by Greg Cox
“No problem,” Rogue chirped, drawing back her fist in front of the wall-length mirror. Impervious knuckles smashed through the silvered glass, showering the floor with shattered fragments-—and revealing the control room on the other side. Rogue grinned devilishly. “Ah’ve been wantin’ to do that since we got here.”
She scraped away the remaining shards of glass with her bare hands, then clambered into the chamber beyond. Stepping carefully to avoid the jagged fragments on the floor, Wolverine and Wanda followed after her.
The control room was unoccupied, their anonymous torturer apparently taking a break from his or her heartless experimentation. Obviously intended to be operated by one person, the room barely held two X-Men and an Avenger, even though none of them were built like Thor or Giant-Man. Shaped like a semicircle, approximately six yards in diameter, the control chamber was built around a single steel throne, capable of rotating 360 degrees. Control panels circled the throne, except for a single wedge-shaped exit. Although the empty throne now faced the shattered one-way mirror, the curved wall behind the chair contained row upon row of active video monitors, each turned to a different broadcast. Whoever works here, Wanda deduced, likes to keep well-informed.
Unfortunately, that description applied to just about every megalomaniacal control freak from Dr. Doom to Ultron to the High Evolutionary. They would have to look harder to find out who had abducted them.
“Wait a sec,” Rogue said, pointing at the bottom row of screens. “Isn’t that Moira’s lab on Muir Island?”
Muir Island? Wanda thought quizzically. Isn’t that somewhere near Scotland? She followed Rogue’s line of sight and her eyes widened in surprise when she saw, on four separate screens, what seemed to be live images of the Hulk, the Abomination, the Harpy, and Doc Samson, all apparently searching some kind of scientific facility.
There’s something wrong here, Wanda thought, her brow furrowing as she tried to make sense of the startling images. For one thing, Leonard Samson was a hero, not a pillaging villain. Plus, didn’t the Hulk and the Abomination hate each other, and wasn’t the Harpy supposed to be dead? So what were they all doing there on those screens, seemingly working together to raid someone’s lab? A name popped into her head, heard somewhere sometime before. Could “Moira” be Moira MacTaggert, the famous geneticist?
“Looks like we’re not the only ones this creep is interested in,” Wolverine remarked. He looked around the control room for clues to their kidnapper’s identity, then sniffed the air. “Don’t recognize the scent.”
Wanda started to admit that she was stumped, too, when her gaze was riveted by one of the upper screens, identified as belonging to CNN. There on the color monitor, caught by a telephoto camera, was the Vision, being tom apart by the Hulk! Wanda gasped and clutched her chest as the jade monster ripped the Vision’s arm from its socket, then shoved the dismembered Avenger over the brink of a tremendous waterfall. As she kept on watching, unable to look away, the same footage was shown over and over, sometimes in slow-motion. A caption at the bottom of the screen identified the horrifying images as old news footage recorded the day before at Niagara Falls.
Wanda’s throat tightened. Her legs felt boneless and she had to grab onto the silver throne to support herself. The Vision—destroyed? She didn’t know what to think, let alone how to feel. Their marriage had been over for a long time, but he was still the man/android/whatever that she had loved longer than any other. He had even been the father of her children, when she still had children…
Less emotionally affected by the shocking footage, Wolverine noticed something else. “Niagara Falls. Muir Island. The Hulk’s gettin’ around, if both of those really are the Hulk.” He sounded suspicious, reminding Wanda of her own doubts concerning the footage from Scotland. There was more here than met the eye, she was sure of it. “Let’s go,” she said to the others. Her voice faltered just a little. “I—I’ve seen enough.”
Did the X-Men recall, or even know, her history with the Vision? If so, neither Wolverine nor Rogue raised the subject, perhaps preoccupied by the evident danger to their friend Moira. Wanda didn’t know whether to be hurt or relieved by their silence.
Unlike the test chamber holding their empty sarcophagi, the control room offered a way out. Wolverine led the way, sniffing for trouble ahead. Wanda exited last, preferring to have Rogue ahead of her rather than behind her.
Just to be safe, Wanda thought, feeling a bit guilty for her doubts concerning the young X-Man and her parasitic powers. Maybe, when this is all over, I should talk to Rogue about that ugly business with Carol, give her a chance to explain her side of the story.
The door from the control room opened onto what appeared to be a ring-shaped outer chamber that circled a central cylinder formed by both the control room and the test chamber. Possibly, Wanda guessed, the layout of this entire complex followed a concentric design, leading her to wonder how many rings there were in total. In contrast to the cold, clinical feel of the inner circle, this outer ring had been furnished with comfort in mind. Simulated walnut bookshelves, packed with leatherbound volumes on an eclectic variety of subjects, lined the curving walls of the ring. Plush, wingback chairs and overstuffed sofas offered a series of cozy venues for reading and relaxation, while a soft orange carpet provided a pleasant change from the glass-strewn steel floor they had left behind. A treadmill, positioned before a blank video screen, presented an opportunity for exercise. As the heroes hiked counterclockwise through the ring, they even came upon an imitation fireplace whose holographic flames threw off real heat. What they didn’t find, however, was a quick way out. Also conspicuously absent were windows onto the outside world—or any hints to the elusive resident of this hermetic world.
“This is gettin’ us nowhere,” Wolverine muttered. “For all we know, we’re going in circles.” Halting in his tracks, he released his claws and slashed a large letter “X” across the spines of a random shelf of books. “Basic woodcraft,” he explained to his startled companions. “Always mark your trail.”
Not a bad idea, Wanda thought, but before she could say so, a sarcastic voice boomed from on high, freezing them all in place and drawing their eyes to the ceiling:
“THOSE WERE FIRST EDITIONS, I’LL HAVE YOU KNOW. I’M AFRAID THIS AMUSING LITTLE ESCAPE ATTEMPT HAS GONE FAR ENOUGH. SUCH VANDALISM CANNOT BE TOLERATED, AFTER ALL.”
The snide, epicene voice, no doubt coming from hidden loudspeakers in the ceiling, sounded vaguely familiar to the Scarlet Witch, but the electronic amplification and distortion made it hard to identify. “I should have known this was going too easily,” she said, shaking her head. “He—or she—has probably been onto us ever since we smashed that mirror.”
Rogue looked about her warily, anticipating hostile action. “So how come he waited so long ’fore callin’ in the guards?” she asked out loud.
Wanda shrugged. “Perhaps he wanted to get us safely away from all his expensive scientific equipment and monitors, so his fancy control room wouldn’t get smashed up in the fighting.” She raised her hands in front of her. An eldritch red glow surrounded her fingertips as she concocted a hex. “Or maybe he just wanted to see how far we’d get. Another blasted test.”
“Fine with me,” Wolverine growled. He crouched in a fighter’s stance, his claws poised and ready. “Bring ’em on. I don’t mind fightin’ my way out.”
But fighting whom? the Scarlet Witch wondered. Hired guns? Alien soldiers? Puppets? We have to be ready for anything.
Vents opened in the ceiling, spilling a fine pink powder into the furnished ring. She backed away from the powder instinctively, yet it didn’t appear hazardous. Soon the powder had thoroughly dusted the carpet, making it impossible to avoid stepping on the minute particles. They felt dry and spongy beneath her feet, not corrosive at all. Pushing his luck, Wolverine scooped up a handful of the pink dust and sniffed it. “Nothing poisonous,” he reported unequivocally. “Smells like finely-ground rubber.”
“Rubbe
r?” Rogue asked incredulously. The dust kept pouring from the ceiling until they were ankle-deep in the stuff. “What they tryin’ to do, build a padded cell from the ground up?”
Not exactly, the Scarlet Witch thought. She had a sneaking suspicion she knew what was coming next. This trick with the powder rang almost-forgotten bells in her memory; she hadn’t actually taken part in that adventure, years ago, but she’d heard about it later from Captain America and the rest.
If this “harmless” powder is what I think it is, we could be in a lot of trouble.
Just as she feared, the tiny grains of dust began to clump together, moving of their own accord to form gummy masses that likewise came together to form recognizable shapes: arms, legs, torsos, heads. “Ah don’t believe it!” Rogue exclaimed, amazed by the miraculous process taking place before her eyes, the coalescing pink segments merging to form rudimentary bodies. “The dust—it’s turning into people!”
“No,” Wanda said, shaking her head. She knew precisely what these unliving creatures were. “Not people. Humanoids.”
The plasticform figures grew rapidly from the spilled powder, each one identical to every other: pink genderless bodies with smooth, pail-shaped heads. They had no faces as such, only a pair of white, photosensitive patches to serve as eyes. Lacking mouths, they neither spoke nor breathed; the only sound that came from them was the rustle of the congealing powder, followed by the squeaking of dozens of rubber bodies brushing against each other as they swiftly surrounded the three heroes, crowding the habitation ring as tightly as a New York subway at rush hour.
They were just as Cap described them, which could only mean one thing. “I know who made these things!” Wanda shouted to the X-Men. “I know now who is behind all this. The Leader!”
“The Leader of what?” Rogue asked, not comprehending what Wanda meant. Newly-formed humanoids jostled against her and she tried to elbow them away, but they were already packed too tightly to make much of a difference. Colliding with their teeming counterparts, the offending humanoids bounced back against her with equal force. “Who are you talkin’ about?”
Wolverine, older and more experienced, recognized the name. “Another crackpot mad genius,” he explained succinctly. He stabbed his claws into the nearest humanoid, but its rubbery body absorbed the sharpened tines without tearing. Unable to feel pain, its elastic body stretched around the blow, swallowing Wolverine’s entire fist up to his wrist. “Usually, he’s the Hulk’s problem,” he told Rogue.
“The Avengers have had a few run-ins with the Leader, too,” the Scarlet Witch emphasized. Not waiting for the fully-formed humanoids to attack, she fired a hex bolt at the nearest cluster of artificial creatures. “Trust me, he’s no one you want to underestimate.”
Her hex sphere caused three or four of the humanoids to revert to powder. She smiled coldly, until she saw new bodies rise from the pink dust. Her spirits sank; she hadn’t stopped them at all, only slowed them down.
The humanoids were everywhere, knocking aside the furniture and filling the ring with hairless pink figures for as far as the eye could see. “There must be dozens of them!” Rogue declared. She clasped her arms atop her chest, tucking her bare hands beneath her shoulders and shrinking from contact with the inhuman creatures. “They—they ain’t alive, are they?”
“Not really,” the Witch called back. She quickly realized what was worrying Rogue. “You should be able to touch them without becoming like them.”
“Thank goodness for that!” Rogue shouted, sounding enormously relieved. As before, Wanda got a fuller sense of just what sort of curse the young mutant had been forced to live with, and the Scarlet Witch’s heart softened a bit toward her former adversary. What a tragic way to go through life, afraid to even touch another human being…!
The humanoids gave her no time to digest this new insight. As if in response to a single invisible signal, the milling humanoids abruptly surged toward the outnumbered mutants, reaching out with plastic fingers to grab onto the escaping prisoners. “Here they come!” Rogue hollered. No longer averse to touching the humanoids with her uncovered hands, she charged into the oncoming tide of synthetic beings, swinging her fists enthusiastically.
Wolverine was no less aggressive than his fellow X-Man. His claws swung like machetes, trying to slash a way through the humanoid horde. “Instant cannon fodder, huh?” he grunted. “Guess you don’t even need to add water.”
He kicked a humanoid in the chest, only to bounce backwards as though he had just slammed his foot into a trampoline. Snarling in frustration, he managed to slice the humanoid’s arm like salami, then gnashed his teeth as a fresh limb immediately grew from the truncated stump. “Cripes,” he muttered with obvious disgust. “It’s like fightin’ silly putty!”
Rogue was getting equally aggravated. Her super-strong blows sent packs of humanoids scattering like plastic dolls, yet the unfeeling creatures kept on coming. A powerhouse punch squashed an unlucky humanoid’s head, but it sprang back into place as soon as Rogue drew back her fist. She stretched, flattened, twisted, pummeled, and otherwise deformed their malleable plastic bodies, all without inflicting any permanent damage on a single humanoid. “How the heck do you stop these stupid things?” she cried out irritably, even as another wave of humanoids flowed over her. She couldn’t even use her secret weapon: her parasitic touch. For better or for worse, the humanoids had neither minds nor lifeforce to steal.
The Scarlet Witch watched the X-Men’s fruitless struggles with growing alarm; her own hex bolts were faring no better. No matter how many times she used her hex bolts to reverse the humanoid’s creation, disintegrating them back into harmless powder, the unliving beings instantly reconstituted themselves, none the worse for the experience. She searched her memory, trying to remember how the Avengers had defeated the Leader’s humanoids before; unfortunately, as she swiftly recalled, the solution had involved exposing them to the vacuum of space, which hardly seemed like a viable option under the circumstances. There must be another way to stop them, she thought desperately. There has to be!
More powder spilled from the ceiling, adding to the humanoids’ oppressive numbers. They crowded against her, pressing, cramming, smothering, until there was no more room to cast any hexes and she had to use her bare hands to try to push the never-ending flood of humanoids away from her, feeling the rubbery texture of their synthetic flesh against her sweaty palms. Plastic hands grabbed onto her arms and legs while more hands groped her face and pulled on her hair. A petrochemical reek filled her nostrils. She bit down on an intrusive finger, then spat out a mouthful of foul-tasting plastic. More fingers tugged on her lips, taking the first one’s place. She felt like she was drowning beneath a sea of anthropomorphic rubber.
Wanda braced herself against both Rogue and Wolverine. The embattled trio had been squeezed together by the relentless press of their mindless foes. Back to back to back, they faced the crushing swarm of humanoids, whose ductile bodies effortlessly absorbed whatever force was directed against them. Wanda realized the three prisoners were fighting a losing battle and knew that the X-Men had to know that, too. The thought of going back to that sightless sarcophagus filled her with dread.
“YOU MIGHT AS WELL GIVE UP,” the Leader’s amplified voice informed them. “MY FAITHFUL HUMANOIDS NEVER TIRE, NEVER EXPERIENCE PAIN OR FEAR, AND NEVER, EVER STOP UNTIL THEY HAVE COMPLETED THEIR ASSIGNED TASK, WHICH, IN THIS INSTANCE, MEANS SUBDUING YOU. YOU CANNOT POSSIBLY OUTLAST THEM, SO WHY WASTE YOUR TIME AND MINE IN POINTLESS HEROICS? I DON’T KNOW ABOUT YOU, BUT I HAVE BETTER THINGS TO DO THAN WATCH A TRIO OF OUTMATCHED MUTANTS MAKE THEIR LAST STAND AGAINST THE INEXORABLE CREATIONS OF A SUPERIOR MIND.”
“Then change the flamin’ channel!” Wolverine barked at him, by no means ready to surrender. Sinking his claws into the pliable torso of yet another indefatigable humanoid, he turned his head toward Rogue. “Only way out is up, darlin’. You game?”
“You kiddin’?” Rogue asked exuberantly. A half dozen hu
manoids piled onto her, but she threw them back into the crushing throng of resilient pink bodies. “I’m feelin’ so light on my feet I could fly to the moon.” She grabbed onto both Wolverine and the Scarlet Witch by their sleeves, being extra careful not to come into contact with their skin. “Hold onto your seatbelts, y’all!”
Letting out an ear-splitting rebel yell, Rogue flew straight up with the force of a cannonball, hanging onto her two passengers with a grip of steel. Wanda felt like her arm was being yanked from its socket but Rogue’s high speed blast-off tore Wanda free from the grasping hands and suffocating pressure of the humanoids. A determined pink fist clung to her ankle, only to be stretched like taffy by Rogue’s unstoppable ascent before finally slipping away.
Rogue’s invulnerable skull smashed through at least three layers of ceilings before they burst free of the confining walls of the Leader’s headquarters, emerging into open space at last. We made it! Wanda thought jubilantly. We’re free!
Her euphoria lasted less than a second, about the time it took for her to become fully aware of their new surroundings.
Rising in the sky above them, shifting clouds veiling portions of mighty continents and oceans, the great blue globe of the Earth shined down on them, casting its reflected sunlight on a barren lunar landscape marked by still and silent craters. Peering down past her feet, the Scarlet Witch saw the perforated roof of a domed moonbase, constructed within the circumference of one of the larger craters. The atmosphere gushing from the breach in the dome blew a column of swirling debris after the rising heroes, whose lungs suddenly cried out for air.
Good lord, Wanda thought, gasping for oxygen that was nowhere to be found. Blackness rushed over her, along with a fearsome cold—or was that heat? Rogue didn’t need to fly us to the moon.
