In February of 2001, I was approached by the new editor for Byron Preiss' Marvel Program, Dwight Zimmerman.  Zimmerman had replaced Keith R.A. DeCandido, under who I did both "A Quiet, Normal Life" for THE ULTIMATE HULK and "Steel Dogs and Englishmen" for X-MEN LEGENDS, the latter of which featured an untold meeting between Pete Wisdom and Sean Cassidy two or three years before Pete showed up in EXCALIBUR.  Even though Keith was the editor of record for these two books, the real editor I worked with was Steve Roman, who remains my friend and is a prince of a guy.

No matter what happens from here on in, Steve had nothing to do with it.

Anyway, back to Dwight Zimmerman: Dwight had a situation he needed my help with.  It seems they were planning two books for 2002 honoring two of the greatest teams of the Marvel Universe: FIVE DECADES OF THE X-MEN and FIVE DECADES OF THE AVENGERS.  Each book was to be composed of five short novels, one taking place in each decade of the team's existence.  Did I have any ideas for these books, and could he have these ideas within the next week?

Well, I already had two ideas for the Avengers book-I sent Dwight the outlines I wrote for an aborted collection of Avengers stories from 1999.  After fooling around with what turned out to be a dead end story involving Nightcrawler being kidnapped and resisting brainwashing by Gene Nation, I proposed an idea revolving around the very short-lived line-up that followed the Mutant Massacre storyline.  I was basing my story on memories of the two-part Juggernaut tale, which featured a team composed of Psylocke, Rogue, Longshot, and Dazzler being trained by Sean Cassidy; for some reason I was positive Havok was also in there somewhere.  I came up with a tale involving a battle of wills between Havok and Sean during this training, and threw in some N'Gari demons for conflict.

And, since we were in the British Isles, I worked Pete Wisdom and Scratch (from the "London's Burning" arc) in as well.

My first warning sign something was wrong was when I read the 'clarifying rewrite' Dwight produced before sending my story proposal to Marvel.  Dwight made several changes in my four page outline while reducing it to two pages, including excising any mention of Wisdom, Scratch or Black Air.  I didn't think nothing about it, and went to writing the story, aiming for a May 31st deadline.  It went through two rewrites, none of which altered the main story arc I had laid out in my proposal.

My next warning sign was when I didn't get a contract right away. I started calling Dwight almost weekly inquiring about getting this item.  He finally forwarded the contract on May 5th.  I went into the Byron Preiss and signed the contract in person.  The contract promised five hundred dollars for both the X-Men and Avengers stories, half on signing and half on presenting the final draft.

So the weeks pass.  Dwight, based on the strength of "Up The Hill..." offers me a book contract for a novel called WINTERHEART.  He pulls me off of working on "Welcome to Xenios," the Avengers story, to work on a proposal for WINTERHEART.  I end up writing three versions of the novel proposal, the ultimate version depicting a covert war between the X-Men women and the Hellfire Club over a newly emerging mutant whose power could make her the deadliest weapon alive.  Dwight does a 'clarifying rewrite' that adds ninja battles and kidnappings to a book he insisted to me wasn't supposed to be a 'straight super-hero novel' and submits it to Marvel, who rejects it outright along with a rewrite demand for "Up the Hill."

By the time all this plays out, it's my birthday.  I learn about these rejections second hand from Steve.  I call Dwight, who tells me he's taking away the novel because he needs me to concentrate on the rewrite of "Up the Hill..." and finishing "Welcome to Xenios."

There's only one problem, I say to him as my heart sinks into depression over having a three thousand dollar contract snatched from me:

Where's the five hundred dollars ($250 for each story) Byron Preiss owes me upon signing the contracts back on May 5th?

Dwight hems and haws and shuffles his feet and confesses he doesn't know, but he'll expedite it.

Another week passes.  It's July.  At the advice of my agent, I inform Dwight I am withholding any further work until the money is delivered.  I keep calling every week to remind him.

July passes.  The person at Marvel who is acting as Byron Preiss' contact for the program is let go.

August passes.  I am informed by Steve that the cover proofs from FIVE DECADES OF THE X-MEN have come down, and I'm mentioned prominently on the cover copy.  I've since seen this cover, by the way, and it's truly hideous.

September rolls around.  It leaks into the writing community that Marvel has withdrawn the license to do the Marvel novels and short-story anthologies from Byron Preiss.  Chances are that, unlike the other times, Byron Preiss will not be able to renegotiate the license.

What you are about to read is the version of "Up The Hill Backwards" that I submitted back on May 31st before all this acrimony happened.  It looks like it will never see print and become a quasi-official part of the X-Men canon (although whether the BP anthology stories were ever in continuity is a hazy matter). If Byron Preiss manages to pull their fat out of the fire again, chances are the version that will make it to the market will not be this version.  I do not know what rewrites were requested by Marvel, as I've never opened the Express Mail envelope sent to me containing them.  As far as I'm concerned, this is the authentic version, but take it with a grain of salt.

Enjoy.

I: Sean Cassidy

"Sean, we need your help on this."

Sean Cassidy sat back in the Comm-Room chair. He sipped his black tea ('sweetened,' as was his want, with just a touch of County MacBride's finest) and considered how he should answer the stunning woman he was talking to.

His first impulse was to be honest with her. Thank you just th' same, but I been having more than enough trouble helping Moira care for all th' Morlocks and injured friends of mine you dropped off after that massacre in New York. I was a touch too old to be part of th' Game of Capes and Masks when Charles Xavier asked me to help shepherd th' new team of X-Men he was putting together, and I still ache in areas I've no wish to be aching because of it. So thank you, but I'll be passing.

But it was hard to say no to Ororo Monroe, the present leader of the X-Men. He could still see the teenaged mutant Charles recruited in the Serengeti underneath all the changes in hair and demeanor, a woman who had been worshipped as a goddess by her tribe, and a woman older than her years thanks to a hard life in Cairo. Sean still believed that her time as a 'goddess' gave her the expectation that her wishes would be carried out.

Faith, Sean, he thought to himself. You're getting lost in yourself. He ran his hand through his thick red hair and sighed. "Ororo, you understand that if I do this, I won't be going into th' field. I'm an old man, and I won't be dragged into a young man's game again."

The face on the viewscreen smiled. Once again, Sean was reminded of the.regality of Storm's bearing. "I would not ask that of you, Sean. I only ask you to train these recruits. Logan and I have some personal matters to attend to, and with Magneto presently in charge of the Academy..."

"I still don't believe that," Sean muttered.

"I do not think any of us does, but it is a fact, and we must deal with it."

Sean took another sip of tea. He paused; training the new X-Men would put extra stress this would put on himself, his lover Moira MacTaggart, and on the Muir Island Research Facility. The place was overrun by seriously injured mutants--including a few of Sean's friends.

But it needed doing. Now more than ever, after the disaster of the so-called 'Mutant Massacre,' there was a need for a standard bearer of hope.

Sean looked up. "Alright, Ororo... I'll play Charles to these young ones. But you will be owing me for this."

***

Sean met the new recruits in the facility's pressroom. It wasn't much: the small auditorium could only hold ten comfortably, and it was dusty from disuse. The fact that The Muir Island Research Facility was not exactly built to serve as the headquarters to a semi-secret 'super-hero' team occurred to him yet again.

Sean recognized a few. He knew Rogue, more by reputation than anything else. He was struck by how young she appeared, only a few years older than Kitty Pryde (who was presently in the infirmary due to injuries incurred in the Massacre). He recognized Alex Summers as well, even out of the black regulatory suit he wore as Havok. There was another woman who looked familiar, a strawberry blonde with cheekbones sharp enough to wound. Even though the woman hunched herself down in the chair as if she didn't want to be noticed, there was something about the way she looked that made Sean's detective instincts think she was used to being in the spotlight.

The remaining two were decidedly odd. The woman with purple hair and shining eyes seemed to at least be human. But as much as she seemed human, the man with the long blonde hair didn't; he was leaner and lankier than the average man, and had only three fingers on his hand. The vacant look on the man's face, like he was a total stranger to this world, was icing on the cake.

Sean cleared his throat. "Thank you all for being here. For those of you who haven't met me, my name is Sean Cassidy. I was a member of the X-Men for a time. Before that, I served with Interpol as a deep cover agent, and in the New York City Police Department. I've been asked to take a hand in training you all in combat and teamwork.the sort of things you're going to need to survive in this world. Now, Alex, and ummm..."

Sean looked at Rogue expectantly. She looked back, confused.

"What?"

"What will I be calling you, lass?"

The pretty teenager shrugged. "Rogue is fine enough, don't you think, sugah?"

"Alex and Rogue I know have some experience with the types of conflict you'll be encountering as full members of the X-Men, so I will be asking them to help me during these weeks--"

"I have full STRIKE accreditation," the purple haired woman said, citing the British 'brother organization' of SHIELD. It struck Sean how, even though her tone of voice was normal--subdued even--it seemed to command the attention of the room. "I did serve a tour of duty with them, and I was... had some small experience with metacrime."

Rogue laughed. "You should see how she faced down Sabretooth, Mr. Cassidy... had him chasing her like a bluetick after a coon."

"That's, umm, verra nice," Sean said. He paused. "I want you all to keep in mind, this is a medical and scientific research facility. I don't have a danger room like Xavier's. We'll be doing a lot of improvising, and I'm going to be requiring you to meet me half way. But together, hopefully... together we'll get you all ready to fill in for the team while they're recovering."

"That's what we are, fill-ins?" asked the blonde.

"That was my impression, yes. Storm and Wolverine may have other plans for you."

"Well that certainly gives me a warm feeling," the purple-haired girl muttered under her breath. Having people muttering under their breath was never a good thing, Sean found.

"Well, what I'd like to do is meet with you individually, understand your background and powers, so I can then develop a proper training program for you lot. Would anyone care to be first in the queue?"

The blonde man with the missing digits raised his hand.

Sean smiled. "D'you want to go first, lad?"

The blonde man stared at Sean innocently. "I am hungry. When will we be fed?"

***

A package of crisps and some of Moira's ghastly coffee seemed to keep the boy happy for a time. He ripped the foil bag open clumsily and ate the snack food within two, sometimes three at a time. This led to every third or fourth word he said being punctuated by a loud 'crunch.' The boy's name, he discovered, was Longshot. And for him, things just happened.

"That nice Dr. MacTaggart says I generate a 'probability field,' and that makes me very lucky," he explained amicably. "I do not know why she needed to poke me to discover why I am what I am... but I am. Lucky, I mean."

Sean tried to hide how much his head hurt following the boy's logic.

***

The blonde woman, thankfully, was more coherent.

"...When they outed me as a mutant, it all dried up. Oh, the weirdness that followed me around didn't dry up--I still got assaulted by jerks and lunatics in costume, not to mention jealous jerks and lunatics in costume. But no one would touch me anymore. They broke my recording contract, the movie roles never materialized. If it wasn't for Lila offering me a spot in her touring band..."

She shrugged. Sean found it interesting how this woman who defined herself by her performing now sported the body language of someone thoroughly withdrawn. Now that she was deprived of the one thing she yearned for her whole life, she was defeated. He was going to have to negate that; maybe if he brought her down to an amateur night or two, coaxed her to perform again...

"Scott once told me you turned down membership in the X-Men, Alison. Why are you here now?"

She looked up at him. "After it all happened, I decided I needed to know how to defend myself. I should've figured it out long before that, Mr. Cassidy. Ever since Scott, Jean and Logan found me, it's like I can't take a walk to the store without some guy in a mask falling in love with me. So Peter--Colossus, he was going to help train me and."

Sean nodded and put up his hand. Peter Rasputin was in the infirmary too, thanks to the Mutant Massacre. There was no need for further explanation.

***

Sean wondered why he hadn't mistaken Rogue for an older woman. There were lines around the girl's face that indicated she was hard before her time; Lord known what had been done to her in the name of 'training' her. But, to Sean's surprise, she didn't seem to let it drag her into despair. There was a decided upbeat attitude to her at this moment, for which Sean was grateful.

Of course, she may be trying too hard, he added to himself.

"I understand you used to be an outlaw," he said after their greetings were over.

Sean caught it--an eyeblink's worth of exasperation, a quick exhalation of breath that sounded like surrender. "Yeah, that's me," she shot back.

Sean nodded. "I spent some time on the other side of the law, lass. An undercover assignment that got a wee bit out of hand. It's how I first met the X-Men."

Another look passed over Rogue's face, one of relief. "I'm sorry to hear that."

Sean shrugged. "I imagine the other X-Men have been giving you a difficult go of it because of your background."

"Well," Rogue said sheepishly, her accent making it sound like a drawn-out 'wall,' "I did hurt someone they were close to--but I didn't mean it. I didn't know my powers and I kept contact too long--"

Sean raised a hand. "It's fine, lass. I won't be making any pre-judgements based on who you were. I thought you might be wanting to know that."

Rogue gave him a dazzling smile and moved on to more mundane matters.

***

The Englishwoman, Elizabeth Braddock, would have struck Sean as a colorful character without the purple hair.although the purple hair, so at odds with her proper Eatonian accent, was a definite tip off.

When she gave a brief accounting of herself, Sean's mind reeled. Here was a woman who started out as a model but then served a stint in STRIKE, served a stint as Captain Britain, and ended up aiding the X-Men in the weeks leading up to and following the Mutant Massacre.

Sean seemed to recall reports of Captain Britain being blinded at about the time Elizabeth claimed to be wearing the tights. It would have to be something to bring up at some point.

Despite her relative inexperience, Sean had to consider Elizabeth a veteran X-Man next to some of the others.

"I shall be relying on you a bit, Elizabeth," Sean told her.

"Whatever needs doing, sir."

"Good. We'll be needing that attitude in the coming months--especially when the new recruits get a taste of what this life really encompasses."

Elizabeth nodded. "I don't think the previous team quite expected the level of... well, for lack of a better term, casualties... that they accrued."

"Exactly, lass. And pity for us those casualties includes our telepath. I'd think your next appointment should be Moira's research lab. I'll be wanting to know your power levels so we can gauge your limits and better apply those abilities in the field. We're going to need someone to network our operatives, and that job will fall to you."

The woman looked at Sean levelly. Her lavender eyes seemed unnaturally shiny in the light. "It'll need doing, so I shall do it, I suppose."

"Good lass."

"However," she continued, not missing a beat, "I do think I can be helpful in other areas. I've been able exert a limited form of psychocoercive influence on other people, which could--"

"Ms. Braddock," Sean cut in, perhaps a bit too sharply. "I'm not denying your versatility. In many ways, I think you can be one of the top operatives in this team. But right now, I have t' concentrate on those who don't have your level of experience."

"Agreed, but--"

"But I'm relying on you t' do 'what needs doing' until we can bring the newer types up to your level." Sean gazed into Betsy Braddock's eyes. "And because you're still relatively new t' the X-Men, in spite of your overall experience, I'm going to be wanting you to concentrate on those elements you will need in a team environment that you haven't developed up until this point. D'you understand?"

Betsy's lips formed a hard line. "One does what one must."

"Good," Sean said with a nod. "I'm relying on you quite a bit, Ms. Braddock--you and Mr. Summers both. And I'll be expecting you to be up to the tasks."

Betsy just nodded.

***

He had saved Alex for last. In a strange way, he knew Alex Summers both the most and the least of all the members of the team. During Sean's time with the X-Men, Alex always wavered at the edges of the group, never quite joining. And then there was the lengthy period of time when Alex and his lover, Lorna Dane, were brainwashed into aiding a Shi'ar agent. Sean had plenty of opportunities to know Alex--but it always seemed like Alex did not want to let him.

Alex was the only one of the group who could count as a true 'veteran.' And Sean needed someone with that status.

Sean locked the door of the conference room as Alex settled into his chair. Alex didn't look very much like his brother, Scott Summers, but there was a resemblance. Maybe it was something he could capitalize on...

"I have to tell you, son, that I'm relieved you're here."

Alex made a face. "What do you mean?"

"I've just spent the day talking to the others," Sean replied. "It was an... illuminating few hours, it was. Lord in Heaven, I gathered this was a catch-as-you-can group, but this lot is not ready for what they're getting into. Oh, some of them have no small amount of power, and some of them are right clever when it comes to the kind of life we mutants lead--"

"I heard that Psylocke held off Sabretooth by herself for hours," Alex offered.

"Yes. And she was a spy, and she was Captain-bleedin'-Britain but, Alex lad, she only became an X-Man a short time ago. Even that Rogue girl, her time on the team is limited." Sean sighed and massaged his forehead. "But look what we have to work with. A singer who joined up because she had nowhere else to go. A--I have no idea what Longshot is supposed to be, but he's naive in the ways of the world. And Psylocke... well, pluck she may have, but she seems a bit headstrong and willful to adapt t' a team situation."

Alex squirmed a bit in his chair. "Sean... don't get me wrong. I appreciate your candor here, but why are you telling me all this?"

Sean met his gaze. "I would think that would be obvious, lad."

"Make it crystal, Sean. I've been out of touch."

"Storm asked me to train you lot while she and Logan take care of some personal business. I don't know how long you'll be working without them, which means I better have a field leader. I need to train someone to take the reins, and I think you're the best choice."

Alex was silent for a long time. Sean added, "It's just guesswork at this point, lad--"

"No," Alex said, his voice very low.

"What d'you mean?"

"I mean no." Alex glanced about, his nervous energy apparent to Sean. "I... you know, I never asked to be an X-Man. I mean, one day I'm graduating college and this bald guy comes up to me and says, 'Hi, Alex, this is your brother, we're freedom fighters in this war for mutant civil rights, and you've just been drafted.' Nobody asked me if I wanted to be a super-hero--"

"But someone asked you now, didn't they?"

Alex laughed hollowly. "Yeah... and I said yes because you're the only place I can turn to right now. Every time, you know... every time I try to go off and lead a life--a real life--some goofball alien shows up at my door to enslave me, or my girlfriend gets possessed by some cameo broach or..."

Sean reached out and took Alex's wrist. "Listen to me, lad. I've seen you in the field. You helped us when Moira's boy went insane. I know you have it in you to fight the good fight, to be an example--"

Alex pulled his arm away. "But I don't want to! Let Scott be the big macho leader man. Let me just.let me be in the background, carrying the spears."

A hundred retorts went through Sean's mind. Seeing the anguish writ on Alex's face stilled his tongue.

Sean needed the younger Summers boy. He needed him to serve as example and to lead the group of remnants he was entrusted with. But that moment was not the time to reach him. Alex Summers' personal pain needed to be dissipated before the leader within could be released.

"Alright, lad," Sean said finally with a sigh. "Why don't you go and get some rest. I'll talk to you later."

For a moment, Alex seemed frozen, as if expecting a trick. But then he relaxed, and he rose from his chair. "Okay."

Sean watched him make for the door. As Alex unlocked it, he said, under his breath, "I believe in you, lad."

Now to work on making you believe the same.

***

After the interviews were over, Sean planned to head for the personal quarters he shared with Moira. He was only a third of a way through his annual reading of Finnegan's Wake, and that was one mistress that demanded total attention.

He barely noticed her lurking in the shadows. He lingered at door, but did not turn to look at her.

"You have something t'say, Callisto?"

The former leader of the Morlocks was silent at first.

"Some cub scout troop you got there, Irish," she sneered. Sean listened to her footfalls retreating before going inside.

***

While The Muir Island Research Facility had a variety of high-tech equipment and was one of the more scientifically advanced laboratories in the world, it did lack certain amenities the X-Men needed to train.

To be precise, it was missing a Danger Room, the advanced battle-simulator that allowed the individual members to hone teamwork and tactics. For a time, Sean had considered using the physical therapy auditorium for their training sessions. But one walk through the wards, packed wall to wall with injured mutants, changed his mind. There were still scores of ailing patients, many of them members of the Morlock tribe the mysterious Marauders almost wiped out in the Massacre. Some of them were destined to die in the facility, but Sean knew others would heal--and they would need a place to relearn functions their bodies had forgotten how to perform.

With some reluctance, Sean brought his 'X-Men' (And doesn't that feel a little bit of strange, he reflected on more than one occasion) outside to the shoals of the island. The terrain around the facility was dreary and gray, all sharp, jagged rocks and crashing surf, the sort of place one would expect to be the setting for a Gothic Romance. The ground was slippery and had to tread on carefully. The roar of the surf kept communication difficult.

Not a Danger Room, to be sure... but certainly a dangerous area.

Sean leaned against the wall of the hangar bay, hand mike in his left fist, and watched the team. Betsy--Psylocke--was nearest to him. She was the only other person to have a handset; one of the major goals of this training exercise was to strengthen her ability to 'switchboard' between the others.

The others were making their way carefully along an outcropping leading to the sea. Alex and Alison--Havok and Dazzler (Have t'keep their codenames in mind, Sean admonished himself. If I want them t'get used to using them in th' field, I have t'be setting an example.) were working their way along the jagged rocks. They looked as awkward as they must've felt, having only met each other a few days ago. Rogue was airborne, carrying Longshot, who in turn was carrying a portable beacon. Even with the light from the Facility, the craggy shore proved a danger to passing ships; one of the beacons Sean had set up with the help of Moira's assistant had burned out. Turning a practical task into a training exercise was the height of efficiency in Sean's eyes.

"We're going t'be needing a clear spot t' fix the beacon in, lass," he told Psylocke through the Mike. "I'm thinking Havok should blast away the remaining debris from the last beacon, and Dazzler can 'cauterize' the area before placement."

"I'll convey your wishes, Mr. Cassidy," Psylocke replied in even, clipped tones, "Although if I could suggest--if I just--"

"No, lass."

"But--"

"No, lass." Sean wondered what was going to happen if he wasn't looking over Betsy's shoulder, acting the stern taskmaster.

His attention shifted to Havok and Dazzler as Psylocke 'switchboarded' the message. Havok seemed to take the telepathy in stride, but the Dazzler--her muscles tensed. For a moment she seemed to lose her balance. To Havok's credit, he reached out and helped steady her. Dazzler smiled her thanks to her partner then glanced up at Rogue. There was a flickering of emotion that passed through the woman's face--jealousy? Anger? --And then it was gone.

He watched as Havok guided Dazzler, not seeming to lead but doing just that. Sean's instincts were right; Alex Summers would be a good leader with a little bit of a push.

The question was what sort of push?

***

Callisto was watching them again.

He was returning from an early morning exercise, and his head was filled with notes. The exercise, 'Fox and Hounds,' had one member stalked by the others in a sort of mutant Tag. The only thing the session proved was that there were still holes in the group's teamwork. He was going over them when he noticed her shape outlined in the darkened alcove leading to the machine shop.

"What do you think of my cub scouts now, lass?" Sean said.

Callisto snorted in derision. "Too pretty for me."

Sean nodded. "That they are." He made to walk past her, but stopped. He turned to face her. "What do you think their chances are in the world?"

Callisto came out from the shadows. She seemed genuinely surprised. "Why you asking me?"

"You know a thing or two about tactics and strategy, tracking, the sort of things I've been trying to teach them. What d'you think; do they have enough t' make a go of it?"

He studied the former Morlock leader, a woman whose mutant genes made her the perfect huntress. She had been on the Island for weeks now, recovering from the wounds she received during the Massacre. Sean had thought at first that Callisto was too withdrawn, overwhelmed by the guilt of letting so many of her people die. But he soon learned that this was an integral part of her psyche. It wasn't that she was withdrawn as much as calculating constantly, evaluating those around her in case they had to become prey.

Callisto stared out at the woods. "They wouldn't last."

"How so?"

She paused to spit at the ground. "Well, the missy with the purple hair is too full of herself, for one. Blondie and the Pecan Princess are ready to kill each other and the guy with the hands--he's got an edge, but he's like a kid. They'd all get eaten up if these games were serious."

"What about Havok?" Sean asked.

"Pretty boy? He gets over how much he hates it here, he might survive a minute longer than the others."

Sean took out his pipe from his anorak's pocket. "After breakfast, I'd like you to come by for a smoke. I have an idea, if you're game."

***

To Sean's surprise, it was Rogue, and not Betsy, who had the loudest reaction.

"What?"

"You didn't understand Irish? While I'm stuck here waiting for the Butcher's Bill, I'm gonna train your asses to survive." Callisto's mouth twitched into something that could be considered a sadistic smile.

"She does appear to have survived a lot," Longshot suggested in that open-faced innocent way of his.

Rogue shifted in her seat to face as many of the others as she could. "You ain't been around here long enough, sugah. Until she needed the X-Men to save her and her kin from the Marauders, she would've been happy slitting our throats."

"And you wouldn't have been happy killing me at one time," Alison shot back, her tone dripping icicles.

"I was going out of my mind when we fought, Ali. How many times I gotta tell you?"

"I'm sure if I knew that I'd have felt better when you tried to beat the life out of me."

Sean slammed his fist on the desk before. "Right, that's enough," he shouted firmly. He waited until all eyes were on him. Sean met each X-Man's gaze in turn. "You know this is not playtime. This has always been a war. And now the war's gotten worse. For you lot to survive, you're going to have to learn to fight rougher than rough--and Callisto is a right rough lass. That's why I've asked her on."

There was a dead silence for a moment. The five students stirred in their chair.

"We need to close together, I would think," Betsy said quietly.

"We need to work together, Betsy. And your confidence in your abilities is preventing you from supporting the whole. We need you five as a whole."

A look of confusion crossed Longshot. "I am not preventing the team from supporting the whole, am I?"

Sean was about to say something, but Alex turned to face the alien. "You're doing fine, buddy. It's just hard working around your wild luck, you know?"

A slight smile broke on Sean's face, a smile he concealed almost immediately. "It's a touch hard to make plans when your ability is about the unexpected."

Longshot smiled. "Good. I would hate to be the cause for your yelling at us."

"I don't think anyone could say that," Allison chimed in. Her tone was a little too singsong.

"Since I will not be expecting any more objections," Sean said firmly. "I am going to have Callisto take you lot to the gym. And I expect her report to be favorable."

With that, he left the room. His mind was on his private quarters. Finnegan's Wake and the bottle of County MacBride he kept locked away for when his stress level threatened to explode were waiting for him.

***

The combination of the stream-of-consciousness prose of Joyce and the smoothness of the liquor had done the trick. Sean was truly relaxed again.

He hadn't felt this calm since the new team had arrived. The discord of the group had gradually worked his nerve endings until he felt paralyzed by it. This was not the first dysfunctional X-Team Sean was involved with; the second team seemed to have a strong vein of resentment running through it. But at least his team didn't have members on it who once tried to kill each other, or egomaniacs who felt they knew how best to manage their powers.

Sean sat back in his overstuffed chair and took a sip of his whiskey. The lights were low, and he savored the silence. He prayed that quiet would once again be Muir's normal state.

There was a knock on the door. Sean dog-eared his book and put it aside. "Come in."

It was Alex. He had traded in his uniform for a golf shirt and sweats. He looked more like the graduate student than an X-Man (And that might be th' point, Sean reflected). He peered into Sean's room tentatively, one hand behind his back. "You got a moment?"

Sean waved him in and pointed out a straight-back wooden chair. "Of course, lad."

Alex walked in. His gait was unsteady, tentative. He looked around and hesitated before taking the seat. Sean indicated the half-filled bottle of scotch on the nightstand and gave him a questioning look. Alex shook his head and said, "No thanks."

Once he seemed at ease, Sean sat back. "So what do you have on your mind, lad? Was Callisto too rough on you?"

Alex adjusted himself in his chair. "That's one way of putting it."

"Good," Sean replied with a nod.

"Look, Sean... I, you know, I've known you a bit longer than the others," Alex said after pausing. He rubbed the back of his neck. "Aren't you being a bit rough?"

Sean took another sip from his tumbler. "Do I think I'm being rough, lad? In my heart I am. Honestly, I am. But in my head, I'm not by half."

"These people aren't super-heroes, Sean."

"Aye, and that's the point," Sean replied before Alex could elaborate further. Sean leaned in closer to his charge. "My God, lad--look at you lot. I've got one of the women here plotting the demise of the other while making cow eyes at the one member whom doesn't understand her attraction. The other woman is too busy trying to horn herself into a position of greater strength than the one I need her in... and then there's you."

"I've been trying my best," Alex shot back defensively.

"That you are." Sean took a moment to gather up his thoughts. "I think you're doing the best that you are willing t' do, but you're not doing the best you can do."

It took a moment for Alex to realize where the conversation was going. But the realization, when it came, was sudden and the reaction to it came like a thunderclap. He rose from the chair. "Oh, no. We're not going there again. I thought I made myself clear--I'm not going to be a leader here."

"I don't think you realize how much you're already behaving like a leader, Alex. Why did you come to me? Why did you speak up for Longshot?"

"I spoke up for Longshot because he really didn't know if he was screwing up or not. What's there to understand?"

Sean sighed. "It's the fact you do these things instinctively, Alex. You're acting on impulse t' keep the team cohesive. You're showing me what I already know."

Alex raised a hand. "No, no... you think I don't know why you're doing all this?"

"To show you your strengths as a--"

"No, I'm sorry, Sean. I've got this all figured out."

Sean threw up his hands and sat back in his chair. "Then by all means, lad, please key me in, for I obviously am in the dark about my own motivations."

"It's all about Scott."

"Pardon?" Sean was stunned. Out of all the possible answers Alex Summers could give, he did not expect Alex to evoke the name of his brother, retired from the X-Men and working with the other four original members in a questionable operation called X-Factor.

"Yeah," Alex confirmed. He paced back and forth for a moment, hand to his forehead before it all came out in a torrent of words so fast Sean had trouble keeping up. "You think I don't know? Scott's like this, you know, legend to the X-Men. I mean, he is the X-Men to some of you guys. When me and Lorna and the others wanted to go off to live a normal life, Scott stayed to shepherd the new recruits. I know Alison has experience with him. I assume Rogue knows of him.

What you're doing," he told Sean, his gaze level with the older man's, "is trading on my name. You don't care how I feel and what I'm doing, you're hoping that they'll follow me because I'm the super-hero equivalent of Frank-freaking-Stallone!"

Sean closed his eyes for a moment and sighed. "Oh, Alex... if you could see what I see, you'd know that's bollocks."

"Bull. You're just using me."

"Tell me what I can do to convince you otherwise."

Alex shook his head. "It's not going to work like that."

Sean watched the younger man leave the room, the door closing a little harder than it should have. He did not return to Joyce, choosing instead to think long into the night.

***

It was another day, and another game of Fox and Hounds. This time, Havok was the Fox (which was one of the few practical choices, as making the Dazzler or Rogue the Fox would set the resentments still roiling between them to the surface).

And Havok, despite his limited mutant ability, was good.

He stayed to the parts of the wood that were the most heavily grown, depriving Rogue of her airborne advantage. Whenever Dazzler seemed to be closing in, he would randomly fire a bolt of stored energy to lessen the impact of a dazzle-burst on his eyes. He seemed to make all the right moves; even Psylocke reported that he had found a way to blank himself to her mind scans for brief periods--probably, Sean guessed, through some form of meditation trick. Ultimately, Longshot's wild luck placing him at the right spot in the forest before Alex happened to stumble through that ended the exercise.

All in all, it wasn't a bad workout. Sean still put on a face nearly as stern as Callisto when addressing his students, ordering them back to the Institute for breakfast.

As they trudged their way along the cold, hard Scottish landscape, Sean asked the former Morlock leader, "How do you think they're developing?"

Callisto shrugged. "They're fine for what they are, Irish. Won't last a day in the real world, though."

Sean stopped. "What do you mean?"

"It's plain as day," Callisto said with a sneer. "All your exercises, it's keeping them from banding together. They're still pretty kids more concerned with their pretty thoughts than staying alive. You're not making them think about having to stick together to survive."

She turned away from Sean and started up the path. "And since they want to stay on their own, they're going to die."

***

The days were not getting any warmer, and the feeling that he was failing in his task were not lessening. Sean tried to tell himself that the latter wasn't what drove him off the island and into Black Ned's for a meeting with Alistair Stuart.

The fact of the matter was he had denied himself the simple pleasure of a trip to the mainland for the three and a half weeks since training began. Sean found the simple pleasure of stepping onto a wharf and into an honest-to-God town was something he missed. He took his time getting to the pub, just breathing in the air tinged with a touch of smoke and sea salt, lingering to look in the windows of the handful of shops. The clockspring-tight knot of tension in his gut melted away. But his responsibility eventually overtook him; there was business to be done. With a world-weary exhalation of breath, he turned onto the main street and found the pub in question.

It was late Saturday afternoon, which meant Black Ned's was preparing for its weekly Kaylie. The staff was abuzz checking the speakers and preparing the finger food; in a short time, the place would be an insane maelstrom of dancing and singing, local musicians coming from all over the town and its environs to perform in a massive jam session. Sean nodded to the pub owner, and scanned for Stuart.

It wasn't difficult to find him at all. The man always bore a degree of out-of-placeness when he ventured outside of London. Handsome enough, with the sort of sandy hair that always looked like it was in danger of becoming unmanageable, Alistair ran the Weird Happenings Organization. W.H.O., as it was called, was one-half clearing house, one half spy organization specializing in metahuman and mutant crisis. Obviously, with that specialty, the two men had crossed paths frequently. Sean walked up to his table and stood before him, hands in his pockets.

"Good day, Alistair."

Alistair nodded. "Cassidy."

Sean motioned for two stouts before sitting down. "Thanks for seeing me."

"I was going to come and see you anyway. The Ministry still has some questions concerning that business with the Juggernaut last week."

Sean nodded. The week before, Alison had a run-in with the unstoppable Cain Marko, a criminal with a long history with the X-Men. The new group had managed to bring him down. It was a brief moment where Sean had some hope for the new configuration before the bickering and fractiousness brought everything back down. "Odd, that. The reason I called you here involved the lot who brought that boy in."

"The new X-Men," Alistair added.

"I'm surprised you know."

"Give the Organization some credit, Cassidy." A barmaid came over and placed two pints in front of the men. "A grouping of mutants show up in our backyard, shows some evidence of paramilitary combat training, of course we're going to put two and two together."

"It's only temporary."

"Temporary it may be," Alistair shot back, "but it's bound to be a headache down at the Ministry. We're relatively staid here, you know. We're not exactly used to world-shaking battles in our backyard, now are we?"

"True. But they're here purely for training. I can assure you personally they will be called back t' the States soon enough." Sean took a sip of his bitters; his throat suddenly felt dry and constricted.

"Sooner rather than later, if you don't mind," Alistair suggested.

"I'm doing my best, Stuart," Sean said levelly. "And I can do a tiny bit better if I had some help from you lads."

Alistair paused for a moment. He cast his eyes downwards, and Sean imagined the thoughts going through his head. It must've been hard, he reasoned, for Stuart to serve the government and still show loyalty to friends.

Finally he lifted his glass, sat back, and mumbled, "I'm listening."

***

"...A war game of sorts. The lot of you, working together, to a common goal. This shan't be a place to show off, nor to undermine the others. The way I've got this arranged, you're only going to succeed by working as a team."

Longshot straightened up and smiled ear-to-ear. "Oh, good. I like games."

"You might not like this one," Alison called out from the parallel bars, which she was using to conduct her morning stretches. It seemed that the choice was made more for her proximity to Longshot than practicality.

"Like it or not, it's mandatory," Sean said. He was in full 'Strict Teacher' mode, complete with arms--folded stance. It was the sort of mode that frequently got him through domestic disputes in the rougher neighborhoods of New York City when he was a detective. "I don't like pulling rank, lads and lasses, but I am responsible for your training, and I am aiming t' make sure you're trained correctly."

"So we'll be split into teams?" asked Rogue in between reps on the lifting bench. Callisto spotted her, standing over her as if daring her to make a mistake.

"Didn't you hear him right, missie?" The Morlock sneered. "You guys gotta work as a team."

"Then who are we going to be up against?" This question from Havok.

Sean allowed himself a wolfish smile. "Glad someone finally asked. I pulled in a few favors, and as such, you'll be up against W.H.O."

"That is what we are asking, Mr. Cassidy--Who are we up against?" asked Longshot.

Alison looked up. "Great. We've got an Abbott and Costello thing going."

"The Weird Happenings Organization," Betsy responded. She was sitting off to the side, cooling off after laps. "They're a secret agency specializing in supernatural and superscientific anomalies. I had dealings with them when I was with STRIKE."

Sean nodded. "That's right, Betsy. These are people who are used to dealing with people like us. They will know a thing or two about countering your powers and making things miserable for you. And they shall have the advantage; I've allowed them to choose the site you will attempt to 'liberate' from them.

I'm counting on you lot t' win. If you fail, I shall be obligated t' buy the participants a round, and I shall be most cross with those who make me pay out. Is this clear?"

Most of the team members chose to remain silent, or to subverbalize their disapproval.

Alex, however, told Sean, "Sounds okay to me. You going to buy a round for us when we beat their butts?"

"That sounds fair," Longshot chimed in. He then turned to Alison and asked, "What's a round?"

"I suppose I could be persuaded to part with some drink money," Sean answered with a faint smile.

***

Sean shielded his eyes. "That's it?"

The sandy haired agent to Alastiar's right removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "Yes. We've determined that will be the proper spot for the W.H.O. team to secure."

"O'Brien's a specialist in your lot, Cassidy. He's taken all of the ones we have files on into consideration."

The spot the three of them were contemplating was an unassuming barrow in the middle of a field. The hill could not be more than thirty feet in height, and if it weren't for the uneven vegetation on its surface, Sean would have mistaken it for a large pile of dirt left there by some malignant construction crew. The forest was sparse around the area for some seventy feet, and the sun beat down upon it.

"Why this place?"

O'Brien put away the small Personal Digital Assistant he was consulting. "That would be telling... although I will admit to a slight case of whimsy when choosing the area."

"How so?"

Alistair made a face. "According to O'Brien, the local guide books claim this is a fairy mound."

"If we walk around the east side of the site," O'Brien suggested, "you can see an indentation that the locals used to believe was the door to Avalon."

"I hope your group is taking this seriously," Sean commented, glancing at O'Brien. "My people will be playing for keeps."

"As will my people," Alistair replied.

"Yes, quite," added O'Brien. "You've given us a rare chance to test some new ordinance out in field conditions. My men and I will be taking this extremely seriously, I assure you."

"See that they do."

Alistair chuckled. "See that you have our tables reserved for Black Ned's... and bring your walle."

II: A Slight Intermission, with Sinister Intentions

There were eyes watching the three men discuss their upcoming competition. These eyes did not belong to the fairies rumored to dwell in and around the area. These eyes carried modern communications equipment and watched through high quality binoculars. The watchers were clad in ill-fitting black suits and ties, and wore lapel pins depicting a stylized yellow sun.

If they revealed themselves to Cassidy, Stuart or O'Brien, they would not be recognized. And that suited their masters in the Spire just fine; the agents of Black Air, prided themselves at being one with the shadows other agencies threw.

The watchers listened in on Stuart, Cassidy and O'Brien with their hi-tech microphones, and learned of their intentions. The leader of the watchers, a bald man with the curious sun symbol tattooed on his face who answered to the code-name Scratch, made a notation in his field manual. He and his second in command, who was so proud of his given name of Peter Wisdom that he refused a codename, kept watch while Scratch reported in.

"We will have intruders on Project Windowbox Location Epsilon," Scratch told his superiors. "They appear to be unaware of the importance of the site. Please advise."

And in a black, obsidian room in a black, obsidian tower, plans were made to protect the personal interests of a small cadre of very black-hearted men.

III: Alex Summers

Talking to Sean Cassidy was like talking to a distant uncle from across the ocean, one of those impossibly alien yet impossibly cool people whose every visit was an adventure.

Which was why Alex felt weird telling Sean straight out that he wasn't interested in being a substitute for Scott.

His discomfort was growing with each day on Muir Island. Privately, he wondered why he had agreed to join this interim team. It wasn't that he was an enthusiastic follower of Charles Xavier's dream of mutant/human harmony. If anything, considering the number of times he or his girlfriend had been captured, subjugated, brainwashed and otherwise forced to do things against their wills, that 'dream' had become full-blown nightmare.

In this, Alex felt a kinship to Alison Blair. It was hard not to be aware of who she was; her debut album went platinum and was hailed as a pop masterpiece. It wasn't his sort of music, but Alison's life was common knowledge thanks to the news reports and gossip columns. She yearned for a normal life like Alex did. Like Alex, super-villains popping up out of nowhere always prevented her from obtaining that goal.

One night after one of Callisto's sadistic 'training sessions,' she had come by to borrow some blues albums he had. As he dug them out, she looked around.

When he had found the albums in question, he rose to find Alison holding a picture of his girlfriend, Lorna Dane. "Pretty damn cute, Summers. Didn't know you had it in you."

He held the jewel cases out for her. "We've been together forever, it seems."

"Yeah," she said with a chuckle, "Is that hair a dye job like Betsy's?"

"Betsy dyes her hair?"

Alison nodded her grin widening. "So why are you stuck here with us instead of snuggled in your four poster with her?"

Alex shifted his weight nervously. "She, umm, became possessed by this sentient cameo and is now a member of the crew that killed off most of the Morlocks."

"Oh, that," Alison replied quietly. She slowly put Lorna's picture back on the shelf. "I... I was possessed by that thing briefly."

"Sorry."

There was a heavy silence, and then tears started welling up in Alison's eyes. Alex hesitated then approached her, putting his hands on her shoulders.

"What... what is wrong with us? What right does God have to curse us with this kind of life?"

Alex tried to come up with a flip answer, but chose to remain silent.

That night crystallized for Alex why he felt so close to Alison; her confusion was on the surface. The others seemed to keep theirs hidden away--well, all but Longshot who despite his abilities was still an innocent in this world. He wondered if this 'Mutant Massacre' would cast a permanent pall on all their lives. From what little he pieced together, Psylocke barely got away with her life from one of these Marauders and Rogue...

Rogue was a strange case. She seemed to be constantly, actively making the attempt to keep things high-energy. But every once in a while, when she was tired, or when she thought no one was looking, Alex caught a glimpse of the pain she was struggling to keep inside her. He would have to remind himself that Rogue was the one who had actually been down in the sewers with the Morlocks, and her wounds were still fresh.

And when Alex looked at the team as a whole, all he could see was a disaster.

***

Whoever was knocking on Alex's door had to practically break the door down. He had the lights in his quarters low, and his headphones snugly over his head. Alison had brought by some Nina Simone sides, and he was lost in her throaty, sensual voice. Eventually the tattoo on his door was so loud it broke through Nina's wail. Alex slowly extricated himself from the floor and went to welcome his visitor.

Not surprisingly, it was Sean.

Alex left the door open and went to turn off the stereo. The older man stepped inside.

"I wanted a word with you before the games, Alex."

The music ceased. "Fine. Might want to choose it wisely, though."

"You know you can keep trying to play the hard man with me, lad, but I know better. I know how you've been treating the others. Even Callisto has noticed it."

Alex shrugged. "They're okay, by and large. No need for me to be nasty to them."

"Agreed."

"Glad we agree on something." Alex stood there, feeling awkward. He looked around his room and asked, after a moment, "What do you want?"

"I wanted to make a bet with you, lad."

"You already did. You're buying us beer when it's over."

Sean shook his head. "I want to make another bet with you. One between the two of us."

Alex looked down at the floor. His head was beginning to hurt. "Here it comes again."

"Look, Alex," Sean said in response. "I've spent weeks trying t' explain t' you what a good leader you are. You do not want to hear none of it; it's like I'm trying to lead you up a hill t' see the beautiful landscape of possibilities below, but you're afraid to climb it. The only way, it seems, for me t' make you climb is t' prove you can do it yourself."

Alex paused. He templed his hands briefly. "So you're throwing us up against a bunch of guys trained to kick our ass to prove a point to me? Boy, the others would just love to hear that."

"Not just for that," Sean replied. He moved towards Alex. "This lot needs t' work as a unit, and breaking them off and asking them t' hunt each other is not working. But yes, I'm hoping that this will also get through t' you that I'm not looking for you t' be your brother, Alex... you are the best man to be at the head of this crew."

The pain in Alex's head wasn't going away. He went to the bathroom and grabbed two painkillers from the medicine cabinet. "Alright, alright," he called into the living room, "you want to bet; what's the bet?"

"I'll tell you, shall I?" Alex drew a glass of cloudy water. As Sean continued, he tossed back the pills and drank deeply. "This war game is going to be all of you and Callisto. I'll be back here monitoring your actions from the Comm-Room.

"But--"

Sean raised his hand. "I want you t' give it a try, lad. This wargame is a no worries situation. You won't end up killing a soul with a bad decision, or damning the team t' Hell... which, considering what we've both been through with the X-Men is a real concern. If it gets too intense out there, I will authorize Callisto to take over, but I don't think that shall happen by half.

I'm willing to bet, Alex, that you'll find out what I've been trying t' get into your head for ages now: that you're a right lot more capable to lead this team than you think you are. If you find that out, all well and good. Buy me a pint and we're done."

Alex sipped at the water. "And if I wash out?"

"I don't expect you to."

"But if I do."

"If you do, lad," Sean said slowly, "Then I shall personally fly on my own power t' the States and drag Logan back here t' lead, personal missions be damned."

Alex raised an eyebrow. He leaned back against the bathroom sink. "I'd actually pay to see that."

"I bet a damn sight that you would."

***

"So you let him talk you into it?"

Alex shrugged. "It seemed reasonable, Ali."

The two of them were sitting on the rocks down the shore from the Facility. The tide had treated them to a continual sea spray. It was not as perfect place for a conversation, but it was private enough.

Alison chuckled. "I think you wanted to be convinced."

"As if," Alex said with a chuckle, playfully elbowing his friend. Alison returned fire.

"No, seriously," She adjusted herself on the rock and looked over her shoulder. "You're making all the right moves in his eyes. Hell, you're the one guy with his head screwed on right."

"Well, there's Betsy."

"Betsy is great at being Psylocke. She's still not great at being Psylocke the X-Man... does that make sense?"

Alex paused. "I guess.but I'm feeling weird about this... like Sean is trying to force me into a corner."

"Or out a door into a future you don't want to experience?" Alison suggested.

Alex made a face. "Did he put you up to this?"

"Of course not," she said with a laugh. "But I think in this case, Sean may be right. You may have the stuff, kiddo."

"And you may have to trust Rogue--is Sean right about that?"

Alison tensed immediately. She moved away from her friend. "That's different."

"I'm just making a point here." Alex shifted his position. "And then there's the way you look at Longshot."

She relaxed a bit, a hesitant smile blooming on her face. "That's different, too."

"I bet."

"Seriously," she said, laughing. "I mean, look at him--he's gorgeous."

"I dunno. That three-fingered look does nothing for me." Alex returned his friend's smile.

Alison play-punched him on the back. "Well, you're not an artist, and you're not a woman, so take my word for it... there's something about Longshot that's gorgeous."

"You're gonna hurt my feelings, pal," Alex half-joked.

"Well, there's no future in pining over me, Alex--you're taken, and I went down that road before. Not for me." Alex let the reference go. It was one of her rare mentioning of her life as a celebrity; he suspected she only felt comfortable discussing it with him, and only as long as he never pushed.

The two friends looked out onto the sea. Alex scratched at his chin. "So you agree with the old man, huh?"

"I think we can do a lot worse," Alison replied.

***

...we can do a lot worse...

Alex kept thinking about those words as he slipped into his regulator suit. He had spent five minutes staring at the high-tech garment once he emerged from the shower; after all this time, his feelings about the black-and-silver outfit were decidedly mixed. On the positive side, it controlled the cosmic rays that Alex's body absorbed like a sponge. As long as he wore it, the energies were contained, and a safe amount was bled off into the atmosphere before his body reached critical mass.

But the Living Monolith created the suit, the first in a long line of men who tried to enslave Alex. It always struck him as perverse that he still wore the suit... it was a constant reminder of his own degradation.

Maybe I could get Professor X to redesi--

He knew that was impossible even before he finished the thought. Professor X was off in the Shi'ar Galaxy, fighting alongside his lover, Llilandra.

He put on the regulator suit, all the while feeling his flesh crawl under the fabric's caress.

IV: Sean Cassidy

Sean poured himself a final County MacBride's Single Malt and took his time downing it.

After he finished, he would be sending the team off to the wargame on the mainland. Anxiety still clawed at his insides. He was confident that the team would coalesce once they had to work together, and confident that Alex would realize what he'd been trying to tell him all along.

But Sean had been around the X-Men long enough to know that things frequently ended in emotional and physical pain. He wondered if some of the members of this team could handle any more.

He took another sip. Soon enough it would be out of his hands. He'd be a safe distance away in the Comm-Room. If the team wanted to win and gain bragging rights over W.H.O., they'd have to do it on their own.

"What's keeping you?" came a voice from behind him, rubbed hoarse from hard living.

Sean stood up and turned to face Callisto. It was a credit to the woman's technique and mutant abilities that he hadn't known she was there until she wanted to be acknowledged. Her face, as always, was immobile, never letting anyone know what was going on in her head. "Just needed a lil' courage." He told her. He downed the rest of the glass.

"Well, hurry it up before the pups get anxious."

Sean retrieved his pipe and some tobacco; he anticipated it was going to be a long day. "Are you ready for this?"

Callisto shrugged and walked out the room. "Yeah. I want to be there when they die."

V: Unexpected Change in the Terrain

The W.H.O. contingent had driven out before light of dawn to set up emplacements and ambushes. O'Brien had made it very clear--as grateful as Her Majesty's Government was to the X-Men for the rare opportunity to field test their Abnormal Power Containment Systems in a controlled environment, there was an element of pride involved.

In other words, W.H.O. would not be beat by a bunch of amateur civilians. Ever.

Even before the sky had begun to redden, troop transports emptied out their cargo, trenches were being dug and equipment being situated for maximum coverage. Surveyors were taking a last, final look at the landscape to determine most effective use of resources.

When the sun was in the process of rising, O'Brien was called away by one surveyor, who had a map of the area.

"This best be good," O'Brien said tersely. He had not cracked a smile, or showed any emotion once since getting on the troop transport in the dead of night. Some of the W.H.O. troopers speculated that Stuart had hinted that a promotion was in the offering if O'Brien succeeded.

"There seems to be a discrepancy in the terrain, sir."

"Pardon?"

"Well, have a look for yourself."

The Surveyor led O'Brien to the hill W.H.O. was to protect, and the X-Men were to take.

There was a discrepancy. A large rectangular cairn of dark gray stone jutted from the near side. In the increasing light, O'Brien could determine that the surface was covered completely in some form of pictography.

Carefully, the two men made their way to the monolith. A chill ran through them at the same time, the sort of deep--down cold that cut straight to the marrow. O'Brien looked the object up and down.

"Any idea what language this is?" O'Brien asked the surveyor.

"No idea, sir."

Tentatively, O'Brien reached out to touch the object's surface. The stone was unnaturally frigid to the touch. He brought his hand back quickly, as if bit.

O'Brien was going to tell the surveyor to get Muir Island on the phone and cancel the maneuvers pending a close examination of the anomaly.

But other forces had plans for the day, and descended upon the W.H.O. crew. They struck quickly, and casualties were total.

And as the blood started flowing, the pictographs in the cairn started glowing.

VI: Alex Summers

Alex took his time getting to the muster room. He suspected he would have all day to let Sean down; there was no need to rush. In his head, he was making plans for finding Lorna once he made stateside.

His path brought him past the other's quarters. Most of the team had long left for the final meeting before being taken to the mainland. Alex smiled as he passed Longshot's room; the door was wide open. The team would need that sort of enthusiasm--and more than a bit of the kid's wild talent.

Alex turned the corner. There, locking up her room, was Betsy. She was dressed in her combat 'uniform,' a practical if overtly pretty outfit whose color clashed with her purple hair. If only the thing was gray or black, Alex thought to himself, it wouldn't be half-bad.

As he got closer, Alex's smile disappeared. Betsy had her head against the door, eyes half--closed. Her face was paler than usual, and she seemed unsteady on her feet.

"Betsy, you okay?" Alex asked gently.

Betsy straightened up immediately and pasted on a smile that wasn't convincing anyone. "I'm fine, Summers."

"Well you look like a couple of miles of unpaved road. You sure?"

Betsy gritted her teeth. "I'm fine," she repeated. "It's just that sometimes, particularly when I'm around a particularly nervous bunch, the thoughts of my comrades overwhelm my natural blocks. I just didn't sleep well."

Alex backed off. "Okay, okay... but maybe you should sit out the operation."

"I think I'd be best qualified to make that decision, don't you?" she shot back, turning away from her door. "We should get to the muster room, don't you think?"

"Yeah," Alex finally said. There was no point in pushing things.

But I'll be keeping watch over you, Betsy, he promised himself silently, hoping she'd pick that stray thought up.

***

The final address was mercifully brief.

"Alex is acting field leader during the exercise," Sean told them tersely. "Any concerns and suggestions are to go to him. Callisto will be on hand to advise Alex, but she is not there to win the game for you. I've recommended that Betsy take networking, and Rogue take point.

I want you to secure that hill quickly and cleanly. The neater our success, the happier I'll be. If you win but leave a path of wreckage and bruises, I will hand over training to Callisto on a permanent basis."

There was a smattering of moans. Callisto grinned wolfishly. "Oh, I'd love that."

"I shall be in constant touch with Alex, but I won't shower him with advice. I want to see you succeed on your own. As a team."

Sean looked over the gathered mutants. "Are you ready to show that lot at W.H.O. up?"

The cheers were mixed. Alex got the impression that some--Betsy in particular--weren't convinced they were entirely ready.

***

On the barge, Alex turned to his 'troops.' "Okay, I think Sean had a good idea. Rogue, you're our only flyer, so it'd be a good idea to do a recon."

"I could do that now if you'd like, sugah," the southerner suggested with a slight smile.

Alex paused. "If she's okay with it, I'd like you to absorb Callisto's abilities. The heightened senses could allow you to get a good picture without being found out right away." Callisto shook her head. The mini-video unit Cassidy had had fitted over her eyepatch gave her the appearance of some form of cyber-pirate. "Oh no you don't, puppy dog. I thought Irish and I made it clear I'm here to advise, not contribute."

Alex massaged his forehead then straightened up. Grabbing a headset from the forward locker and handing it to the young southerner, he said, "Okay. Rogue, just give us a look around. Don't get too close, okay."

Rogue adjusted the headset and smiled sweetly. She rose from the launch as if the air was her natural element. The sea breezes tousled her hair gently. She threw Alex a smart salute and said, "Ah'll be right back."

"As long as the soldiers aren't too cute," Alison muttered under her breath. Alex elbowed her in the ribs when no one was looking. She yelped, but otherwise kept silent.

Alex watched Rogue rise higher in the air and fly off to the mainland. She really did have a gracefulness he hadn't considered.

The launch was silent save for the motor churning the water. Alex felt the pain in his head subside. The others shifted nervously in their seat. He turned up the volume on the headset and asked, "Can you read me, Rogue?"

"Clear as Crystal and pretty as china," Rogue replied.

"Will we each get a headset to play with?" Longshot asked.

Alex looked over his shoulder. "No. Rogue's abilities make it difficult for Betsy to patch her into her telepathic network. So she needs a headset."

The headset came alive in a burst of static. "I got the target in my sight, Alex. I'm moving in for a closer look."

"Be careful, Rogue."

The others moved closer to Alex, anxious to hear the first report on the opposition. Alex kept his eyes on the approaching shore.

"I see some trenches, Havok... Maybe a dozen people that I can see, four above ground."

"Any idea what they're packing?"

"I'm just a simple girl, sugah--I don't recognize some of the hardware they've got in their hand--"

There was another burst of static, and what sounded like a deep thump. "Rogue! You okay?"

"They're not suppose to be using live ammo! Sean told us they were non-lethal."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about a shellburst that almost singed my tailfeathers!" The headset broke down into static again, followed by a sizzling noise. Alex heard Rogue cry out--whether in surprise or pain he couldn't tell. "ROGUE!"

"This ain't what we signed on for!"

"Pull back! Pull back!" Alex barked.

"What in the world is going on?" Betsy asked. There was a confused, lost look on her face. She seemed flush now, as if straining to keep something under control.

Alex pushed past Betsy and Longshot to Callisto; Alison wisely sidestepped out of his way. "Did you know about this?"

Callisto remained stone-faced. She shook her head. "News to me, pretty boy."

Alex turned. "Does anyone know what the Hell is going on?"

VII: Sean Cassidy

Sean sat forward in the command chair, the same question in his mind. Alex's face filled the monitor. Sean's fingers fumbled across the keyboard, dialing Alistair Stuart's private line with more speed than grace. His heart was slamming against his ribcage like some demented, drug-addled dancer. He tapped his throat mike, opening the radio channel to Havok's headset. "I'm trying t' find out myself, Alex."

Sean heard Betsy call out, "We're making landfall" from somewhere behind Alex.

Stuart's phone was ringing. "I'm aborting," Sean said hurriedly.

"Abort? But what if something's gone wrong on their end. We should at least investigate."

Sean felt a little twinge of satisfaction at Alex's response, but tamped it down. It was hard for him to focus; it seemed exactly what he feared was occurring. The phone continued ringing. "Investigate, but don't engage, Alex. I'm trying t' get in touch with Stuart. Until we get a clearer picture, my concern is that you lot come out safe."

Alex's face twisted into a rueful grin. "We're supposed to be X-Men, Sean. Safety's a long lost concept."

VIII: Alex Summers

Alex turned away from Callisto. "Alright--we stay close. Until I hear otherwise, we're assuming this is not part of the exercise."

The others were climbing out of the launch. "What do you have in mind?" Alison asked. She swiveled her head from side to side. The silence was oppressive. "These better be loud soldiers if I'm gonna be any good to anyone," she added under her

"I want a wedge here. Longshot at point--"

"Longshot?" Betsy asked. She seemed taken aback by the choice.

"He's the fastest and most agile of us, Betsy, and he's got that weird wild luck thing going for him. It may keep him alive upon first contact. Ali, you and I form the point of the wing to provide sniping potential. Rogue, you'll be air support. Betsy, you and Callisto are in the back."

Betsy put her hands on her hips. "Well that's not very wise is it? My psychoblasting effect is equally as effective as the Dazzler's, maybe more so since it is not dependent on outside stimuli."

Alex shot her a stern look. "You're our network, Betsy. I need you to keep communication flowing. And if what we're up against cuts through us, I want you there to blow the brains out of anything that tries to get at Callisto."

"I can handle myself," the Morlock replied sharply.

"I don't doubt it. But if we fall, I want to know the last woman standing can track these bastards back to where they live and rip them open."

Callisto shifted her stance and grinned wolfishly. "There is that."

Alex looked at each member of the team in turn. "Are we ready?"

The answers he got were varied but meant the same thing: yes.

Except for Callisto's response. She met Alex's gaze and asked, "Are you?"

***

They headed inland. Alex was hyperaware of his own breathing reverberating in his skull, the thumping of his heart. He could see at the furthest periphery of his vision Betsy and Callisto keeping pace. A quick glance down at the regulator badge of his uniform showed that the cosmic energies were building slowly, concentric circles moving outward like ripples.

The map Sean had drawn out was in Alex's head. The group had studied it on the launch, and he had insisted they went over it once before breaking out. It was a good mile before they hit the first emplacements, according to Rogue. And from there, it was another seventy-five yards to the hill.

Three quarters of a football field of who know what, Alex thought.

He wasn't worried about the run tiring out the group. Even the physically baseline human members like Betsy and Alison had trained intensely over the past month. He was worried about 'runner's rapture.' If the team became hypnotized by the rhythm of their progress, hit that physical high that whited out the mind in a sheer gush of adrenaline, they could be taken off guard.

If the map was correct, the clearing was up ahead. On your toes, people! It's showtime! Alex farsended through Betsy's network.

I would think so, Longshot farsended back. I am in the field and these men are shooting at me.

And even without that declaration, Alex could hear the gunfire.

IX: Sean Cassidy

The distant crack of gunfire came over the monitor. Sean felt his stomach knot. This was going sour far more rapidly than his nightmares had predicted. He dialed Stuart again quickly and cursed under his breath with each ring.

The sound of the connection being made was like a soft kiss. "Stuart."

"Are your people daft, Stuart? I'm getting reports you lot are using live ammo!"

"You know more than I do, Cassidy! We've lost contact with our group an hour ago. I'm mustering back-up now."

Cassidy leaned forward in his seat. He looked from Callisto's monitor to the phone line. "You've lost contact?"

"Rather," Stuart barked back. "Whoever is out there is not ours.and it's a damn sight large possibility that they don't want to share holiday snaps with your lot."

X: Alex Summers

Alex's headset came alive with another burst of static. "Did you get that, lad? The group you're facing is hostile."

"Nothing personal, Sean," Alex snapped as he hit the ground and let loose with a beam of wild concussive force, "But we figured that out already."

The scene was chaotic. The moment the team had hit the edge of the field, the troops fired upon them immediately. The opposition looked nothing like W.H.O. field personnel; their uniforms were gray with black armor panels, with a yellow symbol in the form of a stylized sun on their chests. And, as Rogue pointed out when she played scout, their weapons were unlike any Alex had seen before, metallic monstrosities with a smooth, curving design that made them look more like alien organs than weaponry.

Alex kept trading fire, taking the moment between blasts to survey the enemy. The one thing he could be thankful for was that these men in black didn't seem to be as used to engaging in firefights with superhumans as the W.H.O. troops would have been; their blasts tended to be scattershot and their formation quickly degeneration into disorganization. Alison, now being charged by the whizzing of bullets around her, was able to create a weak laser barrage that kept them contained. Rogue was doing her best to fly with the path of the sun, diving out of its blinding brilliance to snipe at her opponents.

Longshot, to Alex's surprise, was perhaps the most effective of the lot. He was cartwheeling and gamboling in the thick of these troops, drawing fire that never quite hit him, and throwing his knives in such a way that they always got stuck in the troops' barrels.

There were a handful of others that Alex could detect flitting in and out of his view. Three of them, all dressed in black suits and ties. One of them was dark and decidedly young looking; another was bald and had a grayish complexion that did nothing for the yellow sun symbol tattooed on his forehead. The third, who seemed to keep the closest to the large stone that jutted out of side of the hill, was a hulking brute that looked more simian that human.

Alex kept alternating between firing and commando crawling closer to the hill. Longshot, he farsended through Betsy, there are three guys I think may be in charge here. See if you can take down one.

Cert%nly, c&*pt@n

What the?

Alex fired again, then farsended to Betsy, Betts, what's going on?

It took a moment that seemed like an eternity before Betsy replied, obviously disoriented, I'm sorry, Alex. There's... Something is interfering with my telepathy. He's... they... my God...

The headset came alive again. "You better get back here, pretty boy. Princess collapsed."

"Dammit," he hissed through gritted teeth. Alex scrambled to his feet and laid down a wide swath of energy to keep the troops pinned in near the hill. He ran back, praying all the while that he wasn't inviting a bullet in the back.

Callisto was holding Betsy awkwardly in her arms when he found her. The British telepath was limp but conscious--barely--her limbs flailing weakly in an attempt to gain purchase. Alex looked to the Morlock and asked, "What happened?"

"You tell me, pretty boy. One minute she's doing that spooky telepath zone--out, the next she's a heap of bones.

Alex patted her cheek. "Betsy, can you hear me?"

Psylocke's head lolled on her shoulders before her eyes flickered open. "A--alex... there's... there's something out there."

"You already told me there was some interference--"

"Not... not that." She found her footing and stood up. She stumbled a few steps away from Callisto. "I--it's what I've... been feeling all... all day, inhibiting me... _infecting_ me. I can't get a... full fix on them... but they're alien, fundamentally wrong."

"We gotta deal with Martians now?" Callisto sneered.

Betsy shook her head. "No... it's from... outside reality, and... and whatever it is, it's horribly, unspeakably corrupt."

"I don't like the sound of that."

"Join the club, pretty boy."

Alex tapped the headset. "Rogue, I need you back here to watch over Psylocke for a moment."

Betsy weakly put up her hands in protest. Alex reached out to steady her. "No, no... I... I will be fine."

"No. You're my only link to the team and I need you safe." Alex glanced at Callisto. "Come with me."

The Morlock spat at the ground. "Uh--uh, pretty boy. You know the rules."

'"I don't want to violate them. You're the one with the camera. I want Sean to see what's going down."

"What are you going to do?" Betsy asked.

"There are three guys out there who don't look like they belong. I'm willing to bet they're overseeing the thugs in black, and they may be connected to what you're plugged into. So I'm going to grab one."

***

Alex ran out on the field, his energies cycling on high. The field had taken on the smell of a battleground--that strange mix of roast pork, copper, and overheated metal that grabbed a person by the throat. He fought against the urge to gag and opened fire whenever the enemy was closing in.

"Sean, are you getting the pictures from Callisto's comm unit?"

"I am."

The hill was coming up fast, filling Alex's view. He kept an eye on Callisto, taking cues from her movement around the field. Her reflexes and senses being what they were, she moved with a wraith--like fluidity. She would duck under blows a full second before they were launched, then strike out at just the right point to send the charging opposition flying backwards. It made her something close to beautiful in a way, and Alex had to concentrate to keep from watching her too closely.

Callisto turned her head and shouted, "Mind yourself!"

For a split second, Alex thought the Morlock was being self-conscious. Then something slammed into the small of his back, driving him to the burnt grass hard. His body skidded over the ground, his assailant pressing his full weight on him. Alex launched an elbow backwards and felt his blow connect. His attacker grunted in surprise, his grip loosened. Alex twisted his body and found himself face to face with the dark-haired suit. Both man and suit were a little worse for wear; portions of the fabric was torn, and the man sported a swollen cheek just turning purple and had small amounts of blood staining his teeth. The man punched Alex in the face before grabbing his throat. He pulled his other arm back.

"Tag, mate," he muttered in a thick northern English accent. The fingers on the suit's free hand started glowing an angry red and elongated into spikes. Alex had both of his hands around the suit's arm, trying to tear it away from his neck. He felt dizziness overtake him.

XI: Sean Cassidy

Sean struggled to take in the pictures Callisto's unit was broadcasting. Since heading out onto the field, the Morlock had been running at a fast clip, so the information came at him in near-subliminal blips, the next image already up on the screen before he could retain it.

He head Alex starting to choke, heard the wisecrack from the opponent. "Callisto, lass! You've got to--"

And then he saw the cairn sticking out of the hill.

That registered. Two years previous, when Sean had been a member of the X-Men, they found a similar cairn standing in the middle of the Westchester wilderness. Something had come out of it from another dimension and almost annihilated them, something called...

"N'gari..."

Sean slammed his hand down on the commlink button, opening all the channels available. "Aye, time to retreat, X-Men! The environs you're mucking about in are highly hostile."

"What?" Alex said through a crackle of static.

"Move yourselves out, Summers! This is serious!"

And then for a moment, Callisto's videocam caught a glimpse of a simian--looking gentleman in a black suit stepping in front of the cairn that once caused Sean nightmares for weeks...

And gray, spindly arms reached out and grabbed hold of the man.

No, not reached out, Sean realized after a second. Reached through.

XII: Alex Summers

Things started to speed up in Alex's mind as his vision began to dim.

As his opponent kept the pressure on his throat, survival instincts kicked in. It looked like the dark--haired man was going to drive the red spikes that had become his fingers into Alex's face. Before the blow could connect, Alex brought his knee up into the man's crotch. His opponent gasped, his hand falling to the right of its intended target.

"Stupid suit," Alex choked out.

Before either men could respond further, Callisto closed the distance between herself and Alex's attacker. Securing an arm around the man's neck, she jerked him off Alex. "If anyone kills the pretty boy, it'll be me," she whispered in his ear.

Alex half believed her.

Suddenly, Alex's headset exploded in a flurry of static. Sean's voice, much louder than before, said, "Aye, time to retreat, X-Men! The environs you're mucking in are highly hostile."

"What?"

"Move yourselves out, Summers! This is serious!"

To the side, Alex saw Callisto stop struggling with her dark-haired, dark-suited opponent. He felt a chill run through his body as he sat up. There was something on the former leader of the Morlock's face he'd never seen in the time he'd known her.

He saw her taken by surprise.

The catalyst for this reaction was accompanied by the loud sound of flesh and bone being punched out of place with the force of a die-cut drill bit. Alex looked behind him to see one of the other suits, the big monkey man, run through by two gray, scaly arms that ended in long claws. The arms moved away from each other slowly, enlarging the wound. The monkey man screamed and thrashed violently before the life oozed out of him. The man's body slowly tore apart like warm bread; the cracking of his bones popped like pistol shots in the cool morning air. Around Alex, troops and X-Men alike stopped dead in their tracks, their eyes suddenly glued to the hideous sight.

"It's happening again..." Callisto murmured in a stunned, dream-like voice.

The screams from the enemy troops started when the rest of the monstrosity that had killed one of their controllers had started climbing out of the now-dead agent's gaping wound.

It was the uniform blackish-gray of advanced rot, its hide mottled and pitted. The head was mostly mouth and horns, vaguely triangular but distorted by the mismatched rows of teeth and the curvature of the protrusions that grew from its brow to sweep back over its neck. Even from a distance, Alex could see the interplay of otherworldly muscles barely held together on a spindly skeleton.

The monstrosity stepped through the torn-open corpse of the suit and swiveled its head from side to side. The ravaged body dropped to the ground like a crimson sack of meat. Some of the troops that, moments before, were attacking Alex and his fellows, managed to shake themselves out of their stunned stupor and raised their weapons to the creature. The creature continued surveying the landscape, its claws clacking open and closed reflexively.

"Sean--do you have any idea what thing is?" Alex called into the headset.

"Aye," the Irishman responded. "That's a N'gari. I faced them with the second team. They're extradimensional demons, basically walking slaughterhouses. Get your people out of there now!"

At that point, the first of the troops started firing. The creature took two steps back on its hind legs, a bellow of surprise piercing the air.

"But, Sean, this thing is going to run loose in the countryside."

More of the troops fired. Only instead of driving it back, the creature charged and swiped at the nearest soldier. Its claws neatly bisected the man's belly, prompting a shower of organs to cascade to the ground. The man's fellows began screaming again, but the N'gari had waded into a clump of them, its claws slashing through them like wheat.

And a second of these monsters were climbing through the cairn.

And a third.

Alex fired off a rapid burst of cosmic energy at the new arrivals. With complaining roars, they stepped away from the troops. His mind raced, desperate for a plan.

"Retreat!" Alex called out at the top of his lungs. He pointed to the black-haired man, now secured by Callisto in a full nelson. "He's coming with us."

Longshot, who had been close to the spot of the N'gari's entrance, took a running jump and bounced on top of the head of the creature emerging. He stepped from N'gari head to N'gari head, leaping off the last one and narrowly avoiding the claws of the demons' lead. The three-fingered mutant grabbed hold of a tree branch and pulled himself up into the protective foliage.

Callisto followed behind Alex, dragging the suit with her like a sack of potatoes. Alex looked over his shoulder and let go with a series of cosmic energy bolts, throwing dirt and sod into the air to mask their retreat. Alison gathered up the ambient sound and let fire with a dazzle-burst of incredible intensity, briefly overwhelming the landscape with a cascade of photonic color.

Alex feared it was going to be a long time before the team was safe.

XIII: Sean Cassidy

"How's the exercise going, luv?"

Sean felt Moira MacTaggert come up behind him and slip her arms around his waist. Second only to Charles Xavier in the field of mutant genetics, she had been Sean's lover, and a source of support during the period where he had to adjust to losing his sonic abilities. Sean stood, his seat long abandoned, looking closely at the screen for any indication that a N'gari was closing in on the team.

He slipped his hand over hers and squeezed gently. "Moira, it's not an exercise by half."

Moira looked over his shoulder. "Och, looks like a war zone."

"Aye," Sean answered. With a sinking feeling in his stomach, he added, "I think you best set up triage. There may be a need."

XIV: Alex Summers

The second they hit the heavy brush surrounding the fields, Alex grabbed the man in the black suit by his shirtfront. He practically tore the man from Callisto's grasp. The adrenaline from the hurried retreat still rushed through Alex's veins, and he felt dizzy from the tension. "All right, what's going on?"

The man smiled shakily. "A bit hard on the coffee today, were we?"

Alex slammed the man against a nearby tree. "There isn't time! Who are you, and what's going on?"

The man's face softened. He held up his hands. "Alright, sunshine. Just be careful with the neck, aight?"

Alex released the agent and stepped away. There was a rustling in the trees to the right, and Longshot dropped down. He glanced over his shoulder. Alison was at his side instantly and checked him for scratches tenderly. "The monsters are preoccupied with the gunmen. It's not pretty," Longshot told them.

"Bugger all. Couldn't have eviscerated that toerag Scratch, could they?" the dark haired man muttered. Before he could say anything else, Rogue's arm shot out, pinning him against the tree by his neck.

"Those are your men out there being slaughtered, sugah," she told the dark-haired man tersely. "It's in poor taste to be joking now, don't you all think?"

The dark-haired man choked and sputtered before motioning to his jacket pocket. "Take a look there, sunshine! I'm Black Air! Her Majesty's Government!"

"Never heard of them," Alison mentioned as she and Longshot rejoined the group. She reached into the man's jacket, prompting a flicker of a grateful smile from him.

Betsy had propped herself up against a gnarled tree. She looked like death warmed up, paler than Alex imagined possible. Mopping her forehead, she murmured weakly, "They're a bit of a joke at STRIKE... some people there think they're made up."

"Then our PR is working, innit? Jesus wept, the whole point of a secret service is to be secret."

Alex looked to Rogue. "See if you can go out there and help the troops. Stay to the air, and pick-and-move. Those things get too close, run back here."

The southern woman nodded and took off. The dark-haired man took two unsteady steps away from the tree where he had been pinned. He mumbled a "ta," before Alex elbowed him in the stomach without looking. The agent fell to his knees, coughing.

"Peter Wisdom," Alison read off the ID and handed it to Alex. He glanced at it briefly, then tossed it aside. Alex took a deep breath, looked down at the ground before planting his foot into the agent's chest and pushing him to the ground.

"I figure we have only a few minutes before those three monsters find us and cut us into ribbons," Alex hissed at Wisdom. "You better spill everything you know now or I'll save them the trouble of shredding you!"

"Leave some for me," Alison commented dryly. She was giving off a slight glow from absorbing the sounds of the carnage. In Alex's headset, the sounds were closer, more magnified, as Rogue was weaving between the demons and the hapless troops, trying to buy them some time.

"Aight! It's not as if I'm anxious to die with you lot, now is it?" Wisdom shot back. Alex removed his foot. The agent got to his feet and straightened his suit, all the while staring intently at the X-Men. "Right. Black Air is the lot that takes care of you lot when WHO can't. We've heard rumors that the 'fairy mound' you folks were going to have fun and games with was a gateway into another dimension--"

"Populated by big things with teeth that can kill us," Betsy suggested.

"Yes, populated by big things with teeth that can kill us. Our higher-ups ordered us to monitor the mound for activity... and when you and that spotty-bottomed WHO team decided to have your reindeer games here, well, that changed things, didn't it?"

Longshot tilted his head to one side. "If you are not our opponents, where are they now?"

Wisdom glanced sideways at the otherdimensional mutant. "Well, we had to take care of them, didn't we?"

Rogue lowered herself to the ground just as Alex pushed Wisdom back against the tree, putting his entire weight on the secret agent. "Take care of them how?"

"I would assume that would be obvious," came a voice from behind Alex. He looked over his shoulder to see the remaining (tattered) black suit, the gray-skinned man with the sun tattooed on his forehead. He was carrying a gun almost as large as his arm, and was decidedly worse for wear.

"Ask Desperate Dan over there," Wisdom mumbled.

The pieces were falling together in Alex's head--as well as, he assumed, the others. Rogue came up besides Alex and told her, "It's a horror show, boss. There's not much left outside of the beasties."

"Yes," the new arrival said dryly. "My gratitude for sparing me from that fate."

It was Betsy, surprisingly enough, who made the accusation. She pulled herself off the tree and half-stumbled toward the tattooed man. "You killed them, you pratt."

Wisdom smirked. "Rather... Scratch over there has a talent for that sort of thing."

Alex raised a hand to stay her. "Betsy..."

The telepath turned. "I'm half inside these creatures' head, Alex. I can feel what's going on. This... bastard... ordered the W.H.O. troops murdered."

"This isn't a game, miss," the man Wisdom called Scratch said tersely. "I would think we should concentrate on getting out alive."

Betsy's energy signature flared; suddenly, her face was covered with a purplish glow in the shape of a butterfly. "You thorough idiot. You don't understand. These things are death gods where they come from. They feed on the cessation of biological activity. When you slaughtered those poor men, you called them here!"

The butterfly flared. The tattooed man's head snapped back as if shot, and he fell to his knees. Longshot and Dazzler made to go to the man's side, but Alex held them off.

It was the first time Alex had seen Betsy's psychoblasting abilities up close. He began to sympathize with her complaints during training.

Betsy straightened herself. She murmured, "Well, that was... refreshing."

"Would you marry me?" Wisdom said with frank admiration.

Before anyone could respond, there was a tremendous crash, as several of the trees splintered and fell. A stench of blood and torn flesh filled the air.

One of the N'gari burst through and roared.

XV: Sean Cassidy

Sean felt his heart stop. He brought the microphone to his mouth. "Get out, everyone!"

The screen was filled with the N'gari bearing down, it's mouth open in a shuddering, high-pitched howl. Sean shivered involuntarily; he forgot how many teeth these things had...

The view was shaky, as he imagined Callisto was already moving, trying to avoid the creature's reach. He caught a fast glimpse of Longshot launching himself at the thing, his heels smashing into the spot just above the thing's eyes. As Longshot rebounded, Sean saw a photon stream slam into the thing's chest. The N'gari was driven back all of two steps.

That, to Sean, was the biggest source of despair; he had faced the demons before, and the one person who could drive them back was not here...

Sean watched a green-and-yellow blur--Rogue, he assumed--fly into the picture and land a blow on the creature's back that sent it stumbling to its knees. From off screen, three throwing blades found their marks in vital joints by what he could think was the dint of unholy luck. For a moment, Sean thought his team might actually have the power to repulse the N'gari invaders.

That moment evaporated into air as he realized it took exactly three seconds for the creature to recover and continue its charge toward Callisto and the video camera.

There was a discharge that briefly blinded the screen and lightning arced across the demon's spine. It reared up and howled, unwittingly exposing its belly--

And the picture sputtered, a white-hot radiance blotted out the scene. Undulating concentric circles of coruscating energy that hit the N'gari dead center, propelling it backwards and back into the field. It was hard to tell from the now--washed out video picture, but it seemed that the demon was temporarily incapacitated.

Havok's voice came through clean and clear. "Okay, we have a moment's time. We need a plan."

"Lad, these things are lethal. You've got to pull out--"

"I said we need a plan," Havok reiterated. He stepped in front of Callisto's camera. "If we don't do this, people will die. I don't care about these idiots who tried to kill us, but I'm thinking these things could find their way to the nearest town easily. I will not have innocents slaughtered because I wanted to retreat. That's all there is to it."

XVI: Alex Summers

Alex turned to face his fellow X-Men. "Rogue, quick... see if you can cobble together a barrier from what that thing wrecked. There are two others out there and I'd rather they don't see us right away."

"Gotcha, boss," Rogue replied and set to rearranging the smashed foliage.

Alex faced Callisto. "Sean, you've faced these things before. How did you stop them?"

"Storm used her power t' seal off the cairn... she nearly killed herself doing so, though."

Alex pointed to Scratch. "You--you set off an electrical discharge just then."

"It's his mutant gene," Wisdom suggested with a laugh. "All the S-Branch types have one."

"Shut your gob," Scratch shot back at his fellow agent with a voice like a knife.

"We should shut both your holes for you," Betsy spat out.

"Shut up everyone!" Alex shouted.

The quiet amongst the X-Men was amazing. Alex, for the first time, felt all eyes on him.

Better take advantage while it's in operation, he thought.

He tried to meet everyone's eyes. "We don't have a chance against these things separated. If we continue stick-n-move tactics, we can keep them off balance. Don't bunch up, but keep everyone in sight. Our goal is to stuff them back into that rock and blow the rock to kingdom come."

"Rather," Wisdom drawled. Alex glared at him.

"Rogue, I want Mr. Scratch to go aerial. He's the closest thing we have to Storm's power level. Longshot, you, me and Dazzler work on three sides, try to contain them. Betts, we'll need networking." He turned to enter the field, expecting his team to follow behind him.

Instead, he heard a cough. Turning, Alex saw Betsy, still unsteady but standing with arms folded and a look of regal entitlement on her face.

Beyond, the field sounded deathly quiet. Alex could imagine these creatures positioning themselves, biding their time until it was suppertime.

He allowed himself a half smile. "Oh, and keep a short leash on our two guests from Black Air. If they try to bolt, fry their brains from the inside."

Psylocke nodded slightly. Wisdom grew pale.

***

Alex wondered if his compatriots wanted to run as much as he did.

He had seen what these things could do. He had spent part of that impromptu conference hearing what those three demons were doing to the Black Air troops. And the Black Air troops were men in armor utilizing heavy weapons... and they were a bunch of people with special powers and outfits of spandex and leather.

He made his way carefully out into the main field, his senses open. The sounds of carnage had quieted during the period they were hidden away in the woods. During the period where he worked through some sort of plan with the others, thoughts of what had happened in the area surrounding the cairn gamboled through his head at a rapid pace... and that always led to thoughts of what the N'gari were going to do to them.

The smell hit him first like a punch in the face, a ripe offensive stench that was equal parts decay, blood, fear and adrenaline. To his right, at a distance, he heard Alison gasp involuntarily.

"Thank God I got some of those boys out of heah," Rogue stage-whispered into her mike.

Alex tried to summon up memories of the field before they were attacked--memories he only had from the photos and film footage Sean had shown them in preparation. It looked nothing like what he was looking at now. The grass was stained crimson and brown; the ground played host to a number of bodies, strewn about and ripped open like a bunch of carelessly used toys. The weapons the soldiers had hoped would protect them now lay useless, marked liberally with tooth and claw marks.

Longshot, he farsended, taking a step onto the killing field, if you get the chance, grab one of these weapons.

Almost immediately, Alex saw a flash of black tumbling onto the ground, cartwheeling through one of the rare clear strips of land. When the blur of movement stopped, Longshot stood at the foot of one of the trenches WHO had prepared with one of the Black Air rifles in hand.

"Is this what you wanted?" the extradimensional X-Man asked. He grinned expectantly.

Alex nodded. Longshot straightened up, the pride in his accomplishment plain.

And that was when a N'gari threw off the corpses it was hiding under and rose from the trench with a roar. Longshot pivoted, his newly acquired rifle aimed for the monster's throat. Alison stepped forward, a nimbus of light flaring around her.

"I need an electrical charge now!" Alex barked, running toward Longshot.

He saw Rogue, her unwilling passenger dangling from one arm. Scratch seemed more intent on twisting out of her grasp until a familiar energy discharge resembling a longtail butterfly manifested over his eyes. He convulsed, then motioned toward the creature.

The monster swiped at Longshot. The boy was already spinning in the air like a champion ice skater, gun firing, long hair whipping about his face. At the same time, the creature reared up, something green and viscous spattering from its throat. There was a flash of gray, and Longshot tumbled head over heels and landed roughly on one of the tattered corpses. Alison fired a photon beam, driving the creature back against the far trench wall as she headed toward her teammate.

"Ali! Remember the plan!" Alex shouted. He took off at a run, acting on instinct and an overwhelming desire to keep his friends from dying.

Suddenly, Alex felt all the hairs on his body stand on end as an massive electrical charge arced from Scratch's outstretched arm to the N'gari. The creature screamed and convulsed.

Betsy's voice appeared in his head. Sorry it took a moment, but he was resistant.

Resistant to what?

He could almost see the smile bloom on Betsy's face. Why Mr. Summers, you have seen me take over a person's motor facilities before, have you not?

Alex came at the monster at an angle. He aimed and fired, hitting the creature full force with his concussive power. Just keep it up, Betts.

There was a second discharge from Scratch's airborne form. A smell like singed hair pervaded the air.

As if you had cause to doubt, Betsy replied.

Alison had gotten to Longshot's side. She cradled him with one arm, her whole form giving off sparks borne of the creature's roaring. Alex's heart was pumping as he moved closer to the two of them, his thoughts filled with ways to get them out of the N'gari's reach.

And then he was flying through the air, his side numb with the impact. As his body tumbled through space, he caught a glimpse of a second N'gari keeping pace with his trajectory. His headset came alive with Rogue's southern drawl, screaming in his head, "go limp, boss!"

The only flying X-Man grabbed him in her free arm. Her flight path wobbled to adjust to the added weight. She headed for a higher elevation as her other passenger--still possessed by Psylocke--gave the second monster an electrical shock.

Alex muttered, "Good catch."

"Ah thought so," Rogue responded. Alex couldn't help noticing she was grinning.

Rogue and Alex looked down on the field. With its intended prey out of reach, the second N'gari was closing in on Longshot and Dazzler.

"Drop me," Alex said.

"From this height? You'll break your neck!"

"_Drop me!_"

Rogue did as she was ordered. Alex was once more in freefall.

Man, this better work like it used to in the Danger Room, he thought to himself. He extended his arms toward the ground and began firing a series of short burst of energy. The first blast hit the ground, and the concussive force traveled up the beamline and caused his body to shudder unpleasantly. But Alex focused beyond the shocks and continued launching short pulses.

By the time he was almost to the ground, he was feeling his momentum bleeding off noticeably. It was still going to hurt, but at least nothing would be broken.

He curled himself up to prepare for impact. When he hit the ground, now badly ravaged from his blasts, Alex felt himself skid along the ground several feet. He landed with a sickening thud against one of the discarded, tattered bodies. There wasn't an inch that didn't ache.

"My God, he muttered under his breath, "I'm alive."

He looked up. A N'gari filled his view, one clawed talon raised. Alex twisted left just in time to miss the creature connecting with--and severing--his head.

Alex scuttled to his feet, backpedaling from the monster. His body was screaming with pain from the punishment it had taken so far. Dazzler had gotten Longshot to his feet and was trying her best to guide him away from Ground Zero, dazzle bursts coming off of her at an accelerated page. Betsy and Rogue were still providing air support, but the electrical discharges were coming further and further apart. Despite Alison's effort, the two N'gari were closing in slowly. And Longshot--Longshot hobbled along as fast as he could, but his right arm hung dead at his side, and he displayed a stiffness Alex had never seen in the man before.

He let loose with another concussive blast, carving a wide swath to drive both of the N'gari away from Longshot. Betsy, we need Scratch to project more! He farsended. Behind him, an electrical discharge slowed the N'gari on Alex's trail.

I am trying my best, luv, Betsy responded, but his body can only generate so much energy at a time.

There was a roar at Alex's back. He made to turn, but a cold pain exploded across his shoulders. He suddenly felt himself falling to his knees.

Turning, he saw the third N'gari gaining on him. Tatters of black cloth hung from its talons. Alex allowed himself a violent epithet and prepared for the worse...

But then there was a whistling noise, accompanied by some red streaks of fire. The streak found their mark in the N'gari's back. The creature howled in pain and spun around to face its tormentor.

Beyond the creature, at the edge of the woods, stood Wisdom and Callisto. Callisto carried what seemed to be a branch that had been ripped off a tree at the roots. She took off towards the third monster at a run. She ran past the creature, thumping it hard in the spot where the red streaks had hit it. The creature howled anew.

Alex got to his feet just as Callisto came up besides him. "I thought you were just here to observe."

"Screw observation. I want to live."

The N'gari galloped towards the two of them. Callisto shoved Alex out of the way and waited, the branch thrust outwards like a lance. Alex turned as he hit the ground and fired at the two N'gari who were menacing Dazzler and Longshot. The extradimensional X-Man was now able to move at an unsteady run, but the way his arm seemed paralyzed worried Alex.

Just as the third N'gari was upon Callisto, she hooked the branch under the creature's chin and tumbled backwards. The demon was lifted off its feet and went flying into one of its fellows, who fell into Alex's blast.

They had won a few seconds of time.

And in those seconds, Alex figured out what they could do to stop them.

XVII: Sean Cassidy

Watching from the Institute was maddening. The battle was coming to Sean in snatches of impressionistic tableaus, visuals of carnage punctuated with the kind of noises that made him assume the worst. He felt sick with worry.

He had been entrusted with this group of X-Men to make them effective. He pushed Alex into being a leader. And thanks to his efforts, Sean would be responsible for their demise.

The tide seemed to have turned briefly in the X-Men's favor, with the N'gari briefly disoriented. Sean knew that both Alex and Longshot had been injured. He feared that this moment would be too brief.

And then he heard Alex say, in amazement, "I have it."

"Lad, you best be moving out of there now," Sean replied through the commlink. "I can call STRIKE and have them raise the place."

And then Alex told him the plan in a breathless series of phrases.

And as Sean worked it over in his head, he realized it just might work.

XVIII: Alex Summers

Alex gave Rogue her orders hurriedly, keeping in touch with Betsy to make sure it would work. The N'gari were already coming out of their stupor, and he busily spread the word.

The ground-based X-Men scattered, giving the creatures a wide berth. As Wisdom let fire with those thermal discharges he called 'hot knives' to distract the demons, Longshot ran for the woods, quickly becoming lost in the foliage. Rogue, with Scratch still in tow, still kept an aerial position.

There was only a handful of yards between them and the cairn. The three demons were fully recovered and seemed to be ready to give chase.

Alex, Alison and Wisdom ran toward the hill, taking turns to snipe at the creatures. Their intention was to slow; they knew that trying to stop them dead would take too much effort.

The hill was getting closer. In response to their proximity, the cairn seemed to glow with a malignant energy.

Oh, God, please don't let that thing open again, Alex said to himself.

He could feel the creatures gaining on him. His shoulders still ached with the frigid numbness of a N'gari's glancing blow; he knew if the timing wasn't perfect, one of the nightmares chasing him would tear him apart. He'd never see Lorna again.

The crew was fifty yards away from the foot of the hill.

Thirty.

Twenty.

"Now!" Alex called into the headset.

Three things happened.

The first thing was that Rogue touched her unwilling flying partner, Scratch, with her bare flesh. Instantly, the memories and mutant abilities of the Black Air agent flowed from his person to hers, and he became temporarily an empty vessel, incapable of independent movement.

The second thing that happened was that Psylocke moved into that empty vessel, taking control of the body and forcing it to resume the function that was needed to fulfill in the plan.

The third thing that happened was that a W.H.O. troop transport, its back wide-open, roared out of the woods and slammed into the pack of N'gari. One of the demons fell under the massive armored truck, lifting its back wheels off the ground. A second found itself flipped into the hollow back end itself. The third, sensing the presence of the driver, climbed over its fellows and onto the roof.

The door of the transport flung open, and Longshot leapt out. Even with his injured arm, he was able to land on his feet. With a grin wider than Alex thought possible considering the situation, he flipped up onto the roof, dove under the confused N'gari and tumbled off the vehicle and toward the hill. The creature turned as its fellows struggled to extricate themselves from their situation.

Longshot bowed, launching several throwing knives with this good arm as he rose. "Imagine the difficulty of that!" he called out gleefully. The Metal knives buried themselves deep in the creature's hide.

Rogue landed near the transport. She dropped the possessed Scratch, the longtail butterfly still over his face, at her side.

"Time to fry, sugah," Rogue said with a tight smile before both she and Scratch opened fire.

The massive electrical discharge ran along the length of the truck like wildfire, catching the N'gari in a cage of primordial energy. Some energy arced and found the metal blades in the body of the N'gari on top. They shrieked as one and writhed in pain, trying desperately to escape from the energy discharge. The air became thick with a heavy, greasy smell as their flesh was seared. The two combatants continued firing for as long as they could, Rogue's hair standing straight up as the energies continued to course through her.

Alex didn't hear the whoomph as one too many sparks found their way to the transport's gas tanks.

The explosion knocked everyone off their feet, scattering them like ten pins. Alex fought against unconsciousness just long enough to see a rain of rotten, burnt meat surround him.

The cairn flickered and distended. Its whole form roiled like boiling water. There was a rumbling noise that sounded like God clearing his throat, a flash of light, and the cairn was gone.

Please let me now die in my sleep, was his last thought before he succumbed.

XIX: Sean Cassidy

In reviewing the events of their 'war game,' Sean had to admit the results were mixed. Wisdom and his superior had slipped away in the confusion surrounding the explosion. More frustrating to Sean, Alex and Alistair was how all evidence of their presence in the field had disappeared in a matter of hours. Sean also had to contend with an X-Team that was seriously worse for wear, five individuals--and their trainer--who needed some downtime in the infirmary.

On the other hand, they'd succeeded. And they succeeded thanks to Alex.

He sat in Moira's office across from the young man, his pipe clenched between his teeth. They were discussing the experience, and where they would go from here.

"I'm not perfect at it."

"And Scott was first time out? Or the Professor?"

Alex had flinched at the mention of his brother. There seemed to still be a kernel of doubt in the man's mind concerning Sean's motivations. But the doubt was much smaller now, something Sean could manage to work and eliminate entirely.

"I know I can do this."

Sean laughed. "Lad, you already know the first rule, aye?"

"What's that?"

Sean paused, puffed on his pipe. "You do what's right for your people, and for the world. You do that, and most everything else will fall in place."

Alex nodded. "I hope so. I'll see you tomorrow."

Sean watched the younger Summers leave. He smiled to himself. In his head, he was already planning what he was going to say to Ororo and Wolverine. And how much he was going to have to pay in drink costs once everyone was on their feet.

He may had had to lead Alex Summers up the hill backwards to get him to see the breadth of his abilities... but the view from where he was standing was shaping up to be spectacular.