X-men: Reborn
Brave New World Part 1 of 5
– Those Men On TV –
"Mandy?"
Just a flash: brief, but encouraging.
"Mandy, are you ok? Dinner's ready,"
A more sustained effort this time. Tiny wisps of energy danced around Mandy's fingers for a second before vanishing.
One more go before dinner.
"Amanda? What exactly are you doing up there that is so important you can't answer me?"
Miniscule and yet star-bright, an orb of energy stuttered into life between Mandy's cupped hands. As before, little sparks were born of it, and as they zipped up her arms, the tiny little light grew larger. But the sound of footsteps and a rapping on the 16-year-old's bedroom door brought Mandy back to her senses, and she clasped her hands together, extinguishing her creation, just as her mother called out:
"Amanda, why don't you answer me?"
Mandy sprung up from her bed where she lay, and pulled the door open. Her mother, a short, thin-faced woman, stood on the threshold – a mixture of anger and worry on her.
"What exactly are you up to in there?"
Mandy was quick in her reply: "Nothing." Before her mum could speak again, Mandy brushed past her and down the stairs to dinner.
The meal would have been awkward if not for the fact they were watching Eastenders. Her mother was enraptured by the program as usual, her father almost equally disinterested. Mandy herself paid attention half heartedly, but she found it hard to remain interested in things as dull as extra-marital affairs and who's doing who's laundry. Besides, all those people were normal.
A few weeks ago, Mandy would have said she was normal too. But then she discovered she was quite different, not even human. She was, as that disabled American man said on TV, a homo mutatis, one of a new race of mankind commonly called mutants. But was he right? There was that other man, the terrorist, who said mutants were homo superior and the next logical step in evolution, destined in inherit the earth from man. Mandy felt some shame when she thought of this guy. When he first broadcast live to America after the terrible bombings in Los Angeles to claim responsibility for them, she, like everyone else, hated him. To her, he was some old guy in a helmet going the wrong way about advertising his own little minority. He was just another Osama Bin Laden as far as she was concerned. And yet she had nothing to do with mutants and didn't know any, so while the bombings were tragic, she wasn't particularly interested in the topic. When this guy's group, the Brotherhood of Mutants, bombed JFK airport, Mandy felt completely different.
It wasn't because the place had more significance to her or any relatives had been there, it was because of an incident less than twenty-four hours earlier. She had been stressing over her imminent exams, and to top it all off her granddad had just passed away. She had been sobbing silently into her pillow for over an hour when she felt something prickle her face. Mandy was a curious girl, and although many might have dismissed it as a hair, she felt there was more to it than that. She lifted her head up in time to see the slightest thread of something resembling electricity circle her arm and disappear. That had been her first hint that she may be one of those mutants everyone seemed to love or loathe. At first, she was excited, and experimented more to see what she could do. Then, later that day, the news came to Britain that America had been attacked by the Brotherhood for a second time. The realisation hit her in seconds: she couldn't tell anyone about this. Mandy had just entered a whole new world that was vastly more dangerous – but possibly more thrilling – than anything she had ever known before.
"How was school today, Mandy?" said her dad as she poked at her carrots unenthusiastically.
"Alright I guess," it hadn't: the popular girls had picked on her yet again. What would be the good of her telling her dad though? He would only tell her to talk to a teacher, who would ultimately do nothing. Sometimes, Mandy wished she could find a way of turning her "powers" on those girls, but then again, that would reveal herself to everyone and open a whole new can of worms. She couldn't bear loosing the precious few friends she had.
"Good, that's what I like to here," replied Dad, "How long to your exams now?"
"I've had three already," said Mandy with a little more bitterness than intended.
"Ah I remember. So that's why you've been in your room so much? Revising?"
"Yeah," said Mandy simply.
"Would you both be quiet? We're meant to be watching this you know," snapped her mother. Mandy sighed. This was all that was needed, the spark for the flame.
"Maybe we'd know what our daughter was doing more if we didn't watch this shit every dinnertime," snarled Dad.
"How are we meant to keep up if we don't watch it!" returned Mum, her voice shrill.
"I don't give a –"
Mandy bolted the rest of her dinner and left. She wasn't interested, and didn't need to hear another argument. When she got back to her room, she flicked on the TV. She should be revising in all actuality, but she didn't feel like it.
The bald professor of mutation was on TV again. It was a documentary on the Los Angeles attacks and he was just another on of those "talking heads" that filled the time in those sort of programs.
"Magneto sees things in black and white. In his eyes, either humans or mutants must dominate the planet. He fails to see that the two species can co-exist quite peacefully,"
How many times Mandy had read or heard that man state that mutants and humans could "co-exist" in the last few weeks she didn't know, but she was beginning to get tired of it. She really couldn't see how, especially with that mad terrorist blowing everyone up. No body in their right mind is going to love mutants while they continue to declare war on humans. That was all the worst for Mandy. She didn't know how long it would be before someone discovered realised she was one of them. When they did…she shuddered to think about what would happen.
"My sympathy goes to all those young mutants out there who Magneto has scared into firmly remaining hidden,"
God, it was like this guy was psychic or something.
A few days later, her exams over, Mandy's parents decided to take her on a weekend away to London. The relationship with her parents had been degrading ever since she discovered her mutation. Her father was extremely anti-mutant, and her mother followed suit, causing a great resentment in Mandy, albeit an unspoken one. Their prejudice was totally unfounded in anything but ignorance and faceless fear; they only hated mutants because Magneto had made those threats. It drove her father livid, as threats by any secular group always did. He was very much a man with ideals of freedom and atheism, a mainstream, run-of-the-mill, opinionated, salesman. Nothing anyone could say would dissuade him of his views
When they got to London, Mandy was still not talking to her father if she could help it, which didn't make the trip to Madame Tussaud's particularly successful. The anti-mutant protest-taking place nearby didn't help things. As they stood in the queue for tickets, a large number of the protesters strolled on by down the street. Mandy flushed at the sight of them – even though there was nothing physically different about her, she kept on thinking that any moment someone would accuse her of being a mutant. The protesters also sparked a deluge of anti-mutant grumbling from her father, which only served to harden the current dislike Mandy had for him.
The day passed quite quickly; Mandy liked seeing all the delicately made waxworks, and they had a nice lunch in a café nearby. It was approaching rush hour when they returned to the tube station, and the number of people around them seemed to be multiplying by the minute. As Mandy's mum fiddled in her purse for their tickets to get through the barriers, Mandy noticed a very odd man standing perfectly still in the corner of the room, about ten feet from her. He was dressed in a grey suit with a high collar, and appeared to be looking directly at Mandy. She caught her breath; those cold, piercing blue eyes were like knives cleaving through her head, straight into her mind…immediately she thought he must know. Why else would he be looking at her? He had to know she was a mutant. Mandy barely noticed her mother tap her gently on the shoulder, but all the same, it gave her the power she needed to look away from the mysterious man.
"Come on, we're off," called her mother, and Mandy followed, casting her head around as she did so to see if she could catch sight of the man again, but he was gone. Before she knew it, Mandy was through the barriers and walking briskly along side her parents down the tunnel to the platform. As they went down one of the dizzyingly steep escalators, she suddenly heard a clear and resonant voice say:
Do not get on the train.
Mandy blinked. Even though the voice was not particularly loud, she could hear it perfectly, as if the person, a male it sounded like, was speaking in her ear. It spoke again:
Do not get on the train, or you and your parents will die.
Fear rose up within her like water flooding from a burst pipe and she gripped the clammy railing of the escalator for dear life. The man's voice had not sounded like a threat, but more of a warning. Then she remembered that people around her must have been able to hear it as well, and she leaned forward to talk to her mum on the step below.
"Are we still getting on the train?" she whispered, trying to sound calm.
"What?" replied her mother, bemused by the question.
"That…voice, didn't you hear it? It told us not to get on the train or–"
"Voice? What?"
Mandy's fear doubled in a heartbeat. Her mother had heard nothing. Looking around, she noticed no one else looked even slightly concerned. No, she alone had heard the voice. A crazy thought went through her head: was it God? Mandy had never been religious, but then again, she had never heard a voice so clearly that no one else had heard.
"Mum, we can't get on the train," said Mandy, leaning forward again. Seconds later they were off the escalator, "Mum?"
"What?"
"We can't get on this train!" Mandy was desperately trying to keep her voice as quiet as possible, for fear of being singled out and branded a troublemaker. The little complex of tunnels leading to various platforms they were now in was packed; a group of Japanese tourists clutching rucksacks and cameras barged past her.
"Mandy, what's going on?" said her dad.
"We mustn't get on that train…or we'll…we'll…we just can't get on it!"
"Why?" asked her mother shrilly, confusion etched on her face.
"I've just got a feeling…" begun Mandy, but she trailed off – what would they think if she told them about a voice only she heard?
"C'mon," said her father brusquely, grabbing Mandy's hand. She struggled against him in vain, torn between not wanting to cause a scene and obeying the mysterious warning. One great tug from her father pulled Mandy to her feet and senses: there was no point in fighting; she wouldn't beat him this way. Sullen and as slow as possible she followed her parents to the platform in time to see the train they had intended to catch pull out of the enclosed cylindrical station. Her father swore loudly, before swiftly turning on Mandy.
"Why do you always play these silly little games?" he snarled. The Japanese tourists who had passed Mandy earlier, now the only other people left on the platform, stared at them. Fortunately for Mandy, this caused her mother, who hated receiving any public attention at all, to intervene.
"Stop it," she said, laying a hand on her husband's shoulder, "They'll be another train along in a few minutes."
Despite this fact however, the tourists at the other end of the platform made for the exit. They were a curious bunch Mandy thought – one was enormously fat and the slinkier of the two women wore the strangest pair of scarlet earrings she had ever seen. Just as they were disappearing from sight, the woman in the earrings made a sudden, jerky movement with her hand, and a deep, rumbling boom issued from some way off down the tunnel where the train had gone. Seconds later, and a storm cloud of smoke streamed toward them. The three of them backed towards the exit and shielded their mouths.
"What is going on?" said Mandy's mum nervously. Mandy herself had a dreadful feeling she did know what had just happened.
"Look!" shouted her father, pointing in the direction of the smoke. The shimmering silhouette of a man appeared and then there he was, stumbling towards them, wearing a torn and bloody business suit.
"Bomb," he coughed, "Bomb on the train…" Mandy's dad rushed forwards to help him up onto the platform just as a wave of medics and officials came pouring out of the entrance and surrounded them all with a cacophony of questions and other panicked speech.
Outside on the busy London street, a group of six Japanese tourists strode away from the tube station they had just bombed. The women leading the group, wearing black studded earrings, laughed.
"A complete success, no?" she said to the group at large.
"We have yet to get out of here, Raven," said the man behind her, whom she saw as wearing a high collared grey outfit. Of course, everyone else saw him as a short and stocky Japanese man wearing a Hawaiian shirt, "Excellent cover by the way, Mastermind," he nodded to the person on his left, who was tall with a silver ponytail and dark glasses. He didn't answer; he was concentrating on keeping the vast number of people surrounding them under the illusion they were all innocent tourists. A wave of panic was passing through the crowd; the realisation that the capital had just been victim to a terrorist attack was sinking in and spreading. The women called Raven laughed.
"I love to see the Sapiens' little lives come to a stand still," she cackled. The thin young man next to her smiled meekly. In direct contrast, the woman in scarlet by his side looked like she might be sick. Their enormously fat colleague who lumbered along in the rear simply gave a rumbling chortle.
Presently they reached a van parked about half a mile away from the station, and piled in. At last, Mastermind's illusion dropped and they could be seen as normal again. Raven was revealed as a slinky woman with azure skin, windswept ruby red hair and glimmering yellow eyes. Of course, her ability to shapeshift meant that no one except her colleagues were familiar with this default form. Whether it was a mark of reverence for the act they had just committed, or because they didn't get on with one another, there was no talking in the van as they drove off. It would be a long journey home back to headquarters, but for the Brotherhood of Mutants, it didn't matter. Their mission was accomplished.
The next day was Sunday, and considering the horrors of the previous day, Mandy and her parents were glad there was no work or school to attend. Her mother had not spoken much, which unfortunately couldn't be said for her father. When Magneto had broadcast only a few hours after the attack took place, Mandy's dad burst into a bombardment of abuse that almost drowned out the mutant terrorist's chilling words:
"Let this be a warning to all the nations of the world who oppress mutants. The Brotherhood will not cease its actions until control of the superpowers is handed over to us. Understand Homo Sapiens that you're dominance of this world is coming to an end: the time of the mutant has come!"
Mandy herself was shaken up pretty badly; not only because of the bombings, but also because of the mysterious voice that had saved her from them. It had served as a harsh reminder of her mortality, not to mention how dangerous the current atmosphere was for her kind. Though she would deny it to friends and family, she had to accept she was a mutant and pretty soon someone was going to find out.
Late that afternoon, while her parents were out shopping, Mandy heard the front doorbell ring and following it a swift but brief knock. Grumbling to herself that it better not be her parents forgetting to take the front door key again, she trotted down the stairs and opened the door a little. Before her stood a tall, important looking woman with high cheek bones and – most oddly – hair a shade of deep purple.
"Good afternoon," she said, smiling with bright white teeth, "I'm Elizabeth Braddock, Social Services,"
Mandy stiffened, a creeping voice at the back of her hand telling her why this woman was here. "Do you want my mu- I mean, Mr and Mrs Exton?"
"Oh no. I'm here to see Miss Amanda Exton. Is that you?" There was something compelling in the woman's dark eyes that told Mandy she didn't have much to fear from her.
"Erm, yes," said Mandy nervously, "Do you want to come in,"
The woman gave another broad smile, "Lovely,"
Ten minutes later the pair were sat in the kitchen, Ms Braddock, who insisted Mandy call her Betsy, with a steaming cup of tea and Mandy a glass of water. The woman was taking out several pieces of paper from her briefcase. Presently, she looked up, straightened her skirt, and spoke,
"Well, Mandy, I'm here today for one reason really. It's recently come to our attention that you possess the mutant gene."
Mandy nearly choked on her water. Her face was etched with fear, unable to speak.
"It's ok!" continued Betsy quickly, "You've done nothing wrong. The government isn't in the business of hurting mutants."
"But…" stammered Mandy, "What about all the stuff on television?"
Betsy closed her eyes for a moment, seemingly in exasperation, "A lot of what is being presented about mutants by the media is untrue and not reflective of the governments stance on the mutant phenomena. There are no discriminative laws against mutants in this country,"
"But…" Mandy began again, "Why are you here then?"
"To make you an offer," smiled Betsy, pushing a piece of paper towards her, "The government is looking to help young mutants come to terms with their abilities. So, they're setting up a group for people like you to join."
Mandy looked at the form on the table. Printed in bold across the top was EXCALIBUR. She hesitated before answering.
"What…why me?"
"Because you are just the sort of person Excalibur needs," answered Betsy, "A bright young girl who is itching to learn about the gifts she's been given."
Mandy narrowed her eyes, "How did you know that? I never said I wanted to learn about my powers!"
Betsy gave a warm, comprehending smile.
You're not the only one with powers.
Mandy shot up in surprise. It was just like at the station – a voice, clear and resonant – but this time it was Betsy's voice. She couldn't have spoken, her lips hadn't moved.
"H-how?" asked Mandy, trembling so much she had to grab the table for support.
I'm a telepath, came the bodiless voice again, that's how I know about you.
"You're psychic?" asked Mandy, a hint of her trademark curiosity in her tone. She stared at Betsy in disbelief. But before she had time to answer, the front door clicked and Mandy's mum and dad walked in, each laden down with bags of shopping.
"Hello!" called Mandy's mum cheerfully before she caught sight of Betsy sitting at the table, visible from the hallway. Her manner changed instantly. "Who are you?"
Betsy rose, straightened her skirt and strode towards Mrs Exton, "Elizabeth Braddock, social services," She stretched out a hand, but it was not taken.
"Social services?" said the much harsher voice of Mandy's dad. Mandy, who had yet to be seen by either parent, cringed, and then suddenly realised – what if Betsy tells them about me being a mutant?
"What have you done with our daughter?" blustered Mr Exton just as Mandy emerged into the hall.
"Amanda!" cried her mother, "Do you mind telling me exactly what is going on here? Who is this woman?"
"She's…she's…" began Mandy, but no ideas came to her.
"From Social Services, like I said," finished Betsy, sounding impatient, "Your daughter has done nothing wrong. In fact, she's done the opposite. She's achieved the top mark for her Biology GCSE in the country,"
All three of them stared at Betsy.
Just play along, Betsy whispered to Mandy telepathically.
"Yeah, yeah, the best in the country," said Mandy quickly, albeit a little unconvincingly.
"But I thought you hate science?" asked her mother.
"Well, obviously, she has an aptitude for it even if that is the case Mrs Exton," said Betsy, "I am very sorry but I really must be going now however. Your daughter will receive written notification of her achievement shortly. Good day," She retrieved her jacket and briefcase briskly and before any of them could say or do anything, Betsy was out the door.
Seconds later, Mandy's father had rounded on his daughter – "What in God's name was THAT?"
The argument was brief but turbulent. Mandy's father simply didn't buy Betsy's excuse, and to Mandy's general annoyance, her mother proved exceptionally good at picking holes in it as well.
"Social services don't deal with exam matters!" she had shrieked, "And did you see her hair? The council wouldn't employ her!"
Mandy had to admit, now that she was sitting in the safety of her room perusing the form Betsy had given her, it did seem a bit suspicious. This Excalibur group sounded scarily militant and there was a slight edge of tackiness about the form that suggested it was not an official document. Still, it did seem an enticing offer – albeit one that somehow still was not reality, only a distant childhood fantasy.
A knock on the front door from downstairs caused Mandy to stir from her musings. She glanced up at the time. It was nearly 11pm, who could be knocking at this time? Moments later Mandy heard the door open and then – to her utter horror – a gunshot. Her breathing became unnaturally rapid within seconds.
A scream, another gunshot: Mandy's pulse was racing. Stinging bites of terrible thought attacked her. She couldn't think about what had just happened. What might have just happened? Then everything got worse: she could hear someone coming up the stairs.
Instinct guiding her more than anything, she cupped her hands together and concentrated harder than every before. Her heart pounding in her ears, feet pounding on the landing, breath pounding out of her, there was no time. Barely a flicker had passed between her fingers when the door burst open and two men in black suits appeared. Mandy pressed herself up against a wall as one of them pointed a handgun at her.
"You are Amanda Exton?" the man asked. There was no emotion in his voice.
"Yes," said Mandy very quietly. She gazed up at him, wondering why he hadn't shot her. The other man lunged forward. Although Mandy jumped at this he only snatched up the form Betsy had given her. The two men exchanged a significant look.
"Amanda Exton," said the man with the gun, "You have been found guilty of involvement with the illicit activities of the known terrorist organisation the Brotherhood of Mutants. By the authority of Her Majesty's Government, you are under arrest,"
The gun fired…but death didn't greet Mandy. She looked down at her chest and saw a syringe dart protruding from it. Things were getting darker, and darker, and hazier, and the men were coming for her, and…everything went black.