X-Men: Come the Apocalypse (pt 2) Author: Nathan Summers Date: 1997/09/10 Forum: alt.comics.fan-fiction Jean Grey Summers sat calmly at her booth with her husband Scott and two of their best friends: Betsy Braddock and Warren Worthington. She had her right leg crossed over her left, her foot dangling and swinging back and forth. Jean's chin rested in her right hand, elbow propped up on the table. She gazed at the ceiling looking very relaxed. She may have been deep in thought about something. The others were in a heated conversation. Jean had no idea what they were talking about. {Scott}: So what's your opinion on it dear? {Jean}: ...... {Scott}: Jean? Jean are you okay? {Jean}: Hmmm? What? Oh, I'm fine Scott. {Scott}: So what's your opinion? {Jean}: Huh? What? {Scott}: I think you may need some air. {Jean}: You know this the same place Alex took Madylene on their first night out together. Pretty coincidental huh? {Scott}: Jean, what on earth are you-- Jean shakes her head around quickly, and blinks several times as if just coming to her senses from a disorientation. {Jean}: Whoa, that was weird! {Warren}: What just happened. {Jean}: The atmosphere in here must've jump started the memories I absorbed from Madylene. Must be a really strong memory. {Warren}: Okay. Yeah. I gotcha. {Scott}: Just try to warn us the next time its about to happen. {Betsy}: Check please. 1407 Graymalkin Lane, Salem Center, Westchester County, New York. The home of the outcast mutant team, The Uncanny X-Men. Gathered in the War Room are Storm, Cannonball, Rouge, Wolverine, Iceman, Maggot & Dr. Reyes, the former two being new members. Beast, Cable, and Caliban then enter the room. {Rouge}: So, what's the prognosis, Doc. {Beast}: Well, we're no where near discovering how to stop Cal's seizures. But we did make a startling discovery... {Wolverine}: Spit it out, Hank! {Beast}: Well, in four words, the Apocalypse is coming! And we're in deep you-know-what. {Maggot}: The word you tryin' to say is shit, mate? {Beast}: Thank you for that additive, Maggot. {Cannonball}: When ya say the Apocalypse, do ya mean _The Apocalypse_? {Cable}: Yeah, Sam, he does. Looks like your fifteen minutes of fame have arrived. Cable shoots Sam a fierce grin and waits for his response. {Cannonball}: Aw, shucks. Interlude one: The Morlock Alley. The name given to the tunnels nearly a mile beneath the surface, stretching the entire length of Manhatten. This area was once home to a thriving society of people calling themselves Morlocks. They consisted of mutants too deformed to live among other ordinary people on the surface. Some just had no other place to go. Then, tragedy struck. The maniacal Mr. Sinister was working on a way to genetically engineer a new species of mutants. He had almost completed his project, until it was stolen by the Black Beast; Henry McCoy from an alternate timeline. McCoy completed Sinister's work. The mutants he produced began breeding and migrated further into the tunnels where McCoy dwelled. Eventually, McCoy lost track of the mutants and forgot about them. Then the Morlocks were born. Years later, a furious Mr. Sinister struck back. He sent his team of "superior" mutants into the tunnels and massacre every last Morlock as a means of mocking McCoy. These Marauders would have completely succeeded if not for the intervention of the X-Men, X-Factor, Thor, and Power Pack. Sinister did succeed in eradicating over two thirds of them though. Then came the insane Mikhail Rasputin. Those who didn't commit mass suicide were transported to an alternate dimension by him. A few returned from this dimension, but filled with venom and hatred. They commited numerous acts against humanity as the Gene Nation. They didn't, however, return to the Alley. Now, there are barely two dozen Morlock classes dwelling within the Alley. Among them is a man that is neither mutant nor Morlock. He simply wants stay away from surface life for the time being. {Man}: Bah! If only I was stronger. I'd show them all! They'd all know the name Carrion! But once I have regained my strengh, I will destroy them. Every last one of them. They'll know I'm not as weak as I appear. Kill 'em all. He moves closer to the fire he previously prepared for himself. Carrion doesn't notice the ominous shadow appearing behind him. {Apocalypse}: You seek to become stronger young man? It can be arranged. Though you may be physically weak, pathetic almost, you are mentally fit. Although I normally only seek out mutants that are physically and mentally fit, I can make an exception in your case. That is, if you wish to join me. {Carrion}: wh-what must I do? {Apocalypse}: Pledge your allegiance to me and only me. You will be generously rewarded. I will make you six times more powerful than you are now. And it will take but a few minutes. You will be able to crush your enemies. Every last one of them. But you must fulfill my wishes as well. After all, I am the one granting you all this power. It is but a small price to pay don't you think? {Carrion}: Hmm... my freedom for absolute power? I don't know, let me think... okay, you got your self a deal. Should I call you Master? {Apocalypse}: Then it is settled. Join my hand and you shall be Carron no more, but Pestilence... First Horsman of Apocalypse! By the way, High Lord is a fairly appropriate title. Apocalypse flashes Carrion, er Pestilence an evil grin. Carrion knows he just made a deal with the Devil himself, literally. But he doesn't care. All he cares about is power. Absolute power. He joins hands with the Devil. Beams of light shoot from them both upon contact. It swirls around them until they are transported away... to God knows where. A figure is seen wondering down a lonely, winding, dirt path. He is hoping it is the path of redemption. {Man's thoughts}: I gotta come to terms 'wit my past. Now dat de others know about all 'o my previous sins, there's no place on de team for me. Not now anyway. I'm sure they'd still have me if I decided ta stay. But I know I can't. The man, now identified as Remy Lebeau, former member of the X-Men is alone. He is wearing a torn up No Fear shirt, an expensive black leather jacket, ragged blue jeans, and snakeskin boots. The money for the jacket and the boots could've come from anywhere, That is, if Remy used money at all. A red bandana covers the top of his head. He immediately takes note of the reality warping, unearthly sound of a familiar teleportation signature. {Remy}: Go away. Havin' you around me when I'm tryin ta make up for my past sins ain't gonna go over to well wit my friends. {Sinister}: I've come by some information that you may find most useful. If you don't, at least warn your "friends" of what I'm about to tell you. Gambit finally turns around to face his nemesis. He wants so badly to maim him. {Remy}: So what's so important? {Sinister}: Nice jacket, by the way. {Remy}: Dis old thing? You still didn' answer my question. {Sinister}: Beware, Remy, the Apocalypse is coming! It may have already arrived. Warn your friends. Save them. Then you may redem youself. With that, Mr. Sinister teleports away. Gambit is feeling a bit puzzled. He takes one long, last puff, and flicks away the cigarette he'd smoked down to the filter. {Remy}: Well, dat makes about as much sense as some of the other bull he's said. Maybe I will look into to dis one though. To Be Continued Next Wednesday on rcff.........