Marvel Classic Novels--X-Men

by Christopher Golden

  Then they were inside, in the thick of it. Wolverine ducked a plasma blast from one of the Kleinstocks and dove at the man. Senyaka’s whip snagged his ankle, and Wolverine fell short of his aim, claws tearing a ragged gash in Harlan Kleinstock’s chest instead of ripping him open.

  Logan lashed out, hacking through Senyaka’s psionic whip and making the mutant cry out in pain. A young boy of not more than fourteen was tossing Bishop around off to one side, while a feral teenage girl with a mouth full of hundreds of needle-thin fangs faced off against the Beast.

  Without warning, Storm drove a huge blast of cold air, damp with rain, into the lobby and knocked all of the combatants from their feet. Wolverine tried not to become disoriented as he was borne aloft and slammed into a marble column. A moment later, the wind died down and Wolverine leaped to his feet once more. Bishop and the Beast were pulling themselves free from the rookie mutants, and Wolverine knew they had to make quick work of the group or they would never reach Magneto.

  “Enough o’ this penny-ante crap,” he snarled. “Let’s move!”

  Wolverine went for the stairwell, knowing the elevators would not be safe for them. Sven Kleinstock blocked his way, side by side with a muscle-bound guy who seemed to be sweating acid that ate into the marble floor wherever it dripped from his body.

  “You hurt my brother,” Sven Kleinstock said angrily. “You’re gonna pay for that, wild-boy.”

  Wolverine lashed out at Sven Kleinstock before the Acolyte could even begin to formulate an attack out of the threats he had made. Rather than skewer the man, as he wished, he slashed Kleinstock’s chest just as he had done to the man’s brother.

  “You guys are twins,” Wolverine said, his voice a cynical drawl. “Figure you oughta have a matched set o’ scars, too. Don’t want to make it too easy for people to tell you apart.”

  “You’ve made a mistake, X-Man,” the acid-dripping brute said, his voice confident and menacing. “Magneto’s will is law. I am called Acid, and you cannot touch me. The chemicals in my skin will instantly eat away your flesh if you try to harm me. Surrender, or I will be forced to attack.”

  Wolverine looked at the rookie in astonishment for a moment. The guy was either ignorant or stupid.

  “Should’a made your move when you had a shot, bub,” he said, and grabbed Acid’s throat with his left hand even as he buried the claws of his right into the chest of the novice Acolyte. He didn’t kill the guy, just perforated him a bit. With the neophytes, there was always a chance they’d come around to ol’ Charlie Xavier’s way of thinking.

  “What are you … aarrgh!” Acid shouted. “But you can’t touch me! The acid …”

  Wolverine let go and Acid toppled to the marble floor. His adamantium claws were not even scratched or pitted from contact with Acid’s skin, but the palm of his left glove had been eaten away, along with much of the flesh beneath. The knuckles of his right hand had suffered the same fate. They were already healing, and Wolverine steeled himself against the pain. There were times when the healing hurt more than the injury itself, and this was one of them.

  Off to Wolverine’s left, Senyaka attacked Bishop, which was foolish of the Acolyte if he knew anything of Bishop’s powers. The force of his psionic whip was absorbed by the future X-Man, and Bishop shocked Senyaka with a blast of his own power. The Beast leaped above the needle-fanged girl and caused her to slam into the wall, where she howled in agony.

  Harlan and Sven Kleinstock were concentrating their efforts on taking Storm down. She stood in a scatter of shattered glass where the revolving doors used to be. When they went for her, Storm raised her hands and out of nowhere came a massive bolt of lightning. The Kleinstock brothers were frozen in place as the electricity of the lightning coursed through their bodies, and then they slumped to the ground.

  “Now, let’s take Magneto!” Storm yelled, and they headed for the stairs. Already Wolverine could feel the wind swelling behind them, a wind Storm might be able to use to shoot them up toward the top of the stairwell. In other circumstances, moving all four of them would be difficult, but the stairwell was enclosed, and Storm would be able to focus her power.

  They raced for the stairs, were about to pass the elevators when their doors exploded outward in a shriek of metal. Wolverine had only a moment to notice Magneto floating, in all his imperial grandeur, out of the elevator shaft. Then he and his teammates were thrown back by a wave of magnetic power. While he might move the other three X-Men by the iron in their blood, Magneto could simply grab mental hold of Wolverine’s adamantium skeleton and push. He did.

  The four X-Men tumbled to the ground in front of the shattered face of the Empire State Building. The Beast was first to his feet, but the rest quickly followed. Wolverine’s claws had retracted during Magneto’s attack, but they slid out once again, gleaming in the sunshine.

  “You can bring on as many toy soldiers as you like, Magneto,” Wolverine snarled. “But at the end of the day, it’s us against you. And like always, you’re gonna lose!”

  “Surrender, Magneto,” Storm urged. “Do not push this insanity any further.”

  “You X-Men are either brave or very stupid,” a female voice said, and Wolverine spun to see Amelia Voght, and a few unwelcome friends.

  Voght stood at the center of the street, with the Blob, Pyro, Cargil, Unuscione, Scanner, and a whole bunch of other mutants that Wolverine would have called losers any other day. He recognized Hairbag and Slab, a couple of super-strong stooges who once worked for Mr. Sinister. There were other faces he recognized as well, and none of them friendly.

  Emerging from the Empire State Building were Magneto, Senyaka, half a dozen rookies and a pair of angry, bleeding Kleinstocks.

  “You are hopelessly outmatched, X-Men,” Magneto said calmly. “I don’t think I will even need to call any Sentinels in to subdue you. In fact, I believe I can say with confidence that you are as good as defeated already.”

  “The X-Men can never be defeated, Magnus,” the Beast said. “You know that. Take down one or two, or four of us, but there will always be more X-Men to pursue Xavier’s dream.”

  “Charles Xavier is a fool,” Magneto snapped, and Wolverine took satisfaction in that. The Beast knew how to push the mutant terrorist’s buttons, that was for sure.

  “I didn’t hear nobody yellin’ forfeit, Magneto,” Wolverine growled. “Come on, slick. Just you an’ me.”

  “I’m tempted to kill you, you know,” he said. “Particularly you, Wolverine. Your boastful ranting has become most tiresome. But I believe I will allow you to bear witness to my great triumph, the victory of mutants over humanity. Perhaps I bear some small foolish hope that you will begin to see the wisdom of my actions and join with me.”

  “You madman!” Bishop shouted suddenly. “You’ve doomed all mutants with your actions!”

  Bishop fired off several plasma rounds, but Magneto easily deflected them.

  “That will do,” he said. “Take them, Acolytes. Now.”

  A sea of mutant warriors charged the X-Men from all sides. With the Beast and Bishop at his back, Wolverine began to fight. Still, he knew it was useless. Magneto could probably beat the four of them singlehandedly, and he was simply hanging back and allowing his Acolytes to make a go of it. They didn’t have a chance in hell of winning. Not without reinforcements. And reinforcements were not forthcoming.

  “Now, Magneto, it is time to face your destiny!” Storm cried as she rose into the air and began whipping her hands around to command the winds and the storm, to call lightning down on Magneto.

  “Ah, Ororo, perhaps the most powerful of the X-Men in your way,” Magneto called to her. “But with a fatal flaw.”

  Wolverine saw what he was going to do, but Storm, unfortunately, did not. Before Logan could warn her, Magneto had used his powers to tear off the trunk of a Toyota parked nearby. The huge metal square flew through the air behind Storm. She didn’t even see it coming, and then Magneto had wrapped it around her as though it wer
e nothing more than tissue paper. The noise it made as it hit the ground, with Storm inside, was terrible to hear.

  His mind reeling, heart sick and gut on fire, Wolverine resisted the urge to tear Magneto’s throat out. The man knew Storm was a severe claustrophobe, and had played on that fact for amusement. Still, by himself, even with his comrades, Logan knew he could not win. There was only one thing to do.

  With a roar of fury, he charged toward Magneto, who looked up in surprise, then narrowed his eyes with displeasure.

  “Oh, please, Wolverine,” Magneto said. “You of all people …”

  With a flick of his wrist, using the magnetic power at his mental command, Magneto picked Wolverine up by his adamantium skeleton and threw him a block and a half.

  * * *

  “ENOUGH!” Magneto shouted. “It’s over!”

  The fighting had finished, and his Acolytes were just taunting the X-Men now. Beast and Bishop were restrained, barely conscious, and Storm was still confined within the car trunk. Magneto could hear her screaming. At some point, he would have to release her from that metal shroud. The sooner he was able to get the restraints on them that would prevent their minds from accessing their powers, the more comfortable Magneto would be. As confident as he was now, any living X-Man was dangerous.

  Why, then, was he letting them live?

  It was simple. For the moment, at least, it was the next best thing to being able to rub his victory in Charles Xavier’s face personally. His philosophy had triumphed, but it would do no good if his opponents did not witness it, and concede defeat. It was even possible that, before long, he might be able to force Xavier to concede defeat. In person.

  That moment was a long time coming. It would be wonderful.

  Yet, something was amiss. Something.

  “Where is Wolverine?” he asked, realizing immediately what had gone wrong.

  A moment later, Amelia Voght confirmed it for him.

  “I am sorry, Lord Magneto,” she said, uncharacteristically using the proper deference. “It appears that Wolverine has escaped.”

  Magneto breathed deeply, wondering whether he should simply allow Wolverine to run. It was not as if he could do much harm to the mutant empire, now that it had begun. Yet, his Acolytes would expect him to give chase, and it would not do to allow them room for wonder or conjecture. Now that he had truly assumed the mantle of emperor of mutants, his plans demanded complete obedience in the ranks.

  “Amelia, take Senyaka, the Kleinstocks, and Needle, and go after Wolverine. Do not return without him,” Magneto instructed.

  Amelia nodded and began to withdraw.

  “Attention, followers of Magneto!” a voice boomed over a bullhorn. “This is Major Ivan Skolnick of the U.S. Army. Surrender yourselves immediately, or you will be terminated!”

  Stunned, Magneto turned to see a dozen soldiers, armed with weapons even he was unfamiliar with.

  “Scanner, how did they …” he began, but already he could see that Scanner was shaking her head in anticipation of his question. She did not know how they had gotten past the Sentinels.

  Then it hit him. “Followers of Magneto,” Major Skolnick had said. But what of Magneto himself? It was all too obvious. He was to be slaughtered, eliminated. They were taking no chances. And Magneto had no idea what their weapons were or what they could do. With his magnetic ability he reached out for those weapons, prepared to shatter them. He was hardly surprised when he realized the weapons had no metal parts, none at all. After all, they had been made to kill him.

  “On my mark!” Skolnick shouted.

  Too late to attack, Magneto braced to defend himself.

  THIRTEEN

  MAGNETO instantly erected a magnetic force shield around himself that he hoped would protect him from their assault. And after the initial barrage, he would destroy them.

  That, at least, was his intention. What happened next astonished him, as well as the rest of the mutants gathered in the street. But it was clear that no one was more astonished than the soldiers under Major Skolnick’s command.

  “Abort mission!” Major Skolnick shouted.

  Silence reigned supreme for the space of several heartbeats. All eyes were on Major Skolnick. Magneto stared at the man as though he had spoken in some ancient, forgotten language. So did his subordinates. Magneto’s gathered followers, the new citizens of Manhattan, of Haven, began to close in on the soldiers.

  “No!” Magneto said, his deep voice rumbling through the air, breaking the silence. None of the mutants moved again.

  “Major?” one of the soldiers shouted across the street to Skolnick. “What the hell …?”

  Major Skolnick hung his head, lowered his weapon, then dropped it to the pavement.

  “He must be under the mutie’s control somehow,” a female soldier shouted. “Take them down!”

  “No!” Skolnick commanded.

  Weaponless, he lifted his hands and gestured toward the members of his squad. Magneto watched in fascination as the air in front of Skolnick’s hands seemed to bend and warp. Then there was a resounding boom as a blast of directed sonic energy burst from Skolnick and slammed the rest of the soldiers to the ground, covering their ears. None of them moved to get up. In truth, none of them moved.

  “Are they dead?” Magneto asked as he moved slowly, warily toward Skolnick. It had occurred to him that this could still all be part of some plot to capture him. There was a more likely scenario however.

  “God, no,” Skolnick said, self-loathing tainting his response. “I could never do that to my own people.”

  “We are your people, Major,” Magneto said, testing his hypothesis.

  Skolnick looked up at him, perhaps preparing a sharp retort, but then the man seemed to collapse with relief.

  “Promise you won’t hurt them,” he said. “They’re good people, just doing their jobs.”

  “If only they had known that which they despised the most was also the leader they looked up to and admired,” Magneto said, truly saddened by the state of the world. “Don’t worry, Major, we will deposit them at the border unharmed. In the meantime, welcome to Haven, my friend. With your obviously substantial mutant power, you will be a great asset to the community, I am certain.”

  “I joined the army to fight for freedom, for people’s right to be free,” Skolnick said. “Now, I want to make sure that I stay free, that what children I may one day have will remain free, even if they’re mutants like their father.”

  Magneto looked closely at the man, and decided to accept him at face value. His emotions were so powerful, so raw, that they had to be genuine. “Then you share my dreams, Major,” Magneto said. “Come with me, now. I need someone to organize my many new recruits, and I believe you’re the man for the job.”

  Skolnick seemed to brighten somewhat at the prospect of responsibility, to stand a little straighter with the knowledge that he would still be part of the hierarchy, commanding a fighting force.

  “I don’t relish the idea of fighting against my former comrades,” he said, not quite saluting but speaking in tones reserved for a commander.

  “If they will allow us our freedom, you will not have to,” Magneto said. “I know you may feel as if I forced your hand, forced a decision upon you by my actions. Indeed, that was my intention. To force a decision upon many hundreds of thousands of mutants around the world. My message to those mutants is simple: stand with us, or stand aside.”

  “I stand with you,” Skolnick said.

  “Excellent,” Magneto responded. “In twenty minutes, I will address the citizens of Haven. I would be honored if you would stand with me on the platform.”

  “Yes, sir!” Major Ivan Skolnick snapped. And this time, he actually did salute.

  Magneto liked that. Quite a bit, actually.

  * * *

  WHEN Magneto had bent and twisted the car trunk around her like a metal shroud, Storm had begun to scream. Thirty seconds passed before she was even capable of rational thought. S
he had forced herself to stop crying out in panic, then fought to slow her fast, heavy breathing to avoid hyperventilation. It was an exercise she had been through before, each time she had needed to fight against her claustrophobia. It had not become any easier.

  Childhood trauma had given her an obsessive, uncontrollable fear of confinement in small spaces. Magneto had known that, and taken advantage of the fact. Unlike so many other enemies they had faced over the years, Magneto did not consider himself one of the bad guys. Indeed, for a time, he had affiliated himself with the X-Men, attempted Xavier’s dream, tried to live within the parameters of the life the X-Men led.

  The attempt failed rather spectacularly. But that had not stopped Magneto from learning about them. Who they were. What made them tick. Their strengths and, unfortunately, their weaknesses. They had never completely trusted him, never really thought of him as a friend, or even as a teammate, but he had gotten in close. Magneto knew them better than any warrior should ever know his enemy. Many times, it had worked to their disadvantage.

  But to Storm’s thinking, never so horribly as now.

  Storm was sweating, but her arms were trapped at her sides making her unable to wipe the beads of moisture from her face. She blinked to clear them from her eyes and fought against the urge to grind her teeth, or, conversely, to open her mouth and scream again.

  “Goddess, no,” she whispered.

  It took all of her concentration, every good memory she could summon into her mind, every scent of air that snuck into her iron coffin, but she held the scream inside, held back the tide of panic. She could not defeat the fear, however. The fear was there, monolithic in its stature, completely insurmountable. It washed over her in waves with the ache of her body, bruised and battered by the fall to Earth. She didn’t think anything was broken. She hoped not, anyway.

  She had tried to close her eyes, but that did not help. Better to stare at the darkness, stare at the tiny cracks of light that seeped into the seam Magneto had left. Using mental exercises taught her by Professor Xavier and Jean Grey, Storm began to block out, little by little, her predicament. She removed herself, her mind, from that confined space and delved instead into her memories.