“Cain?” Summers said. “What just happened?”
But Cain said nothing, only put his head down and headed west, ignoring whatever got in his way.
The rolling hills, trees, and farms gave the central New York area a feeling of serenity most summer afternoons. Light breezes swirled the humid afternoon air, giving farmers reasons to keep windows open for a hope of that slight, windy comfort.
But on this summer afternoon there was a path of destruction into those peaceful fields. A path that had gone only so far and then suddenly stopped.
Four X-Men stood in the open field at the point where the Juggernaut had just suddenly turned around, watching as he stomped off west, following his own tracks back in the direction he’d come.
Phoenix watched him go, wishing more than ever that she could read the Juggernaut’s thoughts. Just for an instant, just to get a clue as to what was driving him. But his helmet effectively blocked any attempts she made, making her feel as if she were staring at a blank wall inside her head every time she tried.
‘ ‘What was that all about?’ ’ Rogue asked.
“Worst case of decision-interruptus I have ever seen,” Hank said.
Scott shook his head. “Rogue, keep an eye on his path ahead, make sure there isn’t anything else in his path that might cause problems if he decides to plow through it.”
“Right, boss,” she said. “Back in a jiff.”
She waved at the Juggernaut as she went over him, then sped off in a green-and-yellow streak.
X-MCN
The Juggernaut paid her no attention at all, simply kept walking, one pounding step after another.
“I’ll report to the Professor,” Jean said to Scott and Hank. “Tell him what happened.”
Scott only nodded.
Professor? She focused on Charles Xavier and his dark study, blocking out the warm afternoon around her and sending her thoughts to him.
Yes, Jean. The Professor’s voice came back clear and strong inside her mind. I can read from your thoughts what happened. I, too, am baffled as to the cause.
Should we just follow him for the moment, maybe talk to him again?
Yes, the Professor said. But do not engage him unless you need to do so to save lives. As long as he is content to simply walk, we will minimize the ancillary effects. Engaging him will only result in much greater damage.
Understood.
The Professor broke the link in Jean’s mind, leaving a slightly empty sense for a brief instant.
She turned to Scott and for Hank’s sake spoke aloud. “The Professor wants us to follow Cain, but not try to stop him unless lives are at stake. And if we can, talk to him again.”
Scott nodded. “All right. We’ll go as soon as Rogue returns.”
“If you don’t mind,” Hank said, “I’ll wait in the Blackbird with the air conditioning turned up.” He plucked at a long patch of blue fir. ‘ ‘Not the best outfit for this weather, you understand.”
Gary Service had spent the afternoon in the coolness of his office, staring at his computer, studying everything he could find about the Juggernaut in any online reference he could think of.
In one account, he discovered that the Juggernaut’s power supposedly came from a large ruby, but the author of the article didn’t know for sure. And the author had no idea where the ruby had come from, or how it gave the Juggernaut his power. Only pointless speculation.
Another article studied the Juggernaut’s powers and abilities from some of the fights he’d been seen in. That article basically came to the conclusion that the man was unstoppable by just about anyone, and anything, on the planet.
A third article gave the Juggernaut’s real name, Cain Marko, and that he was stepbrother to the renowned geneticist, Charles Xavier. There were lots of pictures in all the articles, mostly with the Juggernaut fighting against some team called the X-Men or another, and a couple against Spider-Man. But nowhere, in any of the articles, did it mention any weaknesses. In fact, the most common word used to describe him was unstoppable.
Gary finally gave up, signed off, and headed to the kitchen for some early dinner. His eyes were tired and his back ached from sitting and staring at the computer screen for the entire afternoon.
If Robert became a second Juggernaut, unstoppable by even powerful mutants like the X-Men, there would be nothing Gary could do. All his years of planning, of being nice to the old man, would be wasted.
There had to be a way to get Robert back to normal.
It wasn’t until thirty minutes later, after the cook had fixed him a turkey sandwich, a salad, and a large iced tea, that Gary remembered the reference to Charles Xavier.
“Hadn't thought of that,” Gary said aloud as he sat and stared out over the manicured lawns of the estate, watching the red fill the sky from a beautiful sunset.
Maybe the Juggernaut’s stepbrother could help Gary with Robert. Maybe this Xavier person knew something about what happened to Marko and could help Gary stop the same thing from happening to Robert?
Maybe. . .
It was the only thought Gary had at the moment. And doing something was better than sitting there at the kitchen counter watching the sun set on the day and on his plan to control his father’s business.
Gary took the sandwich and iced tea back to his office and sat at his desk. After another quick search back on the Internet, he found a reference to the Xavier Institute for Higher Learning, run by Professor Charles Xavier, in Salem Center, New York. He wasn’t even that far away.
Signing off, Gary then called directory assistance for Westchester County. A moment later the operator gave him the Institute’s number.
Robert Service slept for what felt like only an hour, slumped on the leather couch, as the private jet crossed the country. He hadn’t slept a wink the night before and hadn’t even felt tired, but shortly after the plane lifted off he grew sleepy and dozed off, answering the question he had wondered about the night before: Would touching the emerald mean he didn’t need to sleep any more? The answer was clearly no.
As he awoke, he realized the light in the cabin had a slight reddish tint to it. A quick glance out the window told him the red came from the sun being low in the sky in front of them, shining light through a thin layer of high clouds. He’d obviously slept much longer than he had first thought.
He punched the pilot intercom button. “Where are
we?”
A moment later the pilot’s voice came back. “Approaching the Reno area, sir. We should be in San Francisco in thirty to forty minutes.”
“Thank you,” he said, easing back as best he could with his huge bulk on the small couch. He took a few deep breaths to clear the sleep from his mind, then tried to focus on the direction of the other stones.
Nothing came to him. It was as if they’d both simply vanished from his mind.
Quickly, trying not to panic, he opened the small case he’d carried aboard and dug down into a small, hidden pocket below his bathroom kit. He quickly pulled out the small pouch that held the emerald and opened it, sliding the emerald onto the palm of his hand.
It was like an old friend coming home.
He could feel the energy from the emerald clearing away the sleep, flooding through his body like an electrical circuit recharging a battery.
And the other parts of the stones again called to him in the back of his mind, like lost children begging to be rescued.
He laughed again, as he had last night. The feeling of power was just so wonderful, like having a good meal, a good drink, and a night with a beautiful woman all wrapped into one moment of feeling.
Then he realized something had changed. The western part of the emerald was no longer west, but now north. They had flown too far.
He punched the pilot’s intercom button. “Turn north.”
“Sir,” the pilot said after a long moment. “We’re going to need fuel shortly. We’ve only got another two hundred miles in our safety limit.”
‘ �
��Understood,’ ’ Robert said, keeping his voice low so it didn’t echo in the small cabin of the jet. “Can you reach Boise safely?”
Again a slight pause. “Yes, sir.”
“Good,” Robert said. “Refuel there.”
“Yes, sir,” the pilot said.
A few moments later the jet did a slow banking turn to the north.
Inside Robert’s head the feeling was right again.
And the power flowed through the emerald and into his body, making him again laugh at the sheer joy of it.
The low fire crackled in the fireplace, sending an occasional spark up the stone chimney. The faint smell of wood smoke always filled the dark study and the Professor liked it that way. He knew the sun was setting beyond the heavy drapes of his office. He knew the evening would be a warm one, perfect for floating in his chair out onto the back lawn to watch the stars come out.
But that kind of resting and enjoying of life was not something he felt he could take the time for at the moment. The problems of his team, and mutants in the world in general, were taking more and more of his time and energy. And he never seemed to have enough of either to begin to match the problems.
And now Cain was on a rampage again. He shook his head and stared into the fire. Why now? he wondered.
The Professor wished he knew, but Cain was not one to do much talking, and especially not to him. Cain had hated him since they were teenagers, since he thought his father paid more attention to Charles than him. And he might have been right, to a degree. But Cain had been a hard child, wild and mean, made that way by beatings at the hands of his father.
And when an accidental fire killed his father, Cain managed to blame it on Charles and the hatred grew into something they would never clear up. But Cain was still his brother and Charles was never going to feel totally free of the responsibility.
The Professor checked his watch. Three hours had passed since Cain had suddenly changed directions and he showed no signs of stopping. What was driving him? Something was, of that there was no doubt. And the only hope they had of stopping his rampage was to find the cause.
There was a knock at the door and Bishop, one of the more recent additions to the X-Men, stuck his head into the dark office, looking slightly worried.
“Yes, Bishop,” the Professor said. He could have probed the big man’s mind easily, but he had learned a long time ago to honor the boundaries of other’s thoughts. They were personal things and unless it was an emergency, he never so probed without permission.
‘ ‘There is a person on the phone by the name of Gary Service who says he must speak to you urgently regarding the Juggernaut.”
The Professor was about to tell Bishop to take the man’s name and number, but at the mention of the Juggernaut he nodded.
“Thank you,” the Professor said, floating in his hoverchair toward his desk and the phone. “I’ll speak to him.”
More than likely it was just one of Cain’s poor victims who had a house, or some other property, destroyed, looking for some kind of compensation. A few of Cain’s victims had tried to sue the Professor for the Juggernaut’s damages, but it had never held up. He was not responsible for Cain’s actions, even though at times he felt he was. “Charles Xavier,” the Professor said.
“Yes, Dr. Xavier,” the agitated voice on the other end of the line said. “My name is Gary Service. And I’m looking for a little help, or information.”
“I’m not sure about my ability to help, Mr. Service,” the Professor said calmly. “But I can certainly listen to your question.”
“Thank you, sir,” Service said.
The Professor heard him take a deep breath, most likely to calm his nerves.
“I understand,” Service said, “that you are the stepbrother of Cain Marko, also known as the Juggernaut. Is that right?”
“That is correct,” the Professor said, waiting for Service to get to his question.
“And the Juggernaut’s power comes from a ruby,” Service said. “Is that correct?”
“In a manner of speaking,” the Professor said. That question had him puzzled. “The ruby is like a pipe that directs the power to the Juggernaut from another plane.”
“Okay...” Service said, letting the word trail off, clearly not understanding. Then he took another deep, loud breath, then rushed into his question. “Is there any way of reversing the effects the gem has on the Juggernaut?’ ’
Service’s question actually shocked the Professor. It certainly was not what he had been expecting. “There is no method, that has been brought to my attention, to reverse the effects. I guarantee you, sir, that if there was, someone would have used it on my stepbrother years ago.”
“I was afraid of that,” Service said. It sounded as if all the air and energy had simply gone out of the man. Where a moment before his voice had been high and worried, now it suddenly sounded like he was about to give up living.
“Sir,” the Professor said. “What is your interest in all this?”
Service sighed, then laughed softly. “I suppose it won’t hurt to tell anyone now. It’s pretty obvious just looking at him.”
“At the beginning, Mr. Service. Please start at the beginning.” As he spoke, the Professor glanced down at the caller ID display on the phone, which gave him the general location from which Service was calling, based on the area code.
“Last night my dying father showed my brother Robert and me a large emerald he said he found in an old stone temple in Korea. You’re not going to believe the next part,” Service said, laughing half-heartedly to himself. “I saw it, I was there, and I still don’t believe it.” “You would be amazed at what I will believe,” the Professor said. He turned his powerful mind outward, searching for thought patterns that matched Service’s conversation. Often one’s surface thoughts related directly to what one was saying, so isolating Service’s mind would be comparatively easy as long as the Professor continued talking to him.
“My brother,” Service said, “is an egotistical, power-hungry man. My father had never touched the emerald because he said a monk had warned him not to. But my brother ignored him and picked it up.”
“And what happened then?” the Professor asked, finally locating the mind of Gary Service. He began a simple surface probe, not wanting to go too deeply. He just scanned enough to see if the man spoke the truth.
“Robert simply changed, grew, maybe six inches taller, and much, much bigger.” Service laughed. “I told you that you wouldn’t believe me.”
“Oh,” the Professor said, “I believe you.” Service’s own thoughts confirmed what he saw. Indeed, the image of the enlarged Robert Service lay foremost in the man’s mind. “There is a ruby that turned my stepbrother into the Juggernaut. It would be logical then, that there might be another gemstone of similar power. Did the gem attach itself in any way to your brother?”
“No,” Service said. “Robert was still holding it in his hand and laughing when he left the room. Why?” “To be honest, Mr. Service, I don’t know. But it may mean the transformation is not complete. We can only hope. Where is your brother now?’ ’
“He flew out of here this afternoon in our private jet. He didn’t say where he was headed, but it wouldn’t be hard to track, since he’s in the family plane.”
‘ ‘And just where are you?’ ’ the Professor asked. “About a hundred miles north of you.”
The Professor nodded to himself. A piece of the puzzle had just fallen into place. Cain had been headed for the Service estate. Somehow, in some way, the ruby that gave Cain his power must be hooked up to the emerald Service touched. And when Robert Service left, he took the stone with him, causing Cain to stop and follow Robert Service back west.
But why was Robert Service going west right after touching the stone? What did he need out there?
“Dr. Xavier?” Gary Service said. “Are you still there?’ ’
“Yes,” the Professor said. “I’m sorry.” He thought a moment, then probed Servi
ce a bit more deeply. He did not like doing so, but it was necessary to preserve the X-Men’s secrets. The general public did not know that Charles Xavier, renowned authority on mutants, was the mentor of the X-Men, nor that he was a mutant himself.
X-NEN
Fortunately, Gary Service’s awareness of the X-Men was limited to the fact of their existence. He had no idea of the current roster. The Professor could use that to his advantage.
“As it happens, you are the second call I’ve gotten today regarding my stepbrother. Are you familiar with Dr. Henry McCoy?”
“The blue-furred scientist, yes?” Service said after a moment. “Used to be with the Avengers or the Fantastic Four or somesuch.”
“The Avengers,” the Professor clarified. Hank had, in fact, served a lengthy tenure with Earth’s Mightiest Heroes. “He still helps them occasionally, and he and some others have been monitoring the Juggernaut’s recent movements. When next he checks in, would you object if I put him in touch with you?”
“Certainly,” Gary Service said, the energy and hope returning clearly to his voice. “The Avengers stopped dozens of threats in the past. Perhaps they can stop my brother, too.”
“Excellent,” the Professor said, and got the exact address for the Service estate.
“Thank you, Dr. Xavier.”
“No,” the Professor said. “I think I need to be thanking you for calling me. And let’s hope we can help your brother before he becomes like Cain.”
“I hope so, too,” Service said.
The Professor hung up the phone and turned to stare into the low fire. Gary Service had answered a few questions, but had raised a great many more. And the possibility of two Juggernaut-like creatures roaming this planet made the Professor shudder, even in the warm room.
As the sun set, the tourists and party life took over the warm, humid streets of the French Quarter like a wall of soldiers suddenly ordered to charge the enemy. The conflicting sounds of a dozen jazz and blues bands fought for attention up and down Bourbon Street from open cafes and smoke-filled bars. Tourists pushed and laughed and walked, all fighting the battle to have a good time in a city known for good times.
The Jewels of Cyttorak Page 6