Which seemed fine by them.
Wolverine grabbed the nearest soldier and used him first as a shield and then as a battering ram as he took out a portion of the ground troops. The Beast dodged dozens of shots aimed at him, leaping over and diving under and finally landing on top of the troop transport. He grabbed Colonel Tomko and disappeared over the side before the colonel's troops knew what was happening.
Bishop, on the other hand, simply walked arrogantly into the midst of the troops and dealt with them hand to hand. He staggered under the impact of their plasma blasts, but he kept moving. Iceman knew that when Bishop absorbed that much energy, his eyes glowed with red rage and power. The man must have been a fearsome sight up close. For a moment, Bobby almost felt sorry for the soldiers.
One of them unholstered a traditional sidearm pistol and pointed it at Bishop's head. Despite the disdain that the man from the future had always shown him, Bobby didn't hesitate a moment. He brought both hands around and froze the pistol to a block of ice in the man's grip. Its weight made him fall to his knees.
Neglected, the ice wall behind him shattered into thousands of fragments, and nearly a dozen soldiers began their assault anew. Before he turned to deal with the threat, Bobby saw Wolverine take a hit, and Storm barely dodged one in the air. He knew Logan would recover, but if Hank or Ororo was hit ... well, he couldn't let that happen.
"Back off, jarheads!" he shouted. "We're on your side!"
It began as a mental scream, but it built in his chest, adrenaline pumping, until it burst from his mouth like a savage war cry. The air around them became almost unbreathable as the Iceman ripped every ounce of moisture from it. This time his hands guided the waves of cold necessary to freeze the gathered moisture. In seconds, before they had any idea what was happening to them, the entire rear guard, eleven men in total, was buried up to their shoulders in a block of solid ice. They couldn't even move their trigger fingers, and that was how Bobby wanted it.
"Way to go!" Wolverine called from a dozen yards distant. Only the scorched hole in his uniform gave any indication he had been hit. Iceman envied him his healing factor, and not for the first time.
"Attention!" a familiar voice called. "Attention!"
Bobby looked up to see that Hank held the bullhorn in one hand and Colonel Tomko in the other.
"I believe the colonel has something he'd like to say," the Beast announced. Then he handed the bullhorn to the colonel, being certain to keep the commanding officer's body in front of his own.
"Listen closely, troops!" the colonel barked. "None of these muties leave here alive!"
Even from where he stood, fifty yards away, Bobby could see the look of astonishment on Hank's face. He couldn't help but smile. So much for that idea, old buddy, he thought. Still, they were winning. It would have gone a lot easier if they weren't so concerned with the health of their opponents, but that was all part of wearing the white hats. As opposed to these guys, who more often than not, wore gray ones.
So it might take a little longer, ten minutes instead of three, but they'd have it all wrapped up in just a ...
Then the tank rolled up. Bobby had forgotten about the tank, hidden as it had been behind the remaining troop transport. Wolverine kept tearing through soldiers and energy weapons, using remarkable self restraint as far as Iceman was concerned. Storm was blowing a group of foot soldiers back into the woods, and they scurried away once they had lost their weapons. Beast was off-limits because he still had the colonel.
Bobby and Bishop were sitting ducks.
"We're in serious ca-ca," Iceman whispered, but forgot to laugh.
The turret swung around and the tank's big gun pointed right at him. He was moving before he knew it, building an ice slide under his feet, the momentum of its construction carrying him up and away from the battle instantly, even as the tank fired.
Iceman heard the nostalgic zap of a backyard electric bug killer, magnified to a deafening decibel level. His ice slide shattered as the plasma blast struck, and he fell nearly forty feet to the ground amidst a landslide of frozen boulders. Frantic, he looked up to see if the thing was taking aim at him again.
Bobby blinked twice, to be certain he was actually seeing the scene that played itself out before him. Amidst the confusion of the battle, at the center of the crossfire, Bishop walked slowly but determinedly toward the oncoming tank. Its gun turret swiveled until it pointed directly at his chest, but Bishop continued forward. The moment reminded Bobby of the unforgettable confrontation between a tank and a student in China's Tiananmen Square. With one major difference.
This time, the tank fired. Bishop was blasted backward with so much power that Bobby barely had time to erect an ice gutter in mid air that caught him and slid him to the ground as if he'd been running a luge track.
"Bishop, you okay?" Iceman asked as he knelt by his fallen teammate.
Bishop smiled. He stood, eyes blazing with molten crimson fury, and rose to his feet. His clenched fists glowed with barely contained power, and Bobby stood back a few feet, just in case it was too much for him to control.
"I'm better than okay, Iceman," Bishop laughed. "In fact, I'm grateful these morons don't know any better than to provide me with all the power I need to obliterate their armored vehicle from the face of the Earth."
Bishop brought his hands up, about to blast the tank. Above them, swooping toward the spot where they stood, Storm screamed for him to stop. Bobby was too stunned still to react. Luckily, he didn't have to. Just as Bishop let loose with a burst of energy that rocked his body, the Beast slammed into him from the left side, taking him down hard. Bishop's energy blast went wide, nearly vaporizing Storm, and instead decapitated half a dozen tree tops that crashed through lower limbs to the forest floor.
"Are you mad, Beast?" Bishop screamed as he got to his feet. "You could have been killed!"
"That's the point entirely, Bishop," Hank said, and finally Iceman's senses came back and he realized what had happened. Or almost happened.
"You're not supposed to kill anybody, remember, Bishop?" Bobby said.
Then he remembered the tank. He spun on one heel and saw that its turret was swinging around to target them.
"Can't have that," he mumbled to himself.
"Storm!" Iceman shouted. "I could really used some more moisture down here. Let's get this over with, shall we?"
He wasn't certain, at first, if she had heard him. Then she raised her hands and called out a dimly heard command to the sky. In that moment, with her white hair whipping in the wind, and the way she managed to look statuesque despite the fact that she was doing nothing less miraculous than standing on air, Bobby understood why she had once been considered a goddess.
As the big gun leveled itself, trying to lock in on Hank, Bishop, and Iceman, it began to rain. It wasn't a drizzle or even a squall, but a full fledged downpour, the likes of which came perhaps once a decade and brought rivers over their banks in mere hours. It was everything Iceman could have asked for, and more. He wondered, even as he raised his hands, why he and Ororo had not truly used their powers in conjunction before.
Then he went quiet as he marveled at the effectiveness of the combination. The driving rain seemed to be sucked toward the tank as if it were a black hole, then froze on impact. In seconds, an impenetrable block of ice several yards thick surrounded the entire vehicle, save for the entry hatch on the top.
"Excellent work, Bobby," the Beast said next to him.
"The tank is useless, but the soldiers inside will have no trouble getting out."
"That's it, run, ya bozos, before the ol' Canucklehead decides to take off the kid gloves," Wolverine called after the remaining soldiers, who were retreating despite the verbal abuse being heaped upon them by their bullhorn wielding colonel.
"That guy ought to count himself lucky you let him go," Bobby told Hank. "He just doesn't know when to quit."
"If you had to answer to Gyrich back home, you'd think twice about retreating as we
ll, Robert," the Beast replied, prompting a moment of silence in which Iceman almost felt badly for Colonel Tomko. It didn't last long, though. After all, the guy had tried to kill them.
"Nice job, Drake," Wolverine said as he approached, more jovial than Bobby had seen him in quite some time. "We oughta name you MVP o' this little outing."
Bobby was glad to be Iceman at that moment. If he'd been pure flesh and blood, his friends would have seen him blush.
"Well done, Bobby," Hank said.
"You have my thanks, Iceman," Bishop said formally. "It is possible that I owe you my life."
Storm drifted to the ground nearby on winds of her own creation, and smiled at Bobby as she came toward them.
"We might have been swifter," she said, "but not without doing far more damage than we did. There may be a few broken bones, some burns or shrapnel wounds, and of course, a lot of frostbite ... "
She motioned behind them, and Iceman cocked his head to see where she was pointing, then laughed out loud. He had almost forgotten the soldiers that he had put on ice earlier.
"They'll thaw," he said.
"My guess is that the hard part is still to come, but all in all," Storm continued, "a job well done, particularly on your part, Iceman."
"Okay, now we're gettin' downright mushy," Logan said. "The kid was good, but let's not get carried away with ourselves. The day ain't over yet."
"Indeed it is not, Wolverine," Storm said. "It is time to turn our attention to the force field surrounding this installation."
Storm went on, but Iceman wasn't listening. He was proud of the part he'd played in the mission so far, and his friends' comments had put an almost painful smile on his face. Somehow, though, it wasn't enough.
Taking on a platoon of G.!. Joes was penny-ante stuff, and he knew it. He'd been all over the place during the battle, instrumental in making it happen, keeping both sides from serious injury. But against a more powerful enemy, Bobby Drake, the Iceman, was strictly a second-string player. Maybe second rate as well. If he was in charge of the group, he'd put his own wisecracking self on the bench until the game was in the bag or he had too many names on the injured reserve.
Normally, he would have shrugged off their praise, and his own insecurity, with bad puns and sarcastic humor. But he just didn't feel funny. Or all that triumphant, now that he thought of it. After all, as selfdefeating as his particular neurotic tendencies were, he was convinced that his friends wouldn't have been so complimentary if they didn't expect less from him to begin with. But then, just because you're paranoid doesn't mean they aren't out to get you.
On the other hand, he had stopped Bishop from being shot, maybe killed. There was no doubt about that. And Bishop had no vested interest in coddling Bobby Drake. Quite the opposite. He found every opportunity to point out weaknesses, both in the team and in individuals. That was his way to make the X-Men function better, but it wasn't a really effectiveway to make friends.
Bishop had thanked him, complimented him. Bishop didn't care about him except in context of his field performance. Hence, Bishop meant what he said. Though he'd known Hank and Storm and Wolverine for a long time, Iceman began to feel a little better about himself because of Bishop's words. Maybe that's what it took, he thought. Someone with no motivation.
Maybe I didn't do too badly after all.
"First thing we do is have Bobby try to freeze the force field, see if we can't stretch a hole in it," Storm said. "If that doesn't work, then ... well, let's see if that does work."
But Bobby's ice powers, and Ororo's weather manipulation, had no effect on the field. There was little Hank or Logan could do with their bare hands or claws.
"I might be able to rig up a polarity field and cut us a hole with the Blackbird's communications system," Hank offered. "Not likely, but not necessarily impossible."
Iceman noticed that the soldiers had regrouped, but were keeping a respectful distance. He could only assume that they were waiting to see if the X-Men could get the force field down, maybe do their jobs for them. Once again, he couldn't blame them.
"Before you try that," Storm said thoughtfully, "why don't we let Bishop try to tear a hole in the field by siphoning off some of its energy."
"That just might accomplish our objective," the Beast replied. "Though if we'd been able to generate an ratiocination of the field from the Blackbird's on-board systems, we'd possess a better idea of what we were preparing to confront."
"Bishop, are you willing?" Storm asked.
"As always, I am at your service, Storm," Bishop answered.
Iceman raised an eyebrow. Though he never would have expected it as a kid, or even as a young man joining the X-Men, he considered himself a fairly courageous person. With the X-Men, that was just part of the job description. But that didn't mean that he was never afraid, or that facing danger didn't give him pause. He suspected the same might be true, to varying degrees, of most of his friends and teammates.
It was different with Wolverine and Bishop, though. They didn't just do what needed to be done, they did it without batting an eyelash. Bishop had no idea what effect the force field might have on him. But if it meant the success of the mission, he would try to siphon its energy even if it might fry him on the spot.
"No matter what happens, regardless of what awaits us inside, we cannot allow the Sentinels to roam the Earth," Bishop said gravely, as if reading Iceman's thoughts. "It would mean the end of your world, and the beginning of mine. Trust me. You don't want that to happen."
Without another word, he jogged to where the crackling energy of the force field met the ground, only inches in that spot from the installation's perimeter fence. Palms up, Bishop slammed his hands against the force field, grunting with obvious pain as sparks flew under his hands.
Then his hands passed through the field. His fingers locked on the fence and he stood rigid, as if electricity coursed through his body. Bobby stood with the rest of them, and he could feel their tension. Each was prepared to pull Bishop away from this contact if he seemed in any danger.
A wondrous thing began to happen. Where his wrists passed through the field, twin holes began to open. They widened quickly, and Bishop stood back from the fence, hands raised above him as the force field's energy flowed into him.
"Hurry," he grunted. "This won't last very long."
They slipped by him, taking great care not to make contact with the edges of the field. Wolverine's claws popped out with their familiar snikt, and he slashed them a passage through the perimeter fence.
Once they were all inside, Bishop slipped through and allowed the force field to close behind him. Once again, he was charged to overflowing, power bursting from his eyes and hands. He would have to release it shortly, or it could overwhelm him.
"Welcome, X-Men!" a female voice called. "And farewell."
Iceman recognized them at once, of course. The Acolytes' magenta and crimson uniforms were unmistakable. Voght had spoken, but Bobby saw Senyaka and Unuscione and several others as well.
"Bright lady preserve us," Storm said, just loud enough for the team to hear. "What does Magneto want with the Sentinels?"
"Darlin'," Wolverine growled, "I'd say it's high time we found out."
In seconds, the battle was joined, and Iceman winced at the thundercrack of energy that told him Bishop had found the release he needed. Perhaps he had performed well earlier, as his mends had insisted. But now they'd moved up to the big leagues.
If he struck out now, he was dead.
Chapter 9
The marketplace was in chaos. Starbolt and Gladiator flew back and forth above the panicked crowd, and Gambit knew they wouldn't have come alone. Storefronts were quickly shuttered, but merchants with carts were not so lucky. Several were turned over, including one with a cauldron of spicy-smelling stew that splashed onto Gambit's boots.
Run! Try to blend in!
Gambit heard Jean's mental shout as though she were whispering in his ear. His first impulse was to ig
nore it-Remy LeBeau didn't like to run from a fight. But in his time with the X-Men he'd come to understand their priorities, and to adapt to them. The mission was more important than personal pride. And they couldn't expect help from the Kree rebels, who had long-term concerns. They disappeared, blending into the crowd in an instant.
Gambit saw Cyclops keeping pace with a family. They headed for a side alley and the X-Men's leader helped carry the smallest child, who looked injured. It wouldn't do for all of them to be separated, he realized, and set off after Cyclops through a sea of madness.
A hand clamped on his shoulder, and Gambit reacted instantly. He threw out his hip, grabbed that hand and threw his attacker several feet into a fountain that still bubbled at the market's center. Only when the figure splashed into the water did he realize it was Raza.
"Sorry t' get you wet, homme," he said as he helped Raza to his feet. "In de future, you jus' might want to t'ink 'bout saying hello 'fore you put your hands on somebody like dat, eh?"
When Raza looked up, he was not smiling. His face was filled with rage, but his eyes were glazed and seemed to focus on something other than Gambit. But there was no mistaking his intent as he drew his sword and lunged for Remy's gut.
Gambit cursed and dodged to one side. Raza's sword tore a long slice from his ragged Kree jacket, and he shrugged the confining garment off. He slammed his hands down on Raza's back and rammed his knee up into the swordsman's stomach.
"You gettin' slow in your old age, Starjammer," Gambit said. "What does Gambit have to do to show you dis ain't de time for a rematch?"
He and Raza struggled, and the Shi'ar warrior went for his blaster. Before Gambit could stop him, Raza had drawn the weapon and was about to bring it to bear on the Cajun's face. Remy wasn't about to allow that. He let go of Raza's arm and grabbed hold of the blaster instead, instantly charging it was explosive force. He staggered Raza with a southpaw to the temple, then dove out of the way as the blaster exploded in Raza's cyborg hand.
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