X-MEN ETERNITY

Uncanny X-Men #1: The Shattering
Rated PG-13 for violence and language

by R. John Burke

DISCLAIMER: The X-Men are a copyright of Marvel Comics. I don't own them, but this is only non-profit fan fiction. No money is involved and no infringement is intended.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: X-Men Eternity starts with the events at the end of "House of M" and goes in a different direction. Nothing that happened after that is cannon for our purposes, and in fact a few things have changed-- like resurrected characters and some altered details. If you like, consider this Reality 711 or something. No disrespect is meant to the comics whatsoever.

&

Scott Summers was having a Really Bad Day. In the time before he'd met Charles Xavier, before he'd been trained to lead the X-Men, he'd thought he understood what it meant to have a bad day, but since then he'd come to understand there were two different kinds: bad days and Really Bad Days, which had to be spelled with capital letters.

Finding yourself in a foreign land doing battle with an all-powerful, self-professed witch because she'd created the entire reality you thought was real and so your whole life was a lie and your real life involved being an outcast hero, hated and feared by practically everyone?

That's a Really Bad Day.

But now, perhaps, some light was dawning: The truth had been revealed and the real villain unmasked (not Magneto-- surprise enough for Scott), and perhaps the Scarlet Witch would see the insanity of it all and peacefully restore reality to a state of rightness.

Or, as it turned out, perhaps she'd open her mouth and say four little words that took Scott Summers out of the realm of Really Bad Day and into something else, something even worse. Perhaps something he'd have to describe using exclamation points and ampersands. She said to her father, Magneto:

"Daddy... no more mutants."

And then stuff happened. Scott would have liked to be able to say what stuff, but he was much too busy being disassembled on a molecular level and put back together in an entirely new reality, presumably whatever reality the Witch was trying to create this time.

"Trying" being the operative word.

Such power, such use and abuse on a cosmic scale... although changing individual realities, it touched reality on a Cosmic scale. It touched the Multiverse. It touched the White Hot Room, the place outside time and space where a psychic incarnation of life itself had been asleep... and was now awake.

The Phoenix rose from the ashes. Actually there were no ashes, but this being the Phoenix, a bit of poetic license is required. The Phoenix awoke... and the human persona of the Phoenix woke, as well. Instinctively, she reached out for the man she loved.

"SCOTT!"

Jean? he thought, incredulous, convinced the whole trapped-between-realities thing had him hallucinating. Great, here it's the last moment of the Universe and I'm fantasizing about Jean. Emma would -love- that...

But he wasn't fantasizing. Jean Grey didn't know where she was, or quite WHAT she was, or why the hell she could never manage to just stay dead like any decent person. But she knew the Phoenix, and she knew that it, in all its power, felt threatened, and she knew that the one person in all the Universe she would always trust to deal with a threat was Scott Summers.

He heard her voice again: "SCOTT, WHAT'S HAPPENING"
Well, Scott thought, after being flummoxed for a moment, there was this witch...

And that was as far as he got, because at that moment the Chaos Magic of the Scarlet Witch met the eternal flame of the Phoenix Force, and cool things happened involving quantum physics so complex that Reed Richards couldn't have figured them out in a million years.

This much was clear, even to a regular dunce like Scott: The Scarlet Witch didn't defeat the Phoenix. The Phoenix didn't defeat the Scarlet Witch. They... compromised, on a Multiversal scale, and half a dozen realities would never be the same again.

Also, Scott's head exploded. Or that was what it felt like. There was a very bright light and a very hot fire running from his toes to the top of his hair and a noise like Thor was holding a rock n' roll party...

And suddenly he was lying in bed in his skivvies, on top of the sheets, soaked with sweat and with his arms splayed out at random angles.

"Ow," said Scott, and for about five solid minutes that covered every thought that was in his head.

He heard Emma beside him, Emma groaning as though she had about 150 percent of his considerable headache. Her hand fell on his arm; she gasped and sat up suddenly.

"Scott?"

"I don't know," he said, or sounds to that effect. His mouth felt like cotton.

A while later-- probably just a few seconds, but it might also have been several years-- somebody was pounding on the door. Pounding, shouting... it was all very loud.

"Y'wanna get that, honey?" Scott murmured. "I seem to be... dead."

"Sodding reality-hopping little trollop," Emma was saying. "Whatever happened to going straight for the global domination? Nooooo, she had to try to reshape the Universe into hearts and flowers and cheerful little Disney animals..."

"Right," Scott said. "I'll get the door."

He pulled on trousers and a T-shirt and managed to wrench the door open, although he still felt like about one-third of a human. It was all he could do to wedge his ruby-quartz glasses into place so he wouldn't incinerate whoever was on the other side.

That turned out to be a girl named Hisako, a student at the Institute who possessed a) a fancy set of ancestral armor she could call up on command, and b) wide, dark eyes now bulging with fear.

"What is it?" he asked.

"It's the teachers... they're gone."

&

It took Emma the entire day down in Cerebra, but she confirmed it. Of all the X-Men on all three active teams, Emma was able to locate three: Herself, Scott, and Bobby Drake, the "Iceman." Whose attempts at humor were not helping the situation.

"You know, I thought this place was a little crowded, but..."

"Shut up," said Emma.

"Shutting up."

Scott rubbed his chin. "Wanda said... no more mutants?"

Emma gestured at the display. "Yes, well, you can see for yourself. Cerebra says we have plenty of mutants, but no X-Men to police them."

"How is that even possible?"

She whirled on him. "Unfortunately, dear, I am a witch only in the figurative sense, so with your permission, I may need a second day or perhaps even a week to unravel the mysteries of the Universe!"

Scott blinked and took a step back. "Okay... I didn't mean it like..."

"I really don't care," said Emma. She ran her hands through her blonde hair and sighed. "This is a catastrophe... My girls are gone, too..."

"The, um, whatchacall'em?" Bobby asked. "The Cuckoos"
She nodded. "I can't find them anywhere. I don't understand..."

"Magneto," Scott hissed.

"He's gone too. No Magneto. No Xavier. No Wanda or Pietro. No... anything on Genosha."

"I called the Avengers," Scott said. "They're a little confused..."

"You think?" said Bobby.

"But they don't have any spare X-Men, either. Logan's not with them."

"So... we're having a crisis and Logan's not anywhere? I mean, the man's on seven teams! He's got to be with one of them!"

Emma cleared her throat. "The two of you? Not helping."

"All right," Scott said. "What about inactive X-Men? Formers members of... anything? X-Factor? Gen-X? New Mutants? Whatever..."

Emma frowned hard with concentration. "Yes, a few."

"Find 'em. Keep looking; Bobby and I will take the jet and bring in what help we can. The more people we can get together, the better our chance of figuring out what the hell is going on."

"Right. Hey... do we get a raise?" Bobby asked.

"Seriously," Scott said, "shut up."

Bobby shrugged and walked out the door. Scott began to follow, until he heard Emma's low, furious whisper:

"You know who did this."

He froze. "I don't..."

"I was there, Scott, I heard her. I may not be a telepath on your darling Jean's scale, but I do have my simple skills."

"Emma..." He turned, hoping he could explain. Hoping she would listen. Slim odds, considering he hadn't the faintest idea what to say.

But Emma didn't want him to explain. Although her eyes were simmering, she only said: "Listen to me: I don't care if she called to you. I don't care why, or how she did this. At the moment, I don't even care if she comes running back into your arms. If that redheaded cow has hurt my girls... she'll be sorry she's a Phoenix. I will kill her myself, every time she comes back, for as long as the Universe lasts. That, Scott... that I promise you."

"Right." He cleared his throat, lost for words. He only came up with: "Shall I bring home some takeout for dinner?"

&

Later, in the jet, Bobby stared out the window, while Scott handled the controls. He was actually letting the jet do most of the flying; he had other things on his mind. First stop, New York City, for a meeting that might be described as "whimsical" under other circumstances...

Bobby cleared his throat. "Emma looked like she was... uh...

"Yes."

"Do you think she'll, you know..."

"Eventually."

"Y'know... this thing with you and her... you and Jean... I never..."

"I know."

Bobby laughed. "Longtime teammates, or old married couple? You make the call."

"I've been an old married couple," Scott said, half against his will. "I'll take the teammate."

"That's not really fair," Bobby said, voice quiet. "You know... if I could have had with Lorna... with anybody... what you had with Jean..."

Scott carefully didn't look at him. "If you did, you wouldn't want it. Some things, Bobby, are better to want than to have."

"Yeah. I would have put the hot blonde who wasn't my wife in that category." Scott glared at him; Bobby sighed. "Sorry. It's... like I said... Lorna."

"And Alex."

"And everybody." Bobby shuddered, a really neat trick for a man of ice. "The Last of the Real X-Men. Are we it, Scott? Are we all that's left?"

Scott Summers considered that. "If we are... I need you to step up."

Bobby snorted. "Yeah, I know. Omega mutant. I'm sick of hearing that."

"We need you more than ever."

"Yeah. I'm here." The other man sighed. "But... I'm not Storm or Jean or... well, you. I'm nobody's last, best hope. Just so we're clear."

"We're clear," said Scott, and he guided the jet down toward an unmistakable skyline. "You're wrong. But we're clear. Just keep your eyes open."

"You're expecting trouble?"

Scott frowned. "Well... reality as we know it has been destroyed twice this week. It's probably not a bad idea to play it safe..."

"Fair enough," said Bobby, and they left it there.

&

Jubilation Lee wasn't having the capital-letter kind of Really Bad Day. Hers tended to be more... annoying. The kind of day where your alarm doesn't go off and you're late and you lock yourself out of your apartment and the milk is sour and there's nothing good on TV and a crazy one-eyed man shows up at your door. That kind of day.

"Scott!" she cried, well-pleased at first, and hugged him. "What are you doing here!"

"Well," he said, "there was this witch..."

That's when he hit her with the part about her friends having vanished off the face of the Earth. Jubilee offered him a seat on a ratty old couch and some leftover Thai food and then just about fell on the floor from a delayed reaction.

"You seriously lost track of nine-tenths of the X-Men?"

Scott cleared his throat. "Let's say they're... misplaced."

"Wolvie?"

"I don't know." He looked out the window, which wasn't hard. The apartment wasn't very wide across. "He's a survivor."

"I know. I mean, he puts up with me, right?"

"He will again, I promise." Scott offered his hand. "Help me find him."

Jubilee stared at him. "I'm sorry, is this Mr. 'I-think-you-need-a-mental-break' talking? Mr. THREE X-Teams and no room for me...?"

"It is. And don't pretend you're going to turn me down, either. Running off to New York to become a political activist? That's not the Jubilation Lee I know. You're a Spandex-clad heroine at heart."

"I'm so totally not into Spandex."

"Noted."

"And I wanted to make the point, that's all."

"It's made."

"You're serious." Jubilee whistled softly. "Tell me the truth, Scott. I knew I was sort of a second-string X-Man, maybe even third-string. You're... down to like 47th string, aren't you?"

Scott shrugged. "Well... an X-Man's an X-Man."

"Yeah. Did you miss the part where I got crucified the last time I was an X-Man? That's... not as uncommon as it probably should be..."

"Didn't seem to slow you at the time."

"Maybe I'm not as stupid as I was."

Scott cleared his throat. "Font of wisdom, you."

They sat in silence for a moment. Jubilee said, "You promise we'll find him?"

"We'll do everything we can."

Despite herself, she cracked a grin. "You have dental?"

"We have healers."

"Close enough. And no kicking me off the team again."

Scott spread his hands. "At this moment, Jubilation, you're welcome to lead the team."

"You're joking."

"Yes."

She frowned. "I didn't know you did that."

"It's been a long week." He sighed. "There was this witch..."

&

Not far away, in Central Park, rather a large stealth jet waited, being guarded by a man of ice. Bobby Drake was just as happy to sit this one out; he wasn't entirely acclimated to Johnny-come-lately X-Men like Wolverine and Nightcrawler, much less little kids like Jubilation Lee. But she was all they hand, so she was all they had...

Feeling frustrated, Bobby stalked away from the jet, down to the banks of the reservoir, and dipped a toe in, letting all his frustrations drain in a single burst of power that turned the whole thing to ice. In seconds, it was frozen solid.

Bobby felt better. A little. Then somebody in the distance started shouting her head off, and he had to put the lake back.

I never get to have any fun, Bobby thought, and turned back to the jet. He supposed he ought to do a better job of keeping his eyes open, but after all, what was going to happen in Central Park?

It turned out to be just as well, because there was nothing there to see with his eyes. But if Bobby had listened-- really listened-- he might have caught the slightest sound, from somewhere in the trees behind and above him. And the sound was:

BLINK.

&

"This is so cool. I mean, not the part about everybody being sorta dead, that's not cool, but we'll find 'em, I know we will. I mean, Wolvie can't die. His assortment of bloodthirsty arch-nemeses would be devastated. Yeah, so I'll find him for you and then he can help us track down everybody else. So there. I've been back on the team for like five minutes and already I'm planning strategy. And by the way, Scott, that whole 'House of M' thing? That is wicked strange! I mean, what was Wanda thinking and I'm... not... convincing you this was a good idea... am I?"

Scott tried hard to rub the tension lines out of his forehead. "No, it's okay. 'Excited' is okay. It's 'chatty' that bothers me..."

"I'll work on it, promise."

Darkness had fallen, heralding the start of the city's nightlife, and the intersections of New York city were not exactly sparsely populated. So Scott was more concerned with finding an opportune moment to cross the street than with defending against an ambush... at least until Jubilee went, quote, "Urk," and disappeared from his side. Scott turned to find her suspended in mid-air, a huge hand holding her up by the scruff of her neck.

"Hey, frail," a rough voice whispered. "Y'wanna buy a casket?"

Jubilee made a face as she got a whiff of his breath. "Aw, now I've met some freakazoids on the streets of New York, but..."

As she spoke, she struggled around in the figure's grip and brought one hand up against his face: PAFF! A point-blank burst of "fireworks" caused the figure to drop her, clawing at his eyes, and Jubilee scuttled away.

Her attacker howled and stepped into the light, a wild-eyed blonde creature with forearms the size of a standard Buick. Scott felt himself groan. Where's Logan when you need him?

"Round one to you, girl," Sabretooth growled. "That's the only one you win."

"Um, yeahrightyouknowIthinkIhearmymomcallinggottagoIgeezhe'sbigand..."

Scott stepped between them, meanwhile triggering a beacon that would, hopefully, sound an alarm in the X-Jet and bring reinforcements. Just in case he needed them. At the moment...

"Mister," he said, removing his glasses, "I am not in the mood."

ZRAAAACK! The huge mutant flew through the air and crashed through the window of a nearby jewelry store. Scott winced, and started counting up the property damage: Five hundred, a thousand, fifteen hundred... Not to mention the trouble they'd get in when the store's hooting burglar alarm brought police.

"WOW! That was so righteous, I mean, Wolvie, sure, he fights that dude all the time, but he's got the claws and the-- and you just, WHAM!-- you just smacked him down like a..."

"Jubilee," Scott said quietly, "run."

Whatever was left of the window vanished when Sabretooth smashed back through it, claws bared, laughing. "Nice hit, One-Eye, but I heal. Maybe you heard."

"It's practically all we talk about back at the mansion. Want another?"

"Always..."

Scott didn't hear Jubilee running and that concerned him, but there was no time to fret about it: Sabretooth was coming fast, dodging burst after burst, denying Scott a clear shot with his optic beam. The feral mutant lashed out with one claw...

Scott felt his head connect with a lamp-post, his chest burning, his shirt wet with blood. He hit the ground with a thud, and thought: This is going well...

Jubilee was screaming, trying to stay between Sabretooth and her wounded teammate, dodging his attacks as best she could. Finally he hit her a glancing blow, knocking her to the ground at his feet. "Out of my way, little girl. I ain't here for you."

"That is so insulting. I'm an X-Man! You can't discriminate based on my age and gender! Cyke, tell him!"

"What are you here for?" Scott asked instead, climbing to his feet. "This attack is sort of random, even for you."

"Keep talkin', freak. Maybe you'll beat it outta me."

"Don't tempt me..."

He charged again. This time Scott was ready for him, judging his momentum exactly, rolling aside, then hitting him in the back with an optic beam that blew him across the street.

"Are you all right?" Scott asked, catching his breath.

"Me? I'm cool. Five by five. But Scott, seriously, when he comes back, let me handle 'im. Little girl! C'mon and cop a 'tude with me again, Sasquatch! I'll set your copious body hair on fire!"

"Just run," Scott said.

"There's two of us! We don't have to..." Jubilee trailed off as she saw Sabretooth bounding across the street, pausing to crush the front end of an automobile that didn't stop for him in time. "Or... we could run."

They did.

&

The Jet was already beeping its head off about a beacon call when Bobby returned.

"Son of a..." he muttered, slapping at it to stop the noise. "I step away for five seconds, the guy gets himself in trouble!"

Big trouble, judging from the signal code Scott had used. Bobby double-checked the location and turned, already on his way out...

BLINK.

Sabretooth struck, taking a chunk out of the wall beside Scott's head. He ducked, drove two punches into the big mutant's midsection, and grabbed a handful of yellow hair.

"Smile, baby," Scott hissed, and standing eye-to-eye with Sabretooth, unloaded an optic blast.

For the third time, Sabretooth went flying, smashing against the passenger-side door of a parallel-parked Volkswagon. Scott hoped the owner was insured for Acts of Costumed Heroes. Sabretooth struggled momentarily...

"Dude," Jubilee said, watching him. "You like burned his eyes out. That's gross! Oops, they're growing back... that's even grosser. Yeah, I know. Running."

Actually Scott hadn't been planning to run just at that moment. A police cruiser pulled up then, siren blaring, and disgorged two cops, who started waving their guns around. They approached Sabretooth in the wreckage of the VW...

"No, stay back from him!" Scott cried, but nobody was listening.

Too bad, because even without his eyes, Sabretooth's enhanced senses left him far from helpless. He grabbed one of the officers in either claw, smashed them bodily against each other, and threw them at the two X-Men. Jubilee tackled the one coming toward her, seconds before she would have cracked her skull open. Scott tried to do likewise... but Sabretooth crashed into them both.

On the ground, tangled up with the cop and with Sabretooth's weight on top of him, Scott couldn't bring any of his skills to bear. Even worse, his enemy swiped with one claw and sent his glasses flying. Scott shut his eyes tight.

"Yeah, that's right," the gravelly voice hissed in his ear. "Can't control it that well, can ya, Scotty? Open yer eyes now, and you might blast me to hell... figure I'm on my way anyhow. 'Course, ya might blast the little piggy here, and we can't have that."

"You talk too much," Scott panted. He expected the other man to strike...

"Mister Creed?" said a female voice. Not Jubilee.

"Who the hell're..."

BLINK. The weight on top of Scott disappeared. Well, most of it.

"Now, Scott!" said Bobby's voice. "Get the officer out of the way!"

The cop seemed to be unconscious; knocked out by Sabertooth or fainted, it was hard to say. Scott picked him up and rolled with him-- man, what was that on the sidewalk? Scott didn't want to know-- and then, suddenly, things got very cold.

A moment later, Jubilee pressed Scott's glasses into his hand, and he blinked several times...

Sabretooth was out of action, more or less frozen solid. The cops were still breathing. And more sirens were approaching in the distance.

"Do we want to wait around and explain this, Scott?" Bobby asked.

"Not tonight, I have a headache." He frowned. "I would like to take Sabretooth back with us, see if we can get an explanation, but I don't see how we'd..."

"Not a problem," said the same female voice who'd addressed the villain by name. That's when Scott noticed her.

She was standing in front of Sabretooth, almost transfixed by him, her hand reaching out to caress his cheek. She was of medium height, athletic, wore green with an honest-to-goodness quiver strapped to her back, and had delicately pointed ears like Nightcrawler. And...

"She's purple," Jubilee observed.

"I'd say more like lilac," said Bobby.

"It's a pretty shade."

The woman turned to them. She was older than Jubilee, but not by much. She opened her mouth to say something...

"I know you!" Jubilee said suddenly. "You were with us... wow, years ago. When we formed GenX. But... you died!"

"Did I?" The woman laughed. "Good. It's always easier in the realities where I'm dead. Less confusion."

"Less confusion?" Bobby said.

"I beg your pardon," said the woman. "My name's Clarice. And this man," she nodded at Sabretooth, "is... was... my foster father. Sort of."

"Wow," said Jubilee. "Didn't see that coming."

"It's a really really REALLY long story," Clarice said. She perked her head up at the approaching sirens. "And we ought to be going."

Scott couldn't argue with that. So, as per her instructions, they huddled up in a semicircle around Clarice and the incapacitated Sabretooth, and...

BLINK.

&

"...realize it's rather short notice," Emma Frost said to the man on the phone, "but we would appreciate it if you could visit us in Westchester at once."

James Proudstar, the hulking Apache mutant known as Warpath, made a sound deep in his throat "Look, I just want one simple answer. I went to bed in Mumbai and woke up back home in Arizona. That might sound like a day's work to you, but I'm a little confused, and I don't react well to confusion."

"As it happens, dear, there is an answer, but it's in no way simple. I really think it's better if we talk in person."

Another small sound. "All right, we'll play it your way. Miss Frost... I want you to understand something. We go back a long way. You were my first teacher, with the Hellions. Despite our... disagreements... over the years, I respect you. But if you're screwing with me? I will twist your head off your neck. Nothing personal."

Click. The phone disconnected. Emma slapped it down on its cradle with a sigh.

"Neanderthal," she muttered. "Why is it every time some psychotic telepathic berk toys with reality, people always assume it was me?"

The doorbell rang. Emma got up to answer it, admitting to herself meanwhile that she'd probably answered her own question.

She was expecting Scott, though wondering if she really wanted to see him, and she was wrapped up enough in considering this that she didn't bother to mind-scan her visitor. When she saw who was at the door, her mouth dropped open, and all she could say was: "Oh."

"Such enthusiastic greeting, Miss Frost," said Jean-Paul Beaubier, the French Canadian mutant known as Northstar. "I cannot but be touched. Now, if you do not mind, she's heavier than she looks..."

The "she" he referred to was, in fact, the focus of Emma's attention and the reason for her "oh": Jean-Paul held in his arms a teenage girl, a nearly flawless blonde reminiscent of Emma herself. She ought to have shone in Emma's mind like a beacon, but as it was, she gave off barely enough mental aura to tell she was still alive. Emma turned to Jean-Paul, furious...

"The conditioning is gone," he said, referring to his recent abduction by HYDRA. "I am myself."

"Is that supposed to be a comfort?"

He bristled. "If you'd prefer, Miss Frost, I will drop her on the doorstep and leave her to your tender mercies."

They held a staring contest. Jean-Paul won. Emma jerked her chin in the direction of the foyer. "Bring her inside."

A few moments later, Jean-Paul had deposited the young woman on a couch in Xavier's study. The moment he did so, he fell to his knees; Emma hit him full-force with a psychic attack.

"Blasted witch!" he growled, holding his head. "Release me!"

"In a moment. What happened, Jean-Paul? I thought you were in SHIELD custody."

"I was," he said, "until this morning."

"And where did you find the girl?"

"SHIELD custody. As of this morning."

Emma pressed harder. "How did she get there?"

"I don't know. I rather got the impression she just... appeared. Strange things happened today, Miss Frost. Now, dammit, release me!"

He get his feet under him, started them pumping; in a flash, thanks to his mutant speed, he had Emma by the throat and up against the wall. Still she did not release his mind.

"You broke out, then?"

"Let us say I terminated my stay prematurely. I will not be caged."

"I understand. Where are the others? There were three girls. Where are they?"

"I DO NOT KNOW!"

He slammed her against the wall. Emma hit him with a psychic pain burst that would have felled an elephant. They separated, circled each other, panting.

"Is this how you gained control of Summers?" Jean-Paul grinned. "I had wondered. But you'll find me not a bit susceptible to your... talents."

"I wouldn't waste myself if you were. I'm not trying to seduce you, Mr. Beaubier, but to destroy your sodding mind. Which I will do unless you provide me with answers."

"I have none!" he snarled.

"So you just... found her? How very convenient."

"Convenient or not, it is the truth! If you disbelieve me, that is your concern, but I will not warn you again! Are we X-Men or are we not?"

Emma sifted his mind once more, could find no trace of deception. He even looked sincere, if infuriated. With a sigh, she released him.

"My... apologies. My girls are... everything. I cannot lose them..."

Something flashed in Emma's mind, bright and new. Consciousness. Her dear one was awake. Emma rushed to her side, smoothing her golden hair. "Phoebe... darling... how do you feel?"

"Lost?" Phoebe Cuckoo murmured, eyes fluttering. White eyes, indicating the use of her telepathic power, but Emma detected nothing of the sort. "Not... lost."

"I'm sorry, dear? What was that?"

Phoebe clutched Emma's arm, sat up suddenly. Her face changed-- a smile, brilliant, almost beatific. She turned to Emma.

"We're not lost, Miss Frost. We're... everywhere."

&

"So Saber-Freak is really your father, huh? Major bummer."

Clarice sat in the back of the X-Jet, beside the still-suspended form of their attacker. Such a sudden blast might have killed an ordinary person, but Bobby assured them that Sabretooth's healing factor would probably keep him from being permanently damaged. Clarice seemed to be the only one aboard who didn't think that was a pity.

"It's not like that," she told Jubilee. "I told you, I'm from an alternate reality. The Victor Creed there is... he's a good man. He took me in, when no one else cared. You people are there, too. But you're not very nice."

"You seem to be taking this in stride," Scott said, turning back from the passenger seat; he sported a new bandage across his chest, and Bobby had the controls. "You hop dimensions every day?"

"As a matter of fact?" she shrugged. "But I can't seem to do it now. I think I'm stuck here. Something changed."

"Everything changed," Scott said. "I wonder if your reality got our X-Men and we got... whatever's left?"

"I wouldn't know," the young woman said. "You can call me Blink, by the way. That's my codename."

"Oh, that shows imagination," said Jubilee.

"Spoken by a girl who just combined her names for her handle."

"Well, at least I'm not called 'Paff.'"

Cyclops held up his hands for quiet. "Blink...? You're with the Exiles."

"Yeah. I think they might have even met you guys on this Earth, but I wasn't with 'em." Blink turned to Sabretooth again. "I've been to places where he's like this. I understand. But... it's hard. He's going to be okay, you're sure?"

"He will live to mutilate cattle another day," Bobby muttered.

"It's only right," said Jubilee. "Wolvie gets to kill him someday. It's a rule."

"You're a friend of Weapon X? Geez, and you accuse me of being raised by a psychopath."

"Tell me you did not just compare Wolvie to this giant, testosterone-powered sack of..."

Scott cleared his throat. "Look... Blink... we're having a bit of a crisis right now. If you'd be willing to stick around and help us with it, well, I know some people who might be able to get you back where you're supposed to be."

"WHAT!" Jubilee almost jumped out of her chair. "I wait YEARS to be an X-Man, and you're just gonna give a job to some super-villain's daughter who blinked in off the street?"

"I'm not going to explain this again," said Blink. "And I've been an X-Man. Magneto himself said I..."

"Well, as long as Magneto vouches for her, I feel better..."

"It's... a REAL long story." Blink reached for her quiver. "And so help me, girl, the next time you interrupt me, I'm going to wedge one of these little javelins right up your..."

Jubilee raised her hands. "Oh, don't go there, Miss Survivor: Alternate Realities! I will so blast you right off the island!"

"Enough!" Scott snapped. "I need... both of you, okay? So stand down, that's an order."

"She started it," Blink muttered.

"As if."

"Scott," Bobby said, sounding tired, "this isn't really the team now, is it? Please tell me this is a gag."

"If it is, Bobby, I'm not laughing." He sighed. "Let's go home; we'll check the other leads in the morning. I want to see if Emma's found anything..."

&

Emma Frost had seen the look in Phoebe's eyes before; it reminded her too much of the look in the eyes of the Phoenix, that last time. There's nothing quite as frightening as a telepath who's drunk on power.

"What... do you mean, dear?" she asked. "Where are the others? Celeste and Mindee? What happened to them?"

"They're... with me. Always. Everywhere. Celeste... Mindee... Sophie... even Esme." The girl grinned. "The Five-in-One is back, Miss Frost."

Emma gasped. "You're serious..."

"Oh, yes. 'I was lost, but now I see.' Do you understand?"

"I don't," said Jean-Paul. "What's the little twit babbling about?"

Emma hung her head, tried to study her breathing. "They were... quintuplets, these children. Sophie died a hero. Esme died after killing Sophie. My greatest failures..."

"Oh, but you've had so many to choose from, Miss Frost." Phoebe's grin held. "Never fear; all is forgiven. We can see it all so much more clearly now..."

Jean-Paul snorted. "Are we certain she isn't merely insane?"

"No... she's telling the truth." Emma attempted a mindscan; not for the first time, Phoebe rebuffed her. "They draw their strength from a group connection. The Three-in-One, the surviving sisters, wasn't nearly so strong as what I'm sensing now. Even the Five-in-One might not have..."

Phoebe wore the same face she might have in instructing a small child. "We're stronger. We're much stronger, Emma. May I call you Emma?"

"You may not."

A sly smile. "It makes sense, don't you think? The Scarlet Witch remade the world. She's like us. She lost pieces of herself, but she couldn't put them back together. But we..." Phoebe reached out to touch a lock of Emma's hair. "We are feeling so much better now, Miss Frost."

Jean-Paul cleared his throat. "Well... if you've got this quite under control, I'll just show myself out."

"Stay there!" Emma glared at him. "This is only the beginning."

"Perhaps, but it is hardly my concern. I met the Norse god Loki once, did I tell you? Didn't care for him. I'm afraid I've had enough of mysticism."

"Are you an X-Man," Emma asked her, "or are you not?"

Jean-Paul sighed. "Touché. I..."

Something roared past overhead: The jet, en route to its hangar. Emma folded her hands.

"Will you greet them, Jean-Paul? Perhaps, given a bit of privacy, I can learn something."

"You hope." Jean-Paul sighed. "I'm going to regret this, aren't I? I can tell."

In a split-second, he was gone. Emma regarded her charge, who still stared at her with big, white eyes.

"Don't worry, Miss Frost," Phoebe said. "Everything's going to be perfect... now."

Emma didn't particularly want things to ever be perfect, but even if she had, she would have doubted the plausibility of such a statement. And a question was in her mind now, beginning to grow, the old selfish Emma Frost with her old, selfish concerns:

Did she really want her girls back? All five of them? Even if that meant they were more powerful than Emma herself?

&

If the woman at the airline counter was surprised to be issuing a ticket on the red-eye to New York to a seven-foot Apache warrior, she did a commendable job of not showing it.

"Here you go, sir. Your flight doesn't leave for awhile yet."

"Thank you," he said. "Still beats flying myself... it's been a strange day, and I'm just not feeling up to it. You know?"

"Oh," the woman smiled. "Are you a pilot, sir?"

"Heh," said James Proudstar, and he walked away, grinning.

He settled himself into a seat that was too small for him-- two of them would have seemed just about right-- and watched the television monitor in the upper left-hand corner. There was a story... some rumor of disappearing mutants-- but nothing confirmed. Proudstar wondered if there was a connection, decided probably, but he was too tired to work it out.

On the other side of the room, a young mother sat with two small children, one of whom-- barely a toddler-- stared at Proudstar with wide-open eyes. The Apache gave a little wave.

Yes, you're amazed by me now, little one. It must be nice to be so innocent. Give it ten years. They'll teach you to hate me. They always do.

Too introspective. Time to rest. Proudstar closed his eyes, but only a moment later, or so it seemed, a voice was calling to him:

"Jimmy? Jimmy, wake up! Please... ye have to... Jimmy!"

Proudstar blinked. He found himself staring up at his longtime teammate, Theresa Rourke Cassidy, known as the Siryn and longtime object of his (mostly unrequited) affections. He hadn't seen her in some time; last he'd heard, she'd been on assignment in Europe.

"Terry?" he muttered. "Terry, how...?"

"I have to talk to ye, Jimmy. Right now, boy."

"Uh... sure. Sure, yeah." He patted the seat beside him. "Pull up a chair."

Terry arched an eyebrow. "It's private, Jimmy."

"Okay... yeah." Groaning and stretching his muscles, Proudstar stood, waved good-bye to the boy, and allowed Terry to guide him out of the waiting area. Feeling groggy, he didn't pay much attention to where she was leading him... until, looking both ways, she picked a lock and ushered him into a storage closet barely largely enough for his bulk. He frowned as Terry stepped in after him and closed the door.

"Okay," he said, "I'm confused. What's the problem, Terry?"

"Ah, Jimmy, don't ye know? I've missed ye, boyo..."

She pulled his head down to hers and kissed him. Suddenly the closet seemed very small, and altogether too warm. Finally, he managed to pull away.

"Wait. I don't... this is strange."

"What's strange about it, Jimmy? Ye know it's what ye want. Why fight it?"

"But..." She kissed him again; James Proudstar considered himself a strong man, but he wasn't made of stone, either. He surrendered to the kiss, nuzzling her neck, her hair. Enhanced senses kicked in, and the fog cleared from his brain. His eyes opened wide.

"You smell wrong," he said.

"You have no idea," said the woman pretending to be Terry. She stepped back from him... and pulled out the reinforced-adamantium knife she'd just used to cut him from shoulder to hip. Pain flared, too late. He dropped to hands and knees.

"You're a hard man to kill, James Proudstar," said the woman, already morphing into another form, blue-skinned and deadly. Mystique. "But there's a weapon for every job."

He reached out for her, caught her wrist. She snapped the hold casually.

"Poor boy. You do still love her, don't you? I wonder if she'll cry for you."

"If I were..." Proudstar gasped for breath. "If I were more of a stereotype, I'd call down the spirits of my ancestors to avenge your treachery..."

"Let 'em try," said Mystique.

"Well, actually... I favor a somewhat more modern method..."

Calling on the last reserves of his mutant strength, Proudstar packed it all into a single, devastating punch, knocking Mystique through the door and into the corridor beyond.

Somebody out there screamed. Mystique morphed again and vanished into the quickly-gathering crowd. That was all James Proudstar saw before his vision turned red and he passed out.

&

"We're everywhere," Phoebe said, for maybe the twentieth time. "I am us here. Esme is us to come. The others are us then. Don't you understand?"

"No," Emma Frost said, also for the twentieth time. "I really do not. But I will."

From the end of the room, Scott Summers cleared his throat. "Emma... he's ready."

"All right." Emma patted the girl's hand. "I'm going to leave you here with Mr. Summers, darling. This won't take long."

She met Scott's... well, eye, on the way out the door. He was taking this hard. That could be useful. He wouldn't be so inclined to quibble over her methods. She made her way to the Danger Room, or what was left of it after the damn thing had declared independence, not so long ago. Now it was simply a chamber, suitable for holding... things.

She met Bobby Drake and Jubilation Lee at the door. "Is our patient ready?"

"Chillin'," said Bobby, and exhaled a cloud of frost.

Jubilation Lee, another ex-student, made a thoughtful face. "What're you gonna do to him, Miss Frost?"

"My dear... the same thing you would do."

"Right. Hurt 'im once for me, huh?"

Bobby frowned in her direction. Jubilee shrugged. Emma steeled herself and stepped into the room.

Anger. Fear. Pain. ESCAPE. She knew the feelings well, but never did they crowd her mind quite so much as in the bound and restrained presence of the mutant killer Victor Creed-- Sabretooth. Not for the first time, Emma wished they had Logan present to simply and efficiently kill the blighter. Not that she'd mind doing that herself, but it would make Scott all tense; he'd probably sleep on the couch for a week.

It was the killer who spoke first. "Well, well... look who we got here. You're a sight for sore eyes. My new eyes, I mean. Gotta 'member to thank Scotty for those. I think they healed prettier, don't you?"

"I'm hardly the one to ask."

"Nope." Sabretooth grinned. "What you are is Hellfire, born n' raised."

Emma arched an eyebrow at him. "You remember me, Mr. Creed. I do endeavor to make an impression."

"You know it. Tell the truth... you really Summers' babe now? That one-eyed eunuch really turn you on? I think you deserve a real man."

"And I think you deserve a neutering. The night is young."

Sabretooth laughed. "Aw, babe... now c'mon. We both know this ain't gonna happen. You can't get in my head. I been interrogated by Psylocke. She's stronger'n you, babe. Maybe a lot stronger."

Emma nodded, pacing in front of him. "That may be so. She also fancies herself a hero. I... don't have that problem."

He strained at his bonds. "You threatenin' me, babe? That ain't healthy."

"I'm saying, you'd better let me in your head willingly." She leaned close. "Because if I have to force my way in... I will make a permanent mess of things."

"Too late, darlin'." He showed her fangs. "Yer much too late on that score."

"I don't believe that," said another voice. The door to the Danger Room was open; that newly-arrived lilac girl (Emma would have said she was closer to puce) stood in it, holding a couple of her spike-like javelins. Emma frowned at her.

"He's right," the girl said. "You can't get in his mind."

"Well... there's always the chainsaw."

"Let me talk to him."

Emma laughed out loud. "My dear girl, why should I do that?"

"Because, my dear 'girl,'" the other said, "you want to stay alive. You want to keep your boyfriend Summers alive, too. But if Mister Creed is hunting him, somebody wants him dead bad. So let me talk to him. Might be your best chance."

Emma looked from her to Sabretooth and back. She said, "If it doesn't work... we'll move on to harder measures."

"Fair enough."

Emma turned and paced out the door. When it closed behind her, she found only Jubilee waiting for her. "Where's Robert?"

"Talking to Northstar. He just checked in from Paris. No luck with Theresa Cassidy."

Emma frowned. "She's declined to join us?"

"She's been gutted," Jubilee said, shuddering. "Northstar's bringing her back here, fast as she can handle. Maybe the healers can do something for her. But... well, he said it wasn't good."

Emma nodded stiffly and started down the corridor. Jubilee tagged along.

"You realize what that means... not only are most of our best-trained mutants missing, but somebody's targeting whoever's left."

"Yes," Emma agreed. "When Jean-Paul's brought her back, have him go to Arizona. If Miss Cassidy is in danger, so is Mr. Proudstar."

"I doubt it. Even Wolvie thought twice about picking fights with him. But I'll tell him." Jubilee nodded toward the transparent glass observation window, where they could both see Blink approaching Sabretooth. "What about her?"

"Watch her," Emma said, and left.

&

"You know what's funny?" Clarice Ferguson said, staring into the eyes of the man who should have been like a father to her. "I'm not afraid of you. I mean, you're sitting right there and I know you'd kill me, but I can't be afraid of you. I don't know how."

"Come a li'l closer, girl," Sabretooth said, "an' you'll learn."

Clarice laughed. Memories flooded her. She pushed them back. "You're like him. I mean, you are, but you're not. I think he could have been you. Or you could still be him. Maybe... maybe I saved him from being you."

The big mutant growled. "What's this, huh? This some new game? You one'a them Danger Room holograms? Emma tryin' ta bore me into talkin'?"

"It's not a game," Clarice said, sitting on the floor a few meters from him. "And I may not belong here, but that doesn't mean I'm not real. My name's Clarice."

"Then, Clarice, you're wastin' my time."

"You're wasting yourself!" Clarice wanted to throttle him. She couldn't. Her hands clenched into fists. "Mister Creed... is this really who you want to be?"

"Am what I am, girl," he said. "Talkin' don't change that."

She had to smile. "You never were much for talking. But I remember... when I lost the first person I ever loved... I went to you, and..."

"Not ME!" the big man snarled. "You must be thinkin' of some other chump. Do have any idea, girl, how many people I've killed?"

"Probably almost as many as me." Clarice met his eyes. "Where I come from, that's the way of it. People kill... to survive. Because there isn't any other way. Maybe that's the difference. Maybe you're not different on my world. Maybe my world was more like you."

He snarled, hissed, and spit. Wouldn't look at her. "I gotta admit, this is real clever. Whatever they're pullin'." Then he looked back, cagey. "You say you care about me, girl?"

"Yes."

"Then take off these bonds. Help me get away. I'll take you wherever you wanna go. Up to you."

"I can't." She closed her eyes, fought back the memories again. "And where I want to be doesn't exist... for me any more than for you."

"Aw. 'Scuse me while I cry my new eyes out."

"Well..." she sighed. "I tried. I feel sorry for you, Mister Creed. You could have been a lot more than this."

As she started to rise, Clarice heard something-- pop. She thought she was imagining it, until she heard it again-- pop. She turned, reaching for her quiver...

"One more thing, girl," the big man was saying, "I ain't yer Mr. Creed. I'm better'n him. I'm better'n any of these freaks. Hell, I'm the best there is. I'm SABRETOOTH, an' no trap holds me for long!"

With that, he strained a final time and broke his bonds, slashing himself free in moments. Clarice tossed a javelin at him, but he dodged and she only teleported one of his broken restraints away.

He went for her throat. She knocked his arm aside with a kick, then followed with a vicious hit to the pressure point on his side. He howled, struck again, but she danced away.

Sabretooth lunged; Clarice turned a somersault over his head, jamming an elbow in the back of his neck on the way past. He clawed uselessly at the wall.

She kicked him in the small of the back before he could turn, then pulled out another javelin and swung it toward his heart like a stake. He spun at the last instant, caught her wrist, and shoved her away. She scooted across the room on her rear, but popped up, ready to go another round.

Sabretooth laughed. "Damn, girl. I really did teach you how to fight, didn't I?"

"Not just fight, Mr. Creed. Win. And here's a little something I taught myself..."

BLINK and she was gone, reappearing in the space behind Sabretooth's head. She administered a vicious kick, grabbed him on the way down, and used his own weight to throw him across the room... or tried. Sabretooth held on and dragged her with him, turning her around so it was her head that connected with the wall and not his. She landed in a heap with him on top of her.

"Yer good, girl. Bet your pappa's real proud. But you also know, I gotta finish the kill. It's what I do." He draw back his claw, panting, blood trickling from his mouth where the wound hadn't closed yet. Before bringing it down, he paused. "It's too late for me, Clarice."

She couldn't fight; couldn't do anything. Could only feel sad as his claw descended, and she saw her death screaming down toward her throat.

PAFF!

The flash of light blinded Clarice, but when she could see again, it was Sabretooth who was knocked across the room. She staggered, a little dazedly, to her feet as Jubilee approached.

"You know what I just figured out?" the younger girl asked, hands sparkling with her fireworks. "You're killing potential X-Men. But you said you weren't here for me. That means I'm not even on the list!"

"Nah," said Sabretooth, struggling to his feet. "Didn't even rate. Only good reason to kill you, frail, is to piss off the runt. An' I'd rather do that with him watching. So you get to live... today... if you get out of my way, right now."

"You know what?" said Jubilee, stepping forward. "You really need to put me on the list."

PAFF! Another burst knocked Sabretooth for a loop, but he recovered and charged, fighting his way through a sparkling light show as Jubilee hit him with everything she had. Which... wasn't bad, honestly. But it wasn't going to kill him before he got to her, and if he did, he would end it. Clarice knew what she had to do.

BLINK! She reappeared on Creed's shoulders, covering her eyes to protect herself from Jubilee's display. She seized the onrushing mutant by the shoulder blade.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Creed," she said, and blinked.

Sabretooth howled like a dead thing as she vanished... taking his right arm with her, right up to the shoulder. The wound immediately started to heal-- he wouldn't die-- but mutantkind's second-most famous set of claws would not be growing back anytime soon.

That's when Cyclops arrived, blasting away with his optic beam. About the time Sabretooth narrowly avoided a blast that would have taken off his head as well, he opted for the better part of valor. He bulled his way past the senior X-Men and bolted.

The Iceman arrived just then, aiming to freeze him again, but Scott stayed his arm.

"Wait! I want to know who he's working for."

"Sure, me too! But how...?"

Scott turned and nodded to Clarice. "You got him?"

"I got him good, Prel... I mean, Mr. Summers." Clarice stood up and, with some distaste, blinked away the part she'd taken. "He wound should have healed right over it. I don't think he knows you're tracking him."

"You sly dog..." said Bobby, grinning.
"Well," said Scott, "I figured it was about time somebody else had a Really Bad Day." He turned to Clarice. "That was nice work. You really are an X-Man."

"Told you."

"You both are," Scott said, expanding the comment to include Jubilee. Then he and Bobby walked out.

Clarice stood where she was as Jubilee started to pass her. The other girl stopped. For a moment, she fished for words. Then:

"You... really love him, don't you?"

"More than anything," she said. "But my teammates come first. Always."

"Okay," said Jubilee. They shook hands and walked out together.

&

The first thing James Proudstar was aware of was the mechanical sound of his own heart monitor: BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP. The second thing he heard was "Taptaptaptaptap," this being the sound of an irritable French Canadian tapping his shoe on the floor at super-speed.

"Thanks for the wakeup call," Proudstar groaned. "I'd hate to oversleep."

"Big, strong man." Jean-Paul Beaubier laughed. "They said you almost died."

"I'm not convinced it was 'almost'."

"It was a near thing. If you hadn't forced Mystique to flee..."

"Yeah. I'm da man." With considerable effort, Proudstar sat up in bed.

Beaubier reached toward him. "You are not yet healed!"

"I'm alive. That's healed enough to go hunting."

"Don't be a fool!"

Proudstar glared at the other mutant. "She suckered me"
"Yes."

"'Disappearing mutants.' Guess who's disappearing 'em."

"Well, it is a long story." Beaubier made a face. "But, in some cases, accurate enough..."

"'Some?'" Knowledge flooded him; he leaped to his feet, ignoring the pain. "Terry!"

Beaubier hung his head. "Alive, barely. When I left, at any rate."

James Proudstar screamed. Unable to contain his rage, he picked up his bed-- metal frame and all-- and bent it in half. He tossed the ruined shape across the room, shattering the TV. His heart monitor and several other expensive gadgets took considerable exception.

"We'll have to pay for that," Jean-Paul Beaubier groaned. "Tell me, my large friend, in what few seconds remain before the doctors rush in to present us with the bill... what do you plan to do?"

Proudstar turned black, smoldering eyes on him. "Find Mystique. Can you tell me where to start?"

Beaubier offered his hand. "There is an emergency team of X-Men assembling, all who remain. Start there, with us."

"Only only problem. I hear X-Men don't kill."

"Well," said the shorter mutant, scratching his chin with his free hand, "there is always the Wolverine exception..."

Having no better alternatives, and wishing to be close to the wounded Theresa Cassidy, Proudstar accepted his offer. By the time the doctors did arrive and, as Jean-Paul Beaubier predicted, presented them with a bill for damages, he could tell them the Xavier Estate would pick up the tab.

&

"Now, I warn you, Scott, I still haven't been able to determine the limits of..."

"I understand, Emma," Scott Summers assured her, not for the first time. "I want to see her anyway."

"Fair enough," said Emma Frost. "But Scott, she's only a girl."

Scott stopped in the corridor, his fist pounding the wall. "She's a girl who knows where my team is! Where my brother is! She's the only one who knows the truth!"

"And she has told us everything she knows so far," Emma soothed him. "As nearly as we can determine-- and this would be far easier if Henry remained in his lab-- the Scarlet Witch intended to destroy mutantkind entirely. So when the Phoenix interfered--"

"Saved us, you mean."

Emma looked at him cross-eyed. "Or made things worse, it's impossible to determine. At any rate, the resulting psychic event redirected Wanda's ire from mutantkind to the X-Men specifically... now they're scattered across time and space, in the past, in the future... possibly in separate realities altogether. For the moment, that's not important. What's important is that my girls were scattered with them, and somehow the Five-in-One has... expanded, their group mind now encompassing the space between Universes. With their help, the stranded X-Men have begun to check in. We will get them back, Scott. Eventually."

Scott exhaled, a low and frustrated sound. "If we don't get picked off by the scavengers in the meantime."

"We will survive. We always survive."

They stared at each other, there in the corridor. Emma was defiant, while Scott began to feel the hopelessness of it all. He did his best to absorb some of her strength.

"Jubilee was right," he said. "We're way past the third team at this point. These are second-liners, kids, oh, and some purple girl we barely trust."

"Lilac, dear. Or, perhaps, puce."

"Whatever." Scott sighed. "Do you think they're up to it?"

"They'll have to be." Emma reached out and swung open the door to Xavier's study, allowing Scott to step through.

Firelight alone illuminated the room, and Phoebe Cuckoo sat by the fire, engrossed in a book. Scott waited a moment, but she took no notice of him. He cleared his throat.

She looked up, eyes glittering white as they now did, apparently, whenever her connection with her sisters was active. Which seemed to be most of the time.

"Scott, darling!" she said, and grinned. "You don't mind the first names, do you? Emma objected at first, but we've convinced her our new relationship should be much more... equal."

"It's fine," Scott said through gritted teeth. "Phoebe--"

"Esme, darling," she corrected. "You're speaking through the Five-in-One now. Emma thought you might like to hear from some of the others."

"Esme, then." Scott felt a little disconcerted. He paced into the room. "Let's start small: Where are you?"

"In... the future, I think. Or somebody's future. It's a foul place, very... dystopian. Aren't they always"
Scott grunted. "Are the X-Men with you?"

"Some of them, six or seven. Ororo's leading them."

"That's a start," he said, and sat down across from her. Outside the window, lightning flashed. "Can I speak to Ororo?"

Phoebe/Esme took his hand. "But Scott, aren't you enjoying talking to me?"

"Not particularly," Scott said. "Who's with Ororo, exactly?"

"Well, for a start," said the girl with glittering eyes, "your daughter Rachel says hello."

Scott looked back at Emma, who stared straight ahead and seemed to be seeing this girl for the first time. He got the distinct impression that neither of them had any idea what they were getting into. He could feel a series of Really Bad Days coming at him in the weeks ahead.

&

The warehouse was large, dark, and empty. If Raven Darkholme, the mutant known in some circles as Mystique, were going to design a stereotypical place for a clandestine meeting, it would have looked very much like this. Which was not to say it was an ineffective choice.

She felt, rather than saw, the presence arrive-- the amorphous, shadowy thing that had pulled Mystique out during the rather unpleasant experience of shifting realities yet again, and explained to her precisely what would be expected of her, if she was to survive the coming storm.

--It has begun,-- the voice said.

"Isn't that rather cliché? Why not something even more classic, like 'You will join me or die' or even 'I'm going to enjoy killing you?'"

The figure seemed to consider that. --But you have joined me already. And I do not do what I do for enjoyment.--

Mystique's lip twitched. "I was making a joke."

--Do not joke, Raven Darkholme. Already you have failed against your first two marks.--

"They're X-Men," Mystique said. "Notoriously hard to kill."

--They are children.--

"They all start as children. At least I've softened them up, instead of botching things like my colleague."

--He will be repaired. He is still useful, if only for his connection to Her.--

"Don't rely too hard on family bonds," Mystique warned. "Particularly not in his case."

The figure turned even blacker for a moment. --But are not you yourself, Raven Darkholme, bound with such bonds?"

Mystique felt her fists clench, but forced them to relax. "About that... I've finished the first job. I want what you promised me, my children. I want Anna and Kurt back, or this is at an end."

--It ends when the job is finished,-- said the voice. --Do not concern yourself, Raven Darkholme. They are safe, for now. They are scattered, but we will gather them together. We will piece together what is broken. In time. When the stormclouds gather...--

"Words," Mystique said. "You keep talking about a storm, but I haven't felt a single drop of rain."

--You will,-- the figure promised, --but you may require help to seed the clouds.--

The figure itself vanished, leaving, as it seemed to be able to do, images in the shadows. Pictures, faces... four in particular. Mystique understood. If she was to defeat these new X-Men, she would need a new Brotherhood... and now she knew where to look.

And when she had them, when she had their power, some position to bargain from... then they would see who was sheltered from the storm... and whether she couldn't turn it against its maker.

Smiling at the prospect, Mystique turned from the shadows and walked away.

THE END
IN ISSUE #2: The Brotherhood of Mutants!

Other planned X-Men Eternity titles will feature the adventures of the other team members, lost in time...