Web Hosting by Netfirms | Free Domain Names by Netfirms

MV1 #76 MAY Year 4

One has seen his lover killed. One grew up on the streets, and knows full well the pain of solitude. One was taken from his simple, peaceful life in the ocean and changed - not necessarily for the better. And one has seen the future, and knows it to be lacking. They are heroes who will address the crime that too many others will not. They may not know legal from illegal, but they know right from wrong. They are X-FORCE!

"Reunions and Revelations"

What Has Gone Before: X-Force has suddenly found themselves in the role of media darlings, a role to which they are mightily unaccustomed. But it's a bit late to turn back now, as they say... Meanwhile, some odd happenings are converging on the team, some old friends are considering a return, and some new faces are cropping up, even as X-Force tries to get their feet under them again...

Serendipity was at home there.

It was not, as far as she could tell, the same place as the "astral plane" accessible to mystics and strong telepaths. Instead, it was a sort of representation of the collective unconsciousness of the entire world. Even a rock had consciousness of a sort, and thus it had dreams. And those dreams took place in the dreamtime.

It was here that Serendipity had met Two White Feathers, the Indian shaman who had begun to tutor her in the ways of the dreamtime. But it was not Two White Feathers she saw now.

She saw a man with pale skin and longish grey hair, dressed plainly, speaking quietly with a shorter man with horn rim glasses and an electric guitar in one hand. The man with the guitar was the one talking. He had a soft Southern twang in his voice; a rich, powerful voice. one made for singing.

"I've got you to thank for this, Croyd. Back when you were spreading the virus, you gave me a gift. made me a shaman, just like I'd always wanted."

"But... but... where the hell is this?"

"This is the dreamtime, friend. It's gonna be your jumping-off point to the place you need to go to. Bad, bad things're gonna happen without you. One of the jumpers escaped, y'see. Wyungare tried, but...

"Let me explain. See, in this place you're going, there never was any Wild Card virus. There're superheroes, though. Remember in the early '80s, when most of the aces had secret identities and flashy costumes? It's like that. Anyways, one of the jumpers from our world escaped the destruction of the Rox, and is gonna get pulled into this new world by a pretty bad man. And you're needed to stop her. Zelda's not a nice lady."

"Zelda... the one called the Bodysnatcher, right?" The man - Croyd - shuddered. "Yeah... not a nice lady. Okay, fine. So you need me. How do I get to this place?"

The man with the guitar, who'd been ignoring Serendipity's presence, suddenly pointed at her. Croyd turned and saw her, and his greyish eyes widened, as though she'd only just appeared.

"Her."

Then the strange guitarist vanished, leaving Serendipity and Croyd alone. The Goth finally found herself able to speak. "Who was that?"

Croyd shrugged. "Him? That was Buddy Holly. Anyways, he said you knew how to get out of here?"

The passenger pigeons flew overhead, unconcerned.

Jamie Madrox was occasionally known as the Multiple Man - that's what he'd called himself when he was a member of X-Factor, and the Fantastic Force. And even back when he'd been baby-sitting the Fallen Angels, with Siryn.

Those times of the past were the last thing on his mind, though, as he fled the men chasing him...

He'd come to Boston to warn Boom-Boom - or wasn't she calling herself Meltdown now? - about... well, not a matter of earthshaking importance, but...

When he saw the mugging, he'd been compelled to put a stop to it. Naturally. Two muggers on one victim hadn't been fair, so he'd made the odds four Madroxes to two muggers.

He hadn't planned on the whole thing being a police operation, the two muggers really being plainclothes cops arresting a drug dealer - or that the dealer had signaled for backup. Now it was seven gangbangers he had to deal with.

Not that that was a problem, really, just... inconvenient. He could've made more duplicates to deal with them - but the alley was too small, too crowded. So he was making for more open territory.

That was when the black-garbed man had leapt from the shadows and started hacking at gangers with a pair of swords.

Madrox stopped running and turned to look, seeing the man with the ponytail and the strange design over one eye easily dodging gunfire, to knock out gang members with the flat of his blades. He smiled, and decided to help.

Smacking his palm on a wall, Madrox converted the kinetic energy into more duplicates, doubling his number. Suddenly there were eight of him, all charging into the fray.

It didn't take long.

When all was said and done, the ponytailed man extended his hand towards the closest Jamie. "Greetings, Madrox. Bill has told me a lot about you."

Oh, sure, he had to deal with people who called him a "smut-peddler" and other, less cordial names. But he could live with those. He had more money than his accusers anyways. Larry Flynt had nothing on him.

He smiled, looking at his records. The orders for the latest issue of Suave were his highest yet, and he expected the issue to fly off of shelves. No one had anything even close to what he had.

Well, not really alone. Bill was here. But Bill was sort of hard to relate to, seeing as how he was a cybernetically enhanced crustacean.

So, ignoring the social possibilities inherent in conversing with a cyborg lobster, Tabitha was watching television. The Super Channel Network, to be precise. Maybe she could see what Sam had been up to - she'd heard he was with the Avengers these days...*

[* In Mark Bousquet's West Coast Avengers, on the Avengers Branch! --Cross-Plug Shawn]

Instead, what she got was a bit of a nasty surprise.

"While the recent unmasking of the mutants known as the X-Men* and the public statements of X-Force - who, judging by the name, are pretty much the Junior X-Men - have given the anti-mutant community fits of late, there appears to be something of a disturbing piece of news on the horizon. James Olivera reports."

[* As seen in X-Men 22 --Shamelessly Self-Promoting Shawn]

Olivera, a clean-cut guy with hair that didn't look like it'd move in gale force winds, smiled at the camera. It was his job to smile, after all.

"Thank you, Trish. It has been a week of turbulence for the mutant population, as well as for their detractors and their supporters."

He was right about that. There were cops on patrol, keeping people away from the apartment. At this rate, X-Force was going to have to go back to living in some secluded base in the middle of nowhere, and none of them wanted that.

"Earlier today, in fact, a spokesman for SHIELD - the multinational agency that most often concerns itself with the superhuman population - announced that the agency would not be pressing any charges against the young mutants of X-Force for their alleged assault on the Helicarrier. No other details were forthcoming, and as of yet no sources have stepped forward.

"In addition, the noted genetecist and pro-mutant activist, Charles Xavier, recently announced that he is making a bid for the United States Senate*, even as noted mutant foe Senator Robert Kelly's remarks of two days ago seemingly signalled a more relaxed attitude towards the 'genetically gifted'.

[* Also in X-Men 22]

"All of this, combined with Canada's announcement of amnesty and a homeland for Magneto* - as well as any other mutants who care to go with him - seems to say the future is bright for mutantkind. But one of the people being seen as a figurehead of the pro-mutant movement - young X-Force member Tabitha Smith, or 'Meltdown' - seems to have a few skeletons in her closet."

[* As seen in Alpha Flight #135, also written by Mark Bousquet (seem to be plugging him a lot lately...), and available on the MV1 International Branch --Great White Shawn]

Tabitha sat bolt upright on the couch. What the fuck...?

Olivera, who was only a few miles away in the SCN studios but nevertheless remained unaware of Meltdown's confusion, kept his bland smile fixed on the camera and continued.

"The noted - some might say 'infamous' - men's magazine Suave has been rather quiet about what their upcoming issue, which is set to hit newsstands tomorrow, would contain. Guesses have ranged from explicit photos of pop singer Brittney Spears to CIA photos of the President and Monica Lewinsky. But then, those things wouldn't much belong on Marvel Fanfare, would they?

"No, SCN has learned the true contents of the issue. And they are of Tabitha Smith."

The television was effectively silenced by the remote control flying through the air and breaking it's cathode-ray tube.

His Master... Caliban hated his Master. But he couldn't just ignore the Master. He had to serve the Master - that's why he was the Master.

The Master was working at some machinery. Caliban had heard the Master talking about some kind of "transdimensional warping" and "ethereal energy spirits," but he didn't understand what the Master meant. He sat and watched, because that's what the Master had told him to do.

The Master grinned his grin of success and began to speak. "Now, little Caliban... your childlike mind has always been a disadvantage. Well, now your mind will no longer be your own."

Caliban wanted to scream in agony as the wrenching, burning, painful sensation began, but he couldn't. He no longer had control over his body. He felt... something else... inside his mind, forcing him out, pushing him away... and then he knew oblivion.

The Bodysnatcher stood, flexed Caliban's powerful muscles, and smiled. "You're the one who brought me here. Why?"

Apocalypse kept smiling his smile of victory.

And due to some rather sophisticated sensing equipment that had been surreptitiously tracking Caliban, so did the man some called Weapon X - but he preferred his given name, Garrison Kane.

Kane knew he was going to need backup for this one.