“Michael! Michael Young, you rascal you! Come on over here and say hello to one of your future successes!”

Dr. Michael Young turned towards the voice and widened the already broad smile on his face. “Tom, it’s a pleasure to see you here.” He stepped forward and took his guest’s hand. “You know my wife Sondra.”

“Of course!” Tom reached over and took the beautiful young woman’s hand. “Michael, I’d like you to meet Nicole. She’s been begging me to meet with you for weeks.”

“Tom, darling!” Nicole lightly slapped her husband’s arm. “But really, Doctor, do you think there’s anything you can do for me?”

Taking Nicole by the chin, Doctor Young slowly scrutinizes her face. “My dear Nicole, you’re face is an absolute marvel! Only by deepening the texture of the cheeks could I possibly enhance your perfection!”

Blushing deeply, Nicole brought her hands to her cheeks. “Really? You think my cheeks should be deepened?”

Michael Young laughed. It was a deep, friendly laughter. “Perhaps not. The lighting in here is terrible. Come down do you my office within the next few days, and I’m sure I can give you a more accurate diagnosis.”

“Consider it done, Michael. Now, I had better free you up for the other guests, eh?”

“It was nothing, Tom. I hope you enjoy the party.” Michael smiled as he waved the couple away. His loving and lovely wife, Sondra, looked on.

“Really Michael, there is absolutely nothing wrong with that woman! I would give anything to look like that.”

Holding his wife close, Michael smiled at her. “Really dear, you shouldn’t doubt my critical eye. Her nose is slightly too wide, her lips a tad pudgy, and I was being polite about her cheeks! As to the lighting, well, I was telling the truth about that. There’s no telling what I’ll find when I see her at the office.”

Sondra sighed. “Save it Michael. You make all these things, exaggerate every minor detail, all just so you can snatch a few extra dollars.”

“A few extra thousand dollars, actually,” Michael jokes. “And that’s not what I’m doing, dear. What I’m doing is helping people achieve their true beauty. Nobody deserves those embarrassing stares from people that notice those minor imperfections. I’m helping people feel good about themselves, both inside and on the outside.”

His wife just scoffed at that. “Maybe once you believed that Michael, but over the years you’ve just gotten greedy.”

“I’ve just gotten realistic. We have needs of our own, Sondra, and some people just aren’t worthy of my gift. So I charge these egotistical princesses a little extra as a sort of punishment? It’s more than they deserve.”

Michael looked down at his wife, and frowned. “Oh dear, you shouldn’t frown like that. Here, let me deal with those lines.”

He reached out towards her face, but she just slapped his hand away.

“Don’t,” Sondra stated coldly. “I’ve told you before, and I’ll tell you again, I’m happy with the way I look. I don’t need your ‘gift’.”

Dr. Young snarled slightly. “No, but you sure love enjoying the fruits of my gift, you hypocritical bitch.”

Sondra just smiled and patted her husband on the cheek. “At least I’m your hypocritical bitch, darling. Now come, its time to receive your award.”

“Yes. Let’s.”

Smiling and waving, the loving couple made their way through the light crowd of attending colleagues and Hollywood elite. At the far end of the large room, a large presentation table was spread out.

It was this table that Dr. and Mrs. Young moved towards. As they sat down at their places, an older man stood and took his place at the podium, addressing the audience. In his hands was a plaque.

The man spoke for quite some time, but Dr. Young heard little of it. He’s heard the praise before. No, Michael Young had all his attention on the plaque the man held.

“And so, we honor Dr. Michael Young as the, if you’ll pardon the pun, youngest recipient,” A light chuckle rippled through the audience. “Of this prestigious award! Congratulations, Dr. Young!”

The audience applauded, and Dr. Young stood to accept his award for medical excellence.

He lies there, crumbled on the floor. He clutches at his chest, as though holding something to it. He raises his head, and though the ragged hood hides his eyes, the young woman he is staring at knows it.

“Why?” He whispers, his voice a raspy hiss. “That man...is dead. Forgotten. Why do you...remind me?”

“Because you need to remember,” She states coldly.

And again, the robed man screams in agony.

Dr. and Mrs. Young walked out of the theater, laughing as they discussed the play.

“The makeup was extraordinary,” Dr. Young stated satisfactorily. “The actor’s physical transformation on stage simply left me in awe. If only I knew how it was done.”

“Weren’t there two actors?” Sondra asked. “I mean, the transformation from Jekyll to Hyde occurred in the perfect spot for a switch.”

Michael shook his head and took out the playbill. “No. I checked the bill just after the scene. Both characters are played by the same actor. I simply have to meet with him! And the makeup director! I won’t be able to sleep until I know exactly how it was-”

Michael Young was cut off as his jacket sleeve was grabbed and yanked. Stumbling, Dr. Young found himself looking into a pretty woman’s face. Pretty perhaps, if not for the eye patch and numerous scars marring her face.

“Dr. Young, please!” The scarred woman practically screamed. “Only you can help me! I need my face back!”

Snarling in contempt, Dr. Young slapped the woman away. “Get away from me, you wretch! I don’t do charity cases!”

The good doctor contemptuously pushed this pitiful woman to the ground, at the same time shouting out for security.

On the verge of tears, this scarred, one eyed woman curled her lip in a vicious, predatory manner. “My face is my life, and you refuse to restore it! Then I’ll take yours!” She leaped up, a knife suddenly in her hand

Dr. Young backed away, and barely avoided the deadly slash. Fortunately, before the scarred woman could strike again, the theater’s burly doorman appeared and tackled her to the ground.

While his attacker was being dealt with, Michael grabbed his wife’s arm and urged her away. “Quickly Sondra! This woman is crazy!”

As the couple ran from the scene, this scarred woman screamed in rage after them. “Don’t you walk away from me, you bastard! This face is my life! Give me back my life!” By this time, the second doorman had arrived to help restrain her.

Michael led his wife towards their car quickly. “Don’t worry dear, they seem to have her restrained.” He sighed. “I honestly can’t imagine her breaking down like that.”

Sondra, in the process of getting into the car, looked up at Michael in surprise. “You know that dreadful woman?”

Michael nodded as he circled the car. “As should you. Up until three months ago, she was the most sought after model in the world.”

“Good lord! That was-! Oh dear, I thought she’d died in that fire.”

Michael started the car, and shook his head. “She may as well have died. She’d squandered every nickel she earned, so she couldn’t afford anything more than the standard hospital bills. Because she was getting on in years, the agency wouldn’t pay the surgery fees, and she just lost it. I’d heard that she escaped from the institution, but I never imagined that she’d track me down.”

Sondra just sighed and shook her head. “That poor woman. Well, at least they have her in custody again, where she can’t hurt anybody else.” She leaned over the radio. “Some music should help take our minds off it. What station would you like?”

Michael just shrugged his eye on the road. “Just play the tape I have in there. Barry Manilow always calms my nerves.”

Sondra had hit the Play button, and leaned back as the tape rolls.

“I had a feeling you’d turn me down, doctor. My face was my life, and now it’s gone. Let’s see how you like it!”

And then the radio deck exploded, right in Michael’s face.

The next thing Michael remembered, he had woken up in a bed. The world was dark, and for a frightening few seconds, he was certain that he had gone blind. Finally, it dawned on him that his eyes were bandaged, as was the rest of his face. It was at this time that he wondered.

What is beneath the bandages?

“Dr. Young, do you hear me?” The voice sounded familiar to Michael, but he didn’t quite place it.

“Dr. Young,” a second voice said. This one Michael did recognize. “This is Dr. Timmer. You were in a car accident. Do you remember what happened?”

“Radio...blew.”

“That’s right. The police are checking into it, but the most probable cause is a faulty wire. You crashed into a parked car. Fortunately, you weren’t going fast, and little damage was done. Sondra’s fine. She’s in the next room.”

He babbled, tip-toeing around the main problem. “My...face. What....happened?”

Dr. Timmer cleared his throat. “The radio blew in your face, Michael. You were burned, and shards of metal and plastic flew into your face. Then, when you crashed, the windshield shattered, and shards of glass fell onto you. We did what we could to repair the damage, but...”

“Remove the bandages.”

“Now, don’t worry Michael. We’ve already contacted the best plastic surgeons. It’ll be best if they get a look at you and-”

“I am the best surgeon, Timmer. In any man’s opinion should matter, it’s mine. Remove the bandages.”

Dr. Timmer sighed and snapped his fingers. The other man leaned forward and slowly removed the bandages. As each layer fell away, Dr. Young saw the light from the lamps, and made out the silhouettes of Dr. Timmer and the other doctor. Finally, the last of the bandages had fallen away, and if the two doctors’ expressions were any indications, Michael Young’s face did not look good.

“Mirror,” he rasped, his hand held out.

Dr. Timmer was sweating, and he stammered slightly. “N-now remember, Michael, a plastic surgeon can repair most of the damage. After about a year of operation and recovery, this will all just be a bad-”

“Mirror,” Michael Young repeated. “I have a right to know what they’ll have to work with. Give me the mirror.”

After a short moment, Dr. Timmer finally nodded. The other doctor, a second-year resident that Dr. Young had helped train, handed him the mirror. Steeling himself, Michael Young beheld what he had become.

In shock, his hand went numb. The mirror crashed to the floor, shattered. Nobody moved to clean up the mess.

“Get out,” Michael Young rasped. He could feel his eyes tearing. He’d be damned if he broke down in front of his colleagues.

Dr. Timmer motioned to the other man to leave. Having turned his back so as to leave, he spoke. “It can be fixed, Michael. You just need to show us the same trust that your patients have shown you.”

Then he left, and Dr. Michael Young was left all alone.

At last, his hands desperately trying to cover his mangled face, Michael wept.

“Damn you,” he whispered. Whipping his head up, his hood flying off, he spat at the woman standing over him. “Damn you! Why do you torture me with these images? I almost forgot, god damn you!” The tears seemed to over take him again. “I almost forgot.”

Impassioned, the woman stared down at the wretched, pitiful figure groveling at her feet. “You poor, poor fool. That’s exactly why I’m doing this. Once, you were a successful, handsome, gifted man. You grew conceited, acting as though you were above all others. You felt that it was your beauty, your success, that made you superior to others. Thus, when you were left with only the gift, you despaired. And what did you do in your despair, ‘doctor’? Who did you take with you on your fall?”

The wretched man continued to weep, as she took the answer from his mind, and showed him.

Sondra Young awoke suddenly, a chill having risen throughout her body. “Who’s there?” She called out.

Her answer came in the form of a tall silhouette appearing over her lying form. “She had fallen, and when she pleaded with me to help her rise, I had refused. So she took me down with her Sondra.”

Frightened, Sondra tried to make out her visitor. “Michael, is that you? What are you talking about? Are you all right?”

The next think Sondra knew, his hand was on her face. She tried to move away from it, but Michael only pressed harder. “Because of her, Sondra, I have fallen also. But I won’t go alone. Oh no, I will not. So were you with me during my rise, so shall you be with me for my fall.”

And so Sondra felt her skin, muscles, bones, the very features of her face, shift. And she screamed. “Noooooooooooommmmmppppppphhhhhhhh!”

And mingled with her agonized, now inhuman scream, was the harsh bitter laughter of her dear and loving husband.

The next day, a cloaked figure scurried through the rainy night. It was ragged and unbathed, a pitiful degenerate of society. It is hard to imagined this wretched, hunched form had once been one of societies greatest contributors. An elitist of the first order.

Passing a newspaper vending machine*, this individual paused, his eye having caught something. He shattered the glass, ignored the pain in his hand, and snatched the first paper in the pile. Holding the front page close to his eyes, this wretched figure read.

*(I have no idea what those things are called. You put in money, you pull out a paper. Sounds like a vending machine to me. Steve)

RENOWNED PLASTIC SURGEON VANISHES AFTER NEAR FATAL CAR ACCIDENT. LOVING WIFE COMMITS SUICIDE IN HOSPITAL.

“I didn’t expect you to survive,” a harsh, female voice grated behind him.

Rage filling his thoughts, he turned around. The speaker was a tall woman, with a scarred face and one eye. “You!” He cried. “I’ll kill you!” He leaped towards her, intending to do just that.

She sidestepped him easily, and drove her fist into his gut. He felt something sharp pierce his skin. Lying on the ground, clutching at his midsection, his hands grew slick with blood.

She stood over him, and spat. “This is much, much better. Now you know what it’s like, to be at the top of the world one day at slammed down to the bottom the next. Now you know what I went through, and understand my motivations.”

She leaned over him, cupped his disfigured chin in her hand, and looked into his bloodshot eyes. “You’re bleeding to death. I have a friend who can heal you, but I’d rather not fight you the whole way.”

She smiled, then the bitch head-butt him.

Red-lined darkness consumed.

“Wake up ‘doctor’!” The yell was punctuated with a slap.

He opened his eyes. Over him stood four individuals. One, a wizened man in a dark blue cloak with bandaged hands. Another, a giant of a man with the look of a simpleton. Next to him stood, in contrast, a skinny, heavily cloaked figure who’s face was hidden by a scarf and a large fedora hat. And the last, the bitch that made him what he is.

“Wh-what is this?” He asked, amazed that the pain in his stomach was gone. “Who are you people?”

“We are the Morlocks,” the woman stated simply. “We haven’t met. I’m Calli-”

“I know who you are!” He cried. “You’re the washed out model! You’re-owwwww!”

She towered over him, her boot in his crotch. “Once, I was that. The moment you tossed me aside like some bag lady, the moment I took my revenge, she died for good. Is that understood?”

His eyes clenched shut in agony, he nodded quickly. She gave a bitter smile and removed her boot.

“Good. We are the Morlocks, little man. The dregs of society, unwanted and despised for what we are and what we can do. I am Callisto. You know my story. My large friend is Sunder. He was a wrestler, until he killed a man in the ring. It was an accident, but they tried to lock him up anyway, and now here he is. The geezer is the Healer. You owe him your life. He was a doctor like you, until some jealous colleagues accused him of being what he is; a mutant. Suddenly, nobody cared if he could save lives with a mere touch.”

Callisto nodded to the cloaked figure. “Caliban never had a chance at a normal life. Ever since he was a young boy, when his father tried to kill him, he’s lived in these sewers. He found me, and through him I found the others, including you.”

He glanced over them all, his eyes shifting rapidly. “What do you want with me? I-I’m nothing like you!”

Callisto laughed. It was a bitter, harsh laugh that sent shivers down his spine. “You are, and you know it. Even if I hadn’t ruined your face, you would have fallen sooner or later. The moment your perfect life was threatened, however slightly, you crumbled. You could have had surgery done, restored your life in a year! I know, I saw the records. Instead, you destroyed your wife’s face, drove her to suicide, and ran from your teetering tower of a life! And while we’re on the subject of your wife’s face, how did you do that, ‘doctor’?”

He said nothing.

Callisto just smiled maliciously. “Caliban is an empathic mutant. He feeds off the emotions of others, and can even force his own emotions onto people. He’s also a tracker; a mutant tracker. That’s how he found all of us, including you.”

He was very, very scared. “Look, i-if you want, I c-can still fix your face. J-just let me go, please.”

Again, Callisto laughed. “You’re still thinking like an upworlder, ‘doctor’. Even if you did fix my face, my life’s over. By now, the police know your car was sabotaged. Connect that with my attack on you earlier, and my...record after the accident, and my old life is over. Just as yours is, ‘doctor’. Even if I let you go, where would you run to? Logically, the way your wife was disfigured shouldn’t be possible. They’ll put two-and-two together, and when they do, your life too will be over, ‘doctor’.”

“W-what do you want?”

Callisto leaned over him, until their noses were almost touching. “I want you to join us. Eventually, our numbers will grow. To coincide with their new lives, our recruits will require new faces. Sunder, for instance, wants a new face. His is a bit too well known. What do you say, ‘doctor’?”

He was lying there, considering the offer. His life was over, of that there was no doubt. The great mask he had tried to place over himself for so long was a last shattered, his secret as a mutant finally revealed. Now he has been offered to stay with his own kind, to help others remove their own masks.

And moreover, these people are dangerous, powerful. Perhaps someday, their numbers will grow, and they will return to the surface. And then, he’ll be able to remove everybody’s masks, including those that he himself helped to create.

Thus, he fixed his gaze on Callisto’s eye and patch, and he too smiled. It was every bit as malicious and sinister as her own.

“Call me Masque.”

Masque stands, staring silent hate at the woman standing across from him. “What was the point of that? You had no right to steal from my mind, and then show me what I had tried so hard to forget!”

Mastermind stepped forward, her head cocked to the side. “I have the power, and that gives me every right. We are the Brotherhood of Evil Mutants, Masque, the elite that stand above all others. As all mutants stand above humans, so do the strong mutants stand over the weak. Except for yourself and Vanisher, every member is capable of defending himself against another member. That makes the two of you our bitches. That is the reality.”

Suddenly, Masque took his head in his hands, and he screamed. His knees collapsed, he crumbled to the floor, and he writhed in agony. Mastermind walked around his tortured form, devoid of all passion.

“The illusion, Masque, is trying to forget. Among the Morlocks, you struck at the humans from the shadows, driving fear into their hearts as an urban legend. Then the X-Men, the strong, cowed you, forced you to live on their terms. Later, the Marauders, stronger still, took your lives without mercy. The Morlocks were at the bottom of the mutant chain, Masque. No matter how high you stood among them, you are nothing to the Brotherhood.”

His body wracked with pain, Masque stared up at Mastermind. “Toad has already made this clear to me, you bitch!” Then he screams again, as though he is being eaten alive. In his mind, he is.

“No, Masque. I am not the bitch, you are. My bitch.” She looked down her nose at him, only the hint of a playful smile on her face. “At the moment, I am reminding you of where you stand. Among the Brotherhood, you have no standing. As we strike at the humans and slaughter them for fun, you will take only the barest of bone pickings, and you will enjoy it. When one of us demands you to bend over, you will do so, and accept your screwing like a good dog.”

Leaning over, Mastermind cups Masque’s chin, and she looks into his eyes. Staring into those cold, ever-knowing eyes, Masque desecrated himself right then and there.

“You will listen to me now. I deal in secrets, and Unuscione’s are closed to me. You will tell me everything that occurred the night she came to your room. You will leave out nothing, not even the smallest, most insignificant detail. Is that clear?”

Masque couldn’t talk fast enough. She could have taken the information directly from his mind of course. But Mastermind prefers to show off her power, particularly when it can inflict more than a little pain.

Just like dear old mom.

Next Issue: Okay, I promise, this will be the issue featuring Mastermind! I just suddenly decided to lead into each character, and last issue led into Masque. Learn her view of the world, her motivations, and the shocking origin of one of MV1’s most mysterious characters!

Stephen Crosby