9. Gathering Maddness

MOJO-WORLD, ???SOMETIME IN THE FUTURE???

The stepping disk opened wide and let Magik and Phoenix out into the still night.

"Is-is this Mojo-world," Magik asked, gripping her soul-sword.

"Yes," Phoenix said, looking around with a shiver. "We're in one of the battle sets----uh-oh."

"Uh-oh?"

Phoenix caught Magik into a light mental rapport. Through Phoenix's vast psychic senses, Magik could 'see' two lines of combatants, one side human, the other side mutants. Neither side were particularly friendly.

And she and Phoenix were smack in the middle of this stand-off.

Worse, their little entrance lit the fuse that blew the keg sky-high.

"Death to the humans!"

"Die, mutant scum!"

Like opposing tides of the sea, the waves of warriors came crashing down on their heads.

"'Hit and run raid, Rachel,'" Phoenix mimicked as she tossed bodies aside with her psychically made raptor's wings. "'We'll be safe.' Magik, have I told you how absolutely full of it you are?"

"Sometime later, when we're not fighting for our lives!" Magik frantically wielded her stepping disks to transport her demon-flames from Limbo to fight at her side.

A loud buzz was heard overhead, soon followed by a booming tin-toned voice. "What a fight tonight, ladies and gentlemen! Looks like a third team has entered the fracas, the fabulous Ladies of Fire! Wait a minute---- I've just been told that this is the super comeback of that star of old, the Baby Phoenix! Look at her go, folks, tearing into the Raccoon Rascals and the Mutant Menace alike!"

"What was that?" Magik demanded as she sliced an attacking telepath. The soul-sword left the flesh untouched, but the mutant fell unconscious.

"The announcer," Phoenix answered tersely, overpowering another telekinetic trying to imitate her aural flames.

"What do they think this is, a football game?"

Phoenix shot into the air and let loose with a t.k.-wave/psi-bolt combination that swathed a clearing around Magik. "As a matter of fact, yes," she snarled to the Siberian. "Each person is a point, so guess what?"

"They're all after us to score?"

"Bingo."

"Uh-oh, folks, it looks like the Raccoon Rascals are pulling back to pull out their big guns at the newcomers!"

Sure enough, the space around them grew larger as the opposing teams drew back. The mutants consolidated for a defensive stand. The humans were preparing for an offensive break.

"What are they doing," Magik gasped. "Those humans don't have a point man to form on! They'll----"

"Look out!" With the speed of thought, Phoenix spread her protective fields over them both as a massive war-ax came hurtling out of nowhere. It bounced off her shield...and ricocheted back to the hand of the giant that somehow appeared out of nowhere.

"I... think that's their pointman," Phoenix managed to say.

He was very different from the rest of the Raccoons. Unlike his fellows dressed in bulky blue armor, this guy wore a light flexible black armor, distinctive in his red boots and gauntlets. He was helmeted as well as his team, but his toy seemed to have a bigger power pack. And his weapons! Two long handled hatchets, one for each hand. He looked huge enough next to his teammates, but when holding those monsters, he looked like some Viking god!

Neither of the women could see his face, but his attitude was clear enough. This was his field, his game. No has-been like Phoenix was going to upstage him. The rest of the humans stepped back as he strode forward.

"Oh, boy."

With a volcanic roar, the man came down on them like an avalanche. Lined with violent grace, he windmilled his axes like an extension of himself. He attacked Phoenix with such raw strength, she fell back in surprise. She tried to psi-bolt him...to no effect! Son of a bitch, his helmet protected him! Damn thing was generated a psi-dampening field. She tried to snag him with a claw, but he was almost impossible to catch with her powers.

Hell, she thought grudgingly, he's good.

But he foolishly turned his back on Magik.

"Careless," Magik muttered, summoning her minions.

Her demons flared in dismay and shoved her aside. "Wha----oh!" She gasped as she felt something nick her shoulder. Without protest she ducked as her little fires pulled her down, away from whatever that whizzed back overhead. She looked up.

Silent, smaller, dressed in similar gear to the behemoth, a girl deftly caught the whirling tri-bladed weapon in mid-air and slung it straight back at Magik. The junior X-man jumped away and watched it fly by her.

She didn't watch the girl.

A foot in her face made the world go black.

The black clad girl snatched up her returning weapon as she picked up Magik's own soul-sword and held it to her throat. "Stop or the kid gets it," she told Phoenix.

Unsure of the effect the sorcerous blade would have on its true master, Phoenix reluctantly powered down. She sent a tendril of thought to her fallen friend. //Snowflake, can you hear me?//

No response.

Out cold. Damn.

The man nodded, arrogantly resting his axe-heads on the ground. "Good work, sis," he said in a surprisingly tenor voice. "Keep her covered, o.k.? That fight was a little short, so now...now I've got an audience to please...and a sexy red-head!"

"Oh, brother," Phoenix heard the girl mutter as her brother signaled obscenely to the sky.

"O-ho-HO! The Greatest of Them All, A8, has called for a special time out! We all know what that means!"

The multiple voices of a crowd thundered, "Battlefield Conquest!"

The emotions and the thoughts of the crowd clawed their way into her brain. "No," she whispered. Their lust and bloodcries resonated dark memories, and once again she could feel the hands grab at her, the roughness, the pain, the power tearing at her mind. "Not again. //Not again!//"

Her psychic scream of raw terror pierced the minds of all the players, even the shielded ones. The man clamped his hands on his helmet as his sister dropped the soul-sword.

Magik, jarred awake from Phoenix's agonizing cry, grasped her weapon. With a guttural hiss she cast a spell and ensnared the girl in a net of flame. She looked to Phoenix, preparing to help her.

The telekinetic, beyond the point of fear now, was too enraged to let the giant's psychic dampers stop her. In an enormous aural claw, she grabbed the man, looking well on her way to crushing him to death.

"Phoenix, don't do it! He's not worth it!"

The X-man didn't seem to hear her.

Desperate, Magik tried to appeal to another side of Phoenix. "He's our evidence, Phoenix! If you kill him, Piotr dies! Captain America will be destroyed! Do you want that?"

The crowd began to boo.

"...Captain..." Phoenix's grip loosened. She heard the crowd and her face turned fiercer. "Get us out now, the place is turning ugly."

"Don't have to tell me twice," Magik yelled back as the stepping disk wisked them back to Limbo.

"Uh... heh-heh," the announcer said nervously over the outraged din of the crowd. "That fabulous Raccoon duo, A8 and A10, and those newcomers, the Ladies of Fire, have called for a short break. But for you musical fans, we have lil' Dazzle singing the Mojo-world anthem as she tap-dances on the heads of giant sewer gators! Stay tuned!"

THE MORLOCK TUNNELS, NEW YORK CITY, Dec. 11, 3:09pm

"Are we close?"

The Captain gave her a shake of his head as he crept over the tunnel floor.

Storm, likewise on the ground, gave an impatient sigh. They had entered the Morlock Tunnels under the Mansion an hour ago. He had not spoken to her since then. Ordinarily, she wouldn't have minded. Being here, though, in such cramped quarters with the stench of death still in the air, she needed a distraction.

"You are still upset with me."

He stopped and looked back quizzically.

"For slapping you."

He tossed her a grin and a shrug before continuing on.

Storm stood her ground. "Will you please say something."

Captain America turned, startled. His voice came out hushed. "Like what?"

Storm rubbed her arms, sternly telling herself that this tomb wasn't about to be shut. "Why haven't you spoken--no, uttered a sound--since we left the mansion?"

He gave her a look that held incredible sadness. "This place feels like Auschwitz."

This place. The Morlock Tunnels. A place where the more deformed mutants banded to form a community away from the humans. Site of where Mr. Sinister, a mad mutated geneticist, called for a culling. A massacre.

They traveled in silence from then on.

SUBWAY TUNNELS, NEW YORK CITY

"What? No witty remarks, no famous wise-cracks? I must say, I am disappointed," Sinister sighed. With a melodramatic sweep of his cape, he turned back to his scientific equipment.

Spider-man whistled. "A Stark 6940 Nucleic Recombinator with an oxygenated nutrio-gel incubator attachment and a Pentium V computer with surround sound DVD player! Hey, do you have Thief the Dark Project? Heard it was a great game. Oh, oh! The Ultima Series! You know, one of the characters in that game looks a lot like the Vision. I'll have to ask if he modeled for the game when the Avengers come to kick your butt!"

"Ah, finally," Sinister smiled. "Stimulating conversation. You recognize my new toys? They were gifts. I'm impressed, Spider-man. You do not have a reputation for scientific abilities."

"Yeah, well, hang around enough do-dad whizzes you pick up a thing or two." Like a graduate education, you wanna be Franken-Dracula, Spidey smirked inwardly. "So what are we doing tonight, Sinny? Try and take over the world?"

"Nothing so grandiose, child. Yet. Merely a project a... client asked for me to do."

"'Client?' I don't know ya well, but from what I've picked up from the X-men I thought you were only interested in playing your own games. You know, gene-tac-toe, the DNA jingle. Since when did you take in jobs like a normal villain?"

"I like to think of it as an intellectual challenge that came with perks."

"Sinister," a loud bass thundered over an intercom.

"And problems," Sinister snarled, his good humor quickly gone. He stormed to the monitor and clicked on a window. "I am busy," he said coldly.

"Not busy enough."

Spidey's eyebrows went way into his hairline. Well well well well well! Spidey would know that voice in the middle of a Metallica concert. Looks like Daredevil was right. Kingpin was up to something, and with Sinister to boot!

"Have you seen the news? The Warwolves---"

"Yes. Kingpin. They botched the job," Sinister hissed. "I must say, I'm not terribly surprised. I detest working with minions lent from unknown parties! If I had sent my mutate clones to collect the raw material like I had wanted, the target would be in my hands now with none the wiser."

"If your clones 'botched the job,' the finger would point straight to you. As it is, you and I are not even suspected of having a part in this game."

"True," Sinister assented grudgingly. "And their master?"

"The authorities will have a difficult time holding him accountable... or even crediting his existence. But blast it!" A meaty fist could be heard splintering wood. "I was told those Warwolves were the best to be had!"

"Obviously that assessment was incorrect."

"This is intolerable! I've been promised much for this brokering contract, but have seen very little return." More sounds of furniture breaking could be heard.

Throwing a little hissy fit, aren't we, Tubbo, Spidey silently snickered.

"I suppose the target has gone into hiding now," Kingpin grumbled.

Now Sinister let forth a throaty peel of laughter. "He's coming to me."

"Delightful news! Why?"

Sinister leaned forward and, with a magician's pass, dangled something from his hands.

Spidey gulped.

It was his web shooters.

"Spider-man is currently spending the day with me. Our dear Captain has some objections to this."

"Excellent! Now I am beginning to see some return. Will the Warwolves fail this time as well?"

"Perhaps, perhaps not. It hardly matters anymore. The Captain wants his friend. Once he's here... he's mine."

"Ha," Spidey barked. "You and what army, pal? He's not exactly alone, ya know. That's Storm you're ignoring! When this lady gives you the cold shoulder, a nor'easter hits town!"

"Is the wall-crawler babbling, Sinister, or is he actually saying something pertinent?"

"Hmm? Oh, about Storm? Our dear claustrophobic windrider?" Sinister laughed again. "Down here, in the underground tunnels, sweet Storm is easily neutralized. No, she is no threat, but a bonus."

"Is that a hint for more payment?"

Sinister thought on that. "For her, no. She is much more valuable to my private studies. Spider-man, though... it would be nice to study him... for the right items, you can unmask him yourself and do whatever you wish. As long as he still breathes so my research can continue."

"Hey! I'm pretty attached to myself! I strongly object to getting beaten before my own dissection!"

"A tempting deal, Sinister. We can work out details later. In the meantime, I'll leave you to your work, and I will appraise our third party of what has transpired. But remember to not underestimate that bug. He does have a knack for escaping."

"So I've heard. No, he will not leave. Yet. Let us do lunch sometimes. Kingpin. Sinister out." The dark man clasped his hands behind his back and casually strolled to where Spider-man hung. He put a finger under Spidey's chin. "I know you can break those puny chains any time you want. Or so you think. You haven't even tried." His grin widened. "Could it be you're gathering information for your friends?"

Hey. Not a bad idea, Spidey thought. Aw, heck. Let's see what I can fish outta him. "Why bother? It's obvious," he bluffed. "So passe, Sinny. I'm surprised you're doing something so lacking in originality."

Sinister's finger dug into the soft point of Spidey's chin. "What?"

"Yeowch!" Someone hit a nerve. "Oh, come on," Spider-man coughed. "Only one reason a geneticist wants Cap."

"Oh, really?" Sinister's quicksilver mood swung back to warm and fuzzy. Actually, he looked down right tickled. "Do tell."

"Oh, please. Yadayadayada--super solider serum--blablabla--recreate formula--yakyak--pump up Kingpin's boys--ectectect--rule the underworld. Oldest story, Sinny. Get a new plotline."

Sinister gave Spider-man a paternal pat on the cheek. "Dear boy. Oh, close but ever so far. No, no, no. The Kingpin already rules the underworld. He has no need of an expensive--and risky--undertaking such as creating more super-soldiers. Can you imagine such a criminal remaining to be content as an underling? No, even a single super-solider criminal would be a threat to the Kingpin's power, so he leaves the secret alone. Wise."

C'mon, Sinny, keep talking, Spidey thought. The more I know, the better my guys can kick some tail when I bust loose. "So, what's the point of the elaborate cloak and dagger kidnapping?"

"Ah," Sinister sighed, walking to a small bookshelf. "Merely indulging in biblical research."

Spidey couldn't help it. "HUH? Way left field, dude. 'Biblical research?'"

"Riddle solving then, if you would," he said, holding a Bible to Spidey's face. "Our dear Captain happens to have the key. He is the key. And if I must pick him apart to solve it, then so be it."