The Chaos Factor
Chapter Two: "Another Tricky Day"
by Jim Cannon

     "It was kind of you to come," the Wizard said, sitting behind the
plexiglass window, one hand holding the little telephone that
facilitated the conversation, the other cupping a dying cigarette.
     "Since the Big Guy cut me loose, I'm always eager to find gainful
employment elsewhere," said the blond athletic man on the other side of
the glass. "Even if I have to work for a loser like you."
     The Wizard bristled, and growled at the other man. "Watch your
tongue, boy. I've fought the Avengers and the Fantastic Four. Have you
ever faced anyone in their class?"
     The man decided not to mention the time he trounced Captain
America, and ignored the bait. "Just tell me who you want me to talk
to."
     The Wizard looked at the man for a long moment, and then sucked on
his cigarette. Then he spoke in a calm, even tone. "The man
I want you to talk to is an employee of Tolken, Inc. Not long ago he
was the security chief for that company. Though it has now been
swallowed by Hawthorne Industries, Siphon still visits the office
occasionally. I want you to find  him and give him a stern talking to."
     The blond man nodded. "He's a meta, right?"
     "Indeed," the Wizard said. "He is super strong and quite resiliant
to harm. But I have faith in your skill and your methods, boy. Fisk
attests that you are the best man in the business."
     "The Big Guy was correct, Wizard. But I don't come cheap."
     "I am aware of that. I have made arrangements to have the
appropriate funds diverted to your Swiss account."
     At that, the blond man smiled. "Well, then, it looks like I'm
headed for Seattle." He stood up and turned to leave, pausing only a
moment to examine the cold walls and harsh lights of the prison. The
man had spent his share of time in this place, as well as a few others
like it. The miracles of plastic surgery and forged papers could work
wonders, though. No one recognized him on the way in, and no one
molested him on the way out.
     Bullseye grinned as he started his car. The last time he visited
the Pacific Northwest he didn't have a mask or a cool nickname, and he
definitely didn't have his special bones. But that trip had been fun
and educational all the same. Bullseye had high hopes for the upcoming
one as well.
     In a few days, Siphon would be deader than Elvis.

                    *   *   *   *   *   *

     Sam Nelson stood up and shrugged her shoulders into her jacket.
Rogue, sitting across the table, looked up from her omelet. "Just have
to make a phone call," she said. Rogue nodded and spooned up more egg
and ham.
     Sam made her way to the back of the diner, to the phone. She
ignored the battered phone book. The number she needed to call wasn't
listed. Dropping a dime into the machine, she dialed seven digits, and
waited patiently for a ring. She was rewarded with an "out of service
message" instead.
     So maybe it was true. Maybe Stephan Strange was no more. There
were ways to find out for sure. But how? Most of Strange's friends were
hard people to reach. Bruce Banner had dissapeared. The Sub-mariner was
too erratic to talk to, even if she could find him, and as for the
Silver Surfer...
     Sam leaned against the phone and thought. Who would know where
Stephan Strange was? If, indeed, Strange still lived.
     And then she had it. Thor. The thundergod had a friendship with
the sorceror, and he also knew Sam. Perfect. Now, Sam just had to find
Thor; where else to begin but Avengers headquarters?
    Sam headed back to the booth and slid into the seat. She smiled
slightly, and said, "We have to make a slight detour. We aren't going
to the Villiage right away. We need to stop at Avengers HQ first."
    Rogue almost choked on her breakfast. When she was able to force
the food down her throat, and take a healthy swig of oj, she found her
voice. "Ah ain't sure thats a good idea. The Avengers haven't exactly
warmed up to me, even after all this time."
    Sam could understand how the girl felt. But it couldn't be helped.
"Well, I think its time for the Avengers to swallow their pride and
grow a little. They bill themselves as Earth's mightiest heroes, they
should act like it."
    Rogue still looked anxious, but she grinned. "It would be worth it,
just ta see the look on Hawkeye's face when I walk in the door."
    Sam laughed.

                *   *   *   *   *   *  *

    Desdemona tried to relax in bed, but her thoughts could not let
sleep come. She was frightened. Frightened beyond belief at what she
was becoming. At losing her mother, once again. Maggie Halloran assured
her only daughter that she would get to Muir Isle as quickly as she
could, but Des wagered it would be difficult for her mother to do so.
Money was tight, and very few people visited Muir Isle even in the best
of times. Ever since Excalibur set up shop there.
    Excalibur may be Britain's best known team of superhumans, but a
large number of them were mutants. Mutants had an easier time of it in
the UK than in America, but most people were still a little suspect
about mutants and metahumans in general. Superhumans had an
uncomfortable tendency to get into senseless fights with eachother and
lay waste to huge tracts of land. People avoided Muir Isle because they
didn't want to get caught in the cross-fire. Maggie would have a tough
time finding transportation.
    Des's only comfort was Dick Grayson, a friend of her mothers whom
she had met only a few days ago. She barely knew him, but her mother
had promised that Dick would take care of her. Never in her life --
even when her mum and da were fighting -- had her mother lied to her.
She trusted Dick because Maggie said she could.
    But what could Dick do if Dr.Doom or somebody attacked Excalibur?
He couldn't protect her; he was just a guy. And how much could these
superhumans, these "heroes", really care about some anonymous teenager?
    And then there were her own frightening abilities to consider.
Whatever they were. She still didn't quite understand the mechanism
that allowed her to conjure up these nigtmarish creatures and unleash
them on the world. What if the only thing she could do with them was to
be a bad guy? She didn't want to be a villian.
    She wanted to be normal. Unbidden, the tears finely came, and,
emotionally and physically exhausted, Desdemona fell into a deep,
dreamless sleep.

    "Sorry about the helicopter," Kurt said again, offering steaming
mugs to Dick, Rachel, and Peter. Dick took the proffered coffee --
coffee, not tea! -- and took a careful sip. It wasn't bad.
    "Don't worry about it Kurt. It wasn't your fault," Dick said. He
took a larger sip. "Damn fine coffee. Where'd you get this?"
    Rachel grinned. "It's Wakandan. Brian and Meggan brought a couple
barrels of it back after their visit a few months ago."
    "Wakanda?" Dick said. "I thought they just built robots and stuff."
    Kurt shook his head. "The agriculturalist have to make a living,
too, mein freund." He wrapped his blue hands around his own mug and
gulped some of the dark, bitter liquid down.
    No one said anything for a few moments. Dick felt slighly
uncomfortable, like an intruder. These people were family, and their
silence was a companionable one. But not for Dick.
    As if sensing his discomfort, Rachel finally spoke. "So, tell us
about this girl."
    Dick gave her a grateful smile and began the tale, omitting
important parts like his own participation in her rescue from the
Wizard's hideout. He told the members of Excalibur about Desdemona's
disappearance, and fudged a little by telling them he was able to
contact the vigilante known as Nightwing to find the girl. He mentioned
Siphon, Mars, Morning Star, and Taskmaster, and how they were
instrumental in freeing the sixteen children the Wizard held captive.
Dick related how each of the children were, apparently, "externals" --
whatever that meant -- and that the Avengers, conveniantly, were able
to return each of teh children to their homes.
     And while Dick was visiting Margeret and Desdemona Halloran at
their home in Scotland, Desdemona's mutant powers activated, rifting a
wooly mammoth into the backyard of the Halloran flat. And then he
mentioned that he was able to contact Kurt Wagner through Nightwing.
     Kurt, kindly enough, didn't mention that he now knew that Dick and
Nightwing were the same person. Dick felt taht enough people knew his
true identity, and there existed too much a risk of them discovering
Bruce's. Dick met some of these Excaliburans when he was still Robin.
Were they to learn he was Nightwing, they could easily learn the
identity of Batman. The fact that he was Bruce's ward was public
knowledge. It wouldn't take a genius to figure out the rest.
     As Dick's narrative drew to a close, Peter finally spoke. "The
child will be safe here, Richard Grayson. I swear it." Dick was a bit
taken aback; he hoped that he didn't give this trio the impression that
he thought Desdemona might be in danger here. But Peter was quite
sincere, so Dick mumbled a thank you.
     Rachel gave Peter a sympathetic look that the big Russian missed,
but Kurt vocally supported his teammate. "Indeed, Dick. We'll do all we
can to make your stay a pleasant and safe one. And now, if Rachel and
Peter will excuse us, I owuld like to speak with Dick alone."
     Peter looked up from his mug, slightly puzzled, but stood up
anyway. "As you will, Kurt. It is late anyway. I think I will turn in."
Rachel watched him go, and then stood herself.
     "Don't keep him too long, Kurt. The poor dear looks bushed. And I
bet he isn't used to hanging out with mutants." She gave Dick a tired
smile. "See you tomorrow, Mr. Grayson."
     "G'night."
     When Rachel was gone, Kurt took a gulp from his mug and leaned
back in his chair. Dick waited patiently, expecting what was coming.
     "You are simply Dick Grayson for the extent of your visit, ja?"
Kurt asked.
     Dick nodded. "Too many people know me already," he said.
     "Well, your secret is safe from me." Dick nodded his thanks. "And
now on to other business," Kurt said. Dick arched an eyebrow, but
remained silent. The German proceeded. "Dai Thomas investigated our
Grendel. He wasn't able to find much. Apparently the man was molested
as a child by a priest; this would explain his attacks on the clergy.
But it doesn't explain where he acquired his metahuman strength, his
adamantium sword, or his allegiance to this 'Grendel.'
     "W.H.O. is digging up what they can, but they don't have much to
work with. And the recent altercation with Black Air has severely
crippled W.H.O.'s resources."
      Dick thought for a moment. "I can get in touch with some people I
know and try to get some dirt on the Grendel. In the meantime, maybe
W.H.O can transfer the guy to S.T.A.R. labs. Those guys are much better
equipped to study unknown metahumans."
      "A good suggestion," Kurt admitted. "I'll see what I can do. But
I doubt the British authorities will want to send a British subject to
an American institution."
      Dick shrugged. "Just a thought."
      "Well," Kurt said, "I think I will follow Peter's example. It is
late, and I must be up early tomorrow to help educate our new guest.
You have the run of the mansion. Goodnight, Dick."
      Kurt left the kitchen, pausing only to place his mug in the
dishwasher. Dick sat for a while, sipping his beverage, and then stood
up himself. It might be a good idea to look around.

                  *    *     *    *     *    *

      Finding Avengers Headquarters was fairly easy, especially since
both Rogue and Sam could make use of the aerial view of Manhattan.
      Getting in was the tricky part.
      While the parkway leading up to the front door was quiet and
unguarded, the door to the massive, marble structure itself was locked
tight. Rogue gave a low whistle as they walked across the lawn.
      "Looks classier 'en the Capital Building. All chrome and marble.
Bet there're traps and stuff all over the place, tho."
      "Of course there are," Sam agreed. "They have to keep the Masters
of Evil out somehow." She tried the door. "And supplicants as well,
apparently."
      "Maybe they're out saving the world," Rogue suggested.
      Sam looked around for a doorbell. "Nah. The FF and Alpha Flight
are the one's in the Atlantic; according to the news, anyway. There's
got to be somebody around. Even if its just Jarvis."
      Rogue eyed both the door and Sam dubiously. "Ah could crash the
joint, if it comes ta that."
      "Noooo," Sam said, wagging a finger at her friend. "That kind of
stuff gets you on the wrong end of a mystic hammer. Besides, I can just
teleport us in." She grinned. "'If it comes ta that.'"
      "Girl, don't be making fun 'a mah accent."
      And then the door slid open with a loud hiss.
      Sam looked over her sunglasses at Rogue. "Well, you've been here
before..." she started, but Rogue cut her off.
      "Uh-huh," she said. "Ah been to the old place. And Ah wasn't all
that welcome that time. Your idea: you first."
      Sam shrugged. "Fine." She stepped inside, Rogue right behind her.
Sam slipped her shades off, noticing the air conditioning was pumping
and the flourescent lights were on. Tacky, she thought. They'd be
better off opening some windows.
      "Oh shit," Rogue said, tensing up beside Sam.
      Sam agreed with Rogue's assessment of the situation. About twenty
feet away from them were six figures in blue jumpsuits, armed with
some wierd kind of blasters. At the head of their group was a tall man
in a purple andd indigo costume. He had a bow. With an arrow nocked.
      "Hello ladies," Hawkeye said. "What brings you to the City?"
      Rogue grimaced in distaste. "Ah knew it," she said under her
breath.
      Sam held her hands up, trying to smile and look unthreatening.
"Sorry," she said. "Did we catch you at a bad time?" Hawkeye didn't
move a muscle. "Don't answer that," Sam said. "Look, we're not here to
cause any trouble. We just want to talk to Thor."
      Hawkeye's eyes narrowed under his mask. "What do you want with
Goldilocks?"
      Sam was about to answer, when Rogue pushed her aside and took a
step toward Hawkeye. Sam noticed the muzzles of the blasters follow
Rogue's every move.
      "Enough 'a this crap, Hawkeye. Ah been on the side 'a angels for
years now. Ah don't deserve or need this. So stow the bow afore I shove
it up yer..."
      Sam grabbed Rogue and pulled her back. "What Rogue means is that
we need some help here. Not accusations or aggression. You are an
Avenger, right? You guys still help people, don't you?"
      Hawkeye looked at them both for a moment, and then lowered his
bow. He signaled for the staff to lower their weapons as well. "Yeah,"
Hawkeye admitted. "You're right." As the support staff broke apart and
went back to whatever tasks Sam and Rogue's arrival took them from,
Hawkeye gestured for the women to follow him.
      "Sorry about the welcome," he said tiredly. "Its just that we've
heard some conflicting reports about the X-Men these days. And Rogue
was never popular around these parts, anyway." He led Sam and Rogue
through a series of passageways, deeper into the Avengers complex.
      "But you say you need help from Thor. I guess it isn't my place
to keep you from him." Hawkeye paused and looked Rogue in the eye. "You
gotta admit, what with Iron Man and Green Lantern flipping out, its
hard to trust anybody these days. Especially somebody like you."
      Sam saw Rogue's expression harden, but the X-Man responded in an
even tone. "Yeah, Ah guess so."
      Hawkeye shrugged, and headed down the passage again. He didn't
say much after that, and after a while, the corridor opened up into the
kitchen.
      Sam's eyes widened, trying to take in the size of the place. The
walls were hidden behind a maze of appliances, counters, and hangers
for various pots, pans, and utensils. The ceiling was easily twenty
feet up, and the sounds of food being prepared and people chattering
back and forth reverberated around the room.
      "Thor and Herc are drinking in the back," Hawkeye explained. "I'm
sure you can find him from here. Good day." With that, he turned and
headed back the way he came.
      "You okay, Rogue?" Sam asked.
      The other woman nodded. "Its about what Ah expected," she said.
But her expression didn't soften.
      They did indeed find Thor and Hercules easily. They just listend
for the sound of singing -- and followed the disjointed sounds to their
point of origin. Sam could almost feel Rogue stiffening up the further
into the room they went. She knew Rogue had fought -- and severly
beaten -- Thor once before, and she could understand Rogue's reluctance
to meet the thundergod. Sam cursed her insensitivity. She should have
realized how difficult this would be for Rogue, and found some other
way to track down Strange.
      But when they stumbled across the two gods in the back of the
room, sitting at a massive oaken table that *must* have been designed
with them in mind, they recieved a welcome they weren't expecting.
      Thor sat on the near side, his winged helmet and hammer beside
him on the table, his scarlet cloak draped across the back of his
chair. A sea of assorted beer cans and bottles flanked him on all
sides, and were piled up on the tabletop. A similar pile of used
alcohol recpticles decorated Herc's side of the table. Hercules was
dressed in a his traditional garb, and was apparently trying to grow
his beard back.
      Both gods looked up as the two women approached, and Sam could
see neither of them evidenced any kind of intoxication. Thor's blue
eyes were still cystal clear, and though Hercules had a dopey grin on
his face, he often wore that expression. Sam wasn't surprised; as an
Immortal herself, transformed by Cygnus into an ever-young superhuman,
she shared the remarkable constitution Thor and Herc possessed. Probably
not the same level, she amended to herself.
      Thor was the first to speak. "Greetings," he boomed, "and well
met. Sam Nelson and Rogue of the X-Men, what brings you to the
Avengers?"
      "Well, actually, we..." Sam started to explain, but Herc cut her
off.
      "Ladies, please, join us. There is plenty of room at our table
for such beautiful creatures." And to punctuate his words, he swept a
few dozen bottles off the table with a casual gesture.
      Rogue opened her mouth, no doubt to say something scathing, but
Sam forestalled her with a raised finger. "We'd love to," she said,
smiling widely. Sam grabbed a seat at the table, and tugged at Rogue's
elbow, urging her to do the same.
      Rogue crossed her arms under her breasts. "Ah'll stand, thank ya
very much."
      "As you will," Thor said, smiling genially. As Hercules handed
Sam a beer, the Norse god turned to her. "How is your friend, Tolken?
Still wrapped in melancholy?"
      Sam took a pull from the bottle, and swallowed without a
grimace. Five years ago -- or eight months real time --  she wouldn't
have been able to do that. But during the interdimensional trek with
Tolken, she had conquered her dislike of beer. She set the bottle on
the table, though, not really interested in drinking this early in the
day. "I really don't know," she answered. "I haven't seen him in a few
weeks."
      Thor shook his head. "My father said Tolken showed some promise.
In truth, his self-centered attitude gave me little reason to endorse
this view. But my father is rarely wrong about these things. I
wonder..."
      Rogue nudged the back of Sam's head. "Ask him," she hissed.
      Thor looked at them quizzically, while Herc, realizing he was
being ignored, cleared his throat. Sam continued to ignore him. She
never much cared for Hercules. "Well, Thor," Sam began, "I have to
admit that this isn't entirely a social visit."
      "Indeed?" the thundergod said, smiling slightly.
      "I hate to do this so soon after the last time," Sam proceeded.
"But I need to ask a favor."
      "Go on," Thor urged.
      "We -- that is, Rogue and I -- need to contact Doctor Strange.
And I was hoping, since you used to be in the Defenders, that you might
know how to get in touch with him."
      Thor stared at Sam and Rogue for a moment, apparently digesting
what Sam said. "Why do you seek the Sorceror Supreme of Earth?"
      Hercules grabbed a pair of bottles and cracked them open with his
thumbs. Then he brought them to his mouth and dumped the contents of
both down his throat. No one noticed.
      Rogue answered before Sam could. "Mah powers have been haywire
ever since... ever since I was a kid. Ah can't control 'em. Professor X
tried to help me, but he couldn't. There's too much static in mah head.
I was hoping Dr. Strange might have a spell or two that could help."
      Thor nodded. "A worthy quest," he said. He scooped up his helmet
and his hammer. "I shall take you to Strange. But be forewarned, the
Stephan Strange you knew before your absence, Samantha, is no more. It
may be that your problem is too little for him to care about. But I
will do what I can to help you."
      Sam grinned at the blond giant. "Thanks Thor. You're a real
stand up guy."
      "Yeah," Rogue agreed slowly. "Thanks."
      Thor's answering grin was lopsided. "I do what I can."

NEXT: Back to Seattle to check on the Kids...and Dick and Piotr have a
chat.
***********************************************************************

Well, for some reason writing this chapter was like pulling teeth. It
took *much* longer than I wanted to.

Rogue, Excaliber, Bullseye, etc. are (C) Marvel Comics

Nightwing is (C) DC Comics

Everything else -- plot and characters, basically -- is mine. I hereby
give permission to transmit this document electronically as long as no
money changes hands and nothing in the document itself is changed.
(C) 1996 James M.G.Cannon

Mail me with comments at: x8cg@music.stlawu.edu

This story(and others) is archived at:
http://www.stlawu.edu/x8cg:http/index.html