Things have been slow for our main character. If you call hanging with the X-Men and finally professing your feelings to Your One True Love slow... but the externals from the first half of our tale have had some trouble. WARNING: This is a long one, folks. We now join our regularly scheduled story, already in progress... THE HAMMER AND THE CROSS Chapter Ten: "Transition Period" by Jim Cannon I sent Tasha and Dani back to the house in Seattle to start rearranging the place for its debut as a "school for the gifted." Hank McCoy, Scott Summers, and Jean graciously volunteered to help Tasha install some of the machinery I would need in the house. A paramount concern would be the construction of a Danger Room, and the integration of Shi'Ar technology with Tolken-Hawthorne designs. Meanwhile, I headed into the City to meet with Hank Pym. Avengers headquarters was in the midst of a major overhaul when I arrived early in the morning. Technical personnel in blue jumpsuits swarmed over the building, both inside and out. Tools, schematics, and equipment were scattered all over the front lawn. No one looked up as I keyed open the front gate with my communicard, and walked into the compound. I was still dressed in some of Rasputin's old clothes, and I looked civilian enough, except for the blue-white warhammer thrust into my belt. Nobody gave me a second glance, though. Hardly anyone gave me a first glance, actually. I just shrugged and made my way up the front steps, through the glass doors and into the lobby. I nearly tripped over a techie installing some kind of security device in the doorframes. He gave me a cross look, and I responded with an insolent grin, flashing my card. In the lobby, I was nearly trampled by two men carrying a metal ladder, almost tripped over another technician who had ripped some floor panels out and was tinkering with something inside, and bumped into a fourth jumpsuited individual, knocking the boxes she was carrying to the floor. I apologized profusely and helped her pick them up. She cursed at me in Spanish. I apologized again, but she stomped off without another word. "Can I help you?" a voice said. I turned around, saying, "You bet you can, pal. I -- " I broke of in mid sentence as I became aware of who I was talking to. He was a tall man, only a bit shorter than I, built like a cross between a boxer and a gymnast. He was garbed in a suit of red, white, and blue chainmail with a big, bright star on his chest and the letter "A" emblazoned on the forehead of his mask. The only thing missing was the shield. "Holy shit!" I exclaimed. "Captain America!" I grabbed his hand and started pumping. "Man, you are like, my hero. I don't believe it. Me, meeting the Captain. I mean, I guessed it would happen sooner or later, and all, but... holy shit!" I repeated. Captain America carefully extricated himself from my grasp. He smiled, but said. "There's no need for profanity, young man. Now, what seems to be the trouble?" "Trouble?" I said, looking around. Had I broken anything? The last thing I wanted to do was look like an asshole in front of Captain America. Belatedly, I realized I had probably accomplished exactly that. "There's no trouble," I said innocently. Cap's eyes narrowed behind the mask. "Then what brings you to the Avengers, son?" I admit it. My mind blanked on me completely. For a second, I thought I was in grade school again, caught misbehaving by Miss Shevlin. Then I remembered my reason for being there. I produced my Avenger's communicard and handed it to Cap. "I'm actually here to follow up on a mission, I said." Cap inspected my card closely, then handed it back to me. "Well, I don't recognize you," he said. "But the card looks legitimate. What are you following up?" "The Wizard/Selene case. I need to find all the mutant children who were kidnapped." Cap's eyes widened. "You're *that* Siphon?" he said. "Hawkeye told me all about that. You did some nice work, son. But the teenagers have all been returned to their homes, as far as I know." I nodded. "Yeah, well, that's the thing, see. I need to get in touch with them at their homes. They're going to need some tutelage in the use of their abilities, and the X-Men are all booked, so..." "So you're taken them in," Cap finished. I nodded. Cap looked me over, seeming to reassess his opinion of me. "Let's go somewhere a little quieter and talk about this," he said. I shrugged. "Sure, Captain. Why not?" He smiled. "Call me Cap," he said. All of a sudden I felt like Rick Jones. This was just *too* cool. *********************************************************************** With the "Joker" menace neatly taken care of, Dick was free to hang around London for a few more days, as his flight back to Gotham wasn't scheduled for another week. And, although he was just in England barely a month ago, the previous trip had been business. He had been looking for Alfred, his best friend, who had left Bruce's employ when Bruce's obsession had become too much for the butler to deal with. This time, Dick Grayson was free to enjoy himself in the United Kingdom's capital. Maybe go see some museums, maybe see a show, or even hit the pubs. Instead of enjoying what London had to offer, though, Dick went back to his hotel and slept. For a long while. A full twenty-four hours later, Dick woke, showered and made a brief phone call. One rental car later, he had left London and was heading north. *********************************************************************** Cap and Hank Pym provided me with a list of names; sixteen teens who were kidnapped by the Wizard, rescued, and brought back to their homes by the Avengers. Now it would be up to me to convince their parents to let me take them from their homes again. This time to train them, to mold them into good little mutants who knew how to control their powers. But I vowed that these kids would not be the next crop of "New Mutants," there would be no "X-Force" in their futures. And I'd be damned if I let themselves call each other "Generation X." I knew Xavier supported me; when he began training the New Mutants, he had similar feelings about them. I also knew Xavier had his doubts about whether I could keep these kids out of trouble. "Danger seems drawn to mutant-kind," he had told me once. Neither Xavier nor Magneto were able to keep the New Mutants safe when danger reared its ugly head. They were two of the most powerful mutants on the planet, and they hadn't been up to the task of training and watching over super-powered teens. If they couldn't do it, how the hell did I expect to? Simple, really. I'd stack the deck in my favor. The more superpowered adults around, I reasoned, the easier it would be to keep them out of harm's way. That's why Tasha and Dani would be invaluable, and I was certain I could convince Teresa to help. Maybe I could place a call to Sam Nelson... hmmm... that might not be a good idea. Our parting had not been very friendly. Who else, then? Nightwing, maybe? He seemed to be out of work since the Titans disbanded. Then again, I might not need much help. Setting up base outside of Seattle rather than outside New York would probably cut down on the amount of super-powered menaces the kids would encounter. Seattle had a small metahuman scene, but not much of one. Still, I thought it prudent to plan for the worst. List in hand, I headed home to Seattle. From there, I would start contacting the families and find out who needed my help. A few hours later, I reached Seattle and the Tolken Ancestral Seat. After so long away from home, it was such a relief to be back, even though I knew it was only temporary. As it was late, I slipped inside as quietly as possible. I took a look around the house; McCoy was sprawled out on the couch in the living room, the Late Show blaring from the big screen TV while the Beast sawed logs. Blueprints and technical readouts were scattered all over the room. When I flicked off the television, McCoy grunted and rolled over. The rest of the house seemed still and quiet; the others must have retired to the guest rooms. Just as well. I was headed for bed in a little bit myself. But first I needed some food. I found the kitchen better stocked than it was when I left for Brazil, and surmised someone had been shopping. I found some cold pasta and a spoon and started wolfing it down. Halfway through the meal, I heard soft footsteps behind me, and turned to see Jean in the kitchen doorway, hair tousled, clad in a short nightgown. My heart skipped a beat, and I had to remind myself twice that, not only was Jean married, but I was involved as well. On the second reminder, I recalled just *who* I was involved with, and I was fine after that. "I thought I sensed someone else here," Jean said sleepily. She padded over to the refridgerator and dragged out a bottle of water. "When did you get back?" "Just now," I whispered back at her. It was a totally illogical thing to do; the house was so large that any sounds we might generate in the kitchen would never reach anyone who was asleep. "Did you get what you needed from," she stifled a yawn, "the Avengers?" I nodded. "Yep. I even met Captain America." I paused for a moment. "He's shorter than he looks on TV." Jean giggled. "You're only saying that because you're as tall as Thor." "No, no. Actually, Thor is a bit short, too." She shook her head and took a healthy swig of water. "Good night, Gerry," she said, departing. I went back to my late dinner, and then headed upstairs to my room. I pealed off my borrowed clothes in the darkness, and tossed my hammer onto a heavily cushioned chair. Without turning on the light, I slid into bed. And found a warm body, waiting for me. Tasha rolled over, into my arms. "'bout time you got back," she said, kissing me on the chin. "If I had known you'd be up waiting for me, I wouldn't have taken my time," I said. After that, we didn't talk much. That first week passed rather quickly. Scott, Jean, and I worked on excavating beneath the house so that Hank could install a Danger Room and other mutant necessities, while Hank and Tasha went to work on designing and transporting the technical equipment we would need. Dani, for her part, began opening up some of the closed off areas of the house, areas that would become dormitories. She also drew on past experiance as a student at Xavier's to renovate the rec room, the pantry, and kitchen. With up to sixteen teenagers on the way, we needed to prepare not only for their superhuman needs, but their mundane ones as well. In the interim, I placed calls to all of the families I could reach via telephone, explaining who I was, and how I hoped to help their mutant children. I learned that most of them had been experiencing difficulty adjusting to their mutant powers, and several parents were interested in the "school" I was forming, especially when I told them cost would be negligible. Again, with Dani's help, I looked into hiring teachers and instructors who wouldn't be afraid to teach mutant students -- especially when those students are just beginning to learn how to cope with their abilities. Living in Seattle, I encountered much less resistance to the idea than I expected. I guess the Left Coast really is less uptight about mutantkind. I worked at a furious pace, one that no one else could hope to imitate. My superhuman endurance allowed me to work for days at a time without rest, though I tried to keep the noise level down for those who still needed to sleep. By week's end, things were progressing nicely. Hank and Tasha were able to begin installation of the technical components of the school, Dani was interviewing prospective instructors, and both Teresa and her sister were on their way west to Seattle. I slept for a day or two, recovering from a long week of almost constant activity, and then prepared to leave, to meet with the externals and their families. I knew that _this_ would be the difficult part of the operation.... ************************************************************************ Chris sat in the center of his room, staring off into space, trying to find some rhyme or reason in the changes that had come over his life in the past week. He had slowly come to grips with the fact that his body had transformed into a seven foot, bat-winged, blue-gray gargoyle. Yes, he now knew he was not human. He was something else -- a mutant, a freak. *Fine*, Chris thought. *I can deal with this*. The problem, of course, was whether the rest of the planet could deal with it. Already, Chris had dealt with prejudice from his own family; his younger siblings, including his favorite sister Kathy, were scared to death of his monstrous visage. His oldest brother Jack was acting like Chris was dead -- he ignored every word Chris said, and brushed him aside in the hallway. Only his mother seemed to accept him, to love him still. But he could still see the fear in her eyes, could feel her tense up when she gave him a hug. His girlfriend refused to take his calls, ever since he had appeared outside her second-story window a week beforehand. He was trying out his wings, and thought Erin might want to see him, might accept what he had become. In retrospect, it was a pretty dumb thing to do. If his own blood was afraid of him, how could he expect Erin to? Or anyone else in town, for that matter? He knew what was going on. Jack and his mother thought he didn't know, thought he couldn't hear them talking downstairs. But his new ears were good for some things, and they heard his mother conversing in low tones about their neighbors, the school board, Reverand Lovejoy, and the others. The town of Springfield was afraid of Christopher Parker, afraid of the teenaged gargoyle. The slow anger was building in him, boiling away his own confusion and terror. If something didn't happen soon, he might do something the entire town would forget. Thankfully, something did happen. A man appeared at the doorstep that very morning, and was talking to Mother, Jack, Deidre, and Colleen. Chris hid in his room, afraid it was some representative of the government or that mutant hunting group, X-Factor. He was too nervous to even eavesdrop. When he heard the soft knock at his door, he jumped. "Who is it?" he said. His voice was deeper, and sounded like a gravel road pockmarked with pot-holes. It fit his new body perfectly. Deidre opened the door and stuck her head in, not quite looking at him. "Mom wants to see you downstairs," she said, and darted back out into the hall. Chris sat there, unconsciously flexing his huge, leathery wings. He let out a huge breath. *This is it*, he thought. *What are you going to do, Chris? Go downstairs and meet your fate, maybe end up in a concentration camp, or take off. Open the window, spread your new wings, and fly away, never to return?* Minutes ticked by, as the gargoyle sat motionless. And then, his heart heavy, he stood up, opened the door, and padded downstairs. He found them all in the living room. His brother and sisters were seated on the couch, looking like that was the last place they wanted to be. His mother sat in the large chair by the fireplace, a cup of tea softly rattling in her hand. The man stood up as Chris stepped into the room. He was big and broadly built, only a little bit shorter than Chris, but built more heavily. He was dressed casually in jeans and a dark, wine colored sweater. His long blond hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and his green eyes, to Chris's surprise, were filled with good humor. The man held out his hand, and Chris took it automatically. The man didn't flinch as he and Chris shook. "Hello Chris," he said. "My name's Gerard Tolken. It's a pleasure to finally meet you." Chris just stared at him, his mouth hanging open. Was this guy for real? *He should be running and screaming by now*, Chris thought. "You're not from the government," Chris said. Gerard Tolken shook his head, smiling warmly. "No, I'm not. I admit, I am affiliated with the Avengers, and thus the United Nations, but I'm not with the United States government." Tolken gestured at an empty chair. "Please, sit down." Still slightly stunned at the man's easy manner, Chris took a seat. Tolken sat down too, and picked up a cup of tea, sipping a bit before speaking again. "Chris, I know what you've been through the past few weeks. I went after the Wizard, and I was his prisoner as well. I know what happened." Sudden relief flooded through Chris. "You were there?" he said. Tolken nodded. "Not only that, but I've been where you are now. When I was thirteen, my mutant genes activated, and I began to change." Tolken grinned. "I used to be a scrawny, short kid. I became this," he said, gesturing expansively. "But I wasn't alone. Someone helped me cope with my new abilities. "And I'd like to do the same for you." Suddenly, Chris felt hope for the first time in a long time. Lissa sat cross-legged on the beach, the broken fragments of her favorite board littering the wet sand around her. The waves washed up and over her shins. The tide was rising, the waves were building, and she was stuck on the beach. Just because she disintegrated her surfboard with a touch. She swept back her long, straight black hair, and struggled not to cry in frustration. Crying would make her nose throb where the silver ring pierced it. Crying was useless, anyway. It proved nothing except that you were weak. Lissa was anything but weak. Even after the experiences of the last few days, when she started to glow uncontrollably and to generate beams of light from her hands and eyes. Just because she wanted to cry didn't mean it was okay to do so. She noticed someone walking along the beach toward her. She snapped her shades out and slipped them on, brushing fragments of fibreglass off her lap as she did so. The man approaching looked like a typical beach bum -- tan, muscular, and blond. But he was no one Lissa knew. Not a regular. And he wasn't dressed for the beach, either. He was uncomfortably clad in jeans and a dark sweater. Weird. When it became obvious the man was heading straight for her, she stood up. She wished she had some control over her ability; with her luck, she would be needing them in a moment. But no matter how hard she tried, nothing happened. She didn't glow at all. *Great*, she thought. *I can destroy my board without even trying, but when some asshole wants to jump me -- nothing.* The man stopped about twenty feet away from her. He looked young, not much older than Lissa herself, but his eyes told her he was very old indeed. "Are you Alissandra Makoa?" he asked. Lissa wished she could zap him. "Who wants to know?" she said, taking a step backwards. After being kidnapped by those wierd guys in armor, Lissa was understandably wary of strangers. The man smiled, probably trying to put her at ease. Wasn't gonna work. "My name is Gerard Tolken," he said. "I'm with the Avengers. And I'd like to help you." Behind her rounded sunglasses, Lissa's eyes narrowed. "Talk to me," she said. After that first night, when Louise had unconsciously blasted apart her room, her powers had been dormant. Her father was deathly worried about what could happen if anyone outside the family found out. Her mother, bless her, had been nothing but supportive. Janey, her youngest sister, was running around the house, pretending that Louise was some sort of superhero. Everyone in the house knew about it -- how could they not? -- but Father had decreed that no one else should know. Even his own parents were in the dark. And Janey was well aware of the penalties should she blabber about Louise to her schoolmates. So, it was with mixtured surprise and relief that Armand Miyamoto greeted the initial contact with Gerard Tolken; the man had called the family at first, made clear his concerns and intentions, and requested an interview. Armand acquiesced. And now Louise and her family sat in the dining room, feeding Mr. Tolken while the large Avenger outlined his plan to Louise's parents. Her mother showed some concern -- Seattle was a long way away from Poughkeepsie, New York. Conversely, her father was in a good mood. The prospect of sending his eldest child away for an undetermined amount of time seemed to make him happy. *Anything to preserve the family image, eh Dad?* she thought bitterly, as she pushed her food around on her plate. Never mind the fact that all her friends were here, she still had two years left to high school, and she had a boyfriend. Of course, Daddy didn't approve of Anthony, but that wasn't a factor in the decision at all, was it? At first she had been so happy to be back home with her family, but her father hadn't changed a bit in her brief, traumatic absence. He was still as manipulative and image-conscious as ever. By the end of the meal, her father had all but packed her bags. Apparently she was heading for Seattle. Just as well. The way she felt, she couldn't stay in the house for much longer anyway. Mike was out in the Waste when he found out some white guy was looking for him. It was his seventh day back on the Res, his seventh day with superhuman strength. Little Mikey Hawkins had always been a weakling, tall, rapier thin, built like a twig. But the events of the past two weeks had changed that. His body was growing, expanding, broadening. No longer was he a ninety pound weakling. In the course of a single week he was up to 210 lbs, with muscles like corded steel. The only consequence he had seen so far was that his eyes had grown seriously sensitive to light, to the point where he had to wear sunglasses pretty much at all times. And then there was the fact that things seemed to break real easily around him. But Mike figured that would pass as he got accustomed to his abilities. After all, Spider-Man didn't destroy everything he touched. At least, Mike didn't think so. Mike was shattering boulders with his bare hands, late in the afternoon, out in the barren stretch of the desert everybody called the Waste. Almost nothing lived out there, not even cacti, so Mike thought it was a good spot to practice. When he saw a dust cloud on the horizon, he dropped the boulder he was holding, fixed the stetson on his head and hopped on his bike to see what was going on. Soon enough, he came across Jonny No-Nose in his range rover. Jonny looked grim, and his expression was only heightened by the scar tissue decorating his weathered face whwere his nose used to be. Jonny leaned out the window of his truck. "There's some big white fella over at Ida's. Sez he's lookin' fer you." Mike nodded. "And why the hell did you come out all this way to tell me that, No-Nose?" The old man grinned. " 'Cuz there's a pool startin' on you two. I figure what with everything that's happened, you can take even this guy." Mike nodded. "Sounds like something y'all'd do," he said. Small wonder. News of his dramatic transformation had spread pretty quickly, even through the wide open spaces of the Res. Not much happens of note in the desert, leastways not much that engenders hope, and news of the Hawkins boy was well recieved. "Gonna have ourselves a genuine Indian superhero," an old man had told Mike not long ago. *Fat chance of that* Mike thought. On the other hand, if he could make some money using his powers, he might be able to bring his family above the poverty line. As it was, they were so far down below the line that the government didn't even know they existed. It wasn't that everyone on the Res was poor -- Ida made a pretty penny running her diner, No-Nose was a notorious gambler, and Mad Manny Rawlins ran a decent garage. But most people were stuck like Mike's was. The area's economy was seriously depressed. And a local superhero might bring some money into the area. Mike planned on playing along for a bit, but he eventually would make enough money to get he and his family the hell off this dead stretch of land -- no matter how tied to it his ancestors may have been. Mike didn't care. He was getting out of here as soon as possible. As No-Nose turned his rover around and headed back to town, Mike aimed his bike in the same direction. A half-hour later, Mike screeched to a halt outside of Ida's diner. He stepped into the establishment, noticing that it was awfully crowded for this time of day, and ambled across the linoleum floor to the red-seated booth where the white man sat. He was a big guy, probably strong too, with long blond hair and green eyes. He was tanned and healthy looking, but his face showed none of the stresses of heavy outdoor life. Not a local boy then. Maybe somebody from back East, somebody soft who went to tanning salons or somesuch nonsense. Mike took the seat opposite the man without saying a word. They looked at each other a moment, the glow from the setting sun casting dark shadows across the table through the big picture window. The man picked up his mug of coffee and took a sip. Mike, impatient, finally broke the silence. "I heard you were looking for me." It was a ridiculously melodramatic thing to say, something out of the pictures, but Mike felt like being melodramatic. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jonny No-nose lounging against the range-rover outside. Other upstanding members of the community were filtering out into the street. Come to watch the show. The man nodded, and, strangely enough, offered his hand. "My name is Gerard Tolken." Mike just looked at the hand. After a moment, the man dropped it with a grimace. "Despite what everyone around here seems to think, I'm not here to fight you. I'm not here from the government, and I'm not here to make you do anything you don't want to." Mike looked at him a moment, aware of the tension in the now crowded diner. The people in the building, and outside as well, were expecting a fight. Of course, Mike didn't owe any of them a damn thing. "Then what do you want?" he said, in as menacing a tone as he could muster. "You know about the others, right? The others that the Wizard kidnapped?" Mike nodded, as a pit of worry opened in his gut. How did this guy know about...wait. "You were there," Mike said suddenly, not meaning to speak aloud. Tolken looked at Mike sharply. "How do you know that?" "I don't know. I just do..." Mike trailed off. Tolken looked at him strangely. "I was there," he said. "I went to try to rescue a friend. I found out the Wizard had kidnapped more than one child, and then I was a prisoner. But my allies escaped, and we won the day, and you made it home." Mike just stared at him, unable to say a word, unable to explain how frightened he was, or why. "But now your powers are activating, and some of them may be more than you can handle. I'm starting a school to help you and the others acclimate yourselves to the new world you're going to be thrust into. How to act, how to react, and how to master your powers." "What if...what if I don't want to go?" Tolken shrugged. "If that's the case, then I leave you to your own devices, and I never come back." Mike nodded. "But remember: if the Wizard could find you, others will be able to as well. My people and I can show you how to defend yourself against mutant hunters, supervillains, and the like. I can't make you accept my help, but I think you could only benefit from it." Mike stared at him a moment, as the fear in his stomach subsided, to be replaced by a new feeling. Something inside him told Mike to go with this man, to learn what he could from him. There was something he had to do... and somehow, this Gerard Tolken was a part of it. Had he been gifted with some kind of clairvoyance as well as strength? Only one way to find out, it seemed. Mike held out his hand, and Tolken took it. "You're not going to regret this," Tolken said, smiling. *I probably will*, Mike thought. *But at least I'll be off the Res*. *********************************************************************** Margeret Halloran was in the kitchen of her small flat in Glasgow when she heard the doorbell ring. Her hands were busy preparing a roast for dinner, so she called to her daughter to answer the door. "Des, would you get that, dear?" It was so good to have her back. After two weeks of constant worry, those American heroes the Avengers had returned her baby girl. Desdemona was safe and sound in her home now, thanks to the efforts of Maggie's good friend Dick Grayson. And Dick's friend Nightwing. Maggie set the roast in the oven and went to meet her guest. Des was just letting him in -- when Maggie saw him, she ran forward and enveloped him in a tight embrace. "Dick! I couldn't believe it when you called -- I'm so happy you could make it." Dick extricated himself from Maggie's embrace and looked at her. The buxom red-headed woman seemed to be doing well; motherhood suited her well. And her daughter Des was seemed to be a petite double of her mother save for the dark curls that framed her pale face. On the faces of both women, bright blue eyes sparkled with humor. "Well, I was in the neighborhood, so I thought I'd drop by," Dick said. "How very droll, Mr. Grayson," Maggie observed. "But do come in, come in." She waved Dick into the flat, and Des showed him into the TV room. "I'll be right with you, sir, but first I need to check on dinner." Dick grabbed a seat and plopped down into it. "How was the trip here, Mr. Grayson?" Des asked. Dick shook his head. "I'm not used to driving in the UK. And the cars are so small...I barely fit in it. But please, all my friends call me Dick." Des grinned. "No one ever makes fun of you?" she asked. "About what?" Dick asked with an innocent expression. She giggled, and then Maggie swished into the room, and it was time for Dick and Maggie to catch up on things. They had first met in Gotham, five years ago when both of them were attending Gotham University. Back then Desdemona's father had custody, and Maggie was visiting the states, furthering her education. While in Gotham, Maggie became involved with a man who turned out to be the Riddler, and only the timely intervention of Batman and Robin had saved her from almost certain death. After that, Dick Grayson, ward of Gotham's wealthiest citizen Bruce Wayne, had taken it upon himself to look out for her and show her the city. He was doing it, he said grandiosely, because the masked hero Robin had asked him expressly to do so. Maggie could hardly refuse the charming young man, and, though there was a decade between them, their relationship was leaning towards the romantic side. However, fate intervened, as Desdemona's father was killed in a car crash. Maggie returned to Scotland to take care of her daughter. Meanwhile Dick had moved to New York, and the vigilante known as Robin metamorphosed into Nightwing. So much of his life in recent years had involved metahumans or spandex in one form or another, that he was hard pressed to come up with convincing lies to tell his old friend. So he mixed in a little truth as well, and by the time dinner was done and the three of them relaxed in front of the telly, both Maggie and Des knew about Dick's failed attempt at marriage -- though they didn't know Kory was an alien -- and that he was back in Gotham City now, this time to stay. At last, Dick stood up. "Well, I have enjoyed this immensely, but it's getting late, and I should go." "Richard Grayson, you'll do no such thing. I'll not let you stay at some hotel, not when we have plenty of room here," Maggie said indignantly. Dick grinned. "Fine, Mags. I know better than to argue with you." Des laughed at that. "Well, I'll just go out and get my stuff," Dick said. Des jumped up. "I'll lend you a hand, Dick." Dick had collapsed into the spare bed and fallen asleep almost instantly. Dreams of golden skinned women and huge, bat winged forms danced in his head. And then came the explosion. Dick snapped awake and rolled out of bed, instantly awake. A second heavy boom reverberated throughout the flat. Dick pulled on his pants and ran out the door, into the hallway. Maggie was just leaving her room, wrapping a housecoat about her. "That came from Des' room!" she said, the fear making her voice rise in pitch. Dick literally bounced down the stairs, and Maggie wasn't far behind. Dick bounded through the living room and through what was left of the kitchen. There was a gaping hole where the back wall used to be. Dick ignored it and stepped over the rubble into Des' room. He found the girl under the mattress, unharmed, but shuddering with tears. Dick handed the girl over to her mother, and then leapt over the rubble back into the kitchen. The wreckage hadn't been caused by any explosion, Dick knew that at a glance. Something had knocked down the walls. Dick looked around, and saw a massive round footprint imbedded in the stove just as he heard a trumpeting cry outside. Dick leapt into the backyard, expecting -- however unlikely it might be -- to see a rampaging elephant tearing through the nearby flats. What he saw was a wooly mammoth; a massive, hairy beast that was much larger than any elephant Dick had ever seen. He stood there for a heartbeat, watching as the animal tore down another wall and stormed into another yard, clotheslines trailing across its legs. Dick thought about going after it, but since nobody appeared to be hurt, and he didn't want to jeopardize his secret identity, he ran back into the house, and grabbed the telephone. Nightcrawler had given him a number, in case any more Grendels popped up. Dick figured this was as much of an emergency. Plus, he would need the help of some mutants if Desdemona's powers were activating. *********************************************************************** In Seattle, the day came early, and Sam Nelson rose with the dawn to start hussling. She had been back in town for two weeks now after an eight month sabbatical, and when she returned, she discovered that both her apartment and her job were gone. The apartment problem she had quickly fixed, and thanks to her friend Debbie, Sam was able to reclaim most of her stuff. But she still needed a job. Unfortunately, there weren't too many jobs for a geologist who had a tendency to disappear for months at a time with little or no word. She tried to explain said disappearance, but found it difficult to make it believable. Somewhere around yesterday, she decided she just didn't give a damn anymore. The next person who asked where she'd been was getting the truth. "Well, I spent the last eight months traversing space and time with an arrogant boy playacting as a superhero. Only, I didn't know it was only eight months. I thought it was five years -- imagine my surprise and relief that it wasn't even half that long. Still, my life is in the tubes and I *need* a job. I don't even care what it is. The gold trinkets I smuggled from Dimension X are only going to last *so* long. I need a steady income." *Imagine the response that will garner*, Sam thought as she pulled on her running shoes. She didn't really need to keep in shape -- Cygnus's tampering with her genetic code saw to that -- but she liked to keep up the illusion anyway. Besides, she really enjoyed these early morning runs. Helped her get her head together. Yessir, better than a hot shower and a cup of coffee. She started out nice and slow, pacing herself, but when she got down to the Sound, she picked up the speed. Racing along the waterline, she started thinking about magik, and all that had changed during her absence. Stephan Strange, the Sorceror Supreme of Earth's dimension, was apparently gone, his role usurped by some youngster. Meanwhile, the wizard Albanus Alebane had taken the opportunity of Strange's disappearance to consolidate his own powerbase, both in the world of high finance and the world of magik. As for Sam, while she did not plan on taking up the mantle of her alter ego ever again, she did know that, with the end of Stephan Strange's reign as Sorceror Supreme, she was perhaps the most powerful magik user left on the planet. Although she had to admit that she was still unsure about the Alebane's strength. And she didn't plan on ever finding out. She had enough problems of her own to deal with. like finding a job...maybe it was time to leave Seattle, find greener pastures. Yeah, maybe. It probably would be smarter to simply start over in a new city, rather than trying to start over in an old one. Certainly something to consider. Suddenly, Samantha skidded to a halt. There was a woman up ahead, leaning on the railing and staring into the Sound, her long auburn hair blowing in the breeze. Sam thought she looked familer, and then she saw the X patch on the woman's jacket, and the streak of white in her hair. Sam looked around. There didn't appear to be anyone nearby. "Hey Rogue!" Sam called. The woman spun around tensing, apparently expecting an attack of some sort. Sam pulled her earphones off and held her hands up, palms outward. "Hey, I'm one of the good guys, Rogue," she said, stepping forward. "Do ah know you?" the green eyed woman said, still prepared for trickery. "We met briefly about eight months ago," Sam said. "I was a friend of Gerard Tolken's." Rogue searched Sam's face for a moment, and then sudden recognition spead across her face. "You're Mage, aren't you? Ah didn't recognize you with your hair cut so short." Sam brushed a loose ebon curl out her eyes. "I'm not calling myself that anymore. Its just Sam these days." Sam instinctively stuck out her hand. Rogue hesitated for a brief moment, but shook. "Pleased ta meetcha again, Sam." "You too, Rogue. What brings you to Seattle? I thought you X-folks mainly stuck around New York." The beautiful mutant's face clouded. "It's a long story, Sam." Sam shrugged. "I don't have any plans for today. Wanna get a cup of coffee and talk about it?" Rogue thought about it for a moment, and then surprised herself by nodding. "Yeah, sure. Ah think Ah'd like that." Three hours later, Sam had a better understanding of Rogue and her troubles. Remy Lebeau sounded like a major asshole, worse even than Tolken. And the fact that Rogue simply *could not* touch anyone was depressing. Sam had never been a very tactile person, but still -- Rogue couldn't even shake hands without wearing gloves. As for Rogue, she found that she liked Samantha. The mage had a sharp sense of humor, a keen intelligence, and a generous nature. She listened to Rogue bitching about Remy without interrupting, offering her own comments only when Rogue was finished. "So what are you going to do now?" Sam asked, sipping espresso. "Ah don't really know just yet," Rogue said, shaking her head. "Ah want so much to go back to the X-men, but Ah don't know if I can put up with Remy any longer." The two women were silent for a moment, and then Sam had a sudden thought. "Rogue, you said you've tried everything you could think of to take control of your powers." Rogue nodded. "Everything 'cept gettin' rid of 'em." Sam took a deep breath. "Have you ever thought about trying magik?" Rogue blinked, looking like someone had slapped her across the face. She leaned forward across the table. "What do ya mean?" she said in a breathless voice. Sam smiled. "It's like this...," she began. *********************************************************************** Another week on the road, and I had my students. As many as were interested in the training I had to offer, anyway. From New York State came Chris Parker of Springfield, transformed by the x-factor in a massive, gargoyle-like creature, and Louise Miyamoto of Poughkeepsie, gifted with powers of vibration. Allissandra Makoa was a full-blood Native Hawaiian and surfer who manipulated light energy, not unlike Teresa's kid sister Stephanie Ilyich of Atlanta, Georgia. Two students came from Bedlam, Arizona. Simon Vulcan was a pyrokinetic, while Sandra Morris was apparently a powerful telekinetic. From Four Corners country in Arizona came Michael Hawkins. Hawkins possessed superhuman strength, nightvision, and apparently some kind of sixth sense. At thirteen, Dana Davies was the youngest. She hailed from Aurora, Illinois and could apparently manipulate cold, much like Bobby Drake. William Clark was a metamorph from Chicago proper, a boy who was having a little trouble maintaining his natural shape. He would be a challenge. Liberty Holmes is the granddaughter of two costumed heroes who fought in World War II -- the Patriot and Bombshell. She has psychokinetic powers that create a bio-shield around her and give her superhuman physical abilities. Libby would be one to watch; she might be inclined towards trouble due to her upbringing. Having more than one hero in the family was a dangerous prospect. Jordan Ransome of Miami had contracted some strange kind of albinism. Since returning home from the kidnapping, his skin had turned as white as snow, and his hair to platinum. Conversely, his irises had turned black. He now had the ability to conjure up a suit of armor and accompanying sword, all composed of some shining black substance. Both Michelle Faust and Josephine Cassel imprinted on animals. For Josephine, it was the tiger. She could transform into a large, blue tiger or tigerish humanoid. As a side-effect, her hair and eyes had changed to a bright cerulean shade. Faust connected with the shark, and was growing webbed hands and feet, gills, and sharp teeth. Out of sixteen, I had a baker's dozen. Two children I knew of had disappeared, presumed runaways. I had a private detective friend looking into their whereabouts. As for the sixteenth, she lived in Scotland, and trans-Atlantic communications were down as the Fantastic Four and Alpha Flight fought some Atlantean menace that was generating huge amounts of electromagnetism into the air, tyhat was even fouling with satellite communications. Man, I hate it when that happens. When things cleared up, I was going to get in touch with the Halloran clan, but until then, the girl was on her own. I hoped she'd be alright. I couldn't help but notice that, out of the thirteen kids whose powers I was aware of, all of them possessed psychokinetic powers. That is, they were "loud" abilities that could create external, obvious changes like shattering rock, or setting fire to the drapes with a thought. I wondered if the trauma they all suffered might have something to do with the manifestations their powers took, or if they were just the first to be noticed because of their "loud" abilities. There were still sixteen mutants out there somewhere, those who had failed Xian's external test, who would no doubt be experiencing the awakening of their powers in the future. Or were the already? Were those sixteen the bearers of "quiet" powers like telepathy and healing factors? I didn't know, but I had a feeling I would be finding out soon enough. *********************************************************************** Tasha and I returned from the airport, having just picked up Teresa, Steph, and Jordan while at the same time dropping off Jean and Scott. McCoy had volunteered to stay on a few more days before getting back to Salem Center. While Tasha showed Steph and Jordan to their rooms, introducing them to Chris, Louise, Lissa, and Mike along the way, Teresa and I carried all the luggage in. I was carting the last of Jordan's heavy cases up the front steps when a taxi pealed onto the drive, screeching to a halt next to Tasha's van. A nondescript brownhaired man hopped out of the backseat and paid the driver. The taxi pealed away, and the man turned to me with a big grin on his face. He shouldered a blue rucksack and stepped towards me. "Howdy Siphon," he said. "How are things going?" "Who the hell are you?" I said evenly, holding the two hundred pound trunk one handed. The man held up his hands. "Hey, no need to get upset. Look, you don't recognize me?" I shook my head in exasperation. "Get to the point," I said. The man grinned. "My name is Burt Dexter. But you know me better as the Taskmaster." I almost dropped the trunk. "What are you doing here?" Taskmaster -- Dexter -- sighed. "Its a long story. Suffice to say that the Abomination has got me blacklisted in the mercenary community. Nobody will hire a turncoat." "That fails to explain why you're here," I told him. "Oh, don't you understand? I need a job." I stared at him for a long while. Then I said, "Come in. We'll talk." Dexter chuckled. "Thats all I'm asking, Siphon." "Uh-huh," I said. "First things first: the name's Tolken, not Siphon." Dexter nodded, and we went into the house to discuss business. THE END of the HAMMER AND THE CROSS Tolken and the Externals will return in THE CHAOS FACTOR coming soon *********************************************************************** Yep, this installment draws to a close the first of (hopefully) several Tolken stories. I planned to keep this one running for a while, but other demands have forced me to wrap it up here, and carry over the sub-plots into the next story. Think of it as a limited series, if you will. Okay, fine, don't. Be that way. Seriously folks, thanks to everybody who wrote in and told me you liked the story. It made me want to keep writing. And special thanks to Hawk for saving space on her page for my ramblings. Legal stuff: Nightwing is (C) DC Comics Rogue, Nightcrawler, the X-Men, and related characters are (C) Marvel Comics. None are used with permission. Everything else is mine. (C) James M.G. Cannon Questions, suggestions, slams, spams, praise, and complaints should all be directed to me at: X8CG@MUSIC.STLAWU.EDU Thanks y'all. Its been a fun ride.