Subject: GENOSHA: Filling In The Gaps 1/? Date: Mon, 3 Feb 97 20:24:57 +0000 From: "Ian Foster" To: untold-l@netcom.com (wibble junk) Evenin' all, Thought it was about time I posted something here again, so here's the first part of a little something I've been writing that lets me use all my favourite underused characters. Enjoy. Phil * * * * * Disclaimer - blah blah blah... characters not mine...blah blah blah...making no money from them...belong to Marvel Comics...blah blah blah... Continuity - this story takes place shortly before the Genoshan events of Cable#26-28. Currently being archived at http://www.geocities.com/SoHo/7746 along with my other stuff and the Mighty Marvel Mutants Parody Page. Feel free to drop by. Otherwise mail me at ianf@cogs.susx.ac.uk . Praise will be lapped up, constructive criticism gratefully accepted and flames forwarded to Bill Gates. Thank you for your time. * * * * * Filling In The Gaps By Phil Foster Chapter 1 The two figures slipped expertly through the shadows provided by the large lumps of concrete and smashed up buildings lying in the broken street. The sudden bursts of gunfire and the occasional sizzle of laser fire were a regular, and therefore ignored, part of the background sounds of this city. The pair swiftly worked their way down the street, dodging the sounds of nearby movement with expert precision. Suddenly one of them dived down to the ground, apparently alerted to something. He was large, the brown leather jacket he was wearing belying his solid build. His short cropped hair and unshaven chin matched his gruff voice as he motioned the other one, who had also dropped to the ground a few meters behind, over to where he was lying. With short, fast movements she wriggled over to him, her short blonde hair matted with dust and grime from the floor. She was slim, and her body - powerfully honed by over a year of combat - was covered almost entirely by a skin tight suit of purple and yellow, swirling around in smooth curves that followed the shape of her arms and legs. "What is it?" she whispered quietly into his ear. "Sweeper," he replied, not looking at her. His narrowed eyes were fixed on a point high up in the air on the other side of the street, alerted by the particular movement he'd seen there. "Want me to deal with it?" "Better not, hon. It'd recognize your power signature, and then they'd know we were here. If it spots us I'll laser it." They lay there, silent and unmoving while he watched the air above with hawklike precision. Her eyes narrowed as she spotted the sweeper only seconds after he had. Her eyesight had once been perfect, but the process had marred it. She was only slightly short-sighted, but even that could be enough for her to wind up dead in this place. The sweeper came closer - a small metal cylinder with various apparatus connected to its frame floating twenty feet off the ground and spinning slowly as several lights and sensors swept the street for signs of illegal movement. His hand carefully moved his laser up and he set its sights on the sweeper. It came closer, now within ten feet of where they were hiding, and paused for a moment. His hand tightened on the trigger, ready to fire if it came closer. They both held their breaths, willing it to move away. It did. Still spinning slowely it moved off at its normal speed down the street from where they'd come. They both breathed out in relief. "Close," she whispered. "Closer than it should have been," he replied. "The others shouldn't have let it through at all." His voice was slightly harsh, knowing how important this raid was. "Phil, you know they're doing their best, but even with Reece co-ordinating us they can't stop every one getting near us." She put her hand on his arm to subdue the remonstration in her voice. "Yeah, I know, hon. I'm just tense, is all. With food supplies so low we can't afford to screw this one up." "So let's get on with it then." She moved to stand up, but he stopped her with a wave of his arm. "Hold on, Jen. I want to speak to Reece, make sure he's got that sweeper." She nodded and sat down beside him as he unhooked a small pocket radio from his belt and tapped a button on it. "Reece? Moreau here." *Like I don't know that already?* a voice replied out of the radio. The voice was strange, too true to life to be a radio signal, yet too tinny to be a normal voice. Its owner was strange, too. Like many inhabitants of this island country Reece was a mutate - a mutant genetically engineered by the government of the country to work as a slave, unwillingly giving up his freedom to support the rich human population who shared this isle. However for the last year Genosha had changed. The government had been brought down and the country was now in a state of civil war as the mutates rebelled against the humans who had made them slaves for so long. For the last twelve months humans and mutates had fought a bitter war against each other, the humans wanting to return the mutates to slavery and the mutates determined to never let that happen again. Philip Moreau, Jenny Ransome and Reece Cordell were part of a coalition group, led by Moreau, who sought a third way. The members of this group were both human and mutate, working side by side to stop the civil war and change Genosha into a free country where mutates and humans lived together. They were having a hard time of it. "Yeah, whatever," Moreau replied into the radio. "We just got nearly spotted by a sweeper. It's heading back down the street - you got it?" *Hold on a min... yup, got it fixed. I'm telling the party behind you now. Should be pretty clear up ahead; signals say you've got a fifteen minute gap before the next wave.* "Don't know what we'd do without you," Moreau grinned in response. *Screw up, probably,* came the reply. Reece's mutated ability made him one of the most useful members of the coalition. Before genetic engineering he'd been a telepath, able to read the thoughts of those around him and project his thoughts into their head. The genetic manipulation had warped those abilities, twisting them into something different, yet equally powerful. Now his telepathy worked over radio waves, enabling him to listen into and manipulate radio communications over a vast range of frequencies. He could telepathically 'hear' radio signals, 'see' TV broadcasts and project his thoughts and images onto radio wavelengths over an area of several tens of square miles. As a slave he had been one of many who kept control of radio and TV signals over Genosha - keeping the airwaves as clear as possible and preventing interference from disrupting anyones viewing or listening pleasure. Now he was in the coalition he used his abilities to enable private communication between members of the group and listen into local broadcasts to glean information on what was happening in the city around them. Moreau clipped the radio back onto his belt and carefully stood up. "Ready?" "As ever, lover." Jen led the way, silently picking her way down the street, hugging the walls and shadows like a cat. Only a few uninterrupted minutes later and they had reached their destination. They stood silently in the shadow of a large stone wall, listening for any sounds. "Gonna be a problem?" Moreau asked as Jenny turned to face the wall. "Foot thick at the most. No problem at all," she replied, placing her hands flat against the stone. Jenny was a mutate as well. Before the processing she had been a healer, able to bend flesh and bone to her will. The genetic engineering had changed her ability, so that now she was able to command rocks and stone - intended for excavating in the mines, but useful in other situations as well. With a sound like rushing sand the stone wall flowed away infront of them, revealing a large dark room inside the building. Moving a little too hastily Moreau stepped inside and shone a low-light torch round the room. "Thank god," he breathed out in relief. A large part of the room was devoted to storage - food storage. Their sources had been good. "There'll be enough here to keep us going for a week..." Jenny shared his relief as she stepped in beside him. "Tell Reece to get the others here ASAP so we can get this stuff moved." He took out the radio again and tapped on the button. "Reece? It's here. Get the rest of the team over here and let's get it out." *Gotcha. Good work. I'm contacting them now...* Reece's voice faded out for a moment, then came back in a sudden burst of volume. *Moreau! BUG OUT! BUG OUT NOW! I can hear something comi...* Moreau jerked his head up, and spotted the dull glow of a computer terminal in the far corner. He had time to yell "Jen! Move..." before a blinding flash of light filled the room. A flash of light he recognized... * * * * * Jen's reactions were instinctive as she dived towards Moreau, both of them rolling for whatever sparse cover they could find while the brilliant white light filling the room slowly coalesced into five humanoid figures. They both recognized the transport mechanism of the mutate Pipeline, whose abilities allowed him to digitize people and send them across telephone lines and satellite links like data files to any point in the electronic world. His arrival meant only one thing. "Magistrates!" Moreau had time to yell before the five figures fully materialized and instantly began filling the room with a shower of bullets and laser fire. "Traitor son of Moreau, I want your HEART!" The cry came from one of the Magistrates, barely carrying across the explosive sound of gunfire. "Pay for it with your fucking blood!" Moreau replied, lifting himself briefly out of cover to send a hail of return fire from his laser. He crouched down again. "Jen, there's five of them, including Pipeline. Don't recognize any of the others." She nodded, and risked a quick glance around the side of the lump of rock they were behind to scan the scene. The continuous fire was lighting up the room clearly enough for her to see. The Magistrates had already scattered around and were searching the room, using their fire to cover each other effectively. The pair of them had barely five seconds before discovery. "Phil, cover me," she said loudly enough for him to hear. "1..2..3..GO!" He leaned over the lump of concrete and aimed a rapid burst of laser fire at the area he had last seen the Magistrates. Unfortunately the room was small, and he lost valuable time tracking them with the laser. A burst of light and he gave a yell at the sudden sharp pain in his left shoulder. Laser burn - he could feel the heat still scorching the flesh and the sudden numbness in his left arm - but he couldn't fix it up yet until they were both clear. His reactions did him good - he turned and fired automatically at the point where it had come from and was rewarded with a cry of pain from a Magistrate. He was angry at having fallen into so obvious a trap. With Pipeline's abilites and the vast computer network the Magistrates had access to it was easy for them to monitor events all over the city - or at least anywhere where there was still an operational computer terminal connected to the network, which was pretty near the same thing. The terminal in the food store had obviously set off an automatic alarm, which had brought a team of Magistrates here immediately. In the meantime Jenny was putting the time he'd gained to good use. She carefully looked round the corner and picked up the position of each Magistrate in a quick sweep. Concentrating she put her hands to the floor and sent her senses deep into the rock beneath. With a sudden burst of anger and well-honed reactions she raised a lump of rock beneath one of the Magistrates at an incredible speed, crushing him to a pulp instantly against the roof above. She was about to do more when she heard Moreau cry out in pain. "Phil!" "Nothing serious! Keep onto 'em!" he yelled back, ducking suddenly against a burst of laser fire. She trusted him enough to leave him and carry on the offensive. Concentrating again she sent her senses out into the rock below to thrust another pillar of stone against the Magistrates...only to find her way blocked. She pushed harder, trying to feel her way into the solid ground beneath her... and felt something pushing back. Like a bursting bubble a wave of energy flowed up into her mind, seizing instant control of it, rendering her helpless. She had time to gasp out "Phil..." before she felt her body get up and walk out towards the group of Magistrates and her mind fall into a pit of blackness... "Jenny!" He saw her moving and let up his fire, uncertain of what she was doing. In an instant a laser flashed across his chest and a bullet buried itself deep into his other shoulder, flooding his body with fresh agony. He collapsed over the lump of concrete, watching Jenny walking into the waiting arms of a Magistrate holding a complex piece of machinery. The firing stopped. "Magistrate Deckham, I have her. The feedback experiment worked perfectly," the Magistrate with the machinery said to another. "Perfect. Pipeline, get us out of here." A large Magistrate with black hair glanced over at Moreau. "What about him?" "He still alive?" Deckham asked. The other Magistrate nodded. "Shoot him. With one of their leaders dead and the other working for us the coalition won't stand a chance." "We can't control him?" "Won't work. He's not a mutate, and we haven't got the ability to reconfigure the machinery anymore." Moreau tried to lever himself up as the Magistrate raised a laser towards him, but his body was awash with agony and he could hardly move. He kept his eyes fixed on Jenny as she stared blankly into the distance. "I'm comin' for ya..." he whispered. "About fuckin' time someone put you down, traitor." Moreau could just watch as the Magistrate aimed the laser at him - and stare in astonishment as the Magistrates' head literally exploded off his shoulders, spraying grey-red gunk everywhere in the room. "Pipeline! GO! NOW!" Deckham roared as he realized what had happened. The three remaining figures began to digitize in Pipelines trademark transportation means when two figures burst in through the hole in the wall. Moreau recognized them - two more members of the coalition who were backing them up on the raid. "Hold it right there!" the female, Lydia, ordered the departing Magistrates, but by the time she'd said it Pipeline had 'ported them clear. "Shit! Shit, shit shit shit SHIT! I HAD them! I could've FRIED them but they'd already got her. SHIT!" She threw her gun to the floor in disgust. The other one, Andrew McCullen, had got to Moreau. "They've got Jenny...don't know how... but they took her..." Moreau mumbled as he tried to get himself upright. "Easy now, mate. Take it easy." McCullen carefully put Moreau's arm under his shoulder, helping him stand upright. "That's what they were here for," he sighed. "We just got news from Reece that our sources were wrong. This was a set up." "Huh?" Moreau struggled upright with the support of McCullen, and attempted a step towards the makeshift entrance. "Reece managed to hack into a couple of protected signals. Seems this whole thing was a set up to get Jenny." Lydia moved to the other side of Moreau, carefully supporting him without aggravating the injuries. "Shit," she repeated, unnecessarily. Slowly they managed to walk Moreau out of the now-wrecked food storage and into the open streets. McCullen used his free hand to unclip and activate his radio. "Reece, they got Jen, but we got Phil here still alive. What's the situation?" *Sweeper activity same as usual - you've got a couple of minutes easily clear, after that the other teams should be close enough to help cover you and each other back here.* Reece's strange voice came over the radio, sounding far less flippant than it usually did. "Check. Can you get anyone with a medpak over to us ASAP? Phil's in a pretty bad way, and it could be rough getting all the way back, the state he's in." *Do my best. Get back as soon as you can - something pretty important's come up.* * * * The Chief Magistrate's headquarters were high up at the top of the Magistrate building, affording him a view over most of the bay where Genosha's capital lay. Most cities were a more beautiful sight after dark than they were during the day, and Hammer Bay was no exception, but even from a viewpoint this high up the sense of desolation and destruction was still palpable. Whole chunks of the city were in near permanent darkness, and the brilliant flashes of light that a year ago would have been fireworks were now easily visible as the instruments of destruction they really were. The Chief Magistrate turned from contemplating the view as the guards indicated the presence of the man he had summoned. With a small signal he told the guards to let the man into the office and strode over to the large oak table, gesturing to his visitor to take a chair. The man was small and nervous looking, his white lab frock and bundles of papers making him look every bit his profession. But the Chief Magistrate knew the scientist's mind was sharp, and in the area of genetic research he was matched by very few. "So, Doctor Jeffries," the Chief Magistrate said, leaning forward in his chair. "Can I hope that the results are a little better this time?" This conversation between the two of them was something of a ritual. "I'm afraid not, sir," Jeffries replied, putting the pile of paper on the desk. "Of our selection only three were able to fully metabolise the process, and of those, two have suffered considerable restructuring as a reaction to the processing." The Chief Magistrate sighed. "So how many does that leave us with in this subject group?" "One, sir." He sighed again. "Only one? Out of fifteen this time?" "I'm afraid so, sir. The equipment is detailed, and we still don't fully understand how it works. Trying to configure it to each individual subject's genetic structure is simply too difficult to guarantee success." "Then you're still nowhere near fully utilising the technology?" "Without the Genegeneer, sir, no. However, perhaps if you were to ask our informant? With the knowledge of genetics he has displayed he may be able to help us." "I have asked," the Chief Magistrate responded, picking up the pile of paper from the desk. "Unfortunately our supplier is very careful in his dealings with us, and has no desire to get involved any more than he has." "Then I'm afraid I can't promise much more than what we've been getting." "Understood. Thank you for your time, Doctor." As Jeffries left the room the Chief Magistrate flicked through the bundle of paper. Most of the reports meant little to him - they were reports gleaned from the processing and testing the subjects underwent - and he still didn't understand the particular interest his 'informant' took in them. Then again there was much he didn't understand about the mysterious figure he only knew as 'Mr Essex'. * * * The coalition hideout gave the impression of nothing so much as a complete contradiction. The vast main room was filled with high-tech equipment - computers, viewscreens, communcations banks - and yet the crowds of people huddled into the open space resembled nothing more than one vast refugee camp. Which in many ways it was. Everyone here was a refugee - a refugee from the war that was tearing the country apart. Everywhere else on the once green-and-pleasant isle of Genosha there was a bitter civil war raging between the human and mutate population of Genosha - the coalition was the only place where Genoshans - human and mutate - had put aside their differences with the aim of working towards a better country for all Genoshans to live in. Andrew McCullen sat with his legs dangling on the edge of an overhang, alternately surveying the crowds of people moving around the large chamber, listening to the reports being given on the latest Magistrate operation that had been discovered, and watching his friend, Philip Moreau, getting patched up after being injured in the last raid. Unfortunately the coalition group had no mutate healers; the few healers remaining alive having all sided with the mutates against the humans, leaving the coalition having to make do with more traditional forms of medicine. He let his eyes sweep over the crowd of people nearby him, feeling once again the pang of guilt he shared with all the humans here. Like all of them, McCullen had lived an easy life before the war - all the hard work in society had been done by the mutate workers moving silently and invisibly around the humans while they worked. Like most of the other humans here he had grown up with it, always assumed that the mutates were happy that way. Truth be told he'd never really bothered thinking about them at all. Or if he had, only as slaves - things there to make his life easier - never as people, with the same needs and desires as he had. Which was why he was so determined to make things better now. When the revolution had come - when Philip Moreau and Jenny Ransome had revealed to Genosha and the world exactly how the country was run - he'd been disgusted. Disgusted at the society that allowed such slave treatment of the mutates, disgusted at a government that had created such a state, and most of all disgusted at himself for having lived blindly in such a society - taking part in that very slavery himself without ever giving a thought as to how his way of life could have come about. His attention returned to the area in front of him as Reece came forward to talk to Moreau. "So what the hell happened?" Moreau asked, wincing slightly as the wound in his left shoulder was cleaned. "It was a set up," Reece replied succinctly. His voice was normal, now that he was talking in person. He had the tall, thin figure common to mutates, but there was an extra air of intelligence about him - something in his eyes indicated that his intellect made him a far more formidable force than he first seemed. "First inkling I got was when I 'heard' Pipeline coming across towards you. You know I can track his movements across wires and signals pretty easily," Moreau nodded. "Problem is his transmission time's too short. I only had a second to warn you and get some help your way." "However the good news is when he's on the wire it opens up a few security holes in the radio system - a little side effect of his power that he doesn't know about," Reece grinned at this point. "Which means after a lot of hard work on my part I now have access to a number of supposedly 'high security' radio channels the Magistrates use to communicate across. That won't last long - they reconfigure things every couple of days or so, but in the mean time I've been eavesdropping on a few interesting bits of information going across." "About where they took Jen?" Moreau had his attention fixed intently on the mutate. His gut reaction was to go into the Magistrates headquarters with guns blazing until he found her, but he knew from previous experience that it would have to be a very well planned operation. "More than that, and worse," Reece replied. "Word is, these sorts of kidnappings have been going on all over the country for the last hour or so. I've still got some friends on the mutate side - " he said without much feeling, although all there knew the cost of leaving behind friends to join the coalition - friends they might have to fight someday. " - and they've been feeding me information about who's been getting caught. So far it's only mutates the Magistrates are going for. I've heard nothing from the human side." "Any connection between them?" Lydia asked, from the shadowy corner she'd been sitting in. "None that I can figure out, yet." "Get a list out and see if anyone can come up with anything," Moreau ordered. "In the mean time, we're gonna see if we can figure out where they're taking Jen and the rest of them, and how to get her back." * * * * * Allison enjoyed working late. One of the advantages of her position as research assistant at the museum was nearly unlimited access to all but the most valuable objects the building held, and staying after hours allowed her time to enjoy them without the distraction of other people there. She walked slowly around the displays, her curly blonde hair and commanding poise matching the striking beauty of the status around her. The goddess Venus, Mars the warrior god, Saturn the father of time itself - to everyone else these were merely curiosities, relics of a bygone age that had long since been lost to all but memory. But to her they were far more than that. She had come to England only recently, hoping to find the parents she hadn't known since she was a child. Like many people in her situation Allison had been dissapointed. Tracing her lost parents would be far harder than she had realized. And as the months had progressed she had become less and less sure she wanted to. She stopped before her favourite statue. Hercules, demi-god half-son of Jove. Warrior of the Gods. Hero of more stories than any one teller could say in a lifetime of telling. And Allison's friend. When she had arrived in England she had little knowledge of who she was, only faint memories and a couple of names to track down. Over time things had changed, and her memories had eventually returned in full. Born Allison Crestmere she had been kidnapped as a child by the mutant sorceress Selene - brainwashed by a powerful spell into living another life in another culture. Re-named Amara Aquilla she had grown to womanhood in Nova Roma, lost city of the Roman Empire buried deep in the Amazon Jungle. Yet she had escaped Selene by taking on another name - that of Magma of the New Mutants, powerful mutant at whose command the earth itself would cry out in fury. Yet Selene's spell had lost its power, and even the formidable talents of the mutant Emmanuel de la Rocha had been unable to keep an entire city in its misbelief, leaving her and the people she'd known as friends and family lost in a haze of memory, able to do nothing but pitifully try and fit their old lives back together again. And leaving Allison with little more than an empty feeling as the only real life she had known was pulled from under her. 'Yet you came to me,' she thought, looking up at the magnificant statue towering above her. 'In a moment of doubt I prayed, and my prayers were answered. Does that not mean something? For who could know the truth if not the Gods themselves...?' She smiled as she remembered the adventure she had shared with the fabled Hercules. He had come in answer to her prayers, to re-affirm her belief in the Gods she had worshipped for as long as she could remember. At first she had not believed him, unable to believe that he was more than just another super-human taking a name he did not deserve. Yet in that long night he had proven her wrong and re-established the faith she had been taught from childhood. Her smile faded. That was wrong. She could remember parts of her childhood that did not include the Gods of Rome. She could remember dolls houses and Cinderella and playing in the snow. She could remember a life that hardly belonged to her any more, yet was the only true life she'd ever lived. Did that mean her encounter was false? That the beliefs she had had re-affirmed were worthless, even after all that had happened? That she couldn't believe. Then what? A wave of helplessness came over her, and as she had done many nights before she took recourse in the teachings of her childhood and prayed to the Gods who had answered her before. Kneeling down almost prostrate infront of the assembled statues around her she spoke the words taught to her by her father, reverting to the ancient latin tongue not heard anywhere else on this planet in over a thousand years. The carefully preserved artefacts in the room around her almost seemed to resonate with the words, the truth of their meaning, and Amara took comfort in the familiar rites she was enacting. When the proper rituals had been observed and due respect had been paid she stood up and, as the nights before, felt a calmness wash over her and the steady hand of faith re-affirm its hold. She breathed deeply and opened her eyes. The statue of Chronos stood infront of her, the ancient God staring down at her with almost infinite patience, and for a while she could feel the strong faith that had sustained her throughout her life. But it soon faded. Thoughts of cash registers and paperwork encroached upon her mind again, returning her back to the thoughts of Selene and the lie that had been perpetuated. She turned and walked swiftly out of the room, not wanting to desecrate the place with her unbelief and confusion. The confusion had returned fully by the time she'd locked the doors, and she walked back to the main entrance too engrossed in inner turmoil to notice anything around her. She barely registered the intruders' presence before the three dark figures had jumped her and a sharp jab of metal stabbed into her arm. One whispered phrase echoed around her as she slipped into unconciousness. "She's under. Pipeline, get us out of here..." * * * * * -- ****************************************** Ian Philip Foster | ianf@cogs.susx.ac.uk 'Moines a point 'o scrumpy!' Don't blame me, I'm from Uranus. ******************************************