Salvation

by Unknown Author

  “Ah, the prodigal mutants return,” Gyrich said as he approached.

  He didn’t even try to hide his sneer. The sun glinted off his mirrored glasses and lit up his red hair like fire. The effect wasn’t at all flattering.

  “Do you have news, Mr. Gyrich?” Cooper asked. “If not, I would ask that you remove yourself from this discussion. This is my operation here, and, frankly, you’re not welcome,”

  Cyclops was surprised by the undisguised hatred and anger in Cooper’s voice and entire manner. Gyrich, however, did not seem taken aback in the least. Apparently, the crisis had stripped bare the lines of tension that had always existed between the two.

  “Don’t worry, Cooper, this won’t take long,” Gyrich said with a smirk.

  He turned slightly, to address them all. Scott, who considered himself level headed to the point of boredom at times, felt a nearly irrational hatred of Gyrich growing in him. The man’s smugness was intolerable.

  “Say your piece, Gyrich,” he said. “Then why don’t you let us mutants get on with the job you normal folks can’t seem to handle on your own?”

  Cooper stared at him, mouth open slightly. Professor Xavier raised one eyebrow. Jean, Gambit, Rogue, and Warren all looked on in stunned silence. All of them were taken aback by his words, and not without reason. Cyclops had always left the attitude to Gambit, or Wolverine, or Bishop, even Warren from time to time. But he was angry now, and a little bitter. He wanted to be with Corsair, making sure his father was all right. Instead, he and the X-Men were once again putting their lives on the line for a society, the majority of whom would have spit on them if they got close enough.

  Scott Summers, the quiet one, the stable one, was on the verge of losing his cool. Cooper, Xavier, the other X-Men, were all surprised. But when Cyclops turned to look at Gyrich, he found that the man was not surprised at all. Rather, there was a smile of perverse pleasure on his face. He had riled the leader of the X-Men, and he was happy about it.

  Scott felt so stupid he wanted to punch Gyrich, but that would only make matters worse. It was completely unlike him, but he supposed, given the extraordinary crisis at hand, extraordinary reactions would be the order of the day.

  “Just because I’m a nice guy, Cyclops,” Gyrich said, “I’ll get right to the point. The Director of Operation: Wideawake has asked me to pass along this information to you, otherwise I would not have put you even at the bottom of my need-to-know list.”

  Cooper visibly stiffened. Scott assumed she was irritated that Wideawake’s Director had not communicated Gyrich’s message directly to her. He himself was annoyed that Cooper would allow such petty concerns as her competition with Gyrich to distract her at such a perilous time.

  “In my opinion,” Gyrich said, “a full military assault is the only way to end Magneto’s terrorist occupation of Manhattan. Sadly, the President does not agree. He has faith in Ms. Cooper’s opinion. She has faith in mutants, specifically the X-Men. In any case, he has agreed that your interdiction may proceed.”

  “That’s news?” Cooper asked.

  “I’m not finished,” Gyrich said, biting off the words with snapping teeth, which finally revealed the extent of his disdain for the woman.

  “The President has also ordered the joint armed forces assembled around Manhattan to a full alert. On his word, they are to invade and retake Manhattan island,” Gyrich said.

  “What?” Professor Xavier asked, astounded. “No simple military assault will be sufficient to destroy the Sentinels, you know as much from your participation in Operation: Wideawake. Not to mention that Magneto has destroyed entire armies before, and will not shrink from doing so again. What you suggest is madness!”

  “De hell wit’ dat!” Gambit said. “What about de X-Men? De President, he wants us to waltz right into Magneto’s home base, and den he gon’ to start bombing us all to hell? Je suis desole, but non. (m ne me plait pas.”

  Gyrich glared at Gambit for half a second.

  “You’re in America, X-Man,” Gyrich said with a sneer. “Speak English not French.”

  “I was bom in America, me,” Gambit said angrily. ‘‘But I’m a Cajun. I speak Cajun, English, French, Creole, but me, maybe I got another language you understand better, eh?” Cyclops saw that Gambit was extracting a playing card from his right pocket. Explosive energy sparked from his hand to the card and back, and the card began to glow.

  “Put it away, Gambit,” Cyclops ordered.

  Through it all, Professor Xavier said nothing. He would normally have been the one to command Gambit to stand down, to step away from the brewing conflict, but if Gyrich ever knew Xavier’s secret, God help them all,

  Gambit complied.

  “Anytime you want to try me, mutant,” Gyrich said with a show of bravado that was not entirely convincing.

  “You didn’t let me finish, once again,” he continued. “The military is holding back for the moment. If you can pull off your mission, there will be no invasion force. But there is a time limit. If you have not defeated Magneto in seven hours, the command will be given.”

  “Seven hours?” Jean exclaimed. “Why that’s out—” “Seven hours,” Gyrich snapped. “And enough of this argument. I don’t think you really have time for redundant and useless debate, do you?”

  On that, the X-Men were forced to agree.

  Gyrich turned to go.

  “What happens if the X-Men fail, and the military cannot take Manhattan back?” Professor Xavier asked, as the redhaired man was walking away.

  Gyrich turned back, daylight sparking diamonds off his mirrored sunglasses. The smile on his face then was as genuine and uninhibited as any Scott had ever seen on the man.

  “It’s a simple equation really,” Gyrich said. “America does not bargain with terrorists. America will not allow one of its most important cities to fall into terrorist hands. If the military can’t pull it off on their own, well, put two and two together, Xavier.”

  Xavier blanched. Scott felt the blood run from his own face as well.

  2
  “By God, you can’t be serious,” the Professor said. “There are hundreds of thousands of people, perhaps a million, still in that city! No president would take that many lives just to keep the city out of Magneto’s hands.”

  “Even if he wasn’t concerned for the people,” Archangel added, “the American public would vilify him.”

  “If they knew what had been done, of course they would,” Gyrich agreed. “But if such an atrocity as you describe— which I did not even suggest, by the way—were to take place, well, you can be certain the press would portray it as a terrorist plot that backfired with catastrophic results. It would be seen to.” ‘

  “Lord help us, you’re a monster,” Rogue said softly. “You all are. Maybe Magneto has the right idea.”

  Gyrich had turned to leave once more but was stopped in his tracks by Rogue’s words.

  “Just what I expected of your kind,” he said. “I told the President you’d end up defecting to the other side.”

  The animosity between Gyrich and the rest of the force gathered on that spot was tangible, powerful. Gyrich looked at his watch.

  “Six hours and forty-nine minutes now,” he said. “You’d probably better get going.”

  “When we get back, Gyrich,” Cooper said, “you and I are going to have a long chat.”

  “I highly doubt that,” Gyrich answered, then turned and had disappeared into the throng of reporters before Cyclops could even conceive of a retort.

  “Okay, Valerie,” Scott said, as soon as Gyrich was out of earshot. “How do you want to split the team?”

  Howard Chin had leased the three-story building on East Forty-fourth Street for seventeen years. He and his family lived on the second and third floors. The first was Howard’s Deli, a storefront delicatessen that had always gotten a lot of business from local customers. There were many companies nearby, and MTV only two blocks away. To get to Grand Central Station or vice versa, com
muters had to pass by his storefront window.

  Until a couple days earlier, he’d done an excellent business. Made a hell of a living. He’d had no problem putting his daughter, Naomi, through school at the prestigious Marymount up in Westchester. She was going to Fordham Law now, and he was footing that bill too. Gladly. He loved his little deli, his regular customers, waking up at four a.m. to prepare the shop for business. But that life wasn’t for everyone. And it sure wasn’t for Naomi. She was going to be a lawyer. He’d never been as proud.

  Then Magneto and the mutants came, and the city fell apart. It was a catastrophe. Howard had closed the deli when the Sentinels first appeared over the city, but it killed him to do so. The more he thought of it, the more he realized that he couldn’t leave. He’d been in the same spot for seventeen years. Magneto promised that life would go on within the new administration. Lucinda Chin had thought her husband more than a little crazy at first. But at six o’clock in the morning, she had finally relented, agreeing to wait and see what developed.

  Howard opened the deli ninety minutes late. Fifteen minutes later, the first customer had come in. There hadn’t been many. Most of the people still in the city weren’t yet brave enough to venture out. But there were a few. And he knew there would be more.

  It would be okay. After all, his landlord was a cowardly sort, and probably had already left Manhattan. He expected to renegotiate his lease very soon. The big problem was going to be getting fresh stock in. He had no idea when the conflict would be over and his deliveries would start coming again.

  n

  There would be no trucks that day, however. Of that he was certain.

  Lucinda was still upstairs doing laundry, he thought, when the bell above the door jingled. Howard looked up and was pleased to see a whole group this time. A woman and four men. He smiled at them, but they didn’t smile back.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing,” the small Latino in the front asked.

  “Pardon me?” Howard responded, raising an eyebrow. These people made him nervous.

  “He asked what you thought you were doing?” an overweight black man snapped, coming quickly across the deli and crowding Howard where he stood organizing the salad bar.

  “Get out of my shop,” Howard answered. “I don’t know what you want, but if you’re not a paying customer, you can go now.”

  “Are you just stupid, or haven’t you seen the news, looked outside your own door?” the woman, who might have been barely out of her teens, asked incredulously.

  “Enough of that,” said a guy in the back. This one was clean cut, an All-American kind of look, though he wore a gray duster coat like something out of postmodernist cowboy films, which Howard loved. He wished he had a jacket like that.

  But now was not the time. Now, he only wanted these people out of his store.

  “If you’re going to rob me, I’m quite outnumbered,” Howard said. “You might as well go on with your business.”

  “We’re not here to rob you, sir,” said the All-American. “These people want to know why you’re cooperating with Magneto.’ ’

  Howard didn’t get it.

  “Cooperating?” he asked, shaking his head. “Who’s cooperating? I’ve never seen Magneto. Don’t know as I’ve ever seen a mutant, really, except for that Blob guy years ago at a carnival, before I’d ever even heard of mutants. I’m just running my business. I’m not going to let this ... occupation send me running scared.”

  “That’s admirable Mr. ...?”■ the woman began.

  “Chin,” he said.

  “Mr. Chin. I’m Gabi Frigerio.”

  She introduced the others. The man who had yet to speak was her brother, Michael, the biggest and most powerful looking of the bunch. The Latino was called Miguelito, and the heavy fellow Lamarre.

  “We have moved underground, sir,” Gabi continued. “None of us was willing to leave the city, either, but we’re also not willing to live as an oppressed people. Don’t you understand what it means, what Magneto has done?”

  Howard still didn’t get it.

  “He’s declared himself emperor, buddy,” Michael said, finally speaking up. “That means whatever he says goes. No voting.”

  “I never voted anyway,” Howard said with a shrug. “I mean, how bad can it be? I was never rich, never expected to be. As long as I have my deli, and life goes on, what’s the difference?”

  “You’ll see the difference when the muties come in and roust you and there isn’t a freakin’ thing you can do about it. They can do anything they want and you can’t even look ’em in the eye,” Lamarre said.

  “Hey, Lamarre, watch it,” the all-American said, glaring at Lamarre ominously.

  “You might as well be a serf, or a slave,” Gabi said. “In World War II, they shot French people who collaborated with the German army.”

  “So you’re going to shoot me?” Howard asked, having no trouble believing he might be shot, but astonished at the reason behind it.

  “No,” Miguelito said after a moment. “We don’t work that way, Mr. Chin. That’s what the mutants might do, for a kick. But not us.”

  “Last night, Magneto’s Acolytes and other mutants were responsible for at least three dozen murders in this city,” Michael said.

  “I didn’t hear that,” Howard said, raising an eyebrow.

  “The MTV offices have been set up as some kind of guerilla outpost. A lot of reporters are working from there, from different papers and networks. They expect to be brought down at any time, but for now, they’re dealing the news straight from the top of the deck,” Gabi explained.

  “Wow,” Howard said, for he could think of no other response. “A lot of those guys are my customers. I should probably bring them some coffee, bagels, or something.”

  “You just don’t get it!” Lamarre snapped at him again. “This is a war, man!”

  “Not for me,” Howard said, insulted that the man thought he was too stupid to understand them. “I’m forty-seven years old, friend. This shop is all I’ve got. If the army can’t stop Magneto, then I expect I’ll be paying my taxes to him next year.”

  “Don’t worry, Mr. Chin,” Drake said. “Magneto’s going down. But it won’t be the army who takes him out of the game.”

  “Who, then?” Howard asked. “I’m happy to help you people any way I can if I can be sure Magneto’s people won’t be sticking around. If they do, eventually they’ll get around to destroying you and me and this deli, once they know I’ve been helping you. How can you be sure he’ll be gone? Who’s strong enough to beat him, and those huge robots, and all the other mutants he’s got gathered up?”

  “The X-Men,” Drake said. “The X-Men will take him down.”

  “The X-Men have been captured,” Howard said, exasperated. “They’ve already lost.”

  “Four X-Men were captured,” Drake said. “There’s plenty more where that came from.”

  Howard Chin watched in awe as Drake’s entire body turned to ice. Only that gray duster didn’t freeze.

  Howard shivered, staring at Drake. He knew who the man was now, of course. Everyone had read about the X-Men. Drake had to be Iceman. Suddenly Howard had begun to believe everything would be all right after all.

  “Who wants coffee?” he offered.

  • * *

  “So, Caroline, what exactly is your mutant power, anyway?” Kevin O’Leary asked.

  “Um, well, see, it’s nothing special really,” the attractive girl with the gun in her hand answered. “I’m not, like, an Alpha or anything.”

  “Alpha?”

  “Yeah, that’s what the Acolytes call a really powerful mutant,” Caroline said.

  “So what do you do?” Kevin asked again.

  “If I concentrate, okay, my skin gives off these chemicals that are like a, whadayacall, a sedative. I make people sleepy, but, see, I haven’t quite been able to actually force anyone to go to sleep. Not yet, anyway,” she answered, not meeting his eyes, reddening slightly a
t her embarrassment over having such relatively ineffective mutant abilities.

  “Hey,” Kevin said warmly, his charisma working overtime, “I think that’s a cool power. You could probably be a great hypnotist, take Vegas by storm. You could make a bundle helping insomniacs too.”

  “Yeah,” Caroline said, offering a shy smile. “I guess. But it doesn’t do much good in a fight.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Kevin said incredulously. “I can’t believe Magneto doesn’t have you at his side all the time. Come on! Anybody wants to attack, you can slow them down enough so they don’t have a chance. I’d say that’s pretty useful.” . .

  “You think so?” Caroline asked hopefully.

  Kevin kept piling it on. As Trish Tilby watched, she began to feel bad for the girl, perhaps seventeen or eighteen and none too bright, who’d been assigned to guard them. Magneto obviously thought of them as low risk, and with good reason. They were there by choice, covering the takeover of Manhattan, and if he wanted to keep them there, they wouldn’t be able to run far.

  On the other hand, Magneto would certainly not want her speaking with or, God forbid, helping the X-Men to escape.

  A possibility that he must suspect, given that Dr. Henry McCoy, the Beast, was her ex-boyfriend. Trish and Hank were stiil friendly, and she respected him immensely, still cared for him a lot. She wouldn’t see him imprisoned if there was anything she could do about it.

  That’s what they were about to find out.

  “Speaking of sleepy,” she said, startling Caroline slightly, “I’m going to try getting some rest. It’s going to be a long night, more than likely, with meetings and all.”

  “We’ll try to be quiet,” Kevin responded, and smiled at Caroline again. He patted her hand lightly, as if sharing a joke, and she beamed. Trish felt guilty, taking advantage of the poor girl like that. Kevin was charming and handsome and the more he worked on the girl, the more Trish had to wonder how often he’d ambushed a woman with the same tactics in real life, and then blown her off. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

  She lay down, listening to Kevin whispering to the girl. It was more intimate, and he would have had to move closer to her. It had been obvious since the moment Caroline pulled guard duty that she was attracted to Kevin. Now they just had to see if they could take advantage of the fact.