Dr. Windsor sat in the cabin of the helicopter, thinking about the events of the day.
Magneto's trial was as good as approved. The discussions among himself, Dr. McCoy, the Secretary-General, the President of the ICCt, and its Chief Prosecutor were simply for the logistics of the trial itself; that, he knew, would pose no major problems. Mystique and Commander Terell were working together without much friction; apparently, their professional courtesy towards each other held fast.
"We should be at the lab in fifteen minutes sir," one of his aides spoke over the intercom. He nodded silently.
"A penny for your thoughts," a woman sitting behind him said. "Or should I offer you more?"
"Just thinking about my work," Dr. Windsor told her without so much as a glance back. "Tell me—are your personnel on standby as I requested?"
"Of course, doctor," the woman said. "I'm prepared to lead them myself if necessary. And I'm sure Lady Oyama here"—she gestured towards another woman, this one seated beside her—"will be more than willing to accompany me if I ask her politely."
"It would be good practice," Lady Yuriko Oyama agreed. "And besides, I owe you, don't I, Dr. Innocenta?"
"Lady Oyama, I did what I was sworn to do, according to my profession," was Dr. Innocenta's answer.
Cassandra Nova sat in her wheelchair. She didn't fidget, much as most people who've been kept waiting long would be wont to do. She wasn't the type to waster her energy on something so pointless as that. She maintained her self-control by meditating. It did nothing to lessen her impatience towards their supposed host—wherever he was—but it did help prevent her from destroying something to pass the time.
She looked over to where Sebastian Shaw and Jason Wyngarde stood. They spoke softly, no doubt discussing their respective businesses. Shaw may have been trained in the sciences but he was still a merchant at heart. She knew that his loyalty was based solely on the profit that he would gain from the fruits of their labors. The same could be said for Wyngarde, although his greed was balanced out by the desire to see that his daughters could live their lives in comfort and security. She didn't begrudge them that. Necessity did make for strange bedfellows, she knew from her long and varied experience.
Shaw's eyes wandered to the small, upright figure in the wheelchair nearby. Sinister was really pressing his luck by making Cassandra wait so long.
They were gathered in the office of the former administrator for the laboratory complex that they had come to in the dark of night. Very theatric, Shaw said to himself. Truly like conspirators meeting in odd places at odd hours. Perhaps Cassandra would enjoy the joke but he wisely kept it to himself. Cassandra's ill temper was nothing to be taken lightly.
"What's taking Essex so long?" Wyngarde asked. "We arrived here an hour ahead of him."
"Perhaps he had to deal with some matters at his workplace," Shaw opined. "I must wonder why he had to take that job instead of joining us."
"Because that's where he's ideally suited, Sebastian," Cassandra spoke from where she sat. "His position in the government is perfect for the purposes to which we're committed."
The door to the office opened and one of Wyngarde's daughters entered the room. "He's here," she announced.
"Is he alone, Regan?" Wyngarde asked.
"No, I sensed two others with him," Regan Wyngarde replied. "It's probably his two aides."
"Excellent," Cassandra said, mentally wheeling her chair forward. The door opened of its own volition and she left the office to go to the heliport behind the laboratory complex. Shaw, Wyngarde, and Regan followed her at a respectful distance.
Gambit was out of the helicopter as soon as Sunfire had set it down, even if the main rotor was still spinning. He opened the cabin door and out stepped Mr. Sinister. His smile was more sharklike than usual. He was immediately joined by Dr. Innocenta and Lady Oyama. As soon as they had landed, the two women had begun scanning the surrounding area for any kind of threat. Of course, that was Gambit and Sunfire's job but the two women made a good backup for them, in any case.
"Well, well—looks like Mr. Wyngarde is here," Gambit remarked when he spotted Martinique Jason, Wyngarde's younger daughter, walking towards them as the aircraft's engines died. She was a dark-haired, somewhat dark-skinned, statuesque beauty that never failed to captivate Gambit whenever he saw her. A lot of people thought that Martinique's older sister was the more beautiful of the two of them. Gambit admitted that she was lovely to look at but he still preferred Martinique's smoldering exoticism to Regan's cool, standoffish demeanor.
He brushed his hair back with his hands. Normally, he would be wearing a suit in his normal capacity as an aide to Dr. Windsor but he was off duty. In which case, he wore head-to-toe body armor and a trench coat. He adjusted the collar of his coat using the helicopter's cabin window. His reflection reflected the smile with which he planned to flatter Martinique.
Inside the aircraft, Sunfire looked with some scorn at his fellow aide. Although Shiro was not immune to female beauty, he didn't crave for it as much as Gambit seemed to. Gambit often said that it was his obligation as a man to make a woman happy and he did so by unleashing his charm upon them. It didn't work all the time, of course, but no matter how much Sunfire pointed that out, Gambit still considered it part of his duties to flirt with any female he regarded as pretty. To the Wyngarde sisters' credit, Sunfire thought, they didn't allow themselves to be distracted by Gambit's preening whenever they were within close proximity of him.
"Yes, I expected that he would be here," Sinister commented. "Jason Wyngarde is one of the key players in our little game. And so are his daughters."
"Welcome, Mr. Essex," Martinique greeted Sinister as he approached her with his entourage. "Madame Cassandra, Dr. Shaw, and my father have been waiting for you."
"Good evening, cher," Gambit spoke before Sinister could answer. "Sorry if we kept you waiting." He smiled at her, turning the full force of her charm on her. Beside him, Sunfire let out a small snort of disdain. He kept himself from telling Gambit not to act like a fool.
"I can accept your apology, sir," Martinique said to him, favoring him with a smile of her own, "but I believe the apology should be directed to Madame Cassandra."
"That won't be necessary, young lady," spoke Cassandra. She sat in the passageway leading into the labs from the heliport. Shaw and Wyngarde flanked her. Regan stood to the right, a little distance away from the them. "I'm sure that Mr. Essex has a good reason for making us come here in the middle of the night and for making us wait so long."
"Indeed I do," Sinister assured her. "And I beg your pardon for the long delay, Madame Cassandra. Come—I've much to report." He walked into the passageway, his shark's smile still intact despite Cassandra's impatience. She wheeled along beside him. Shaw and Wyngarde followed them, speaking with each other. Regan and Martinique brought up the rear along with Gambit, Sunfire, and the two women that Sinister had taken along with him.
"What might this interesting report be, Essex?" Cassandra asked.
"The trial will push through." Sinister replied. "Already, the DMA's Legal Office is taking depositions form potential witnesses." He chuckled. "Surprisingly enough, there are actually people who are willing to testify in Magneto's favor."
"It won't matter," Shaw spoke up. "Magneto's as good as guilty. It's time for that old man to make way for us." He knew very well that mutantkind had long regarded Magneto as their savior, despite his failures to defeat Professor Xavier and install mutants as the dominant species on Earth. For some strange reason, Magneto was capable of reaching out to mutants and making them believe that supremacy over humans was their destiny. Not equality—supremacy. And he certainly did exert his best efforts towards achieving that goal. But his chance to take control of the world had passed. Shaw knew that the future of mutantkind rested on their shoulders now. Magneto was in his cell, tired and defeated. He and his allies, however, were only getting started.
"True enough," Wyngarde agreed. "He's past his prime." He was a Magneto loyalist himself but he didn't think it would do his daughters any good to gamble their future on someone who allowed himself to be taken captive without a struggle.
Cassandra, however, objected. "We don't want him found guilty. We want him to be acquitted. It does no good for us to have him jailed or even executed."
"I would think that would be the optimum course of action," was Regan's opinion. "Leave him alive and he can oppose your plans, Madame Cassandra."
"Young lady, if Magneto were jailed or killed, he would become stronger than he ever was," Cassandra told her. Wyngarde's daughters were brilliant, she thought, but they also suffered from a lack of foresight. Then again, they were still young, she reminded herself. "He would become a martyr, a symbol for mutantkind. Perhaps not all mutants might follow him but a great many will. Leave him alive and show them that his feet are made of clay and they will be ours to command."
"You are saying then, Madame Cassandra," Sunfire said, "that a quick death in this case will not serve to defeat the enemy?"
Cassandra stopped and wheeled around to look at Sunfire. Immediately, the others near him stepped away from him. Shaw, Wyngarde, and Sinister watched the seemingly imminent confrontation with interest.
Instead of chastising or even punishing him, however, Cassandra actually smiled. Here was a mutant who understood her way of thinking. From what she knew of him, he once studied under Professor Xavier. Before that, he actually worked alongside Mystique. What an interesting education that must have been for him, she thought. And now he works for Essex.
Cassandra bowed in acknowledgment of Sunfire's insight and told him: "Yes, Mr. Yoshida—that would be correct. It is good that you come from a culture that understands such ideas."
Sunfire bowed humbly. "Thank you, Madame Cassandra."
Sinister smoothly stepped in at that point. Proud as he was of his subordinate, he had other things to take care of that demanded his time. "Come, Madame Cassandra, there is something else that we need to discuss tonight."
Cassandra moved forward alongside Sinister again. Behind them, Gambit nudged his partner. "You're a smart boy, Shiro. I think Madame Cassandra is impressed by you, isn't she?"
"She would be impressed by you as well, Remy," Sunfire said, "if you bothered to do something other than playing around with women." Regan and Martinique heard his comment but said nothing; this little interplay among the two partners amused them.
Mr. Yoshida has his own charm, doesn't he, Martinique? Regan telepathically asked her sister.
I still think LeBeau is handsomer, Martinique replied. But then, Yoshida does have certain merits.
The sisters shared a laugh. Gambit glanced back at them. "Something funny, cher?" he asked them.
"A private joke, Mr. LeBeau," Regan replied. "Nothing more."
Sinister brought them to one of the laboratory facilities. As they stood outside a pair of electronically locked doors, Shaw asked: "What the devil is this place, Essex?"
"It used to belong to a biotechnology company," Sinister explained. "It was owned by a former colleague of mine. You may have heard of him: Alexander Breedlove."
"I think I have," Shaw said. "He was a geneticist, wasn't he?"
"One of the most brilliant geneticists I've ever had the pleasure of working with," Sinister said. "He made his fortune by creating living weapons for the government. He was in charge of several advanced research projects that served as the basis for such programs as Weapon Plus and Weapon Prime. Even SHIELD did business with him, although I'm quite certain that they knew he had Nazi ties during the Second World War." He smiled at the memory of those days when his research made significant progress due to the widespread availability of materials for his work and the near-unlimited funds that were poured into his experiments by the Third Reich. His star pupil had been almost as enthusiastic as he was; together; they made discoveries that had amazed their fellow scientists. It was with some regret that Sinister learned of his death later on. Josef was almost like a son to him.
They came to one of the end of one of the restricted wings. Signs posted throughout the area repeatedly warned that unauthorized personnel would be dealt with using deadly force. Sinister deactivated the devices that locked the doors and led the way inside. Some of the equipment used in the lab were familiar to Shaw but there were many that he'd never seen until then. Wyngarde looked around in wonder at the machines surrounding them.
"If I'm not mistaken," Dr. Innocenta spoke up, "this facility is set up for cloning, isn't it?"
"Correct, doctor," Sinister said. "I know your specialty is cybernetics but I'm pleased that you know of this technology."
"I should, considering as how I made some of it—with Madame Oyama's generosity, of course," the woman Sinister called Dr. Innocenta said.
"Ah, yes, that you did. Well worth the cost, I must say." Sinister went to a bank of computers and began to activate them. "I made my own modifications based on your original designs."
"It's a scientific marvel," Dr. Innocenta agreed. She inspected the equipment admiringly. She knew that Sinister was a brilliant scientist. She came to him some time ago to learn about genetics, a field that she felt could intersect with cybernetics. Intrigued by her ideas and more than a little impressed by her ambition as much as her intelligence, he agreed to take her on as a student. The lessons that he taught her were nothing less than cutting edge. He didn't content himself with recycling old theories but constantly pushed the envelope to formulate whole new paradigms.
In turn, Dr. Innocenta imparted her knowledge of cybernetics to her teacher. Sinister quickly found out that her considerable expertise wasn't merely academic but came from practical experimentation on test subjects—as well as herself. Her fervent desire to meld what were considered to be two different branches of science further endeared her to Sinister, who gave her the ultimate honor of assisting in some of his projects.
"You're a cyberneticist?" Martinique asked Dr. Innocenta.
Dr. Innocenta nodded. "The Lady Oyama here was one of my patients. Show them if you please, Lady Oyama."
Lady Oyama removed her gloves and a set of foot-long claws emerged from her fingers.
"I know you! You're Deathstrike!" Wyngarde exclaimed. "You were with Colonel Stryker!"
"That was the past," she said. "And my name is Lady Yuriko Oyama."
"You're a cyborg now?" Shaw asked with some interest.
"I enhanced her mutancy with technology, Dr. Shaw," Dr. Innocenta answered. "Personally, I think it's an evolutionary step. If nothing else, though, she's a much better fighter now." There was a note of pride in her voice. Yuriko Oyama had been left for dead at the late Colonel Stryker's Alkali Lake headquarters. She accompanied Sinister there when he was in search of more research materials for what he said was a major project. She discovered Lady Oyama, unconscious and half-drowned, on the rocky shore. With Sinister's approval, Dr. Innocenta took her to her own laboratories and performed several operations on her that saved her life and, inevitably, restored her to her full lethal form. Even Dr. Innocenta's best cyborg soldiers couldn't defeat her. Yuriko Oyama was living proof of the possibility of combining cybernetics and genetics.
Lady Oyama smiled noncommittally at Dr. Innocenta's compliment. Her fighting skills were the product of training under her brutally exacting father. Of course, he enhanced her physical form to make her a more dangerous combatant but he always stressed the importance of practice and of self-improvement. Thinking about that, she wondered with a predatory smile what he would think of his daughter now. And on the heels of that thought, she wondered what Logan would think of her now—and if he would still be able to defeat her. She doubted it, although she was realistic enough to know that the outcome of their next fight was still unknown. That still didn't stop her from relishing the opportunity to match skills and wits with him again.
Cassandra paid no attention to the conversation going on behind her. She watched Sinister as he prepared his machines. When he was ready, he gestured at her to accompany him into the room on the other side of a glass window fronting the computer banks. When she saw what was waiting for her inside, she spoke with an awe that surprised Sinister: "Is this...the project?"
"Yes, Madame Cassandra," Sinister said. "I've completed the work that you commissioned."
"Is it ready?"
"Of course." Sinister smiled at her. "If you wish, we may begin the final procedure."
"Leave me," she said. "I think you can do your work from outside."
Sinister nodded and exited the room, locking the door behind him.
Cassandra sat there for several moments, looking at the large cylinder before her. Various apparatus that the original scientists who once worked in the laboratory would be unable to recognize, much less operate, were attached to the cylinder. The clear plastic canopy that allowed a glimpse inside the cylinder was still shut.
So long,she thought. So long did I wait for this. No longer would she be confined in the wheelchair that had become a part of her. Soon she would be able to move about freely and completely. And with that would come the ability to carry out her plans fully. It was a thought that made her smile a horrible, shrunken smile.
You thought you'd won, Xavier, she said silently. Charles Xavier tried to rob her of her life when they were so much younger. Although he failed, she was left in a vegetative state. Through her sheer force of will, she rose from what was thought to be her deathbed. Unfortunately, Xavier made her a cripple. It took years before she could get herself under enough control to be able to live—if crawling like a worm or, later on, being bound to a wheelchair could be called living. But as time passed, her abilities manifested themselves and she trained herself to use them to attain her objectives. Though her body was frail, her mind grew stronger until it possessed the power to match that of Xavier's own mind.
To her disappointment, though, she learned that Xavier was dead—murdered by his most precious student. The irony didn't escape Cassandra; she knew that he also tried to control his students with his mind tricks.
Cassandra closed her eyes and began to concentrate. She gathered her psionic energy, building it into a coherent force. Despite the coolness of the room, beads of sweat began to form on Cassandra's wrinkled brow. This time, she wasn't simply performing a feat of telepathy or telekinesis. This time, quite literally, she had her life on the line. If she failed or made even the slightest error, she would have to wait years, decades even, to have another chance like this.
Sinister watched her from in front of the computer bank. He motioned for Dr. Innocenta to join him. She removed her long coat and the other mutants saw that she had six arms. Two were human, two were covered with some kind of exoskeletal system, and two were sheathed in metal. Sinister checked the readouts on the monitors and entered a command into the computer to make certain adjustments. Dr. Innocenta went to another computer and went to work herself.
"You didn't cybernetically enhance the subject itself?" she asked him.
"No," Sinister replied. "But the neural networks that you implanted into the system are still hooked up to her."
Dr. Innocenta nodded. "Her blood pressure's rising."
"Is it stable?" He ran his fingers over one of the keyboards.
"Stable." One of Dr. Innocenta's other arms reached for an adjacent keyboard and began to follow his lead, typing in the necessary instructions to keep the project in equilibrium.
"Her brainwaves are becoming irregular," Shaw commented. He had joined them quietly and was observing their work.
"Instabilities, Dr. Innocenta?" Sinister asked.
"No," she replied. "Baseline brain functions are still normal."
Wyngarde spoke: "She must be transferring herself then."
Sinister nodded contemplatively. "I suppose she is."
The others gathered around the computers. About an hour later, Dr. Innocenta reported: "All readings are returning to baseline level." Sinister confirmed Dr. Innocenta's assessment and typed a final command into the computers.
"What's happened to Madame Cassandra?" Gambit asked, looking at the monitor that showed the video feed from inside the other room.
Cassandra Nova was slumped forward in her chair. Sinister was certain there would only be minimal life readings at best. He made a mental note to keep the body in storage anyway.
The power in the laboratory suddenly died. The emergency systems kicked in a few seconds later. The lab looked positively eerie in the reddish light. Sinister told the others that they simply had to wait and they all did so silently.
Cassandra opened her eyes and saw that she was inside the cylinder. She could hear the sounds of from the different devices that were attached to the cylinder in order to keep track of her bodily functions.
I'm alive, she thought. Through the clear plastic, she could see her body—her former body, she amended—bent forward in the wheelchair. Fortunately, the restraints had kept it from falling. Despite all the trouble that it had caused, she still felt a certain sentimental attachment to it.
She pressed her hands against the canopy. When it didn't budge, she decided to test her mental powers and sent a focused thought command towards the curved piece of metal and plastic. At first, it stayed shut but eventually gave way when she pushed it harder with her mind. There was a brief, dull flash of pain that Cassandra ignored completely. With the canopy open, she slowly came out of the cylinder. Her steps were wobbly and uneasy. Cassandra willed her unsteady legs to function properly. Instantly, her body obeyed her mind. Fortunately, she didn't have to worry about clothing since Sinister had dressed her prior to the procedure. Not that it would have offended her in any way to be nude, of course, but this made things so much simpler.
She stood there in the darkened room, the red emergency lighting coloring the walls as if with blood. She looked at her hands, used them to touch her body, to feel her legs. The mere act of standing brought a strange sensation to her; then again, that was to be expected after spending most of her life without ever having been on her own two feet. She walked towards the door, relishing each step she took.
The door was locked. Although there was no power, the lock had a mechanical backup that kept it from being opened by someone who had no business coming into or going out of the room.
Cassandra stared briefly at the lock and willed it to open. It did. She entered the control room. The other mutants stepped back the moment they saw her approach them. Only Sinister and Dr. Innocenta stood their ground. Sinister was smiling at her.
"Ah, so—how was it?" he asked her.
Cassandra spoke: "Most excellently, Essex. You've done very well."
"Cassandra?" Shaw asked hesitantly. "Is that you?" The others said nothing, disbelieving the figure that stood before them. To their eyes, they saw Jean Grey, Professor Charles Xavier's greatest student.
Cassandra turned towards him and the other mutants who kept their distance from her. "Cassandra Nova served her purpose but I expect that Essex will keep her body for future use."
Sinister bowed. "Of course," he said. "And perhaps...I might even be able to improve upon it—with your permission, of course."
"You have my permission," Cassandra said.
"What do we call you now, Madame Cassandra?" Dr. Innocenta asked.
"My name, you mean?" Cassandra's voice trailed off as she closed her eyes. The power she possessed was incredible. Shinobi Shaw had been right when he said that she would be able to rewrite history. She smiled, obviously pleased with herself and with the results of Sinister's work. She stood proudly in front of them with outstretched arms. The electricity to the lab—and the entire complex—returned with a single thought from her mind.
"What will you call me, you ask?" Cassandra told them. "There was a quote from Hindu scripture...Robert Oppenheimer supposedly spoke those words at the first detonation of the atomic bomb: 'I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds.' "
She paused, letting her mind stretch out to encompass her power. She felt a fleeting regret that Xavier was no longer around to see her and to face her vengeance. On the other hand, she was now in possession of his beloved student's body, not to mention her powers. Besides, his students would suffer for him as her plans progressed.
"Now I am Death...and I am Life," she continued. "I am Creation and Destruction...I am Genesis and I am Apocalypse." She began to emanate a fiery red aura that seemed to ignite the very air itself. The other mutants had to turn away. Sinister didn't; he was too busy basking in the glory of work more than well done.
"From this day onward," the woman once known as Cassandra Nova declared, "I am Perfection."