by Greg Cox
The Witch’s strategy demonstrated its utility almost immediately. Thrown like javelins at the enthralled Avenger, Storm’s lightning fizzled out at the periphery of the glowing sphere, while hurricane-strength blasts of wind consistently detoured around the globe’s borders. Most improbable of all, Captain America threw his shield at the Scarlet Witch—and missed! Defying conventional aerodynamics, the speeding shield arced upward to bounce off Storm’s mahogany brow by mistake. “Holy cow!” the Beast gasped, taken aback by the sight of Cap’s shield gone astray. “That never happens to Xena!”
No student of nineties pop culture, Cap missed the allusion. “Thena?” he said, sounding puzzled. “Of the Eternals?”
There was no time to explain. Dazed by the unexpected blow, Storm plummeted toward the pit. The Beast vaulted to her rescue, catching Ororo in his broad arms as he leaped across the beckoning crater. An ugly purple bruise upon her forehead, Storm appeared to be down for the count. And then there were five, the Beast thought, with apologies to Agatha Christie…
He laid her gently upon the floor, using her stiff headdress to cushion her battered skull. A gold-plated earring shaped like a thunderbolt came loose and he tucked the dislodged jewelry into her boot for safekeeping. Then, convinced that the unconscious Ororo was as safe as could be under the circumstances, he redirected his intellect to the thorny problem of how to beat the Scarlet Witch’s supernaturally-enhanced good fortune. Luck be a lady indeed, he thought, at least where Wanda’s concerned.
To his chagrin, the Leader’s mind-numbing sway over her did not appear to have impaired her natural instincts and skill; furthermore, the Beast could only assume that the Scarlet Witch was considerably more proficient a combatant now than she had been back in the good old days of the X-Men versus the Brotherhood. Then again, I’ve improved with age as well, he considered. He was quantitatively more spry, not to mention extensively hairier, than he’d been when last they’d found each other on opposite sides of a fracas.
The key, he realized, was to trick Wanda into lowering her protective hex sphere long enough to get to the mortal sorceress inside the magic bubble. “Oh, Glinda!” he called out to her, with an eye to drawing her fire. Indeed, cocooned in her spherical nimbus, Wanda did somewhat resemble Billy Burke arriving to greet Dorothy. “Are you a good witch or a bad witch?”
She didn’t take his bait right away, so he resolved to make himself into a more tempting target. Spying Captain America’s shield lying on the floor behind Wanda, a few feet beyond the borders of the probability-warping sphere, he galloped straight for the shimmering globe, hooting too loud to possibly be ignored. “Choo-choo-choo!” he shouted gleefully at the Scarlet Witch. “Beast Express, coming through!”
He waited until he was only inches away from the radiant scarlet globe, then went into a handspring that sent him up and over the sphere. “Allez oop!” The reduced gravity made it child’s play to clear the top of the orb with room to spare, but, as he had hoped, Wanda could not resist firing a hex bolt at the Beast as he passed over her head. A peculiar sensation, like being rubbed the wrong way, ruffled the fur at the back of his neck as the loosed hex bolt grazed his pelt as it shot past the swiftly-springing X-Man, causing a spidery network of cracks to spread through the ceiling where it ultimately struck home.
Voila! the Beast thought jubilantly as his sasquatch-sized feet smacked down on the tiles behind the Witch. In order to unleash her ire at the buoyant Beast, the brainwashed Avenger had been compelled to let her defensive sphere dissolve into thin air. Now is the time, he realized, for all good Beasts to come to the aid of their country…!
Snatching the wayward shield by his toes, he chucked it back at the momentarily vulnerable Witch, catching her right behind her knees. Legs buckling, she toppled forward, throwing out her hands to break her fall. The Beast spun around and pounced on his faltering foe, landing his ape-like body squarely astride her back. Wanda gasped out loud as his sudden weight squeezed the air from her lungs. Large blue feet descended upon her hands, pinning them to the floor, while he clasped equally larger-than-life hands over her eyes. Suddenly, and in more ways than one, the Scarlet Witch was in no position to cast any more spells.
“Please pardon this immoderate imposition,” he asked the pinioned Witch. “Providence willing, we’ll look back at this someday and laugh.”
Or so he hoped.
* * *
“LISTEN, short stuff, cuz I’m only going to say this once: TAKE ME TO YOUR LEADER!”
The Hulk’s bellow echoed down the sterile corridor, but Wolverine gave no sign of acceding to the Hulk’s thunderous demand. The mind-controlled mutant tore into the jade giant with a vengeance, his flashing claws trying their best to cut the Hulk down to size. Unfortunately for the feral X-Man, the Hulk’s gamma-irradiated muscle grew back faster than Wolverine could shred it, so that to a casual observer it might have looked as if the adamantium claws had little or no effect on the indestructible green behemoth.
That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt like blazes.
“Get outta my way!” the Hulk roared, swinging his fists at Wolverine, who managed to keep ahead of the monstrous paws by weaving and ducking under the Hulk’s earth-shattering blows. Ordinarily, the Hulk would welcome another go-round with the feisty Canadian, but not while the Leader stood by, smirking while the rest of them took their lumps. That’s just like him, the Hulk raged silently. Keeping his scrawny hands clean while everyone else gets stuck cleaning up his messes. Well, not this time! “You can’t hide from me forever, Sterns!” he promised, even as Wolverine drove his claws into the Hulk’s side all the way up to the X-Man’s knuckles. The Hulk grunted in pain, then knocked Wolverine away with a cyclonic slap that sent the mutant flying into the nearest wall hard enough to shatter most anyone else’s bones. Sticky traces of emerald blood clung to Wolverine’s silver claws as they were yanked free of the Hulk’s flesh. “Do you hear me, Sterns? I don’t care how many hypnotized do-gooders you throw at me. You’re mine!”
But Wolverine, in the full throes of a bloodthirsty frenzy, could not be readily swept aside. Unbroken and undeterred by his jarring collision with the wall, he came at the Hulk again. Wild, reddened eyes blazed with primordial savagery. His lips were curled back, exposing clenched and jagged teeth. Seemingly incapable of civilized speech, Wolverine growled like an animal as he launched himself at the Hulk with all the untamed aggression of his predatory namesake. The Hulk caught only a glimpse of the Leader’s smug, self-satisfied features before the crazed X-Man lunged once more into his field of vision, hacking away at the Hulk’s colossal magnitude. The Hulk felt dozens of fleeting incisions stab at his chest. Wolverine’s teeth sank into his throat, breaking the skin.
Enough of this garbage! he thought, his irritation at the berserk X-Man almost surpassing his overwhelming hatred of the Leader. With a snarl of his own, he twisted his thick neck free from Wolverine’s deadly jaws and batted the raging mutant away. The Hulk clapped his hands together loudly, producing a deafening boom that left Wolverine clutching his ears in agony. Ha! the Hulk gloated pitilessly. Bet that did a number on your supersensitive hearing!
The pain only inflamed the X-Man’s volcanic blood-lust. Foaming at the mouth, Wolverine howled in defiance and leaped at his towering adversary. The Hulk braced himself for Wolverine’s assault, then blinked in surprise as, suddenly, there were five more Wolverines attacking him. Without warning or explanation, he became surrounded by identical, pint-sized mutants with matching sets of razor-sharp claws. Half a dozen Wolverines laid into him tooth and nail, slashing and biting from all directions. The Hulk flailed about wildly, trying to smash every one of the savage sextuplets to kingdom come, but there were too many flashing blades and darting figures to keep track of; he couldn’t tell if he was slugging all of the Wolverines or just the same one over and over. Meanwhile, the claws kept coming, subjecting him to the death of a hundred thousand cuts. But why was this happening? Where had all the extra Wolverines come fro
m?
This is the Leader’s fault, he realized. A clump of matted green hair went flying as a set of claws scraped against the Hulk’s lumpish skull. This is some crummy illusion he’s projecting into my head to mess me up! Adamantium claws gouged his face. A deep gash across his forehead leaked a trickle of green blood into his eyes, blinding him. It’s working, too.
No matter how accurate, his brilliant deduction didn’t do him much good in the short term. How could he tell which Wolverine was real? He wiped the blood from his eyes with the back of his hand, but the multiple Wolverines remained. In theory, he only needed to watch out for the actual, flesh-and-blood X-Man, but he couldn’t begin to distinguish the illusions from the genuine article. Every slice and stab felt like the real thing.
He stomped the floor with deliberate oomph, hoping that only the authentic Wolverine would be thrown for a loop by the cataclysmic tremor. No such luck; all six Wolverines shook in unison, gnashing their teeth while flaunting a total of thirty-six lethal claws. Once the quake subsided, they descended upon him like a pack of rabid wolves. The Hulk fought back furiously, but for all he knew he was swinging at empty air. An endless onslaught of silver blades jabbed and carved and cleaved and cut. Before he knew it, they had dragged him to the floor. He tried to yell angrily, but sharpened adamantium sliced through his larynx, which took a second to grow back. Unable to free his hands from the spikes nailing them to the floor, he could only watch in rage and alarm as yet another set of shining metal spears came at his eyes. This is gonna hurt, he thought. Big time.
A muffled clang caught him by surprise, and the onrushing claws fell away, along with the Wolverine who had been on the verge of blinding him. Then he saw Captain America standing behind the downed X-Man, holding his shield in both hands. Figures, the Hulk thought, putting together two and two, that blasted shield’s probably the only thing on Earth harder than Wolverine’s head. “Are you all right, Hulk?” Cap asked solicitously. “What’s the matter? Is something holding you down?”
Obviously, Cap had clobbered one Wolverine—and couldn’t even see the rest of them, making it pretty clear whom the illusions were. The Hulk could still see the other Wolverines, feel their claws dissecting him, but that didn’t matter anymore; his seething vexation at being rescued by Captain America—of all people!—made him mad enough and strong enough to ignore the Leader’s murderous mirages. “I DIDN’T NEED ANY HELP!” he boomed, shrugging the phantom Wolverines aside and climbing back onto his feet, so that he loomed over Captain America and the stunned Wolverine, whose prone body was already starting to stir.
“That’s what teamwork’s all about,” Cap lectured, alert to Wolverine’s signs of life. Like the unstoppable killer at the end of hundreds of low-budget slasher movies, the revitalized X-Man abruptly sprang back into action. Cap deftly blocked Wolverine’s claws with his shield while continuing to scold the Hulk. “You ought to learn to appreciate the value of a helping hand.”
“Like that’s going to happen,” the Hulk snorted in derision. He barged in between Cap and Wolverine, heedless of the invincible shield and raking claws. The Leader can wait, he decided. Right now he had to prove to Captain America, that self-righteous, pontificating yankee doodle, that he could beat Wolverine on his own—or die trying. “Save some of that for me, halfpint!” he challenged the growling X-Man and his adamantium ginsu knives. “I’m goin’ to demolish you fair and square!”
* * *
EVEN with her will sapped by the Leader’s psychic mesmerism, Rogue was just as strong as Iron Man remembered. As strong as Ms. Marvel used to be, he recalled, before a younger Rogue stole the other super heroine’s powers for good, nearly ruining an Avenger’s life. Tony Stark scowled behind his golden faceplate at the thought of everything poor Carol Danvers had endured ever since Rogue ambushed her years ago, setting Carol off on a downward spiral from which she still hadn’t fully recovered. Iron Man’s anger showed through the ductile metal of his iron mask as he fought Rogue high above the floor of the corridor.
Ruby-red eyebeams slammed into his torso, bruising his ribs even through several layers of armor and padding. Iron Man retaliated with a volley of repulsor rays that raced from his gauntlets to strike Rogue in her side, provoking a pained groan but doing little else to bring down the high-flying X-Man. She wasn’t just strong, she was invulnerable, too. Just my luck, he thought.
Even allowing for the high ceiling, the interior of the moonbase provided cramped conditions for an aerial dogfight. Iron Man had to follow the curve of the corridor to keep from smashing through either the inner or outer wall. The engineer in him couldn’t help taking notes on the design of the Leader’s lunar habitat, especially since he hoped to build one of his own someday. He fully intended for Stark Solutions to be at the forefront of lunar colonization as soon as the prospect became economically feasible. The idea of having a branch office on the moon appealed to him immensely. I wonder if it’s too early to claim salvage rights on this base? he wondered, making himself a mental note to negotiate a deal with S.H.I.E.L.D. once the Leader was defeated.
Defensive sensors and software alerted him to another strafing run by Rogue as she tried to catch him with her eyebeams again. Iron Man banked sharply to the left to dodge the crimson rays, then went into a barrel roll that brought Rogue within range of his chest-projector. A luminous purple tractor beam seized onto the iron in her blood and body, slowing her down for a few seconds, but she broke free of the magnetic ray before he could gain more than a foot on her. Looking back over her shoulder, she sprayed a nonstop stream of destructive energy behind her to discourage pursuit, forcing Iron Man to angle upward above the plane of her attack. The back of his armor scraped against the ceiling as he chased her round the bend of the corridor.
How long can she hang on to Cyclops’s mutant power? he wondered. Indefinitely, like the Super-Adaptoid, or is there a time limit? They had already completed two circuits of the circular hallway; he estimated that Rogue had been in possession of Cyclops’s eyebeams for close to five minutes now. Long enough for them to start wearing off? He wasn’t sure, but it looked as though her incandescent firepower was already weakening in intensity. The ruby effulgence gushing from her eyes seemed dimmer, less brilliant than before. Good news for everybody, he thought, except maybe the Leader.
Iron Man decided to test her by going in closer, until he was flying right above her heels. She tracked his progress with her eyes, but the beams radiating from her eyes flickered and dissipated before they even came close to the magnetic force field shielding his armor. Her eyes glowed crimson for a few heartbeats more, then returned to their previous sea-green shade. “Easy come, easy go,” he taunted her, unleashing a blast of concentrated repulsor rays along her spine. Careful, he reminded himself. Despite her dubious past, he didn’t want to injure her permanently. She’s not responsible for her actions right now.
Rogue slowed down suddenly, causing Iron Man to shoot past her before he could reduce his own speed. Accelerating once more, she climbed steeply toward him, turning the beam-projector on his chest into a bull’seye. A pair of super-strong fists crashed into his chestplate, shattering the lens of its central beam projector. Fiery blue sparks erupted from the chest-unit, without burning a single hair of Rogue’s unprotected hands. Her powerful blow did not smash all the way through his armor to the man inside, but it made mincemeat out of the layers of intricate circuitry beneath the crystallized iron and high-temperature enamel. Reports of system failures and major malfunctions flashed before his eyes, dutifully reported by his armor’s diagnostic programs. vari-beam capacity off-line, a lighted display announced. No kidding, he thought sarcastically.
The obvious moral: Eyebeams or no eyebeams, he underestimated Rogue at his own risk. She was a handful even without any extra powers.
He expected her to follow up her brutally effective sortie with further attacks, but instead Rogue pulled away from him, zipping ahead at top speed, so that all he could see were the soles of h
er bare feet as she left him in her slipstream. The strong breeze generated by her breakneck flight blew against Iron Man’s armor as he put on a boost of speed in hopes of catching up with her. Where’s she going in such a hurry? he worried. Where’s the fire?
Activating the telescopic lenses in his eyepieces, he scanned the corridor ahead of Rogue, spotting a confusion of colorful costumes just before the next bend. Jagged streaks of lightning, accompanied by scarlet flashes, tipped him off; he realized that he and Rogue’s airborne battle had once more brought them full circle to where the rescue team had first confronted the Leader and his thralls. His audio receptors picked up the sound of booming thunder, crashing ice, and bestial howls.
A chill ran down his spine as he hurriedly deduced what Rogue had in mind. Good Lord, he thought, she’s going shopping for some new super-powers!
It wasn’t hard to guess who she’d go for first, and, sure enough, she made a bee-line for the Hulk. All that exposed green skin, Iron Man realized, shuddering at the prospect of the Hulk’s awesome strength being forcibly shifted from their side to the Leader’s; if Rogue got her hands on the Hulk, she’d simultaneously take out their most unstoppable ally while increasing her own strength and endurance to an unimaginable level. I can’t let that happen!
Rogue had too much of a head start on him, though. There was no way he could overtake her before she laid her eager fingers on the Hulk’s chartreuse epidermis. Fortunately, he didn’t have to; with a cybernetic command, he released his gauntlet’s exo-units, turning the metal gloves into a set of long-range grapples connected to his wrists by thin tungsten cables. Propelled by miniature explosive charges, the detached gauntlets sped forward and grabbed onto Rogue’s fleeing ankles, hauling her up short only a few feet away from the Hulk’s unbelievably broad shoulders. As she strained to reach the unsuspecting giant, who was busy coping with Wolverine’s animal fury, Iron Man felt like an angler with a catch of Moby Dick proportions on his line.
