride and joy but they had failed to make a real difference in the world, 
his dream of human and mutant harmony was as distant as ever.  Sometimes 
he felt as if there was a sinister conspiracy out there aimed at fostering 
hate and division.  It was hidden just out of sight but might pop out at 
any moment to make his life a living hell.  But that was foolish, there 
was no such thing and thoughts like that were unworthy of him.  He was a 
man on the edge and he knew it.  He was trying to understand 
half-whispered truths and jumping at shadows.  He dropped his glass with 
a start as an ominious shadow appeared over him.  He hadn't meant that 
thought literally!

	"There was a time when I could never have come up on you by 
surprise, Xavier.  You're slipping and we can't afford this, not now!  
Damnit man, after I'm gone you have to carry on..." Magneto had appeared 
dressed in a grey suit with an oxygen mask covering the lower half of his 
face.  He leaned heavily on his cane and his skin was shockingly pale.  

	"Carry on?  I should be so lucky.  What are you waiting for 
Magnus?  For some miracle cure to affect you so you can change your mind and 
turn into the Lord of the Acolytes again.  Create your damned heaven so 
you can destroy my dream..."  Xavier babbled.

	"You're drunk."

	"And you're evil.  Which of us is better off?  In the morning I'll 
be sober but you'll still be a monster."

	Magnus scanned the papers on the desk.  He picked up one that 
interested him in particular and his face went even paler.  "When did this 
happen?"

	"This morning.  Happy Valentine's Day, the love of your life has 
decided the Imperial Line has to be continued and so she is marrying an 
appropriate consort who will be able to provide her with an heir since I 
have refused to do so.  How could I have been so blind Magnus?  Why did I ever 
leave her to return to this hell-hole?  Nothing has gone right since I 
returned...nothing..." Xavier blubbered.

	"How many bottles of this poison have you had?" Magneto asked as 
he took the half-full whiskey bottle from Xavier's desk.  

	"Two.  Including that one."

	"What are you trying to to do?  Drink yourself to death?"

	In a moment of profound honesty, Charles Xavier looked his friend 
in the eye and replied "Yes!". 



  



	I was about ready to scream.  I had arranged a nice romantic 
dinner with Logan (nothing serious you understand, just friends) and this 
damned emergency had come up instead.  I was pissed beyond belief.  Logan 
had helped me get through a rough time a while back (and had saved my 
life as a child) and I was looking forward to spending some time with 
him.  His sincere tenderness and gruff common sense were always welcome 
and made me feel better.  But this had come up here and he had gone with 
the X-men to Genosha and that was life.

	Cystal's child Luna had the Legacy virus (some bioweapon released 
by a madman from the future; don't ask) and Reed Richards had called us 
all together to discuss it.  Nice in theory but in practice it meant all 
the scientist types got to go off and argue about this while I got 
babysit everuybody else.  And I stress the word babysit!

	I scanned the assembly around me and once again cringed at the 
potential for mayhem.  Sersi and Thena (two eternals, one new and one old 
member) looked disgusted at us.  Captain America was trying to break up 
an argument between Rage and War Machine over who got to sit nearest the 
window.  Rage claimed it was his turn, War Machine insisted his delicate 
electronics needed cool air.  Both were annoying.  Spider woman was 
playing with Rachel and trying to comfort Cystal and suceeding at 
neither.  Century was learning how to play poker with Ben Grimm, 
Captain Marvel, Iron Man and Odin.  Odin seemed to be winning an awful 
lot but Tony was refreshing the pool of chips.  His floozy, some SAS 
officer, was also playing with a great deal of gusto.  Odin's 
wolves and ravens were starting to drive everybody nuts.  It appears 
washing pets was an idea that never occured to the Norse and with minimal 
air circulation...  Susan Richards kept coming in to tell us to keep it 
down.  She, who got to serve as gopher and escape slow asphyxiation in 
this miserable torture chamber, telling us to keep quiet!  I wanted to 
strangle her; slowly!  Now eould be an excellent time for an alien
invasion or anything else to get us out of this room (where we could do
nothing) and out doing something that would make us feel useful.
  
	Johnny Storm kept letting his eyes wander to inappropriate parts of 
Thena's anatomy as he told her how wonderful _he_ was.  She obviously 
didn't believe him.  Lyja was imitating everybody else and parodying 
them.  While she was quite funny some people were not amused.  Psilord 
managed to find some excuse to visit his bedroom and never came back, I 
guess he figured waiting for the news couldn't be worse than being locked 
in this looney bin.  I figured he was right.  Huntara was the third and 
final memeber of Fantastic Force, she just looked ill.  If she barfed I 
was going to kill her.  Night-thrasher was looking out the single, 
miserably small window as if he wanted to jump.  Wouldn't blame him one 
bit.  Darkstar, Hyperion and Quaser seemed to be searching for an escape 
route.  Wouldn't blame them either.

	Now don't get me wrong, these are all nice people.  It is just 
that they all have egos the size of the Statue of Liberty and they were 
crammed into a small room lacking ventilation for hours at a time as we 
waited for the results.  In circumstances like that people can get 
tremendously petty.  The television set had been blown apart by a Widow's 
sting some hours ago when an argument between the Hulk, the Human 
Torch and War Machine over what program to watch had threatened to turn into a 
brawl.  Then I had to convince Thena that turning Johnny into stone was not 
okay and that yes, I understood organic transconfiguration wasn't killing 
but here on earth it was considered rude to turn your friends into stone. 
She had pointed out friends didn't do the sort of things that he did when 
they were asked not to.  I wished I was anywhere else.

	The worst part was those who were conspicious by their absence.  
The cool analysis of the Vision.  The biting wit of Hawkeye.  The USAgent 
who tired so hard not to be a jerk and failed so miserably.  The staunch 
loyalty of Hercules and the fierce pride of Thor.  Giant man who should 
have been helping with the virus and Janet who would have given me a 
shoulder to cry on.  Deathcry whom I had never really gotten to know; and 
now I never would.  All were sorely missed (Wanda was not missed by me
however and I couldn't help wishing she had died with the rest, it was so 
unfair that these brave souls died and she got to survive!).  The worst 
part of the whole frustrating affair was when I thought I heard Hank's 
voice, just for a moment, and turned to reply only to realize I wasn't 
ever going to hear it again.  I got all teary eyed and I needed to be 
strong.  To feel nothing.  Otherwise I couldn't go on with this.   

	At least the scientist types were gone (into a large, spacious 
air-conditioned lab I might add).  Reed was heading up the team 
investigating the virial infection along with Bruce Banner, Dr. Strange, 
Dane Whitman (lucky bastard was able to argue he counted as a scientist) 
and Peter Corbeau.  They were in contact with a second group on Muir 
Island consisting of Brian Braddock, Moira MacTaggert and Victor von 
Doom.  I would almost trade putting up with Wanda for this circus.  But 
then I'd have to put up with Doom too and that would just be too much; 
even for me.  

	I think if I had realized what was coming next I would have just 
resigned and run away with Logan.  Everybody has a limit and I had long 
since passed mine.  The last thing all these bored and uncomfortable 
people needed was a distraction to vent their frustations on.





	Rogue stared off into the distance across the snow covered ground 
glad to finally have a break from Asteriod M.  It was oppressive up there 
in the extreme.  Cable had vanished in the final stages of the Legacy 
virus and not been heard of since.  Rachel was moping about the 
revelation that her Dad was Wolverine.  Cyclops was trying to get to know 
his adult "daughter" and making a bad situation worse.  Magneto was half 
delusional and moving towards stark, raving mad.  The final stages of the 
virus weren't pretty and he was only making it worse by trying to pretend 
he wasn't ill at all.  Like attacking Apocalypse without help.  That was 
simply stupid.  What if Apocalypse had fought back instead of running?  
He'd be dead and they would be digging one more unnecessary grave!  Rogue 
suddenly started as her train of thought was interupted.

	"Bonjour, Chere." Gambit said as he walked into the room.  

	"Go away, Gambit."  Rogue replied.

	"Now why would I do dat with you all sad and lonely here in this big, 
empty mansion.  Just the two of us, you and me, magic, Chere, it could be 
magic."

	"Ah'm not sad and Ah'm not lonely and Ah want ta be left alone.  Ah 
have had enough of your lies and games, Gambit, ta last this girl a 
lifetime."

	"If you're still upset about Scanner you should realize that..."

	"She didn't understand about my power.  She was just a silly teenager 
with a silly crush on me.  But at least she was bein' sincere about it."  
Rogue stared pointedly at Gambit.
 
	"And I'm not?"

	"Ah don't rightly know, Gambit.  Ah find it awful hard to believe 
you after what you have tried.  Ah don't wannabe be anyone's doormat, 
not even yours."

	"Give me one last chance, Chere, to prove dat I still care.  Dat 
we can still make it work.  I love you, Rogue, and I don't want to lose 
you."  Gambit slowly unleashed his charm power.  He had avoided using it 
like the plague but had been forced to in his first encounter with Storm 
thanks to the prescence of the Shadow King.  Of all the lousy luck... 
Still, by refraining from using it ever since, he had managed to have 
everybody forget about it.  Fools!

	"Well..."

	"I know this great little hideaway where it will be just you and 
me together.  We can try it for a few days and if it doesn't work I won't 
ever bother you again.  Just give me one last chance to prove how much I 
care about you."

	"Okay, Remy, one last chance."  Rogue smiled at him.  This could 
be fun.  "So were where you thinking of taking me.  Ah'm a lady and ah 
expect ta be treated as such."

	"Don't worry, Chere, don't worry at all...."  Gambit grinned like 
a wolf.  Much as he found Rogue amusing, she counted for less than 
nothing if he could use her to purchase the least bit of freedom from his 
awful bargain.






	"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Scott Summers asked as they 
strode into the Hospital.  Beside him was a blonde woman with a tatooed 
face and a determined look in her eyes. "I know that you made a fool of 
yourself by trying to throw yourself at Rogue but this doesn't mean that 
you have to make things worse by doing something completely stupid.  Your 
face is known as that of an international terrorist and we aren't exactly 
in a good position to call in back-up."  Scott's life was falling apart
with the loss of his wife and now the depression affecting his mentor.  He
needed some sort of stability and had turned to Scanner for it only to be
rebuffed.  

	"I didn't ask you to come," Scanner retorted in an icy voice "and 
what happened between Rogue and I is none of your business, thank you very 
much."

	"Waht has changed since Australia?  I thought we had made a
connection there.  But now you have shut me out.  Tell me what is
bothering you!"  

	"Can we please find some other topic besides my personal life."
Scanner replied.  She liked and admired Scott, but was too raw right now
to really open up to anyone.

	"Stop being so defensive."

	"I'm not being defensive.  I'm granting you a great deal of 
latitude because you are still recovering from the death of your wife.  
However, there are limits and you are getting awful close to them.  I 
still don't understand why Magneto even let you join this group let alone 
lead it.  It makes no sense to me at all!"  Scott was nice at times, but
right now he was being a real jerk.    

	Scanner walked up to the information desk.  The nurse beyond the
counter, a matronly woman of about fifty, looked in evident disapproval at her 
facial tattoos and Scott's eccentric glasses.  Back in her day young men 
and women knew how to dress properly.  "Can I help you young lady?" she 
asked with a scowl on her face. 

	"Sorenson.  Gunthar Sorenson please." 

	"Relation?"

	"He is my father."

	"He is in room 6026.  Just go past the yellow pillars and take 
the stairs."  Poor man, seeing his daughter in this state would probably 
push him over the edge.  Or maybe not, sometimes the return of a black
sheep was enough to bring hope to even the msot terminal cases.  The nurse
shrugged -- it really wasn't her concern.  She ahd a job to do and she
returned to doing it.




	Psilord scanned the area again and narrowed down the psionic residue to 
a small area.  It had been some time since Cable had died and the astral 
disturbance, slight as it was, had spread out some.  Now it was going to 
take a fair bit of searching.  Psilord lowered himself to the ground, the 
setting sun glinting like red blood off of his adamntium armour.

	Psilord was born Franklin Richards, the son of Reed Richards and 
Susan Storm of the Fantasic Four.  He had been gifted with incredible 
power as a child and had grownto fulfill his potential.  It would be a 
dozen years in the future when he would fight an eldery Cable and 
lose...  The old man would be his teacher in the dark years when the 
X-men fell apart and the Sentinels ruled.  As Tattletale he was the last 
member of X-force; the elite paramilitary unit that had waged a ceaseless 
war against the Sentinels.  He had met the scion of another great family 
and had fallen in love with the beautiful Rachel Summers.  

	They met in a concentration camp after X-force had beeen lured 
into an ambush and massacred, all except for him.  His mutant power 
included precognition and he had been taken by the Sentinels for study.  
There he had met her, the best of the hounds in an America ruled by 
bigots and military dictators.  He had joined her in a desperate attempt 
to change the past and barely escaped death by time-jumping when a 
Sentinel had tried to disintegrate him.  He had jumped 15 years in the 
future and fought a second war, that of the high lord ascension.  At 21 
he had been one of the twelve high lords who had ascended.  But the 
planet was ravaged and dying and the dead far outnumbered the living.  
His fellow high lords were cruel and callous and oppressed humans 
terribly.  Few mutants were left after the great purges and most seemed 
to model themselves after Magneto at his worst; and not the sad, crippled 
man who had died to buy them time to save the future.

	So he had come back to the past, to acheive what had failed so 
many years before.  His grandfather, Nathanial Richards, had sought to use 
him to build an empire, but he had refused.  Now suddenly his 
time-jumping bility no longer functioned; he couldn't trade places with 
his infant self in the future.  What did that mean?

	Now something else had gone wrong and the man Cable had died.  His 
search had brought him here to the remote wilderness with only a trace 
residue of psionic energy to guide him.  "I will find you teacher and give 
you a proper burial.  You deserve that much at least" he vowed.  If 
nothing else he could do that much!





	Donald Pierce smiled as he read the long range scanners.  So it 
appeared that one of the X-men had dared to come here essentially alone 
(he dismissed the low level telepath as worthless).  He had been planning 
to return to Muir Isle to extract his revenge for his humilation there, 
but this was just as good.  

	"Reroute the plane, Slaughterhouse," he ordered, "we have an 
unexpected engagement in Norway."

	The grim cyborg made the alteration silently, his glowing bionic 
eyes looking a silent question at his leader.  Pierce, however, merely 
continued to stare intently at his monitor.  "Weak fop!" the cynicial 
cyborg warrior thought.  "I wonder what he has over Cylla, Yuriko and the 
others?  Wonder if the time is coming for a new leader of the Reavers?"

	They never knew how lucky they were that they didn't attack Muir 
Island; Ship would have made mincement of the Reavers and ended their 
reign of terror before it could have properly begun.  But history has 
strange twists and it would be a long time before Pierce returned to the 
scene of his greatest victory against the X-men.




	"Where is Rogue?" Magneto asked Rachel.  "She was supoosed to 
meet us here an hour ago!  First I have to deal with this drunkard and 
now she is acting up."  He was trying to pace and making a fool of 
himself as he commented on everything from Rachel's new look to the 
miserable weather.  Sobering up Xavier hadn't helped his mood any -- not 
that it had much room left to deteriorate.  His grand-daughter was dying 
and it was galling him to be so helpless about the whole thing.  
Although, Rachel reflected, it was tough to be sure if he would have been 
as concerned if he hadn't found out the nature of her new powers.

	"No idea what happened to her." the red-haired telepath replied.  
"I tried raising the X-men but communications to Genosha are being jammed 
by something.  Perhaps she went with them?"

	"What about punching a telepathic call through to them?"

	"I tried that.  From what little I could gather with a quick 
contact from Hank, the girl isn't there.  He didn't know where she was 
except that she was last seen with Gambit.  They were seperated at the 
time and latching on to Gambit's thoughts at this distance..."

	"Damn the girl!  Well, I have waited long enough.  Leave a 
message and she can follow.  I have Xavier loaded into the modified 
minivan and I am not going through that again!" Magneto hobbled from 
the room, the strength of his voiced belied by the weakness of his body.  

	*It would have been a lot easier if you had followed the 
instructions before using your magnetic power to modify the van.* Xavier 
quipped using his telepathy.  
	
	"It's not my fault that your students can't set up a handicapped 
van properly..."  Magneto grumbled.

	*They set it up properly, you just took the wrong one.*

	"Then explain to me why this one was in the handicapped parking spot 
and the other one was missing..." Magneto shot back as he continued to 
hobbled towards the parked van.  

	"You're pushing it too hard, Magneto," Rachel thought "not even 
you can keep up this pace indefinitely.  After reopening the wounds Dad 
inflicited on you when you fought Apocalypse, you are in no
condition to be walking, let alone doing this.  Push this hard and you
won't have anything left when it really counts... and we need you more
than ever now that Cable's gone."

	Somewhere far away, the sorceress Roma smiled at the irony of 
Rachel's thoughts.



Chris Delaney   Department of Mathematics- Lakehead University
"Violence is the last refuge of the incompetent" - I. Asimov

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