Date: Wed, 25 Aug 93 07:21:02 -0600 From: Dan Adams Welcome to "New Mutants vs. X-Force: Brothers in Arms," a story written by Jeremy Bottroff and edited by Joel Ellis Rea. This story takes place in the Marvel Comics Group's mainline "Marvel Universe," approximately a year or so after the events in the Marvel mutant-oriented comics which were shipped in October of 1991, namely, X-Force #4, Uncanny X-Men #283, X-Men #3, X-Factor #73, and eXcalibur #45 -- in other words, shortly after the "Mutant Genesis" storylines. In that intervening time, several characters, including some currently believed to be dead (three of whom really WERE dead), who were former members of either (or both) the New Mutants and the Hellions, have through a chain of events (the details of which are not important to this story) banded together in an attempt to live a normal life and attend school together at the University of California San Diego. Unfortunately, a certain someone else has other plans... This story is written assuming only a basic knowledge of the Marvel Comics universe, and the mutants in particular. You don't need to be a Marvel Zombie to enjoy this story. Some of the readers who have enjoyed it have never even read a Marvel comic book. Everything you need to know is explained in the course of the story itself. This story, and the characters and many elements therein, are copyrighted and/or trademarked property of various individuals and companies. This file includes a complete list of who and what belongs to whom. This story is NOT Public-Domain, though it is freely distributable. All copyrights and trademarks remain fully in force. This story may NOT be distributed, in whole or in part, in any way or form whatsoever: neither on disk as seperate files, nor on disk as a combined archive, nor in printout, nor on tape, nor uploaded to any BBS or time-sharing service (either as seperate files or complete archive), nor in any other form, without this accompanying file and its COMPLETE contents. Any such distribution without this file and its contents, constitutes a violation of U.S. and international copyright law. Any distribution of this story or this accompanying file, in whole or in part, that has been modified in any way (except in basic formatting to facilitate a specific mode of distribution), also constitutes a violation of U.S. and international copyright law. This story may NOT be published in any magazine, fanzine, newsletter, or any other publication, in whole or in part, even with these credits, without the prior written permission of the author, Jeremy Bottroff. [Mr. Bottroff may be contacted via the GEnie time-sharing service under the GEmail ID "J.BOTTROFF2", or through the comics fanzine/newsletter "Comic Book Crossroads," edited by Michael nORTOn -- 300 Indian Creek Drive -- Levittown, PA 19057.] changed by LNK 11/10/97: Mr. Bottroff may now be reached at his new email address "Kyototh@aol.com". Neither Jeremy Bottroff, Joel Ellis Rea, General Electric, GEIS, GEnie, the GEnie Comic Book RoundTable (CRT), nor its SYSOPs, nor Online America (formerly Quantum Computer Services), QuantumLink, the Q-Link Just for Fun deptartment, its Arts and Entertainment division, the Fiction and Fantasy Club thereof, the Comic Book Corner comics SIG, nor its SYSOPs nor SIGOPS, nor the CBC's fanzine/newsletter Comic Book Crossroads, nor its editor Michael Norton, nor anyone else legitimately involved however directly or peripherally with this story or its legitimate distribution, make any attempt to infringe on any of the trademarks and copyrights involved as described in the credits below, or any other trademarks or copyrights which may have been omitted (and if so, were omitted unintentionally), and are not responsible for any infringement, intentional or otherwise, perpetrated by others who distribute or otherwise use this story illegitimately. And now, the credits: =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- This story, "Brothers in Arms," (c) 1991 Jeremy Bottroff. Tabitha ? (Boom-Boom), Brightwind, Nathan Winters (Cable), Samuel Guthrie (Cannonball), Captain America, Sharon Smith (Catseye), Lila Cheney, Douglas Ramsey (Cypher), Domino, Feral, Forge, Juggernaut, Longshot, Amara Aquila (Magma), Magneto, Danielle Moonstar (Mirage), Mojo, Rachel Summers (Phoenix), Philip Ramsey, Sheila Ramsey, Rictor, Jennifer Stavros (Roulette), Katherine Pryde (Shadowcat), Shatterstar, Roberto DaCosta (Sunspot), Marie-Ange Colbert (Tarot), James Proudstar (Thunderbird/Warpath), Warlock, Emma Frost (White Queen), Rahne Sinclair (Wolfsbane), Wolverine, Professor Charles Xavier, Excalibur, Hellfire Club, Hellions, Morlocks, Mutant Liberation Front, New Mutants, Reavers, Sentinels, Wild Pack, X-Factor, X-Force, X-Men, X-Termin- ators, Massachusetts Academy, and Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, the names, characters, locations, and distinctive likenesses thereof, are regis- tered trademarks and/or (c) 1991 Marvel Entertainment Group. The names Aaron McAudry, Ricardo Torres, Dominique Lindsey, Catherine Nystrom (Canys), Charlene Washington (Desyre), Phyllis Nystrom (Felys), Dwayne Wash- ington (Robotyx), Rubicon, Jose Santiago (Tremyr) and Yvette Colbert (Wyldcard) are not (c) or (tm) by Marvel, but they might as well be... The McAudry family: Michael (Papa Mike), Helen, Matthew, Jesse, Brian, Brynn and Lon, are (c) and (tm) 1991 by Jeremy Bottroff. "Magician Lord" (c) and (tm) 1990 SNK Corporation. The Yellow Brick Road, University Towne Center and UCSD's Revelle College are real places in La Jolla, California (visit them all!). Harris Finkelstein and MC Hammer are their own bloody copyrights and trade- marks. "Star Trek" is perpetually (r) and (c) Paramount. "Aliens" (r) and (c) 1987 20th Century Fox. The POST sequence in chapter two was written by Joel Ellis Rea. Thanks, CJ! The Rider/Waite Tarot, created by Arthur Edward Waite and Pamela Colman Smith, has most recently been published by Carol Publishing Group, Secaucus, NJ (orig- inally published circa 1910 by William Rider & Son, Ltd.). The Elemental Tarot, created by Caroline Smith and John Astrop, is published by Dolphin/Doubleday, New York/London/Toronto/Sydney, (c) 1988. Daughters of the Moon Tarot, created by Ffiona Morgan and artists too numerous to mention (adapted from A Matriarchal Tarot by Ffiona Morgan and Shekhinah Mountainwater), is published by Daughters of the Moon, Willits, CA. The Enchanted Tarot, created by Amy Zerner and Monte Farber, is published by St. Martin's Press, New York, NY The Crowley/Thoth Tarot, created by Aleister Crowley, has most recently been published by U.S. Games Systems, Inc. Stanford, CT and Samuel Weiser, Inc. York Beach, ME (c) 1978, 1983. Special Thanks to David Thometz, Joel Ellis Rea, Michael Norton and Tim Carr for continued support. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= [Greg's note here. Several corrections have been made to "Brothers in Arms" at the request of the author. In addition, you can E-Mail Jeremy Bottroff at "Kyototh@aol.com"--he'd love to hear feedback. Sit back and enjoy the show!] Part 1: "Standing in Motion" University Towne Center, La Jolla CA Friday, 13 May, 6:01 pm PDT Douglas Ramsey finished the last bit of tallying on his clipboard, then handed it to the relief shift. "Register's even. The place is yours, Harris." "Coolness," nodded Harris, briefly looking over the figures. "Gonna play a game of 'Magician Lord' before you go?" "No time," answered Doug, slinging his back-satchel over his shoulder. "Got a date tonight." "Ah," said Harris, sagely. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do." "Which leaves me plenty of space, I'm sure." "Of course." Giving Harris an off-handed salute, Doug stepped out of the arcade and emerged into the open air of the UTC mall. His ears were buzzing, but that was pretty normal working these four-hour shifts at the Yellow Brick Road. He didn't really need the job as much these days, but he liked it; it added to the illusion that he was a normal human being after all. There was a sudden loud beeping from a device clipped inside his coat. Doug removed the beeper, switched off the noise, and checked the display. Looking around to make sure no one was paying him much attention, he stepped up to a payphone stall and pretended to pick up the receiver. In the meantime, the beeper began to move in Doug's hand. He held it to his ear, and it flowed from his hand like liquid, solidifying into a small earphone receiver and stretching a condenser microphone down to his lips. What's up, Warlock? he thought. Incoming message, answered the module. From friend Rahne. Cool. Could you patch her through? No sooner done than said, friend Doug. The semi-mental voice was replaced by a brief burst of static from the headphone, then a familiar Scots lilt: Rahne Sinclair, Doug's teammate, longtime friend, and one-time love interest. "H'lo, Douglas?" "Hi, Rahne," Doug said into the microphone. "Where are you?" "At the library," she replied. "I... hate to call ye like this, but... I'm afraid I have to cancel goin' out tonight." "Why? What's wrong?" "Well... this paper isn't goin' near as well as I'd hoped. It's verra important I finish." "Ah. You sure you don't want any help? We could make it a study date, just like old times." "Thank ye, Douglas, but no... I'd rather do this on me own." "Okay," he said with an off-center smile. "When will you be home?" "I canna be sure. No need to wait up, though." Bull, thought Doug. He thought he heard Warlock laugh. "Okay, Rahne." "I'm verra sorry, Douglas..." "No need, I understand completely. Take care, now." "I will. G'bye." The transmission cut off, and the Warlock-module reformed itself into a normal-looking beeper, which Doug replaced in his coat. Damn, he thought. It happens, Warlock answered. Doug thought of a few good replies to this as he continued walking to where he'd locked his bicycle. It was more likely, he thought, that Rahne was uncomfortable with the idea of going out with him, now that they were each committed to another. He didn't mind so much anymore about her and Rictor, and hoped, in spite of constant reminders, that it wouldn't jeapordize their mutual friendship. He had just finished unlocking his ten-speed and was about to climb on when a voice came from behind him. "Aaron McAudry?" Doug looked round and found himself face to collar with someone. A very large someone. He craned his neck to get a better look. The man was built something along the same lines as a Mack truck. His heavy clothing did little to conceal his incredible musculature, and his face was a network of old scars, three of which formed a rough asterisk across one eye. His grey hair was brushed back from a widow's peak, and his eyes were narrowed at Doug, seemingly looking him over without a trace of emotion. "Or should I say Douglas Ramsey?" "Never met the guy," Doug lied, getting onto his bike. "Cypher, formerly late of the New Mutants?" Doug stopped, looked down for a moment, then met the stranger's eyes. "Okay. I'm Doug Ramsey; who the hell are you?" The man extended his huge, scarred right hand and shook Doug's. "My name is Nathan Winters. I need to speak with you." ***** Two minutes later, Doug and Winters were sitting at one of the small tables outside the UTC food court. It was hardly a private place, but no one was apt to pay them any attention here. "Do you know who I am?" the big man asked. Doug nodded slowly. "You're Cable. You were the leader of the New Mutants shortly before they broke up." "Correct," Cable nodded. "I assume Wolfsbane, Rictor and Warlock have told you about me." "A bit, yes." Most of Doug's memories of Cable were actually Warlock's, left over from their prolonged merge... "I regret never making your acquaintance while you were with the team." "I was dead when you showed up, Cable. You really couldn't have helped it." "True, but ever since you and Warlock re-animated one another, I've been meaning to have a word with you." "Well, here I am. Have your word." Cable crossed his arms on the table (here Doug couldn't help but notice that the left was bionic) and leaned forward slightly. "I've read through the psych-profiles Xavier and Magneto wrote during your New Mutant days. A history of self-assuredness to the point of being downright cocky. Suddenly, when thrust upon the team, you got the biggest attitude adjustment of your life, finding yourself a nobody among heroes. Your codename, Cypher, was ironic in itself. Moodiness, insomnia, inferiority complexes, hopeless desire to prove yourself, an increasing tendency for near-suicidal tactics, numerous brief romances which tended to end abruptly. In short, Douglas, you were a very disturbed individual." "You came all the way here to tell me that?" Cable continued. "Then, two years after your alleged death, you returned, bonded body and mind with Warlock, also supposedly deceased. The two of you were eventually separated, and continued your tutelage with Xavier. The new psych-profiles indicate an uncharacteristic strength of resolve. Numerous new applications of your language powers. Closer ties to your fellows, especially Rictor, Wolfsbane, Warlock and Mirage. A strong desire to confront your past and put it behind you, resulting in greater stability. Xavier had you pegged as a field lieutenant of one of his X-Men teams, but after graduation, you turned him down. Instead, you came here under an assumed name to continue your schooling, acting as remote leader to an updated team of New Mutants, including three of your old teammates: Mirage, Warlock and Wolfsbane, a fourth, Rictor, you'd only met since your return, and two former enemies, Tarot and Catseye. Exemplary work." Doug paused to direct a thought to the Warlock-module. It very slowly detached itself from the inside of his coat and began to move... "First of all," he said, evenly, "we aren't a team. We're a group of friends going to school together." "Of course. A group of seven mutants living in the same house. Come off it, Cypher; there have been news reports of your public actions, despite the care you've taken to avoid being seen in costume. You seem quite the team to me." Doug ignored him. "Second, even if we were, I'm no leader. Third, Tarot and Catseye were never my enemies. Fourth, what the hell do you want from me?" "Pardon?" The module had made its way to Doug's right hand. He closed his fingers around it. "You're going to great lengths to show me just how much you know about me and the others. Why have you been watching us so closely? Quit beating around the bush and tell me what you want." Warlock, he thought, how well can you scan this guy? Poorly, friend Doug. Distance too great for full access of module. Shall I sever contact and turn it over to you? If you can handle the separation. Affirmative. Stand by for interface and transfer. During this brief interchange, Cable sat back a bit and regarded Doug with hooded eyes. "Douglas, I currently command a mutant team called X-Force. Our methods aren't the same as the X-Men, or the former New Mutants, but we stand for the same thing. We believe that mutants will have their place in the new world order, and we're more than willing to fight for it." The module disappeared, merging with Doug's hand. It was no longer an extension of Warlock's consciousness, but of Cypher's. There was no change in his outward appearance, but his senses shifted into technorganic parameters, and his mind opened up, allowing him to section off one part to take in all details of Cable while the remainder continued the conversation. "Go on." Cable squared his gaze on Doug. "Cypher, I've come to offer you a place with X-Force, as a communications and computer specialist." Doug was silent as he processed this. "Your linguistic and technical abilities, as limited as they seemed in the past, would be invaluble to our cause, as would your presence." "What about the others?" Doug asked, quietly. "Warlock would be more than welcome, of course, as would Wolfsbane. I've worked with both in the past." "Yeah, great. But what about Mirage, or Tarot, or..." "I'm afraid that would be a detriment," Cable interrupted, "to my force as well as to each of those four. Mirage and Rictor would refuse to adjust; they're too set in their ways to accept change. Catseye would be redundant, and doesn't have the instincts for the task. As for Tarot, any dealings with the occult are simply an invitation for trouble." "So that's it?" Doug said, raising his eyebrows. "You expect me to pick up stakes, abandon my friends and join you?" "The cause needs you, Cypher. You have to set the goal above your own personal wishes." All the while, Doug was making scans of Cable, with particular focus on his bionic eye and arm. "What do you say?" Cable prompted him. Doug thought about this. "I'd say you sound like one of Magneto's old terrorist groups. Count me out." Cable shifted in his seat. "There's nothing terrorist about..." "About a group of superhumans who use their powers to strike out at people unprovoked? The golden rule, right? Do unto others before they do unto you? I don't want any place with you OR your trigger-happy yahoos." There was a momentary silence, and Doug redoubled his scans. He didn't like where this conversation was going at all. "Would you place Cannonball in that category, then?" Cable asked. "I'm sure he'd be more than happy to have you with us." Doug tried to conceal his surprise. "So Sam's still with you? Rahne and Rictor were afraid of that." After a pause, Doug went on. "No, thanks very much. I'm trying to double-major and hold down a part-time job as it is. No time for any more mutant-batics than I have to." "A lot of good education will do you if you're being hunted in ten years." "Mr. Winters, education is what could eventually save mutants. Not violence." "You're living in a dream, Cypher." "Yeah," said Doug, suddenly leaning forward to look Cable in the eyes. "Xavier's dream. Martin Luther King's dream. And it's a damn good one. You've got no right to talk to me about the cause. I've died for the cause. Twice. After the second time, it began to occur to me that maybe I was going about it the wrong way." Cable didn't say a word, which mildly surprised Doug. Had he actually expected Doug to go with this? "I'd like to ask a favor, though," Doug continued. "I'm sure you have really tight security and emphasis on secrecy and all that, but I'd like to talk to Sam." "What for?" asked Cable, narrowing his eyes further. "Because I haven't seen him since I died last. We've got a lot to catch up on." "Out of the question," Cable answered, flatly. "Why?" "It would be too dangerous." There was something in the way he composed his face just then... some scheming going on somewhere behind his eyes. Doug caught wind of it, and a grim realization hit him. "He doesn't even know we're alive, does he?" Doug asked. "You know about me and Warlock, but you haven't told him!" "As I said, Cypher, it would be too dangerous." "For who? Him or you?" "Join us, then. It will eliminate the need for this." Throughout the conversation, Doug had been a mix of put off and vaguely annoyed. Now he was just plain furious. "The need for what? For you to keep someone in the dark about two of his friends being alive? What else do you do, Cable? Censor what they read, or see? Keep them from hearing about things that might make them doubt your cause? You know, I'll bet that if Sam knew about all of us being out here, he'd drop your team in a heartbeat and join us." "There isn't anything more to discuss," said Cable. "My offer still stands. If you change your mind, believe me, I'll know about it." He started to rise, but Doug grabbed his bionic forearm. Cable merely thought it a "hey, wait" gesture, but in the process, Doug carefully divested himself of the Warlock-module, so thoroughly merging it with Cable's bionics that the man noticed nothing amiss. "My offer still stands too, Cable," Doug said with a scowl. "Tell Sam. I mean it." He let go of Cable's arm and sat back. Cable stood, gathering his coat around him. He seemed to be containing a lot of anger as well. Before he left, however, he once more fixed his gaze on Doug. "Let me leave you with this, Cypher. If I could have found you here, your enemies could do the same. Think about it." He started to walk off. "Hey, Cable," Doug said to his back. "We tend to defeat our enemies by not making any. Think about THAT." ***** Ramsey home, La Jolla CA 6:53 pm PDT Doug parked his bike in front of the house without locking it. As always, he reasoned that anyone who'd go to the trouble to climb the eight-foot fence and drag it back over needed it a lot more than he did. The alarms were off, which meant that at least someone was home and awake. With seven mutants and one mildly harried parent living here, there wasn't as great a need for security. The interior was shaped something like a wheel, with a circular main corridor, and other rooms and halls spoking off at various points. Doug followed the sound of voices around to the dining room, where four of his friends were sitting at the dining table, alternating between playing cards and watching the sunset through the plate glass windows overlooking the cliffs and the ocean: Danielle Moonstar (Mirage), Ricardo Torres (Rictor), Marie-Ange Colbert (Tarot), and Warlock. Sharon Smith (Catseye) was in her cat-from, curled up on the floor near Tarot, catnapping. "Bonsoir, Douglas," Marie-Ange smiled as he stepped into the room. "Hey, Doug!" called Rictor. "Hi, guys," Doug waved. He pulled up a chair, set his satchel on the floor and watched the game for a moment. Marie-Ange was looking radiant, he decided, as usual. She was not pretty, at least by "normal" standards: perhaps a shade too thin, lacking in curves and long of face, with an unusual resolve never to wear makeup of any kind. But she had a smile that could light up the room, and deep, mysterious eyes of empty grey. He could lose himself in the fathomless depths of those eyes. He could spend eternity contemplating her drawn, sometimes severe profile, the motions of her long, red hair as she turned her head, he could... He could sure as hell wax poetic when the fancy struck him. Blinking a couple of times, he looked over to see that Danielle was grinning at him from behind her fan of cards. She never missed anything. Like Marie-Ange, Danielle was not particularly pretty, but for different reasons. Other than Catseye, she was the tallest of the group. While not overtly muscular, she was lean, sinewy, and wide-backed: one of the most physically intimidating women Doug had ever met. She ran forty-plus miles a week, could split her own arrows on an archery range, and had even, much to Rictor's chagrin, beaten each and every one of them in arm-wrestling. Going from rugged and self-sufficient while living at the reservation, to combat leader of the former New Mutant team, to Valkyrie of fabled Asgard probably had something to do with it. Being an Anthro major just seemed like something she did in her spare time, in spite of her excellent grades. Rictor was just Rictor. Tall, dark, well-muscled, with a face that could go from a quirky grin to a snarl of fury in a heartbeat. Like Doug, he was letting his hair grow. Unlike Doug, he already had it long enough to tie back in a ponytail. His relationship with Rahne had changed him; not only had he finally quit smoking, but he was even toning down his normal image, from punked-out street hood to casual Californian. Warlock was in what was now his typical human shape; that of a fairly powerful-looking black man who resembled MC Hammer a tad too much for Doug's peace of mind. "What are you playing?" Doug asked at length, a puzzled expression crossing his features as he examined the cards. "Poker," Dani replied. "With a Tarot deck?" "More of a challenge." "I think there's a joke about this," Doug grinned. "The punch line was something like, 'I got a full house: three of the players died, my wife left me and I inherited a castle in Denmark.'" "Nothing as bad as that, Doug," Rictor said with a noncommittal wave in Tarot's direction. "She's just beating the pants off us, that's all." "It wouldn't be the first time," Marie-Ange added, with a saucy wink in Doug's direction. "Oui, Danielle?" "Uh huh," Dani nodded, grinning widely. Doug cleared his throat and changed the subject, but not before Rictor gave him a surprised look. "Warlock, about that module you disconnected with." "What about, friend Doug?" "Think you could find it again?" "Affirmative." "Good. I'll need your help on this one." Dani, Rictor and Marie-Ange exchanged confused looks. "What's this all about?" Dani asked. Doug sighed. "Well, folks, guess who I ran into today?" ***** X-Force Headquarters, upstate New York Nine hours later "So what's the damage?" Cable asked. Domino turned to him from her computer terminal. "None. None whatsoever. Not even anything accidental." Cable thought about this. "Then what did he do? Nothing?" "Oh, sure, nothing at all," Domino said sarcastically, throwing up her hands. "Someone just tapped into our system and blew by all the security measures without tripping a single failsafe, that's all! I spent days writing those programs, and he took 'em out in half an hour! Never mind the question of how whoever it was found us in the first place!" "Are you sure nothing's missing?" "No, nothing at all. It was like he was showing off. He just spent a couple of hours poking around the place, getting a feel for it, finding out where everything was, but not touching it. This guy could have crashed our entire database, and there wouldn't have been squat we could do about it. He even left us a calling card." "Oh?" Domino turned back to her console and started typing. "Yeah. Just an innocent looking file, sandwiched in there with your log entries about the kids." The laser-printer slowly ejected a page, which she picked up and handed to him. It read: Dear Cable, Two can play at this game. Tell Sam. -The Sorcerer Cable nodded, carefully folding the page in half. "It's him." "Who?" "Remember that kid I went to see yesterday?" "What, the dead one? Doug something-or-other?" "He did this." Domino regarded him. "A KID took out my security systems?" "Now do you see why I'm interested?" ***** University of California, San Diego: Revelle College Wednesday, 18 May, 2:53 pm PDT "I can't believe you're majoring in this," Rictor told Doug as they emerged from the humanities building and headed off across campus. "I'll be happy to get this class over with." "What can I say? I'm good at it. And why are you taking it if you don't like it?" "'Cause it's required." "For Geology?" "Yeah, that's what I said." They cut across a grassy field on the edge of campus, and into the shade of some eucalyptus trees. A light, salt-scented breeze blew in from the nearby Pacific Ocean, ruffling Doug's blonde hair and giving him a strong urge to do some surfing... Rictor nudged him lightly in the ribs, bringing him out of it. "Yo, Doug. Up front." Doug looked up to see that there was a woman leaning back against one of the trees, one foot propped on the trunk, her arms crossed in front of her. He guessed her to be somewhere in her thirties, more by her bearing than anything else. She wore all black, which struck Doug as odd, because all this did was accent her pale skin tone more severely. As they stepped closer (she was almost right in their path), Doug saw that her face and hands were in fact a bizarre shade of off-white. He would have thought her an albino if not for the jet-black hair. She was somewhat beautiful, Doug decided, but then, he'd thought the same about some strange people in his lifetime(s). It wasn't this beauty that held his interest, however, rather than the fact that she was staring at the two of them from behind a pair of sunglasses, with a light smile on her face. Doug broke eye contact. Let Ric look if he wanted to, he thought. Ric, too, was Taken In A Big Way, but not as prone to distractions as Doug. As they were walking past, however, her voice stopped them in their tracks. "Douglas Ramsey, I presume?" They turned slowly. She had not moved from her earlier position, but was now smiling widely. "Guilty as charged," said Doug. "Who are you?" She stepped forward casually, took off her sunglasses and extended a pale hand to Doug. "I'm Dominique Lindsey. Pleased to meet you." Rictor's features went rigid, and he stared, as though actually seeing her for the first time. "Domino," he said in an icy voice. Domino turned her smile to Rictor. "Well, well. Long time no see. You certainly grew up, didn't you?" "Changed your name again, Domino?" he spat. "Who's after you this time?" "You should talk, 'Ricardo Torres.' I had a bear of a time finding you. Your papa's name not good enough?" "Don't you DARE talk about my father, perrita," Rictor growled, his face suffused with rage. Doug looked from one to the other. "Want to clue me in here, Ric?" "She's a merc. A friend of Cable's," Rictor explained, not taking his eyes from her. "She hooked up with him again just before I left the old team. Probably came to ask you to join his group again." "If you'll let me get a word in," she glared at Rictor before turning back to Doug and resuming her friendly tone, "I came to apologize for Cable. He can be pretty forward sometimes." "I imagine so, in his line of work," Doug nodded. "We got your message, incidentally," she continued. "I have to admit that I'm impressed. I designed the security for our computers myself." "Yeah, thanks. What do you want?" She tightened her lips and looked from one to the other. "As it happens, I DID come to ask you to reconsider. If nothing else, this little stunt you pulled proved just how valuable you are." "Forget it," said Doug, flatly. "I don't want to join X-Force; I've got an education to finish. I even asked Ric here and the others, in case any of them were interested. Want to know what kind of answers I got?" "I can guess." "A unanimous, resounding no. You want to know what else?" "I am all ears." "I still want to talk to Sam." "And I want to see Boom-Boom," added Rictor. "And Tarot and Catseye are worried about Thunderbird." Domino cocked an eyebrow at Doug. "I see you checked the roster." "Sure did, though I don't recall seeing your name on it. All seven of us have friends with X-Force. If you don't let them see us, you might as well just be holding them prisoner. And we don't take kindly to that." She held up both hands. "Cool off, Doug, it's not like that at all. Of course security's tight. We have a lot of enemies, and we can't afford to break cover all that often." "And yet you and Cable can come all the way out here in person to ask me to join? I don't buy it, Domino." "You may not think so," Rictor added, "but maybe the seven of us have the right idea. We stay together because we're friends. We go to school together. We live together. We hang out together." Doug very nearly added "And some of us have been known to sleep together," but he thought better of it. "We're a team, not because of how well we fight, but because we love and respect one another. And nothing but nothing is going to change that." Domino looked away for a moment, then back at Doug. "Look. I know you're probably ticked off at the both of us. I don't blame you. I know how Cable can be. I'm sorry if he insulted your friends; that's just the way he is, sometimes. He doesn't see anything past the strict good of the group. It's what makes him a good leader. But I'm sure, if you just let me talk to him for you, that I could convince him to take in the lot of you. We've got more than enough space, and..." "Have you been listening to us at all?" Doug exploded. "We're NOT going to join you! We're through fighting!" He made a sudden sweeping gesture with one arm, indicating the campus. "This is a college. An institution of learning. We're here to learn, just like we would have wanted to if we'd never been mutants. Can't you understand that?" "I hate to say it, Doug," Domino replied, "but a fat lot of good being a Linguistics major is going to do you in this day and age. Cable's may not seem the right way, but it's the only way." "Oh, sure," Doug said, with a trace of sarcasm. "That's the way. Let's get all the mutants in the world together and teach them to kick butt. Let's REALLY give baseline humans something to be afraid of. I don't know about you, Ms. Lindsey, but I'm going to work my tail off to fit into society. Someone's got to do it, or it'll just prove the mutant-haters right. There's more than one way to win this war. If we're going to be treated the same as everyone else, we can't hide in Xavier's mansion, we can't hide in your mountain, and we can't go on doing nothing but fight." Domino was impressed in spite of herself. No wonder he's their leader, she thought, he could almost make me believe it. He paused for a moment, glanced at Rictor to steady himself, took a deep breath, and continued. "I think Sam, Tabitha and James deserve the chance to choose which way they want to go about it. That's... all I've got to say." After one last impassioned look, he turned and walked away, Rictor keeping stride beside him. As she watched them go, Rictor reached out with one hand, palm up. Doug slapped him five, and Rictor returned it. That, it would appear, was that. ***** The New Mutants vs. X-Force: "Brothers in Arms" Part 1: "Standing in Motion" This story copyright (c) 1991 Jeremy Bottroff Douglas Ramsey (Cypher), Warlock, Rahne Sinclair (Wolfsbane), Rictor, Nathan Winters (Cable), Charles Xavier, Magneto, Danielle Moonstar (Mirage), Marie-Ange Colbert (Tarot), Sharon Smith (Catseye), Samuel Guthrie (Cannonball), Domino, Boom-Boom, James Proudstar (Thunderbird/Warpath), New Mutants, X-Force, and X-Men all copyright (c) 1991 Marvel Comics Group. Harris Finkelstein is his own bloody copyright. The names "Aaron McAudry," "Ricardo Torres," and "Dominique Lindsey" are not copyright Marvel comics, but they might as well be. The Yellow Brick Road arcade and University Towne Center are, in fact, real places in La Jolla, California, as is UCSD's Revelle College. Part 2: "Distant Thunder" Ramsey home, La Jolla CA Saturday, 21 May, 5:35 pm PDT Sheila McAudry Ramsey was the sort of woman who appreciated the idea of getting your hands dirty and getting the job done. Having grown up on a ranch, it was only natural. It was part of what made her such an unusually successful attorney; though wrangling the law was a far cry from horses, the work ethic remained. Thus, when she realized that her La Jolla home needed expansion (with herself and seven mutants living under the same roof), instead of hiring contractors and a construction team, she had worked out the plans with her father (a master craftsman in his own right), and set to work building it herself. She was immediately joined in the task by her son Doug and her other boarders, and with the eight of them working together, it seemed only a matter of two or three weekends before the new wing would be finished. Even with the enthusiasm rampant and the means at hand, however, sooner or later they needed a break. The late afternoon sun found six of the mutants in the midst of an impromptu game of volleyball out in the yard. The sides were evenly matched, with Ric, Rahne and Warlock on one team, and Doug, Sharon and Marie-Ange on the other. Sheila had elected not to participate, and was instead relaxing in a lawn chair, the raised floor and unfinished frame of the new wing forming a sort of patio around her. It gave Sheila a feeling of satisfaction to be able to at least partially enjoy their work. She watched as Marie-Ange set the ball for Sharon. In her human form, Catseye was not only the tallest of them but the most agile as well, and she leaped about five feet to spike the ball over the net. Rictor dove to intercept the return, but only succeeded in knocking it out of bounds. "Alright Ric!" Doug applauded, as Sharon and Marie-Ange high-fived. "Way to sacrifice the body!" "You'll get yours, Ramsey." Right about then, Danielle stepped up into the patio, carrying two tall glasses. "Iced tea, Ms. McAudry?" she asked, holding one out to Sheila. "Oh! Thank you, Dani, that's just what I needed. How did you know?" Danielle did not answer; just gave her a sideways look as she sat down cross-legged on the bare floorboards. "Oh," Sheila repeated. "Oh, yes. I forgot." "I'm sorry. If it bothers you, I..." "No, really, Dani, it's alright. It just takes some getting used to, is all." "I guess it's become second nature to me," Dani said with a slight shrug, "knowing what people want, or need." "Or what they fear?" "Yeah." After a pause, Danielle smiled wryly. "I still don't know how you put up with us." Sheila shrugged. "You're good kids. You're considerate, relatively quiet, not afraid to pitch in with the housework." "Does it bother you that we're mutants?" "Doug keeps asking me the same question." "Paranoia's kind of a genetic thing with us," Dani grinned. Sheila looked around her, at the work she and these seven mutants had accomplished, then back at the house itself. "Haven't you ever thought that this was an awfully big house for just three people? Doubly so as just a summer home?" "Once or twice, yeah." "Doug's father and I bought this place when we found out I was pregnant with Doug. I insisted on it. A place with plenty of bedrooms, and lots of space. I came from a big family myself, see, and I wanted to have at least four or five kids." "Why didn't you?" After a pause, Sheila sighed and went on. "We realized that it's not that easy with two law careers. With the both of us working at the firm, we wouldn't have the time for more than one child." She looked back at the game, and watched as Doug dove to return a vicious spike by Rictor. "Sometimes," she said, softly, "I wonder if we had time for the one we had." Danielle regarded her thoughtfully. "Doug doesn't seem to harbor any grudges against you." "No, he probably saves those for his father. But I wouldn't doubt it. We took him away from his friends when we moved to New York, and then put him in a boarding school. I'm just glad he had a family with all of you." The game continued, the six players going at it with all the vigor and enthusiasm they'd have once used in combat training. And enjoying it a lot more, by the look of things. "Anyway," Sheila continued with an odd smile, "now I've got my wish. I've got seven kids in the house, all growing up together." Danielle smiled back, but said nothing. There really wasn't anything more to add. At that moment, Warlock stretched out of the bounds of his human identity, extended a long arm, and whirled it about, spiking the ball with such velocity that it got past Catseye before she could even consider diving for it. "Stuffed!" Rictor hooted, pumping his fist at the other side. The ball bounced across the yard and rolled into the shadows beneath the raised floor of the new wing. Danielle set her glass down and hopped off to retrieve it for Catseye, who had shifted to cat-form to chase it down. "I'll get it, Sharon." As she flattened herself and poked her head and shoulders through the narrow gap between the floor and the foundation, she caught sight of the ball, come to rest wedged against a water pipe and some wiring, dimly outlined by sunlight between the floorboards. It was also, as Murphy would have it, almost directly at the center of the foundation, so she had to drag herself all the way under just to get near it. She reached out to bat it free, but checked herself. Something was amiss. She and Rictor had put this section of the floor down themselves; there shouldn't have been any loose wiring there... She slithered closer to get a better look, as Catseye peeked in behind her. "All copacetic, wishbringer?" "Just a second, Sharon." Carefully, she knocked the ball free and rolled it aside. There was something stuck onto the as-yet-unused drainage pipe: an odd, rounded lump, with wires strung about it, attached to a small box-shape. Even as a tiny part of her mind screamed something at her, she reached out to test the composition of the lump. It was soft, cold and pliable, like clay. "Catseye!" she shouted. "Get Doug and Warlock over here, quick! Ms. McAudry! Get clear!" "Dani, what's going on?" Sheila's voice filtered from above. "Just get back! Get as far from here as you can!" After a moment of hesitation, Sheila hurried off the floor, her footsteps echoing below. Danielle shifted sideways to make room for Doug, who'd already dashed over and crawled halfway in after her. "Dani, what's wrong?" "Doug, there's a bomb down here," she said, surprised at how calm her voice remained. "Are you sure?" asked Doug, making his way up beside her and examining the plumbing. "No, I'm not. I don't know diddly about explosives, but that looks like plastique to me." Warlock swarmed in between them, extending a visual sensor to have a look. "Alarm! Friend Dani's assessment correct, friend Doug!" "Can you guys defuse it?" Dani asked. "We can try," Doug answered, exhaling slowly. "Warlock, I think we'd better interface." "Affirmative, friend Doug." Warlock and Doug made physical contact, and with a brief flash and the sound of arcing current, the technoid fused partially with the young mutant, forming a shell over his left arm and most of his head. It was as before, with the module, except that the two now shared consciousness as well as sense. Now the scene was entirely different. The bomb was seen for all its brutal simplicity: a well-made electrical timer connected to some fully-charged capacitors, waiting to complete a circuit which would send the entire wing up. Danielle was a complex pattern of light and color, ever-changing, yet familiar. Her shade and temperature registered that she was concerned. When Cypher reached out with his/their left hand, the sense of measure with this part of his/their body was incredible. Selfstatus data came in constantly, along with regular, ecise reports on the condition of their surroundings. He and Warlock manifested sensors to take in the scene a thousand ways at once, then conferred within their shared mind. Think physical contact will set it off, 'Lock? Not if we are cautious. Follow my lead. Move as I direct us. Sure thing, pal. "Dani, you might want to move back," Doug said aloud, his voice heavily distorted through the mask of living circuitry. "What for?" "Your own peace of mind." "I'll stay, thanks." There were odd heat emnations and shifts of color occurring inside her. Doug realized that she was afraid, but willing to stand by them. "Okay. This shouldn't take long," said Doug, slowly extending his left hand toward the wiring and making contact with one finger. He wasn't exaggerating. It took all of about three seconds. Once Warlock found a safe way to merge with the structure of the bomb (by forming a basic parallel circuit), their accellerated consciousness, with Doug's power backing them up, decoded the operations in a heartbeat, and all that remained was to up the resistance, drain all power from the batteries and capacitors, and render the whole inert. "You can breathe now," Doug told Dani, looking over at her with a subdued smile, as Warlock began to meticulously separate himself from his partner. ***** "It was a threat," said Rictor, slapping an opened envelope down on the worktable in front of Doug. Cypher looked up from the gutted bomb, his face completely covered by a Warlock-made scanning visor. "Thanks for the bulletin, Ric. I imagine it was. 'Lock and I are trying to figure out who it was from." "I KNOW who," Ric scowled, indicating the envelope and crossing his arms. "What is it, Ric?" asked Rahne, who'd been holding up the wall of the garage nearby. "This came in today's mail. Take a look; it's great." Rictor's angry voice had gained the attention of Marie-Ange, who drifted into the garage after him. Catseye looked up from where she'd been dozing, yawned, stretched, and padded behind in her feline body. Warlock disengaged the worksuit he'd formed around Doug's head and arms and reassembled himself nearby. "What says, friend Doug?" Doug picked up the envelope and noticed that it was addressed to all seven of them. The letter itself was a folded piece of ordinary typing paper, upon which was written: Dear Cypher, Mirage, Wolfsbane, Warlock, Rictor, Catseye and Tarot- Having troubles? Humans found you out? We're your ticket to salvation. Join us. We won't be responsible for your well-being if you don't. We'll be along. Watch for us. -The Mutant Liberation Front After reading it aloud, Doug passed it to a disbelieving Rahne, then looked up to see his mother leaning against the open doorway to the main house. She'd heard it all. "That son of a BITCH!" Ric shouted, slamming his fist against the wall to punctuate the last word. Tarot took the letter from Rahne, read it silently, then handed it to Danielle and walked off past Sheila, into the house. "Who dog-son, shakey?" asked Sharon in her deep, growly cat-voice, giving him that quizzical look of hers. "Cable," spat Rictor. "I'll bet he leaked our whereabouts to the MLF, just to pressure us into joining him." "We don't know that, Rictor," said Danielle, putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "No, but let's keep that option open," Doug replied. "It's a possibility." "Could you trace where the bomb was from?" Dani asked them. "Negative," said Warlock. Doug shook his head and went on. "It was a very simple, but very effective job. Anyone with bare-bone knowledge of electronics and explosives could have done it." "Which for sure covers the MLF," Ric frowned. "And X-Force." All eyes went to Rahne. "Say again, amorita?" "Ye know Cable as well as I, Ric," she said, darkly. "P'rhaps better. Have ye ever known him to back down when he's challenged?" Rictor looked aside, a sudden faraway look crossing his face. It happened every time his past came up, even by accident. He withdrew from them, hiding in silence. This time, though, he'd had enough of keeping quiet. "No," he said at last. "And that's what got my father killed." Silence fell over the garage. They were waiting for Ric to continue, but only if he wanted to; nobody dared to ask. After a while, they were rejoined by Marie-Ange, who'd gone to fetch one of her Tarot decks. "Papa was a merc. One of Cable's Wild Pack. That's how I knew him and Domino. Anyway, Papa'd finally decided to give up the business, and he and I'd just live off his share of the blood money. Then Cable came back one night, asking him to come with them on one last mission. Papa thought I was asleep, but I heard everything Cable said. A bunch of talk about loyalty, about the cause, about how he couldn't abandon them when they needed him most. So Papa went with 'em... and never came back." For a while, the only sound was that of Tarot shuffling her cards. Rahne crossed the room slowly and put her arms around Rictor. "I'm sorry, Ric," she whispered. "'Sokay, Rahne." She looked up into his eyes. "But d'ye see what I was sayin'? Once he gets an idea of what's right, he'll stop at nothing. Who's to say he dinnae place the bomb himself?" After a pause, Marie-Ange finished shuffling and sat down at the worktable beside Doug. She produced a black silk scarf, in which the cards had been wrapped, and spread it across an uncluttered section of the table. She handled the cards with care and precision; small wonder, considering the work she'd put into them. At last count, she had thirteen different decks, each modeled after a traditional set. That meant thirteen sets of seventy-eight cards, each and every one meticulously painted by hand, and no two being alike. Even before Marie-Ange had become a Visual Arts major at UCSD, she'd been an artist of few peers. The rest of the group watched, intrigued, as she cut the deck three times, then turned up the topmost card, laying it down upon the scarf. The image was that of a regal figure seated at a throne, bearing a long staff from which new leaves sprouted. It was upside-down, the figure's crown pointing to Marie-Ange. She looked up at Rahne. "I concur." Rahne looked uncomfortable. As much as she'd come to like Marie-Ange, she'd grown up thinking Tarot cards and the like to be the work of Satan. To have a mistress of occult lore agreeing with her was more than a little unsettling. "What comes up, pretty redhair?" Catseye asked, putting her front paws up on the back of Tarot's chair and setting her chin on the other girl's shoulder. Marie-Ange reached around and absently scratched Catseye behind the ears. "The King of Wands, reversed," she said. After a while, she realized once again that her friends probably didn't have a clue as to what she meant, so she went on. "Kings often mean fathers, or superiors, or leaders. Normally, the King of Wands is loyal to his underlings; honest and well-loved. Fair of hair and face. His throne and cloak are decorated with salamanders; a fire sign, signifying that for all his good intentions, he can sometimes be rash or hasty. Reversed, he is a ruthless, inflexible, unjust tyrant, oppressing those who look up to him and accepting no judgement save his own." Rictor let out a low whistle. "Sound like anyone we know?" "Dinnae base your judgement on one lucky draw," Rahne said, shifting her weight uncomfortably. "Rahney, you were the one saying it was Cable to begin with," Doug countered. With a sigh, Marie-Ange placed the King with the rest of the deck and held it out to Rahne. "Would you like to shuffle?" When Rahne did not so much as move a muscle, Tarot sighed again and handed the cards to Doug. "Would you, then?" Doug complied, then returned the deck. Once again, Marie-Ange cut it three times, once again she turned up the top card... ...once again it was the King of Wands, reversed. "This is not a card trick, mon amie," she told Rahne. "This is my life. I take it very seriously." After a longer and even more uncomfortable pause, Doug gave Warlock a thoughtful look. "'Lock, could you make another location query on that mystery module?" "Affirmative, friend Doug," nodded Warlock, immediately converting himself into a small antenna array. After a couple of minutes, Warlock completed his scan. "Location confirmed. Cable entity currently in upstate New York, almost precisely concurrent with previous queries." "Can you read anything else from here? What he's doing? Where he is in the base?" "Negative. Location only at this distance from module. No complex communications possible." "Okay," Doug continued. "How much would it take to keep an eye on this guy? Could you relegate it to a backup system?" "Negative. Task would require all of self's faculties." "How about regular checks, then? Say every hour? We'd see if he was making another move on us. Could you do that?" "Affirmative, friend Doug, and more than willing to do so." Doug looked around at his friends, somewhat wearily. "Well, that's that. I'm going to make a couple of phone calls. Anyone for joining me in the jacuzzi later?" Sheila watched her son, still cool and stable amidst the events of the day, trying to hold his circle of friends together, talking about mercenaries, the occult, and potentially brutal vendettas as easily as he might discuss a day at the beach. At that moment, she had a good idea of what had prompted Philip to react so violently at the knowledge that Douglas was a mutant. She remembered Danielle's question, and realized that it DID bother her after all. It bothered her that he had to deal with this sort of thing on a day-to-day basis. It bothered her that she could do nothing to help him; that this was a world in which she had no place. And that while he had been away at boarding school instead of at home where he'd belonged, she'd lost a part of him to that world. A part that she'd never regain. ***** As he uploaded his latest message to the X-Force database, Doug looked round at the sound of his door being opened. It was Marie-Ange, wrapped in a thick towel that resembled a French flag. "Aren't you coming to the hot tub, Douglas?" she asked. "Maybe in a while, Marie-Ange. I want to do a little more research before I sign off." She padded barefoot across the carpet and stood behind him, placing her hands on his shoulders. "It's been a long day." "Quite." "Mon Dieu, you're tense," she noted, kneading the muscles of his shoulders with her long fingers. "And no wonder, the way you hunch yourself over the keys like that." Doug's fingers fell from the keyboard as the massage took effect. Another of Marie-Ange's unspoken talents, apparently. "Gah," he growled, clenching his teeth. "That feels... ah... very nice. I owe you big for this one." "Come out, then. The water will do us both good, and you can return the favor." He seemed tempted, but shook his head. "As I said, maybe in a while." Marie-Ange bent to kiss his upturned forehead. "What's wrong?" she whispered. Doug shook his head. "I don't know. I just... things have been going so well. I mean, we're still here, we're still in school, we're doing fine. And you and I... three years ago we couldn't stand one another." "Speak for yourself, mon brave," she grinned. "But... look at us now. We've all come so far. But all of this with Cable... Rahne's right, he won't give up. He won't rest until he ruins everything. I... don't want this to end." She tilted her head slightly, so that she could whisper in his ear, and slid her arms around him, clasping his shoulders. "Douglas," she murmured, "in casting the Tarot, in meditating upon the cards, one of the first things you find is that there is no `end.' There is only change. The Wands, the Tower, Death... but even that is only change. You yourself have proven this. "Change will not, and cannot be stopped. Trying to fight it is futile. Instead, you may come to realize that you have power over what changes your life. We all do. There will always seem little endings, from which there will be only beginnings. There will always be change, but there are ways to turn this to your advantage. With patience, with perseverance, you, I, all of us, will emerge from this trial stronger than ever before." Doug leaned his head back against her and closed his eyes. "Zen, and the art of casting the Tarot." "You should try it sometime." He opened his eyes to see her looking down at him. Those wonderful grey eyes. Eyes he had fallen in love with. "What'd I do to deserve you?" he whispered. Marie-Ange could not help but smile. "I doubt you want me to answer that, mon m'sieu." His grin became a smirk. "Hellion tramp." "Mutant scum." After a while, she kissed him on the forehead again and stepped back. "Alright. Finish soon, and come join us. Then you can see me in my new suit." Doug slowly turned his chair around to face her. "New suit?" "Oui," she nodded, unfastening the towel and holding it out to either side like a pair of wings. Slightly too thin frame, lacking curves and long features be damned. Marie-Ange was nothing short of exquisite in a two-piece French bikini. Doug blinked. At least, after a while. "Not fair," he managed. "Was not meant to be," she winked, wrapping the towel around herself again. "Give me two minutes." "I'll be waiting." ***** X-Force Headquarters, upstate New York Sunday, 22 May, 5:35 am EDT BEGIN POST (POWER-ON SELF-TEST) CPU . . . OK FPU . . . OK ROM . . . OK RAM 256MB OK I/O LINKS OK ALL POST CHECKS PASSED! SYSTEM GOOD! BOOTING... LOADING BIOS KERNAL................ LOADING O/S KERNAL.......................... INITIALIZING.... MOUNTING VOLUME SYS: ....... OK X-FORCE HQ INFO/SECURITY MAINFRAME SYSTEM DOMIN O/S ACTIVE ON 05/22/94 AT 05:35:51.2 MOUNTING VOLUME HD1: ....... OK MOUNTING VOLUME HD2: ....... OK MOUNTING VOLUME HD3: ...^@^@^@^ &HNX*&X*& &C*UIO:$N $[$[$[$[ WWW^G^G X+R*( *D*& (We interrupt this test sequence for an important announcement from La Jolla!) Dear Cable, First off. You've outdone yourself again, Domino. Excellent job with the new security measures. Next time, you might want to avoid leaving such an obvious back door. Anyhow, I could go on all night, but I won't. The heart of the matter: guess what happened today? Danielle found a bomb! Could've killed someone, not the least of which being my mother, and even though we managed to shut it down, the very idea really ticked us off. No pun intended. Do you know anything about this, Cable? I think you do. I repeat my request for an opportunity to speak with Sam, Tabitha and James. And I do so with much contained anger and resentment. We don't need this grief, and we aren't going to take it anymore. One more threat, one more attempt at sneak tactics, and we'll know. And I daresay we have the power to make your life real miserable, real fast. Let me send word to Sam and the others and we can call it a stalemate. Don't take this lightly. You aren't the good guy this time. -Cypher (We now return you to your regularly scheduled power-up test sequence) ***** University of California, San Diego: Revelle College Tuesday, 24 May, 3:53 pm PDT At first glance, Rahne Sinclair and Sharon Smith were about as dissimilar as two girls could be. Rahne had topped out at five-foot-four, Sharon at six-foot-three. Rahne wore her red hair cropped to about an inch and a half, while Sharon's was a shaggy explosion of lavender-violet waves which grew from as low as her shoulder blades, like a mane. Rahne wore loose, concealing clothing, while Sharon had a zest for tight sweaters, cut low in back to accomodate her mane. Rahne tended to be shy and reserved, Sharon lively and effervescent. Rahne majored in Pre-Med, Sharon in Theatrical Arts. Rahne was Scots; Sharon was Bostonian. They seemed the most unlikely of friends. Still, they were seen together in classes as diverse as animal biology and the UCSD chorale, noticed having lunch together at the commons almost daily, observed exchanging knowing smiles and words in the way only truly close friends can. Those who knew them well knew why, of course. In spite of their differences, They were perhaps the two most similar New Mutants, each of them being a specific metamorph. Rahne was a werewolf, Sharon a tiger-like cat. Oddly enough, their wereforms bore no natural dislike for one another, but then, it was difficult to imagine jovial, playful Catseye disliking anybody. The two came out of their afternoon zoology class, into a brisk westerly wind that blew Catseye's hair about her like an aura. They walked at a lively pace from the physical science section, to meet Doug at the Revelle monument, whereupon the three of them would walk home together. Doug was there to meet them, as he was every tuesday and thursday, fresh from a linguistic history course. Sharon greeted him with a warm hug and a kiss on the lips. This was nothing new, as Catseye tended to greet all of her closest friends this way (sometimes even Marie-Ange, Danielle or Rahne; Catseye's affectionate nature had little to do with sexuality). "Hello, prettyboy goldenmane!" "Afternoon, Sharon," Doug smiled. "H'lo, Rahne. How were your classes?" "Ooh, muchfun," Catseye beamed, as they headed off toward the western edge of the college. "Test came back today, and pretty redfur and Catseye right up top of class!" "Sharon had the third highest of the lot," Rahne elaborated, in a playfully mocking tone. "It would ha' been perfect, but the professor's assistants c'n scarcely read her writin'." "Heck, neither can I," grinned Doug. "And I'm supposed to be able to read ANYTHING." "Never liked paper skritchy-scratches anyhow," said Sharon, sticking her tongue out at them. "Can't blame you two for having a knack with animal bio, that's for sure." After a while, as they neared the eucalyptus rows that bordered the campus, Sharon, who was walking just behind Doug and Rahne, placed one hand on each of their shoulders. "Don't look now," she said, in a low growl, "but someone follows." Doug let out a short, tense sigh, as he had a good idea of who it was. "Let me guess. Woman in her early to mid-thirties, really pale skin, black hair, right?" "Know her, yes?" "Yeah." Doug stopped short and turned around, Sharon and Rahne following his lead. "Hello, Doug!" "What do you want, Domino?" Domino approached the trio with just the barest trace of caution in her movements. She was wearing all black, as seemed normal for her, and had a semblance of a smile. Catseye began to growl deep in her throat, but Doug restrained her, placing a reassuring hand on her arm. "Easy, now." "Well," said Domino, crossing her arms and looking at each of them in turn. "You two must be Sharon Smith and Rahne Sinclair. Or do you prefer Catseye and Wolfsbane?" "I prefer ye nae call me anythin' a'tall," Rahne frowned. Catseye just growled. "Again, what do you want, Domino?" Doug repeated. "To start with, to say that once again we received your little note, and that once again, I'm impressed with your abilities. I also came to give you a message from Cable." "Goldenmane, scent," Catseye growled, but Doug shushed her with a nod and a raised hand. "Go ahead," he said to Domino. "I'm dying to hear this one." A small cluster of students passed them. Domino waited until they were out of earshot, then continued. "Cable's concerned about your well-being. He's worried about the seven of you falling into the wrong hands, and he's worried about the seven of you, period. I've had a few talks with him about this, and he seems perfectly amenable to taking all of you in. If you don't want to join X-Force, you don't have to, but we can protect you until the MLF is dealt with." Doug looked from Sharon to Rahne. "What do you two think?" "Hang yuir silly offer," Rahne glared at Domino. "I'll ne'er go back t' bein' what I was." Catseye's answer was a continuation of the growl she'd been underscoring the conversation with since the beginning. "I'm afraid I have to make it unanimous," Doug shrugged. "We don't need your protection. We just want to see our friends again." Domino once again tightened her lips in mild irritation. "You should follow your own advice, Cypher; don't take this so lightly. You've got serious trouble. Don't you realize that yet? Your lives are in danger!" "From who?" Doug countered. There was an awkward silence, as Domino tried to figure out what to make of this. "What do you mean by that?" "How did you know it was the MLF?" Doug asked, quietly. A pause, no more than a heartbeat. "We naturally assumed it would be. Who else would..." "Yeah, that's a good question," Doug interrupted, his tone suddenly acid. "Who else would feel the need to threaten us? Who else knows where we are? Who else has been insisting on our compliance since day one? We kind of expected this. Thanks for proving it." "What are you talking about?" Domino replied, her face creasing with annoyed puzzlement. "Don't patronize us. I can think of one man obsessive enough to do all that. Someone we all know and love." Domino nearly laughed. "What, you think Cable planted that bomb?" "Oh, no, not at all," said Doug, shaking his head. "In fact, I'm sure it wasn't Cable." "Damn right it wasn't." "Exactly. I think you did it for him." At this, Domino froze, and stared wide-eyed at Doug. Catseye crouched down, resting one long-nailed hand on the ground for balance, and smiled wickedly, showing Domino her fangs. Rahne just tightened her arms about herself. "It couldn't have been Cable," Doug went on. "I've met the man; there's no way he could have fit in that little crawlspace. But you certainly could." "That's absurd." "Don't lie to me, Ms. Lindsey. It's bad for your karma, and it won't get past me. Body language speaks as loudly as words." She looked from one to the other. "Have you all gone mad?" "Catseye," said Doug, "what were you saying about scent?" "Much like scent under newhome when boom-bomb found." "Doug, you can't possibly believe that!" Domino insisted. "Rahne?" asked Doug, looking to his right. "Her heart's beatin' faster, and she's startin' t' sweat. Smells of fear." "Thank you," Doug replied. He then turned an icy gaze on Domino. "Now you listen to me. I'm really sorry you keep ending up playing messenger, but them's the breaks. Now. If either of you makes another move against us, we'll make you regret it. You're not dealing with a bunch of pushover amateurs here. We're still the New Mutants, and we still look after our own; Cannonball, Boom-Boom and Thunderbird included. And you tell Cable that..." Simultaneously, the Warlock-modules each of the three mutants carried began to beep furiously. Doug reached to pull his out of his coat, and with a directed thought, changed it into a hand-held communicator. "Cypher here. Catseye and Wolfsbane are with me." "Cypher, this is Mirage, back at the home base. We've got a situation here." "Go ahead, Mirage," Doug said, not taking his eyes from Domino. "Warlock just completed his hourly check on Cable." "And?" Dani seemed to be struggling to stay calm. "He picked up his signal in Julian, about a mile from your grandparents' ranch. We tried to call them, but we couldn't get through." "Douglas," Rahne gasped, "that's where Brightwind is..!" Domino blanched, in so far as this was possible. "I- I don't know anything about this!" Her surprise seemed genuine. Doug was ironically pleased to find that he believed her. "Acknowledged, Mirage. Have Warlock put out the call, then prep a transport. Whatever Cable's doing, he's got to be stopped." This time Warlock's voice came over the comline. "Way ahead of you, friend Doug. State co-ordinates for rendezvous." "Co-ordinates to follow," said Doug. He then looked up at Domino. "I'm not lying to you," she insisted. "I don't know what he's up to." "Yeah," Doug nodded, sardonically. "I'll bet that's what makes him such a good leader. Come on, let's bolt." He took off at a dead run, giving co-ordinates to Warlock as Catseye and Wolfsbane followed. Domino once again watched them go, and for a moment, considered following. Somebody had to get back to X-Force, though. She ran off in a different direction, toward where she had hidden her transport. The stakes had just gone way up, and she didn't like it at all. Next: "Storm Front" ***** The New Mutants vs. X-Force: "Brothers in Arms" Part 2: "Distant Thunder" Story (c) 1991 Jeremy Bottroff, except the POST sequence, which was written by Joel Ellis Rea (Thanks, CJ!) Sheila and Philip Ramsey, The New Mutants, X-Force, the Hellions, the Mutant Liberation Front, the Wild Pack, and all constituent characters (c) 1991 Marvel. Part 3: "Storm Front" Cuyamaca mountains/ McAudry Ranch, Julian CA Forty minutes later Warlock had never quite been the same since his reanimation and separation from Cypher (the greatest evidence of this being his evolution of modular separation), but some things remained unchanged. If he spread himself thin enough, he could become just about anything, including a VTOL transport for his teammates. He was next to powerless to defend them against an attack in this form, but in the current situation, speed was more important than safety. The other six New Mutants had spent the first part of the voyage getting changed. Each of them wore a customized X-Men skinsuit of Forge's design. Normally they shunned the use of the one-piece costumes, preferring their own "hero clothes" (essentially normal, functional clothing arranged in creative ways), but against a potential foe like Cable, the body-armor would be invaluable. Borrowing a trick from "Star Trek," each also wore a Warlock-module communicator as an insignia on his or her chest. They took the direct route, heading east from the coast to the mountains, covering the forty-odd miles to Julian in just over twenty minutes. It was a long time to sit silently, waiting, and each of the New Mutants dealt with it in their own way. Rictor paced the short length of Warlock's fuselage, face showing his thoughts in turmoil. Wolfsbane sat quietly, hugging her knees to her chest, not looking up at them. She hated this part of being a mutant hero. Cypher sat opposite her, molding a large module in his hands, changing it into a comm helmet and scan-visor. He had a look of deep concentration, as though formulating their plan for what could be in store. Tarot held her quarterstaff out before her, rolling it across her palms in an agitated manner. She paused for the tenth time to check her card-pouch, strapped securely to her right hip, and her rapier, dangling in its sheath at her left. Catseye was curled up at Tarot's feet, looking calm and acting as an anchor of stability. Mirage rode in the cockpit, in spite of the fact that Warlock was in full control of their trajectory. She sat in quiet intensity, trying to reach across the ever-shortening span to lock minds with her Asgardian steed, Brightwind. She was thus the first to see the smoke. "Doug, get up here!" Cypher hurried to the front of the craft, cradling the helmet in one arm. "Dani, wha..." He trailed off as he, too, saw the first thin trails of smoke rising from beyond the next hill. As they crested, they were able to look down into the scene below. The McAudry ranch was situated in a wide valley away from the main highway, near where a spring-fed creek widened into a small lake. Acres of fenced pasture formed a wide break in the forested hills; plenty of space for the horses to run free. Which now seemed to be exactly what they were doing. Several sections of the fencing were broken down, and the small herd was stampeding for the hills. Beyond them, the ranch house itself seemed intact, but the east-west running wing of the T-shaped stable complex, where the finest horses were kept, was ablaze. "Oh, Christ," Doug whispered. That was where Brightwind would be... "Warlock, set us down in front of the herd!" As Warlock brought them in low, about three hundred yards in front of the leading edge of the stampede, Doug turned to address the team. "Okay, here's the plan! Catseye, Wolfsbane, you two get to play cowgirl. Don't try to stop them, just keep them together, and run them deeper into the valley. You two clear on this?" Catseye grinned. "Banzai, goldenmane!" "Aye, Cypher," Rahne nodded, seemingly relieved. She always appreciated rescue more than combat; besides which, Doug knew how afraid she was of fires. Warlock opened a hatch, and the two leaped clear, shifting into their furforms. Once they were at a safe distance, the technoid once again took to the air, making a beeline for the distant stables. "Okay, pal, set us down between the lake and the stable! Soon as we're clear, try to form a pump or something." "To fight fire utilizing lakewater," Warlock finished for him. "Affirmative, friend/boss Cypher, though prolonged exposure to water could inhibit self's cohesion." Cypher winced. That was another, more unfortunate change. "Try." As they made their approach, Doug examined the burning building with a sort of fatalistic calm. The fire seemed to have been set in three places: at the main north doors (opposite where the north-south wing intersected the east-west), and to either extreme of the east-west wing. As he watched, a rider emerged from the only intact doors at the far south of the north-south section. It was his cousin Brian, leading out four other horses. "At least this happened during the day," Doug said to Dani. "Most of the stock would be out to pasture." In as much time as it took to say this, Warlock had covered the remaining distance and set down north and west of the buildings, next to the lake. He immediately disengaged himself from transport-mode and began re-forming. Cypher, Mirage, Rictor and Tarot dashed for the stable itself. "Mirage, can you feel Brightwind?" Danielle shook her head as she ran, clenching her teeth in pain. "He's okay, but the other horses are panicked! I can... hear them!" The first people they saw were Doug's grandmother, Helen, and his young cousin Lon. They were standing as close as they dared to the main stable doors, from which flames and black smoke rose into the afternoon sky. "Grandma! Lon!" Doug called, coming to a stop next to her. "Are you two alright? Where's Papa Mike?" "Douglas!" Helen cried. "Michael, Matthew and the children went in after the horses!" Tarot had already dropped her staff and reached for her card pouch. She pulled out the first deck, wrapped in black silk, and discarded it. Rictor stood restlessly, wishing that his power could help them here. Lon watched the quartet with wide eyes; he'd never seen them in costume before. Danielle was halfway to the stable herself when two riders burst from the open doors, leading several other horses. One was Doug's uncle Matthew, the other, his cousin Jesse. The two herded the stock away at a full gallop, narrowly avoiding Mirage. That still left Papa Mike and Brian's twin sister Brynn unaccounted for. "Mirage, wait!" Doug shouted at Danielle as she dashed into the smoky blackness. Either she didn't hear or didn't care, and she vanished from sight. "Tarot, what have you got?" Doug yelled over the sounds of the receding hooves. "Elemental deck!" she called back, unwrapping a second set of cards from a blue kerchief. "Give me a minute!" "Keep at it! Rictor, stay here! I'm going in after Mirage!" "The hell you are!" Rictor countered, but Doug had already set his helmet on the ground and taken off. Ric looked to Tarot, then to Helen, registered the panic in both of their faces, then followed his leader. But before he could enter, the central section collapsed in on itself. He had to make a flying leap backwards to avoid being buried by the burning planks. On the inside, Doug had not been so lucky. He had dodged to his right during the collapse, but a flaming beam had caught him across the back, a second nearly broken his left ankle, and he was pinned. Even though his costume protected him from the flames, he could still feel the searing heat, and the fall had knocked the breath from him. He could not move. Then two strong arms were grasping his, and pulling him out from under the debris. Mirage. "Are you okay?" she asked him, as she helped him to his feet. Doug's ankle shot pain up his leg as he put his weight on it, but he did his best to ignore it. "Fine," he coughed. "You?" "Great. Let's move it." "Right. Thank you." "Anytime." Still holding hands tightly to avoid losing one another, they stumbled down the length of the stable, passing empty stalls on either side. The fire was not as bad toward the center of the west section, but both mutants knew that they were all but trapped: that one exit was now gone, and the other was burning. Near the far end, they found Brynn, leading two horses: her own mare Amalthea, and Doug's old gelding Woodlock. "Doug!" she shouted over the roaring flames. "Dani! What are you doing here?" "Where's Papa Mike, Brynn?" Doug cried. "He's behind me, with Brightwind! Come on, let's get outta here!" "We can't get out that way, Brynn! The whole section caved in!" "Well, the other way isn't much better!" Behind Brynn, there came the sound of creaking timbers. They could hear Papa Mike swearing, hear the ruffling of wings and the stomping of hooves, but could not see them through the smoke. Then the roof collapsed, missing Amalthea and Woodlock by no more than five feet. Doug and Dani surged forward, dodging hooves as the two horses reared in panic. "Papa Mike!" Brynn screamed. In another moment, a huge shape emerged from the blaze, buffeting the burning wreckage to either side with its great wings. It was Brightwind, Danielle's winged Asgardian steed. Beneath him, holding on around the stallion's neck for dear life, was Michael McAudry. When the two were clear of the flames, Brynn and Doug helped their grandfather to his feet. He was bent double coughing, but otherwise seemed completely unharmed. Brightwind had shielded the man with his own body. Brightwind himself seemed no worse for wear. For a steed which could endure the fires of Hela's realm, a mere burning stable was a trifling matter. This, however, didn't change the fact that they were now trapped in the last intact portion of the stable, with flames approaching from either side. Brynn did her best to calm Amalthea and Woodlock, while Dani made mental contact with them, trying to soothe their panic with her thoughts. Doug tapped his communicator. "Cypher to Rictor, come in!" "Rictor here! Are you guys okay?" "We're fine, but we're stuck in here! We need an exit, pronto!" "You want one, you got one!" Rictor replied. "How much space have you got?" "Not much; be careful!" He turned to the others. "Get ready to make a break!" There was a low rumble, characteristic of Rictor's power. In his earlier years, this power had simply made him the epicenter of an uncontrollable earthquake. Now, he could take that tremor, contain it in his own body, and channel it outward in a focused blast of concussive force. Which was precisely what he did at that moment. The rumble became louder and more intense, and then, with an almighty crash, the burning rubble where the west entrance had been was blown apart. This was immediately followed by a wide-focused spray of water, dousing the remainder. "Selfriends, get clear!" Warlock called from outside, as the blast of water receded. "Damage to building exceeding structural integrity!" Mirage leaped up onto Brightwind's back, then pulled Michael up in front of her. Doug and Brynn followed suit, climbing bareback onto Woodlock and Amalthea. The three steeds bolted out, leaping through the smoldering wreckage just as the rest of the western wing collapsed behind them. Brightwind immediately fought for altitude, while Amalthea and Woodlock just got as far from the fire as they could. It had begun to rain, Doug noticed. It struck him as being very odd, as the sky had been all but clear minutes before. Eventually, as they became biddable, Doug and Brynn guided their mounts back around in a large circle, to where Rictor, Helen and Lon were waiting, a mounted Jesse beside them. Lon was all but jumping up and down: to actually see his cousin's hero team in action! Brightwind landed a moment later, and Danielle helped a somewhat shaken Michael to the ground, where he was embraced by Helen. Jesse pulled his own mount, Clip, up beside Woodlock and slapped Doug on the shoulder, grinning. "Well, well, well. My mutie cuz pulls through." "Yar, Jess. You okay?" "Never better. You alright, Papa Mike?" Michael coughed a few more times, then looked round at them. "All the horses out?" he asked. "Every one," said Jesse, proudly. "Dad and Brian are chasing down the stampede." "Good," nodded Michael. He then looked up at Mirage and cracked a gap-toothed smile. "I've said it before, Danielle, but I'll say it again. That's a fine animal ye've got there." Brightwind snorted, stomping his front hooves. "He appreciates the sentiment, Mr. McAudry," Dani smiled. Doug swung himself down as Rictor approached, but nearly fell as his bad ankle gave way. "Aow!" "You okay, Cypher?" Rictor asked, steadying his friend. "Yah, no problem." "Warlock's having trouble holding that shape together," Ric continued, pointing to where Warlock was doing his best to hose down the building, in spite of the interference the water was giving his technorganic body. Are you okay, partner? Doug thought to him. As well as could be expected. This is very difficult. Friend Tarot seems to be faring better. Okay, don't hurt yourself. The main emergency's over. If it gets risky, just stop. Affirmative. Doug and Rictor approached Tarot, who was standing off away from the rest of the group, a card in each hand. "Everything cool, Tarot?" he asked her. "Oui," she answered, distractedly. Her eyes were glazed; Doug recalled that the Elemental Tarot was the most difficult for her to manipulate. Fire, Water, Air and Earth were much more complex than Wands, Cups, Swords and Pentacles. "The rain's yours, then?" "Oui," she repeated. "The Five of Water: Sudden Rain. Soon combined with the Five of Air: Storm." There was a distant roll of thunder. The rain began to fall harder, but it had a long way to go before it could compete with that blaze. "You sure you can control this?" he asked, more than a little concerned at her empty-eyed expression and rigid stance. She nodded slowly. "Please, Douglas," she whispered. "I must concentrate." "Okay. Be careful." Leaving her to her work, Doug picked up his module/helmet from where he'd left it and put it on. He activated scan-modes and communications with a thought, and watched as the visor/display in the helmet came to life with a topographical map of the immediate area. Several gold-colored blips registered, showing the positions of his teammates by scanning for their communicators. As before, a microphone extended from the main body of the module, awaiting his transmission. "Cypher to Wolfsbane and Catseye," he said into the microphone. "Please respond." He waited a few moments, to give the girls a chance to emerge from their wereforms. After a moment of static, Rahne's voice sounded in his ear. "Wolfsbane reportin'. Catseye is here as well." "Status?" "All is well. We stopped the beasties at the base of the valley. Yuir uncle and cousin are here." "Tell them everything's okay back at the ranch. We got all the horses out and no one's hurt." There was a pause, in which Rahne relayed this. "Yuir cousin has a message for ye," she then responded. "Oh, yeah? What's that?" Rahne hesitated. "Ah..." Then Catseye's happy voice chimed in. "Says, `Nice kickin' ass, cuz.'" "Aha. Tell him thanks." "Friend Cypher," Warlock's voice suddenly interrupted over the comlink. "Apologies, but self cannot maintain firefighting measures any longer." "No problem, pal, you did your part. Get under cover." "Shall we regroup with ye, Cypher?" Wolfsbane asked. As Doug was about to reply, a sudden blip on the edge of the visor's scanning range caught his eye. Almost as soon as he saw it, though, it vanished. "Stand by, Wolfsbane," he replied. As he was about to re-scan, however, something butted against the back of his head. He flipped the visor up and turned to see Woodlock standing behind him. Brynn had one hand on the gelding's mane, the other on Amalthea's. "Doug, we're taking the stock to the barns, to get 'em out of the rain. You guys coming?" He looked from Brynn to Rictor, who was still standing nearby, listening. "Just a sec, Brynn, I need to check something out." Once again, he folded down the visor and activated the display, but this time, extended the range of the local scan. The map on his screen readjusted itself, and the blips signifying the positions of himself and his teammates shifted accordingly. And were joined by an eighth. Another beacon, coloration slightly different than the others. Doug sent a query to Warlock via the helmet CPU. It was answered by a string of data across the margin of his screen. The blip was a standard communications module, rendered functionally inactive, and altered to chameleon status. Panic set in at the same time as realization. "Oh, no..." "Doug?" asked Brynn. "Warlock?!" Doug cried, aloud. "Apologies, friend Cypher," Warlock replied via the comlink. "Self cannot pursue through current environment." "What's going on, Doug?" Rictor demanded. "He's still here, Rictor." "Who?" Doug whirled, took hold of Woodlock's mane, and swung himself onto the gelding's back. "Cable," he said, simply. Rictor's eyes went wide. "So where are you going?" "After him." "Then I'm going with you." "No way." "Screw you, amigo, I'm not letting you go alone this time." With that, Rictor vaulted up onto Woodlock's back behind Cypher. Doug raised no further objections. "Brynn," he said, the edge of panic evident in his voice. "As soon as you get the horses under cover, get in the house and lock all the doors! And have your rifles ready!" "What are you talking about?!" Brynn cried. "The guy who set this fire's still around! He's armed and dangerous!" Doug took off his combadge and flipped it to her. "I'll call in as soon as it's safe. Now get moving!" Without waiting for an answer, Doug cast one last look at the statuesque Tarot, then slapped Woodlock's flank. The old gelding broke into a brisk trot, leaving Brynn and Marie-Ange behind. "New Mutants, this is Cypher," Doug said, sending out a wide-range broadcast to the entire team, in spite of the static the rain was causing. "Cable is still here; repeat, Cable is still here. Scans pinpoint him in the hills due north. Rictor and I are in pursuit." "Gotcha, Cypher," Mirage replied. "Brightwind and I'll be right above you." "Be careful, chief." The next voice was Rahne's. "We'll be with ye quick as we can, Cypher!" "Negative, Wolfsbane. I want you and Catseye to get back to the stables and protect Tarot. Cable might not be here alone." There was a long silence, and at last it was Catseye who answered. "Kayo, goldenmane. Take care." Cypher dug his heels into Woodlock's flank, and the old horse started to gallop up the hillside, along a narrow track through the woods. He had been riding Woodlock since age six, and knew his every motion and response by touch, even after all this time away from home. Thus, he trusted the old boy to watch where they were going, as Doug himself was riding blind, using his quickly deteriorating visor-scanners to locate Cable. A bunching of muscles in preparation for a leap over some obstacle, and Doug shifted accordingly. Rictor was having trouble with his balance, but hung on tightly. The rain was sheeting down now, but Doug didn't care. Cable was moving, a blip against a series of obstacles, but apparently still on the bridle trail ahead, trying to outrun them. Doug didn't stop to think about what he and Rictor would do once they caught up with the man. He felt Rictor shaking, but sensed that it was not from cold, or from fear. More likely, he was prepping himself to cut loose on Cable with all his power. That would be one solution... The vibrations were spooking Woodlock, though. Doug bent lower over the gelding's neck, patting him reassuringly as he urged still greater speed. Not much further. They would be on him soon. Without warning, Woodlock pitched forward with a pair of sickening SNAPs, crashing head-first into the wet ground, throwing Doug and Rictor from his back as he tumbled to a halt. Doug twisted as he fell, but only succeeded in landing on his back and shoulders against a stout tree root, nearly breaking his neck. Rictor slammed shoulder-first into the same tree, landing heavily and grabbing his right arm with a cry of pain. Through the haze of agony, through the pouring rain, Doug somehow pushed himself to a seated position. He could scarcely move his neck; any attempt to do so sent pain shooting through the rest of his body. "Ric?" Rictor had pushed himself up against the tree, and was holding his right arm, which he could not seem to move. "Yah. You okay?" "No. You?" "No." Doug heard Woodlock whinnying, and had to turn his whole body to look. The horse was lying on his side, twitching fitfully, trying in vain to stand; both of his forelegs were broken. The rain seemed to be lessening now. Looking behind them, Doug saw a thin line running from one side of the track to the other, about a foot above the ground. A tripwire. At his speed, Woodlock could never have seen it in time... In a few moments, as Doug made his way to Rictor, the rain stopped entirely. Doug tried to scan for Cable, but the fall had damaged his visor. The communicator seemed to be working, though, as a very subdued voice came over the built-in headphones. "Cypher, this is Tarot." "Go ahead, Tarot," Doug winced, sucking the breath between his teeth. "The fire is out, mes braves." Dani's voice broke in. "Cypher, what happened down there?" "We lost him," Doug managed. "Warlock, can you spot him?" After a moment, Warlock replied. "Entity Cable retreating with haste, aboard vehicle. Self's external modular readings fluctuated momentarily; self believes personal teleportation device was utilized to reach ground-to-air transport. Shall self pursue now that rain is complete?" "Negative, 'Lock. Ah... Brynn, can you hear me?" After a moment, his cousin replied. "I'm here, Doug." "Brynn, could you... put Papa Mike on, please?" "Okay." The next voice was his grandfather's. "Doug?" "Hi, Papa. Sorry, but the bad guy got away. Everything okay back there?" "We're fine, Doug. I'll tell ye, it's one thing to know about you and y'r friends bein' mutants, but quite another to see it. The way that lass o' yers called rain down from heaven..." "Papa, Ric and I are up on the hill... We... need a hand." "Cypher, what's wrong?" It was Rahne this time, unable to mask the concern in her voice. "Are ye hurt?" "Yah... I think Rictor's shoulder is dislocated. And I can't move my neck." "We'll be up to fetch ye in two shakes, Doug," Michael replied. "Thanks. And Papa... you'd better bring your rifle. Woodlock's... hurt real bad." Silence from the comm. "I'm sorry, lad." His voice faded out as Dani and Brightwind galloped up from further down the track. They'd been forced to land a good ways away and make their way up on foot. Dani leaped down and hurried to Doug's side. He shooed her off and pointed to Rictor. "I'm fine. Do you know how to fix a dislocation?" "Yeah," she nodded, squatting down next to Rictor and examining his arm. Brightwind approached Woodlock, bending his head down to nudge the wounded horse. At this touch, Woodlock ceased his thrashing, and lay still, panting heavily. The winged stallion looked down the track at the tripwire which had caused this, stepped up to it, and snapped it with one blow from his powerful hoof. Doug heard an unsettling twisting noise, accompanied by a half-angry, half-pained scream from Rictor as Danielle worked his shoulder back into place. After a few tense, silent minutes, four riders came up the trail: Papa Mike on Cronkite, Jesse on Clip, and Brynn and Marie-Ange riding double on Amalthea. Papa Mike reined in, swinging down from Cronkite's back, his rifle held in one hand. His face went white as he looked from Doug, to Rictor, to Woodlock. Jesse rode on ahead a few yards, cocking a shotgun and looking around for a bad guy to shoot. Brynn helped Marie-Ange awkwardly dismount; Tarot still seemed numb in the wake of her reading. They were joined by Wolfsbane and Catseye, who dashed up in their wereforms, shifting back once they arrived. Rahne knelt beside Rictor and gingerly put her arms around him. Catseye stood to her full height, looking dark and angry. Warlock flew in a while later. Papa Mike was looking from Woodlock to the mutants, a concerned expression on his face. Danielle caught his meaning. "Come on, guys, let's get out of here," she suggested. "Warlock, can you make a cart, or something? Brightwind'll pull." "Affirmative, friend Dani." As Warlock reformed himself into a large-wheeled wagon big enough for the lot of them, Danielle and Rahne helped Doug and Rictor stand. Warlock extended a stepladder so that they could climb on. Once all of the mutants were aboard, Mirage mounted Brightwind and nudged him into a slow walk. Brynn and Amalthea took up the rear of the procession as the wagon headed back down the trail toward the ranch. Doug wanted to look back at Woodlock, but he couldn't move his neck. Marie-Ange was the first to break the silence. "Mon m'sieu," she asked, quietly, "what do we do about this?" As if in response, a single report from Papa Mike's rifle echoed from the top of the mountain, and into the valley below. Cable had as good as killed poor Woodlock. But what if it had been Wolfsbane running up the trail, or Catseye? How far was Cable prepared to go? The bomb at their house, the fire... How long before one of them was killed? "I guess I go with him," Doug whispered. "Say WHAT?!" Ric cried. "You outta your skull, Ramsey?" Doug regarded Rictor. "Well, it'll get him to stop." "Doug, there has to be something we can do," Dani assured him, looking back. "You give up now, chamaco, and all this'll be for nothing!" Rictor added, angrily. "Yeah, great. I've tried to fight this. But everything I've done has only made matters worse. There just isn't any other way." "You're wrong, Doug," said Rictor, shaking his head. "There is a way... His way." All eyes went to Rictor. Even Danielle stopped Brightwind and looked round at him. He stood his ground beneath their combined gaze and went on. "You don't know how Cable's mind works. You want him to leave us alone, you can't just tell him so. We've gotta get in his face and show him that he can't screw with us. We want to get our friends away from this guy, we've gotta get in there and take 'em back. We've gotta take him on on his own turf, and show him what we've got." No one spoke for the longest time, as each of them considered Rictor's impassioned words. It seemed so easy, just to go on fighting, as they always had. But hadn't they come here looking for a better way? Was there a better way? "Do you all agree to this?" Doug asked, quietly. "Damn straight," Dani nodded, grimly. "Nastyman headed for fall big-time," growled Catseye. "Oui," said Tarot. "And bonne chance to us all." "Self agrees, friend Cypher." They looked to Rahne, who held her arms crossed before her pensively. "Aye," she nodded at last. "F'r Sam an' Boom-Boom, if nothin' else. I c'n nae bear to think of them followin' that man any longer." As crazy as it sounded, they were all in agreement. Doug, too, realized that in spite of the altruist he strove to be, he wanted vengeance. For his family, for his team, and for Woodlock. "Okay," he whispered. "First I'll need to make a few more phone calls." ***** X-Force Headquarters, upstate New York 11:09 pm EDT Cable stormed into the computer center, cursing loudly. "Domino!" he shouted, "what the hell's going on here?" He stopped short upon entering the room. Each of the several dozen monitors was blank, and where there should have been the constant sound of information coming in on the teletypes and printers, there was only silence. The room was dead. Then Domino opened a hatch and emerged from a crawlspace in the mainframe computer banks. She was filthy, disheveled, and didn't look too happy. "You know, Cable, that's a really good question," she snarled. "I was hoping you'd tell me! Where the hell have you been? What do you think you're playing at, making an attack on his family?" "How did you know that?" "Because it's just the kind of goddamn fool thing you'd pull! Planting a dud bomb was one thing, but this? What do you think this is?" "This is war, Domino," he said in a hard voice. "There are times you have to do whatever's necessary. If he thinks the MLF is attacking, he'll..." "I've got news for you, boss; they KNOW it wasn't the MLF!" Cable paused. "And how do you know THAT?" She crossed her arms and glared at him. "Because they've got you bugged. Their technoboy's been keeping tabs on you, and they spotted you out at the ranch. I was WITH them when they found out!" For a while, Cable was silent, considering this. He then resumed his earlier angry tone. "I tried to hail you during my approach! Why didn't you answer? Or open the hangar doors for that matter?" "You want to know why? Because I couldn't!" "What do you mean, you couldn't?" Her eyes screamed fury at him. "Because our entire system is crashed, that's why! Everything computer controlled is dead. Kaput." "How..?" "What do you think?" she growled. He sat down heavily at one of the dormant consoles. "Cypher?" "Bingo! I've been up here ever since I got back trying to restore some order. The kids have gone hairtrigger, thinking we're being attacked by the MLF or something." "What about backup systems?" Domino stalked across the room and keyed in some status reports at her main console. "Zeroes, all the way across the boards. He got in through my defense programming again, and wiped out everything we had in memory, including primary, secondary, AND tertiary backup. But not before he downloaded most of it. Every hard drive is crashed, every terminal shorted out. And all that from three thousand miles away. He left the medlab untouched for some reason, but that's all, folks." "What good does he think..." "Oh, but wait," Domino interrupted, with a furious parody of a smile. "It gets better. Got a couple more things to show you." She went to one of the teletypes and picked up a sheet of output. "This is from the monitor on his phone line. Shows all the outgoing calls he made. A couple of hours ago, it started. I've got a call to Malibu, one to Rio de Janeiro, one to Lake Tahoe, one to a remote satellite station somewhere out in the middle of the goddamn rainforest, one to London, and then another to Malibu. The next one was to us, and that's where the system crashed." She handed him the sheet, and he studied it carefully. "The one to Rio would be Sunspot," he said, "and the remote station would be Magma. Probably the only phone in Nova Roma." "Sounds to me like he's calling in reinforcements," Domino nodded, still seething. "Malibu and Tahoe... do we know any mutants in those areas?" "None that I can think of, and I damn well can't run a check on them." Cable nodded, handing the sheet back to her. "What else?" "Oh, this is the best yet," she said, with that sarcastic, thin-lipped smile. She collected another sheet of paper from one of the laser printers and handed it to him. "This came in on every one of our main units." It read: Dear Cable, You've just made it personal. The New Mutants are coming. If Sam, Tabitha, and James aren't waiting for us when we arrive, we'll get them out ourselves, then level your mountain and raise a volcano in its place. And Domino: Nice try, but no cigar. -Cypher Here, Domino's anger finally outweighed her sarcasm. "Are you happy now, boss? He told us no, but you couldn't take it! Now we've got a fight on our hands! Why can't you ever just take no for an answer, Cable? What part of 'no' DON'T you understand?!" "Dominique," he said, in a level voice, "we're sitting on top of eight hundred tons of top-of-the-line Sentinel technology here, but we can't do squat with it because none of us, not even you, can figure it out. But Cypher could." "How much are you willing to risk to get this guy, then? You ready to put your ass on the line against these kids? You willing to get some of our group killed?" "If we had access to that technology, the kids wouldn't be necessary anymore! We could STOP putting them at risk all the time! We could be just as effective running things from here, without putting them on the front lines!" "Yeah, I know, I've heard it all before," she fumed, leaning against her console and crossing her arms. "But good luck convincing them of that when they get here." After a thoughtful pause, Cable stood. "Keep working on things up here." "Where are YOU going?" He gazed at her, steadily. "It's time I told the kids what's going on." "ABOUT time, you mean," she snapped, as he opened the door. He turned to glare at her, his bionic eye glittering. "Dominique, you've been around me long enough to know my rules. You're either with me, or you're against me. Which is it going to be?" There was a frightful moment in which Domino did not answer, but then she muttered "With." "Good," he nodded. "For now," she added under her breath, as he closed the door behind him. Next: "Two Tribes" ***** The New Mutants vs. X-Force: "Brothers in Arms" Part 3: "Storm Front" This story, and the McAudry family (Michael, Helen, Matthew, Jesse, Brian, Brynn and Lon) (c) 1991 Jeremy Bottroff (by default, if nothing else) The New Mutants, X-Force, and all constituent characters (c) 1991 Marvel Comics Group. Part 4: "Two Tribes" Ramsey home, La Jolla CA/ X-Force HQ, upstate New York Tuesday, 24 May, 8:36 PDT/ 11:36 EDT Doug led the quartet around the wheel-shaped main corridor, to where the rest of the New Mutants were waiting, seated around the dining room table. "Okay, most of you are familiar with one another," he said to them, "but just for the sake of introductions, here goes: "Of course, all of you know Sunspot," he continued, indicating the well-dressed, dark-skinned Brazilian to his left. "Roberto DaCosta, founding member. Ric, I don't think you know any of these others, so..." The second was a fair-skinned, fair-haired, regal-looking girl of about nineteen. "Amara Aquila, also known as Magma. Long-time member of the New Mutants, briefly with the Hellions." Next was a short, curvy young woman with long, curly pale-gold hair and what seemed to be a permanent smug expression. "This is Jennifer Stavros, formerly Roulette of the Hellions." The last was a dark-haired, dark-eyed woman in her mid-to-late twenties. "And this is..." "Lila Cheney!" Rictor gasped, as though meeting one of his favorite rock stars. Which, of course, he was. Lila grinned at him. "Yah," said Doug. "She's a long-distance teleporter, and is in fact the one who brought these others." The four new arrivals joined them at the table, as Doug took his seat at the far end. Tarot and Catseye scooted to either side to make room for Roulette, and the three former teammates greeted one another with a series of short embraces. Lila took the seat directly to Doug's left, and Sunspot and Magma scrunched in with Mirage and Wolfsbane. Doug was dimly aware that his mother was watching them from a distance, but he did his best not to let that concern him. Right now, he needed to be Cypher, unofficial leader of the New Mutants, and not Sheila McAudry's son Douglas. "First of all," he said, addressing the group, "thank you all for agreeing to join together on this. And thanks Lila, Bobby, Amara and Jenny for coming on such short notice." "Wouldn't miss it," Roberto answered with a subdued grin. "I just want to be there to see the look on Cable's face." "Yeah," Doug nodded, wincing at the pain in his neck, "so do I. As you know, we're here on account of our friends and former teammates, and to settle matters with X-Force once and for all. Cable's taken things too far, and it's time to put a stop to it." "Doogie," Roulette spoke up, "not to be a downer, but if half the stuff you said on the phone is true, we can't beat these guys in a straight fight." "Jennifer, I'm surprised at you," Roberto smirked. "Since when did you ever fight fair?" "Since never, Robert-Oh. But these guys have guns." Doug noticed that Tarot was alternating between watching him, and looking over at Magma with a very odd expression on her face. Amara didn't seem to be aware of it. "Hopefully, Jenny," Doug said, "we won't have to fight them at all." ***** Three thousand miles away, a very similar scene was taking place, as Cable called his five young charges together for briefing. "You're all probably wondering what happened this evening," he told them. "The simple truth of the matter is that while Domino and I were away, someone made contact with our computer systems and caused a major crash. Domino is effecting repairs as we speak." "Who coulda done that, sir?" Cannonball asked. "Who knows we're here?" "That's a good question, Sam," Cable nodded, "and as far as I can see, there's only one answer." He let his gaze sweep over each of them in turn. Rocket-like Cannonball, the sometimes unwanted conscience of the group. Boom-Boom, one of the most potentially destructive forces known to mutantkind, housed in the guise of a flippant teenager. Warpath, their strength: one of the most durable fighters Cable had ever trained. Shatterstar, alien swordsman, among the most deadly warriors of his race. Feral, the wild side: a half-cat Morlock with a thirst for blood and action. It would be enough. Just this one last time... "Recently, Domino and I have been doing some research into a new faction of the Mutant Liberation Front, which has based itself on the west coast. Apparently, though, their leader noticed our attentions, and traced us back to here. The attack on our computers was only the beginning; they mean to meet us in combat, and destroy all we've worked to accomplish." "Then it is they who shall be destroyed," said Shatterstar in a low monotone. "I aim to bring the fight to them," Cable continued. "We attack tonight. Domino will not be joining us, but between the six of us, we've more than enough power to stop them cold." "You DO know it's the middle of the night, don't you, big kahuna?" Boom-Boom pointed out. "All the more reason to strike now," Cable nodded. "We'll take them by storm. First, though, you'll be briefed on what we'll be up against." ***** As Rictor got up to dim the lights, Doug flipped through the stack of computer-printed pages on the table in front of him. Warlock poured himself like liquid onto the table, reforming in the center as an odd, disc-like shape. "A couple of hours ago," Doug began, "Warlock and I crashed their computer system, but not before we picked up some information on the members of X-Force. Again, I hope we won't have to fight them, but it's best to be prepared." Warlock lit up, forming a column of blue-grey light between himself and the ceiling, in which he projected a full-sized holographic image: a tall, blonde, familiar-looking young man wearing flight goggles. "Samuel Zachery Guthrie-" Doug said by way of narration, "-Cannonball. Psychokinetic. Founding member of the New Mutants, and one of only two to stay with Cable back when the team broke up. "His power is a thermochemical release of energy, which propels him in straight-line flight, while at the same time creating an impermeable field around himself, or whatever he carries. According to Cable's files, he's gotten pretty good at muffling the sound of his blast-field, so don't count on hearing him. He's also been working on extending his field to shield a greater area. "I don't think it needs to be said that Sam is not to be engaged in combat unless absolutely necessary. Any of us should be able to reason with him, unless Cable's really screwed with his mind... which remains a possibility." "First of all, we have the Nystrom sisters," Cable began. "The elder is Catherine, code-ident 'Canys.' She's a mix of the worst elements of human and wild dog. She's a vicious fighter, with next to no intelligence or reason. She'll come at you full-force, and won't stop until either she's dead or you are. "In addition, she's diseased. If she bites you, you're in for a possibly fatal case of rabies, that sets in almost immediately. She herself seems immune. "Female, assumedly caucasian, five-foot-six, approximately one hundred forty-five pounds, brown fur, green eyes, twenty-six years old." "Tabitha, last name unknown-" Doug continued, as Warlock adjusted his holo-image, "-Boom-Boom. Psychokinetic. Former ward of X-Factor, later a member of the X-Terminators, then the New Mutants, and is the only other member who remained under Cable's teaching. "Her power is the classic psychokinetic: she blows things up. Cable has been doing his best to get her to use her psionic energy pellets, or 'time bombs' as she calls them, as destructively as possible, while constantly rebuking her normally flip attitude. She's been showing considerable discontent since day one, but Cable has been distantly encouraging the... bond between her and Cannonball, hoping that her... attraction for him will keep her loyal to the team." Doug looked to his left to see that Lila was glaring up at the hologram. She didn't seem too pleased. "She's equipped with wrist-mounted launchers for her explosives, and seems to have learned how to create pellets that explode on impact as well as her usual timed detonations. "She's quite dangerous on the surface, but if we approach her in a non-combat situation, she should listen to reason. If she attacks, by all means defend yourselves, but don't use fatal force. Escape would be preferable to a counter-attack." "Phyllis Nystrom, code-ident 'Felys.' Like her sister, she's more animal than human. Unlike Canys, she's a cat: something similar to Feral. She's the brains of the sister-team, with a genius mentality, but at the same time, she's borderline insane. She'll sneak up behind you and rip your spine out if you aren't careful." Feral seemed intrigued by this, as she was giving Cable a wide, befanged grin. "Catlike agility and senses, with claws and fangs that have been known to cut through bone, metal, even kevlar. Feral, this one's all yours, if you get the chance. "Female, assumedly caucasian, five-foot-eight, approximately one hundred thirty-five pounds, fur the color of a Russian blue cat, blue eyes, twenty-two years old. Normally she walks on all fours." "James Proudstar- Warpath. Somatic. Formerly Thunderbird, leader of the Hellions." "Holy smoke," Roulette added with a low whistle, as she looked the hologram up and down. "Jimmy sure got BIG, didn't he?" "Yeah, he seems to have hit a bit of a growth spurt since last we saw him," Doug nodded, which elicited some subdued laughter. "His powers are enhanced strength and durability, to the point that he once fell from a skyscraper, and not only survived, but immediately afterward got into a toe-to-toe slugfest with the Juggernaut and held his own. He also has excellent scent and vision, which aid him in tracking. Hopefully we'll be giving him some familiar scents to follow. "His only purpose in working with Cable is to get himself into top shape for his vendetta with the Hellfire club." Tarot, Roulette and Catseye looked vaguely alarmed by this, so Doug elaborated. "He believes that Emma Frost was responsible for the destruction of his home and family at Camp Verde, Arizona. Cable doesn't say any more than that about it, but adds that he will keep James waiting on vengeance for as long as he can; he thinks that once Warpath has his revenge, he'll see no more need to stay with X-Force, and he's proven too useful for Cable to risk anytime soon. "As to whether or not Miss Frost was responsible, that's not my place to judge. Regardless, if we can open his eyes to the way Cable's using him, we should be able to convince him to drop X-Force altogether. If he should attack, get the hell away; one punch would cripple or kill any of us. We'll just have to take that chance." "Jose' Santiago, code-ident 'Tremyr.' Hails from Cuba. He's one of several mutant terrorists who claimed responsibility for both the Mount Saint Helens eruption in '80 and the San Fransisco quake of '89. With his power, he could very well have been serious. He's an environmentalist, and claims to be able to commune with the earth. Whether or not this is the case, he's capable of anything from a minor tremor to a quake that'd drop California into the Pacific. "He's a decent comattant in several forms of martial arts. The MLF keeps him around mostly as scare tactics, since using his power could harm their operatives as much as their enemies. "Male latino, six-foot-one, approximately two hundred pounds, black hair, brown eyes, thirty-three years old." "Feral- real name unknown. Somatic. Claims to be one of the Morlocks, but I sure as hell don't remember her, and I doubt we could have missed her. "She's your basic rabid cat-creature from Hell. As opposed to Catseye, our basic rabid cat-creature from Boston." The smiles were a bit more in earnest that time. Best to keep at least a shade of optimism here. "She's got enhanced senses, superhuman agility, and loves to go at it tooth and nail. Cable describes her as being not only quite capable of killing, but rather fond of it as well. I'm pretty certain she doesn't know any of us, with the possible exception of Sunspot, so reason looks to be out of the question. She's not to be engaged; she'd best be dealt with by either mental means, or by not dealing with her at all. Catseye, I don't want you anywhere near her if you can aviod it. "I think it goes without saying that she wouldn't be too keen on our team, so let's not go out of our way to recruit her. One rabid cat-creature around here is plenty." "Dwayne Washington, code-ident 'Robotyx.' He's a cyborg, formerly in league with both the Reavers and the Hellfire Club. Not only a durable fighter, but a genius with electronics and robotics. He's undoubtedly the one who crashed our system earlier. "His powers are a mix of psionic and technological. He can mentally interface with computers and machinery, and bend them to his will. He can kill you any number of ways: by using his own personal weaponry, including lasers and plasma-guns, by creating robotic drones to attack in his place, or if he gets close enough, to change you into a cyborg like himself, and subvert you to his control. The world won't miss him. "Male negro, six-foot-one, approximately two hundred forty pounds, black hair, brown eyes, twenty-eight years old." "His only known name is Shatterstar. Somatic, partial psychokinetic. An alien, said to be from the same world as Longshot, the former X-Man. That's where the similarity between the two ends. "He's a warrior of his people, bred for killing and very little else. He fights with unnatural speed and strength, using a double-blade in one hand, and a jagged-edged sword in the other. He has the ability to fire energy blasts from either of his blades, but he prefers it up-close and personal. He has no pretenses of mercy, nor is he interested in taking prisoners. When not in combat, he's taciturn and morose, and when fighting, he's a homicidal maniac. Cable makes no indication in his files as to whether or not Shatterstar possesses power over good luck, as Longshot did. "Like Warpath, Cable admitted him to X-Force with the pretense that eventually the team would help him in his personal war with the alien lord Mojo. Also like Warpath, Cable has no intentions of following through with this unless it becomes absolutely necessary to ensure his loyalty. "All the same, I don't think he'd listen to us if we told him so. File this one with Feral. The less we have to deal with an attitude like his, the better. Not to mention the fact that he could probably out-fight the lot of us. Avoid, avoid, and avoid." "Charlene Washington, code-ident 'Desyre.'" "Boy, these guys are a regular family affair, aren't they?" Boom-Boom interrupted. Cable cut her short with a curt gesture. "A family of killers and extortionists, Tabitha." "Sheesh, not like anyone we know," Boom-Boom muttered under her breath. Cable pretended he didn't hear. "Desyre is, in many ways, the most dangerous of the group. She's a shapeshifter, with partial telepathy and empathy; she can scan your mind, find the image of someone you love or trust, and assume that person's identity. Once she gets close, though, you're as good as dead. "It would be best to deal with her as quickly and thoroughly as possible. Once she locks onto your mind, she can intensify the love or the trust you'd feel for the person she's imitating, making it all the more difficult to break her hold. "Desyre's stats are unknown, as almost no one, not even the group's leader, has ever seen her true shape. She's assumedly a female negro, and is twenty-three years old." "Dominique Lindsey- Domino. Somatic, if anything. She's a professional mercenary, and formerly a member of Cable's Wild Pack. "She's versed in several different forms of unarmed combat, as well as being proficient in use of dagger, machete, nunchaku, garotte, cudgels, throwing stars, throwing knives, composite bow, handguns, standard rifles, automatic rifles, machine guns, sub-machine guns, rocket launchers, grenades, mortars, and heavy mobile artillery. She's also their pilot, backup tactician, and computer expert. "She sees fighting as something she does, but doesn't relish it in the way a Feral or a Shatterstar would. Cable sees her as an invaluable ally, but even after allZ[ZY^W=-ogethe - sees her as he doesn't entirely trust her. As we learned today, he doesn't even seem to let her in on all of his plans. That might prove advantageous. "She seems to be Cable's voice of reason, and also the one he sends to do most of his negotiation for him. As such, she might be open to discuss matters, but only if we catch her alone. In a combat situation, she's more than a match for any of us, so again, let's try to avoid that." "Yvette Colbert, code-ident 'Wyldcard.'" James sat bolt upright. "Colbert?" he asked, giving his leader a questioning look. Cable nodded to him. "Younger sister of Marie-Ange Colbert: Tarot, late of the Hellions." "What?!" Sam cried. James was on his feet. "What do you mean, 'late of?'" "Sit down, James," Cable said in a cold voice. Once Warpath was seated again, Cable continued. "She seems to have her sister's power over the Tarot deck, but it's driven her mad. According to MLF records, Wyldcard's first actions as a mutant were to infiltrate the Massachusetts Academy, where the Hellions were based, and kill her sister. This happened about six months ago, but we didn't know until we checked their records. "Her power allows her to animate the pictures on her cards, and let them do her fighting for her. These creatures are fully solid, and just as deadly as the real thing. If you give her time, she can bring an entire army down on you. Aside from her power, she's also handy with staff and shortsword, but nowhere near as good at hand-to-hand combat as any of you. "Female caucasian, five-foot-nine, approximately one hundred fifteen pounds, red hair, blue eyes, sixteen years old. She speaks with a French accent." Cypher took a deep breath as the last of Warlock's holograms appeared above the table. "Nathan Winters- Cable. Somatic, with technological and possible psychokinetic aspects. He's the leader of X-Force, and a fighter without peer. Former professional mercenary, killer for hire, rebel with the highest-paying cause. He sees life as a never-ending war, and himself as the ultimate general, leading his troops against the enemies, no matter who they may be. "He prefers guerilla tactics, attacking his targets without warning, and often without provocation. X-Force is his elite strike team: his main weapon for the cause. As a leader, he combines charisma with fear to keep his troops in order, and keeps a strict eye on their personal activities at all times. As far as I know, the members of X-Force are pretty much confined to base at all times, presumeably to keep them from seeing anything on the outside which might cause them doubt. Like all cult leaders, he can't afford to let them think for themselves. "He's in peak physical condition, even for a man half his age. His left eye and arm are bionic, giving him excellent vision and great strength. He can also convert his bionic arm into some sort of plasma cannon. "I won't even get into the man's own fighting abilities. Picture someone with the skill of Captain America, the killer's instincts of Wolverine, and the weaponry of an average Marine unit. "Under no circumstances, and I mean NO circumstances are any of you, even you, Amara, to engage this man in pointblank combat. It would be suicide, plain and simple." The traces of a smile played about Doug's lips. "I have something better in mind..." "Last, we have their leader. He calls himself Rubicon, because once you cross him, there's no turning back. "He's their tactician and field commander, often sending his troops to do the actual fighting while he remains in contact with each of them. In a physical battle, he's as good as they come, having mastered multiple techniques of unarmed combat. "At first, I didn't believe that Rubicon had any mutant power at all, but after studying him, I think his abilities are based in team unity: that he has some sort of rapport, possibly telepathic, with his followers. It makes their group strong, as his tactical skills may benefit the whole at all times. It also makes him their weakness. Without him, the other six would lose this group mind, and could then be taken out with relative ease. "I want this man taken alive. You don't have to be gentle with him; just make sure he survives. But at the same time, don't underestimate him. He's a tricky bastard. "Male caucasian, five-foot-eleven, approximately one hundred seventy-five pounds, blonde hair, blue eyes, twenty-four years old." ***** A heavy silence settled over the eleven mutants as Warlock reassumed his human form and went to turn the lights up. Roulette, for one, didn't look too pleased. "Christ, that's even worse than you made it sound before." "I never said this would be easy;" Doug replied, "just that it would be done. None of you has to come if you don't want to." "It looks pretty hairy from here, Doogie," Jenny said, shaking her head. "I mean, even without a fair fight, what have we got to go against powers like theirs?" "That's a good question," Doug answered, leaning back in his chair, looking around the table and pointing to each of them in turn. "We've got an interstellar-range teleporter, a werewolf, a girl who can raise volcanoes and shoot lava, someone who can turn hopes and fears against you, a guy who converts solar energy into strength, someone who can hit you with the force of an earthquake, a rabid cat-creature from Boston, a girl who can cause good or bad luck, and someone who can do heaven only knows what with her cards. "Then you've got me and Warlock who, together, can keep each and every one of you posted on everything that's happening, at all times, in the language of your choice. "Think about how I described their powers. Psychokinesis, technology, but mostly just somatic changes. Now look at us. Psychokinetic, psychomorphic, and telepathic-based powers. Each and every one of our powers requires a mind to use it. What brain power does it take to be born half-animal with killer instincts? What amount of mental force does it take to beat on people? I'm not saying they're all stupid, because it takes some intelligence to know how to fight, but we can do MORE than fight! While they've been developing their skills in battle, we've been developing our powers and our minds, just as Professor X and Miss Frost always wanted. It's truly the brains versus the brawn in this one." "Come anyhow, lucky," Catseye purred, putting her arm across Jennifer's shoulders. "Be good to have luckyfriend on good-guy side." "Okay, okay," Roulette frowned. "I'll go. But only because I owe you one. Besides, Jimmy's too cute to leave with those clowns." In spite of her tone, Doug smiled to himself. The years had changed her as well, it seemed. Before, her answer would have been "What's in it for me?" He looked to the other three newcomers. "Lila?" "When do we leave?" she grinned. "Soon. Amara?" Magma crossed her arms over her chest. "Do you expect me to refuse, with comrades at risk?" "Not really." "Good. I'm with you." "Okay. Bobby?" "It'll be tough for me, pulling this off at night," Roberto shrugged, "but I'm ready. Sam and the others don't deserve any less." With an honest smile then, Doug stood to address them all. "Okay, then. We'll be leaving Real Soon Now. We've got Forge-style skintights for those of you who've just joined us; I'll just need a few minutes to reprogram them. Let's all get changed and get primed, 'cause this is the one that counts." ***** "Each and every one of them has a weakness," Cable continued, pacing around the room, doing slow laps around their conference table. The motion helped him concentrate, and kept his troops' attention. "We probably won't be meeting them in force. They'll be surprised by our attack, and most likely scattered, so we'll have the opportunity to take them out one or two at a time. "Canys is mostly brute strength and a pit-bull mentality. She has no tactical skills whatsoever, and has survived to date by simply overpowering her enemies. Someone with a little battle finesse should have a distinct advantage. Shatterstar, Warpath, this one's probably best suited to you. "Felys is a different matter. She's a cunning fighter, and what she lacks in strength she makes up for in intelligence. But as I said before, she's borderline crazy. She likes to grandstand, and leaves a lot of openings. Feral, you could probably take her. Barring that, a distance attack like Boom-Boom's, or maybe a frontal assault like Cannonball's. "Tremyr is only dangerous if you give him time. He hesitates in using his power, and that's the key. When you see him, take him down as he's debating. Feral, Shatterstar, you two are the quickest we've got. "Wyldcard's only advantage is in her cards. Separate her from her cards and all she'll be is a halfway-decent martial artist with a small sword and a big stick. I'd suggest either leaving her for myself, Boom-Boom or Shatterstar. "Robotyx can only be harmed from a distance. I don't want any of you getting too close to him. I'll probably take him out myself, but otherwise, those of you with distance attacks- Boom-Boom and Shatterstar- should hit him hard before he gets close. "Desyre is going to make things tough. She could appear as any of us, not to mention anyone else from your memories. We'll work out a set of hand signals in case we get separated, so we'll always know if we're dealing with the real thing. She's to be shown no mercy. A moment of compassion, and she can turn it against you." "Hold on a minute, sir," Cannonball interrupted, with a look of heat, if not outright anger, on his face. "You're sayin' things like take 'em down, show no mercy, hit 'em hard... Just how far d'you want us to take this, anyway?" Sam WOULD speak up here, Cable thought. He was always the reluctant soldier. Cable wanted to explain in words Sam would understand, and tell him that once this fight was over, none of them would ever have to do it again... ...the kids wouldn't be necessary anymore... Cypher could be broken; there was no question of that. ...the kids wouldn't be necessary... "I want Rubicon alive," Cable said, looking Sam squarely in the eye. "The others can, and should, be terminated with extreme prejudice." ***** Around the Ramsey house, the New Mutants prepared for the assault to come. Spirits seemed high