X-Men

by Kristine Kathryn Rusch

“Anything?” Cyclops asked.

  “I know there’s someone here,” a voice responded. A voice that sounded exactly like his own. “But I can’t see them.”

  At that he broke into a sprint, as fast as he could move, back down the hall toward the others.

  Someone, or something, who looked, dressed, and sounded exactly as he did, was standing in front of Cyclops. Then the imposter extended his claws and went to swipe at the unsuspecting X-Man.

  Logan leaped and tackled the doppelganger, square in the back, sending them both tumbling head over heels into the steel wall, then into a side room cluttered with exhibits.

  Recovering from his surprise, Cyclops focused on both of them as they came up, facing each other. Logan glanced at Scott. “Wait.”

  The imposter did the same thing.

  Said the same thing.

  Suddenly a massive metal door slammed down into place, cutting off Logan and the imposter from the others.

  Logan spun for an instant, then turned back. But the imposter was gone.

  Mystique. The blue woman was a fighting expert and could change her form at will.

  Then the lights cut out.

  “Ah, crap,” Logan said. He was certain he knew what was going to happen next.

  And he was right. A boot slammed into his face, sending him crashing over backward.

  He came up ready to fight, his claws fully extended, using all his heightened senses to figure out where his opponent might be lurking.

  The blackness seemed almost too black.

  A whisper of movement caused him to turn, just in time to roll with another blow to the head. This time the impact sent him crashing into a glass display case.

  He rolled again and came up, moving toward the far wall. There he found a switch and turned it on, bringing the lights back up. He was in a gift shop.

  Mystique was nowhere to be seen. Yet he still could sense her presence. He moved slowly, with animal grace, turning, employing every sense. She had to breathe, so he listened. She had a faint smell, so he let his nose guide him.

  He glided toward one side of the small gift shop.

  Suddenly a mirror behind him seemed to move, and he slashed at it with his claws, smashing the glass.

  But it had been a reflection.

  Then the steel door flew open, and a shadow darted out into the main area.

  “Damn, damn, damn,” he said, following her.

  Jean stood beside Cyclops as he prepared to blast down the door that separated them from Logan and Mystique. Suddenly there was a sickening thud as Toad dropped from the balcony, bounced once, and kicked Cyclops hard in the side, sending him crashing head over heels into another side room.

  Instantly the metal door to that room slammed down, cutting her off from Cyclops.

  “Jean, watch out!” Storm shouted.

  Jean twisted around to discover Toad, facing her head-on. His tongue shot out and struck her face, coating her with a slimy substance that congealed almost instantly.

  He laughed. “Hate to kiss and run.”

  It took Jean only a moment to realize that she couldn’t breathe. The stuff was blocking her nose and mouth. She clawed at it, fighting to free herself of it.

  An instant later the metal door that had slammed down on Cyclops melted under the heat of his energy beam. Scott came tearing out, firing at Toad, who dodged out of the way, ricocheting off two walls, gaining the momentum he needed to kick Cyclops back into the room he’d just escaped from.

  Then Storm attacked him, and he rolled over, finding the leverage to knock her up and over the railing into the balcony area.

  Then Cyclops was back, and Toad leaped up and out of sight, also on the balcony.

  Jean was starting to black out. She dropped to her knees, then to her back, fighting the stuff that clung to her face, her throat, and her nose. It had hardened until it felt like bone, completely blocking her air.

  “Jean!” Cyclops said, bending over her. “Hold still!”

  He desperately tried to pry it off, but it would not yield.

  She could feel the blackness coming in around her. She desperately needed air. She fought to keep her eyes open.

  Finally Cyclops stood. “Jean! Stop moving!”

  She didn’t understand.

  “Stop moving!” he shouted.

  She did as he ordered.

  He fired an incredibly thin, extraordinarily focused beam of energy from his visor. It struck the slime that had crusted over her face. The energy smashed it to pieces.

  Jean gulped in a sweet breath of wonderful air as Cyclops bent over her, holding her.

  She held him back as hard as she could.

  That had been just too damn close.

  Storm moved quietly along the exhibits, searching for Toad. He was up here somewhere, and she was going to find him.

  And kick his ass right out to sea.

  As she came out from behind a display case, she heard the elevator doors open. She glanced that way, only to find the doors were standing open on an empty shaft.

  What was going on?

  Suddenly, something dripped on her from above.

  She tried to duck but wasn’t in time. Toad swung down and kicked her squarely, sending her careening across the floor. An instant later he was on top of her, his scaly hands touching her face, his legs pinning her arms.

  “Such pretty skin,” he sneered, caressing her cheek. She fought a wave of revulsion. “So perfect. I guess some mutants were just born lucky.”

  Storm kicked him in the back of the head. Then, as he moved, she wrenched an arm free and drove a fist squarely into his ugly face.

  It was like punching a marshmallow covered with scales.

  Instantly he leaped back up into the rafters.

  “Nice try,” he said mockingly, “but you’re going to have to do better than that.”

  She scrambled to her feet, ready to fight, as he swung through the rafters like a gymnast on a high bar, using the force of one such swing to kick her hard, right in the chest.

  The blow knocked the air out of her.

  She flew backward through the air and smashed directly into the back of the open elevator shaft.

  Her head connected with the wall with a resounding crack.

  The impact hurt worse than almost anything she’d ever experienced.

  An instant later, she dropped into the darkness.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Liberty Island

  Toad perched on the railing, watching the two mutants below. The one he had slimed was still alive, thanks to the mutant with the visor. But that wouldn’t be the case for long.

  He lined up, ready to drop on both of them at once. Sort of a two-birds-with-one-drop kind of thing. The sound of their bones crunching under the impact was going to be wonderful. With luck some of their brains and guts would squirt out—like someone stepping on a tube of toothpaste.

  He loved it when that happened.

  Behind him the elevator doors opened.

  He twisted around just as wind blew up through the elevator shaft, increasing in intensity, rattling the doors, then knocking over tourist displays.

  Slowly floating upward on the wind, the mutant with the white hair and the smooth skin rose into view.

  “Don’t you people ever die?” he complained, jumping down from the railing to face her.

  At that the wind around him picked up violently. Displays and merchandise began flying toward him, striking him.

  The woman had cuts on her forehead, and her arms were bleeding. Her eyes were solid white, shining like lasers, staring at him. Her expression spoke volumes, and Toad began to wonder if he should find a convenient escape route.

  “Don’t like being dropped down an elevator shaft, huh?” he asked, shouting bravado into the wind as he used his webbed feet to hold himself to the floor. Slowly, even as the wind increased, he inched closer to her, never letting the smile slip from his face. When he reached her she was going to be sorry she had even t
ried to mess with him.

  His opponent’s white eyes opened even wider, and the winds increased, pushing beyond hurricane force. Now he found himself slipping, moving backward, no matter how firmly he tried to hold on with his sticky feet.

  Suddenly, a counter appeared and knocked against his leg, and his feet went out from under him.

  He grabbed the carpet with his hands, but it ripped, sending him tumbling into the air and out a large window that opened onto an observation deck.

  Beyond that, only the dark, open ocean waited for him.

  But this white-haired witch wasn’t going to get the best of him yet.

  He lashed out with his tongue, grabbing the railing of the observation deck, holding on, flapping in the hard wind like a flag in a breeze. His strength could outlast hers, he was sure of that. She had to tire soon, then he would kill her. And take pleasure in doing it.

  The glass on the doors exploded outward as the white-haired mutant walked out onto the observation deck, rising off the ground, buoyed by the winds she summoned around her.

  She didn’t look tired.

  Then she raised her arms.

  The air around Toad began to crackle and pop. He could feel the hairs on his head standing up even in the wind.

  “Do you know what happens to a toad when it gets hit by lightning?” she shouted.

  The pain in his tongue was intense as a massive bolt of lightning struck the railing. The jolt of electricity moved up his tongue and tore through his body.

  The last thing he remembered was flying on the wind far, far above the dark ocean, his now-worthless tongue trailing behind him like the tail of a kite.

  Then he blacked out. Luckily, this occurred before he hit the very hard surface of the water.

  Back on the balcony, the wind died down and Storm smiled. “Same thing that happens to everything else,” she said, answering her own question.

  “Same damn thing.”

  Logan moved quickly down the hallway, keeping all his senses alert. He knew Mystique was close by, but where? And how was she going to attack?

  Suddenly Storm burst through the doors just in front of him. “Is that you?” she asked, looking him over carefully.

  Logan moved up close to her. “Shh, the other one ain’t far away.”

  His nose caught the now-familiar odor.

  Storm nodded. “Come on. We need to regroup.”

  “I know,” Logan said, “but there’s a problem.”

  As fast as he could move, he grabbed Storm’s wrist and yanked it up. There were three claws protruding from her wrist. Claws she had planned on using to run him through.

  The claws reverted back as Mystique’s blue hand returned to its natural shape. Logan spun and struck out with his elbow, smashing her square in the nose as hard as he could.

  She went down like a sack of flour. She wasn’t going to be moving again for a long, long time.

  And it was going to take all her changing ability to fix what was left of her nose.

  “Always remember,” he said, standing over her limp, blue body, “no two women smell alike.”

  He turned and headed back to the main area of the museum.

  As he entered the center room, Cyclops and Jean spun and took up defensive positions.

  “It’s me,” Logan said, striding toward them.

  “Prove it,” Cyclops said.

  “You’re a dick,” Logan said, smiling at their visor-eyed leader.

  Cyclops paused for a moment, then nodded and smiled. “Okay. Let’s find Storm.”

  “Right here,” she said.

  Logan glanced at where she stood on the balcony, clearly tired, and bleeding in a number of places.

  “You all right?” Jean asked.

  “Better than Toad,” Storm said, and smiled.

  “And you’re much better looking, too,” Logan said.

  “You sure know how to make a beat-up woman feel better,” Storm said wryly.

  “Okay then,” Cyclops said. “Two down and two to go.”

  “Why do I think the next two are going to be the hardest?” Logan said.

  “Because you’re right,” Cyclops replied.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Liberty Island

  The statue’s interior was lit with a few strategically placed spotlights; the stairs had lights directly over them. It was a long climb, but it didn’t take much time for Logan, with Cyclops directly behind him, to reach the upper platform. Stairs led off in two directions: one into the arm, and the other up into the head. The door that led into the arm was closed and locked tight. Looking down, Logan could see all the latticework of the statue’s body. Above, the opening stretched into the head.

  “Looks like Magneto’s got the arm blocked,” Storm said, pointing at the door on one side of the platform.

  “Can you blast through it?” Logan asked Cyclops.

  “Not without tearing the whole arm off,” Cyclops said.

  Above them, Logan could hear the sound of wind coming from the head of the statue. Maybe there was a way to the arm from there. He glanced up, then at Cyclops, who caught the meaning and nodded.

  “Follow me,” Cyclops said, heading up.

  They all came up onto the platform inside the head and scattered, ready for anything. The inside walls of the head and face were covered with metal support beams and more latticework. Stairs continued up to observation platforms in the statue’s crown.

  Suddenly, Logan found that he couldn’t move. It was as if his legs were glued to the floor, his arms frozen in the air.

  Magneto!

  “Get out of here,” he said to the others. “Quick!”

  “What’s wrong?” Cyclops asked.

  “I can’t move,” Logan said.

  In the next instant, he was shoved hard, back against a wall. His fists were brought up and pushed into his chest, so that if he extended his claws he would stab himself.

  A band of metal curled up and wrapped around him, pinning his fists to his chest. He tried to shove against the band, but it held him tight.

  Then the room erupted into something from a bad cartoon nightmare as the metal bracing from the wall tore loose and flew everywhere, dancing, attacking, as if each piece had a life of its own.

  Cyclops managed to blast a few of the braces, but there were just too many. One came up from behind and wrapped around his neck, forcing his head back and pulling him to the wall.

  Storm and Jean were both caught as well and yanked to the wall.

  The metal shoved Jean face-to-face with Cyclops. Then two metal spikes came in and locked Cyclops’ head in place.

  Storm looked more angry than Logan had ever seen her as four bands bent and pinned her to a wall near him.

  Then, from the hole in the top of the statue’s head, Magneto floated down, using the magnetic pull to support himself, landing gently in the middle of the room. He was wearing a smile that spoke of arrogant confidence.

  “Welcome, my friends,” he said.

  Sabretooth thumped down behind him. Logan noticed that his dog tags were hanging around Sabretooth’s neck. If it was the last thing he did, he was going to get those back.

  Sabretooth moved over to where Jean and Cyclops were locked against the wall.

  “You’d better close your eyes,” Magneto warned the young team leader.

  At that, Sabretooth ripped Cyclops’ visor off his head and put it in his pocket. Fortunately, Cyclops had heeded the warning, though Logan knew that if he opened his eyes in the slightest, he would destroy everything that lay in front of him—including Jean.

  Magneto laughed, then turned to Logan. “And I’m so glad you could make it.”

  Logan’s only response was a growl.

  “Storm, fry him,” Cyclops shouted.

  Magneto laughed. “By all means. A bolt of lightning into a huge copper conductor. I thought you lived at a school.”

  With that, Magneto stepped to the center of the platform and spoke into a radio. “Mystiq
ue? Mystique, where are you?”

  Logan knew Magneto wasn’t going to be getting an answer anytime soon, but said nothing. Magneto lowered the radio and tossed it to Sabretooth. “Find one of the security bands, and then find out if the ceremonies have started yet.”

  “You can’t do this,” Jean said. “I’ve seen Senator Kelly.”

  “Ah,” Magneto said, nodding, “so the good senator survived his fall? And the swim to shore? He’s more powerful than I could have possibly imagined.”

  “Kelly’s dead,” Jean said. “His body rejected the mutation and he simply melted. His cells fell apart.”

  “No, that’s not possible,” Magneto said, a hint of uncertainty in his voice. He glared at her.

  “It happened,” Jean said flatly.

  Magneto began to pace back and forth, saying nothing.

  Logan could see that the news had shaken the man. Then, suddenly, Magneto stopped and turned on Jean. “Can’t you see what I’m trying to do? Why do you stand in my way?”

  “Because you’re going to kill thousands of people,” Jean said simply.

  But Magneto shook it off. Clearly, he refused to accept her claims about Senator Kelly. Instead he said, “I’m doing this for you. I’m doing this to put an end to the persecution of my people.”

  “Bullshit!” Logan spat.

  Magneto turned and pinned him with a stare. But Logan refused to give in.

  “One of your people is about to get fried in your little flawed machine. I bet she’s feeling pretty persecuted, pal. If you were so righteous, it’d be you in that thing.”

  “Oh, yes?” Magneto asked, looking at Logan. “Who would lead them then? You? Charles?”

  He turned and faced Jean again. “This is not the time for politics and debate. It is time for strength. Our people will need leadership.”

  “Sure,” Logan said, planting as much disgust in his voice as he could. “All hail Magneto, king of the new race and all-around genocidal maniac.” He laughed. “You know, I remember my history, and that sounds awfully familiar, don’t you think?”

  Magneto glared at Logan as the radio in Sabretooth’s hand crackled.

  “Boss?” Sabretooth said.