Chapter Fourteen
Charles Xavier had been watching the TV with the others when the film of the rescue was shown. Hank's saving of the boy's life was initially greeted by the students with enthusiasm-especially Maria. But then they saw the footage of the two boys running from the scene, a hostile mob on their heels, and Scott turned the TV off. They looked at each other, no one knowing what to say. Finally, Warren, Jean, Maria, and last of all Scott, left the living room, wandering off to God knew where. Sighing to himself, Charles wheeled his chair out to the garden and thought hard. What was the point of his efforts, he thought bitterly to himself? Perhaps Magneto wasn't entirely wrong, if far from right. Maybe the mutants should find some abandoned island somewhere and declare their independence. Mind their own business, defend themselves if anyone attacked them, and let the rest of the world go to hell.
Then the warm, but clear, September air renewed him, and he took a deep breath, and he was better. No one said it would be easy. If he had to be the mutant Sisyphus, constantly pushing the rock upwards, so be it. What was it Camus had said...? "Sisyphus must be regarded as being happy." Charles laughed. Not perhaps his definition of happiness, but still a rewarding challenge. Maybe that was what happiness consisted of-the struggle, not the destination at the end.
Hank and Bobby returned late that afternoon, and Charles immediately saw that he had a crisis on his hands. Hank's anger had been getting greater, not less, and he wanted an immediate meeting with the Professor. Charles agreed, but suggested to Hank that the whole team be present. Hank accepted this suggestion with alacrity.
"Indeed, sir," he said, mouth a tight line. "I believe we all need to be together right now." And so, in a very few minutes the six of them were surrounding Charles' desk in his study-Hank standing in front, and Bobby, Maria, Warren, Scott, and Jean in a circle from Charles' left. Charles nodded at Hank.
"All right, Hank. You have the floor. I assume this has something to do with the incident in New York today?"
Hank smiled grimly. "You assume correctly, Professor. You all saw it on TV?" Nods from the others. "Very well. You saw what I did-risking my own neck-because that smoke and fire was quite dangerous, I assure you-to save a little boy's life. And when I had done that, Bobby and I were nearly lynched for my pains." He turned to Maria. "It was your classic Torches and Pitchforks scenario come to life, Maria." She didn't answer, just nodded unhappily.
"Quite so," Hank said. "Sir-I have never begrudged anything I've done in the cause you've asked us to devote our lives to. It's a rotten hand we've been dealt, in some ways-to have to constantly fight, risk our lives, while still children, so that a future generation of mutants won't have to. But that's the way the world works. No one can choose the times and circumstances they are born in-all they can do is make the best of it. So, I have never begrudged it." He paused. "Until now." And there was a dead silence. Charles nodded sympathetically.
"Go on, son."
"Sir-for the first time, I wonder if Magneto is right. I can understand, I suppose, people panicking-a fire, a boy in danger, and what looks like an inhuman figure coming to the boy's rescue. A scary mutant. I get that. What I do not get is the sheer, fatuous stupidity of the comments I heard. That somehow, in saving a boy's life, I was trying for a 'play for sympathy'. That somehow, in saving a boy's life, I was 'advancing a mutant plot for world domination'. Professor-they might as well have been quoting from the Protocol of the Elders of Zion. And these are the people we're trying to get along with-to create a world in which everyone, human and mutant, can live together in peace? Frankly, sir, that seems at this moment not only impossibly far off in the distance, but not especially desirable."
The silence deepened, and Charles had never heard it reach the depths it did right then. He looked at the other X-Men, and they all had unhappy expressions on their faces. He knew that he had to get a handle on this situation, immediately, or he could have a serious crisis of morale on his hands. And yet, he knew too that he couldn't sweet talk any of them. He must speak the absolute truth.
"Hank-all of you-" He stopped, shrugged his shoulders. "There is no point in disputing anything you've said, Hank. The behavior of that crowd was despicable." He turned to Bobby. "As was the crowd that threatened you, in your own home town on Long Island, of all places-not Dodge City or Tombstone, but Nassau County. And you, Maria," he said, turning to the girl. "You had numerous encounters with your 'Torches and Pitchforks'." She nodded. The others were listening to Charles intently. "My X-Men-I cannot tell you that I am right. When I saw the TV footage earlier today, I had doubts of my own. Yes, even me. To live without doubt is not really to live at all, or to think at all. It is to become a robot, to be so immured in your own ideological armor that you cease to be a rational, autonomous actor in your own life. Humans do that to themselves-look at Hitler; look at Stalin. And for our part, look at Magneto. I knew him many years ago, as I indicated the day I told you about Cerebro. And while the details are a matter for another day, I can tell you that he was not always the man whom you know now. Indeed, he and I were friends, and we worked together. In fact, he himself was a victim of the madman Hitler. But I fear he has learned the lessons of his youth all too well.
"But that is a digression. Hank-I really have no answers for you. You must decide for yourself if you still wish to follow the path I have laid out for you all here. The School is not a prison. Were I to make it so-forbid you to leave-I would indeed be no better than Magneto. But if we abandon the dream because of the ignorance and bigotry we face, where does that leave us? Either we separate and live in the world as best we can, waiting to be picked off by the human bigots or by Magneto, or we become what we most oppose-just Magneto's mirror-image. We must be better than that. Hank, all of you-I feel that we must, to some extent, turn the other cheek, just as we must do everything we can to avoid killing, because the alternative is simply unthinkable."
There was no response for several seconds. Then Jean took Scott's hand, and grasped it. Warren grasped theirs, followed by Maria and Bobby. They turned to Charles, and moved to his desk, and he put his hand over theirs. Hank watched this with no show of emotion.
Finally, he sighed. "Professor-all of you. Please do not think I am unmoved, or wish to make trouble. I am not, do not. Spiritually, my hand is with yours. But I am still angry. I am still confused. Sir-I would like to formally request a leave of absence."
The Professor removed his hand, and the others moved apart. "Granted, Hank, of course. With my blessing. Is there anything I can help you with? Do for you?"
Hank smiled tightly. "No thank you, sir. I can assure you all, it will not be for long. I shall return, and I shall place my hand with all of yours. But I need a little while to get my head clear. Perhaps to do something totally off-the-wall, something I've always had a secret hankering for."
"And what might that be, Mr McCoy?" Maria asked sweetly. "A stint as a Playboy Bunny?" The sheer absurdity of that image broke some of the tension, and they all laughed, even-maybe especially-Hank.
"No, my dear," he said in reply. "Although I would give five years of my life to see you in such a role." Maria and the others laughed again, and she stuck her tongue out at him. "Actually, I've always had an itch to do some wrestling. Professionally, that is."
There was the most profound silence yet, and then the whole team-including Charles Xavier-broke out into a whoop of sheer belly-laughter. It was finally Jean who, after holding her side and mastering herself, asked the inevitable question: "Are you going to be a 'hero' or a 'villain', Hank?"
"Oh, a villain, naturally," he said with a trace of pride. "And I mean to be the most sneering, obnoxious villain it's possible to be."
"Well," Maria said, "you must be taking lessons from Magneto. Maybe he'd be interested in doing a tag-team routine with you."
Hank waved a hand. "He'd insist on top billing. And it's my name that's going to be in lights, I assure you all."
Gunthar Unuscione was in the gym, working out. In point of fact, with his gimmick he didn't particularly need to be in good shape, but he had a certain pride. Most men his age had at least the beginnings of a pot-belly. Not him. He was a lean, fighting machine, and he intended to remain one for as long as he could.
Maxie came in. Gunthar liked Maxie. He was friendly, stuck to his business, and didn't ask too many questions. And he had been there for a long time. Gunthar liked things to be just so, in their place, and wouldn't have enjoyed breaking in someone new. "How's tricks, Maxie?" he asked.
The older man shrugged. "You mean, apart from the crappy world out there?" Gunthar shrugged; for Maxie, the world was always "crappy". Well, he was probably right. Gunthar paid as little attention as he could to news of the world. The only news he read was the sports pages. "Well, here's something interesting." He showed Gunthar a flyer concerning a new wrestler who called himself "The Beast". "Whaddya make of him, Gunthar?"
Gunthar studied the flyer. It was nicely done, he'd give the Beast that-genuinely professional-level stuff. Good paper. It made this kid-for that was all he was-seem like a combination of Bruno Sammertino and Killer Kowalski. Gunthar smiled. A nice gimmick, to overrate yourself at the start. It just might get him bouts of a higher caliber than would be usual for a newcomer. And the sooner you started climbing the pole, the sooner you made the Top Ten lists, the sooner you might even get a shot at the "championship". With his own gimmick, Gunthar usually was able to insist on "winning" his bouts. "After all-how can I really lose?" he'd ask, quite reasonably, the officials of the "wrestling" world. And they usually let him have his way. Sometimes, of course, he had to be the Bad Guy, and he'd often "lose" then. But not always. Crowds liked the Bad Guy to win sometimes, and in his heart, Gunthar liked being the Bad Guy. He thought he looked like one, with his sleek dark good looks.
"Whaddya say, Gunthar?" Maxie asked. "Wanna let this kid take a shot at you?"
"Hmm," Gunthar said softly. "Am I the Good Guy or the Bad Guy?"
"Oh, the Good Guy," Maxie said, to Gunthar's slight disappointment. "This Beast, this kid, wants to be the villain. Makes a point of it." He paused. "Gunthar-this kid has a pretty good gimmick of his own. I've heard about it. Not as good as yours, of course," he said quickly. "Of course not. But still, pretty impressive in its way. They want to build him up."
Gunthar's eyes flashed. "The don't expect me to lose, do they?"
"No, no," Maxie said, hand up in supplication. "They want you to win, but this kid makes a real fight of it. And he can, too. You just eke it out against the Bad Guy, but he's so terrific in his own right that the crowd goes nuts and wants more."
Gunthar considered this. "Yeah, OK, Maxie...I think something could be done along those lines. Make it happen, OK?"
"You got it."
And so it was a week or so later that The Beast went up against the invincible Unus the Untouchable. The Beast came first, prowling a cage and coming to the ring with an entourage and enough fanfare for the Olympic games. Sitting quietly in the sixth row of seats were Scott Summers, Jean Grey, Warren Worthington the Third, and Bobby Drake, here to root Hank on. Scott felt strange to be here in this place-it certainly would not have been his choice of entertainment. But they felt it was important for Hank to see them there. He nodded briefly at them as he passed in his cage.
"Ah, " Scott heard Warren say, "at last he's in his natural habitat." Bobby made a crude rejoinder that didn't in essence disagree with Warren's statement, and Scott sighed to himself. Life brought you to some funny places-
Jean, next to him, was smiling mysteriously. "Penny for your thoughts, Jean?" Scott asked. She suprised him by leaning against his shoulder.
"I'm wondering why Hank invited us to attend," she said, and her voice sounded mysterious, too, in a way Scott couldn't put his finger on, but it alarmed him somehow.
"I guess he just couldn't avoid wanting us to see his total humiliation," he said wryly, and Jean looked at him with eyes wide open.
"Why, Scott Summers! That wasn't exactly a joke, but it was almost one. Are you feeling well?"
Scott smiled. "In this place, Jean, I'm not sure." Meanwhile, the introductions were going on. Hank-as the Beast, the "Bad Guy", got a round of boos. The his opponent entered the ring-Unus the Untouchable. He got some tepid applause, and from the comments Scott heard, he gathered that Unus wasn't the most popular of "Good Guys". Apparently, he won his bouts too easily because of some terrific gimmick.
He saw Hank stride around the ring briefly, while Unus merely stood quietly in his corner, waiting for the bell. This was struck, and Hank immediately moved towards Unus in the center of the ring. He began to hop around, not doing anything very difficult for him. Scott heard Bobby mutter to Warren, "geez-he looks like the Toad out there," and Scott smiled to himself as he saw the resemblance. The crowd was already lustily booing Hank as he strode and jumped up and down, while Unus simply stood in the center of the ring, waiting for Hank to do something.
This finally happened. Hank took a leap at Unus with both his huge feet out in front-Scott wondered vaguely what the crowd would say if J Egar Hoover remained painted on the foot-and slammed into Unus. Or such was the plan.
The reality was very different. Hank's charge got him within about a foot of Unus, and he suddenly stopped. It was as if he hit a brick wall. He bounced back a few inches, then fell unceremoniously to the ground. Scott, Jean, Bobby, Warren, were thunderstruck. This was no ordinary wrestling opponent. Something was going on here-
The crowd began to cheer for Unus, as he moved on Hank and pushed him to the edge of the ring. Hank got his bearings back, and suddenly performed an incredible series of leaps and jumps, all around the ring, almost faster than the eye could see, and the crowd shouted in glee. Then he made yet another feet-first jump at Unus-and again, he fell back without coming close to the older man. Once more, Hank got to his feet, and once more he danced and leapt around the ring. The crowd was whooping and hollering at the spectacle, though not many of them were rooting for the Beast. Scott suddenly wondered if anyone in the crowd had been at the fire scene a couple of weeks before.
Another leap, and now Unus moved first, pushing his way towards Hank. This time, Hank didn't even come close to Unus-his momentum in the leap was stopped almost before it began, and he was knocked clean out of the ring. He leaned back against the first row of seats, blinking and trying to get his bearings. The crowd was now booing him unmercifully, calling him a bum and yelling at him to get up. He finally did so, and the match limped on to a "KO", when Hank was pushed back against Unus once more, and the older man suddenly leaped down on Hank, and Hank was counted out. Unus accepted some unenthusiastic applause, and Hank was showered with boos and debris as he left the ring. It was definitely, Scott thought, similar to his inglorious exit from the scene of the fire.
"Scott," Jean asked him, leaning over and speaking into his ear, "did you see that? What Unus did to Hank?"
He nodded. "There's something unnatural about that, Jean. That's no normal wrestling gimmick."
"No," Jean said. "Scott-Unus is on of us. A mutant." And Scott Summers merely nodded grimly.
Gunthar was relaxing in the dressing room after the bout. He felt slightly down. The Beast had had a pretty good gimmick, indeed, and Gunthar wondered vaguely what might have happened if the fight had been a real one. He couldn't have lost, of course, but he did wonder just how he could have worn down someone who moved like that, especially considering that he was just a kid, and had at least as much endurance as Gunthar had. Oh well, he finally thought, the hell with it. He had "won" the fight, and that was what mattered. A couple more like this, and he had a good chance of cracking Wrestling World's Top Ten list. He snorted. If losers like Johnny Valentine and Sailor Thomas could make the list, he, Gunthar Unuscione, sure as hell could. And maybe, a shot at the "title". Stranger things had happened. He knew that the whole business of who would be the "champion" at any given moment was mysterious. And since it was all totally rigged, he probably shouldn't care if he ever won the title or not. But even so, he had to admit he did.
Maxie came over. "Hey, Gunthar," he said. "Nice bout. That kid-he was something, wasn't he?"
Gunthar shrugged. "A good gimmick, Maxie. But mine was better."
"And that's for sure," Maxie said with enthusiasm. Gunthar smiled to himself. He had never told Maxie exactly what his "gimmick" consisted of, and Maxie was tired of asking, though he still did now and again. He looked, in fact, as if he was on the verge of doing so now, when Gunthar noticed a figure in the corridor outside his dressing room. He turned to Maxie.
"Hey-take off for a little, OK? I have some business to attend to."
Maxie squinted at the newcomer, then straightened up and gave Gunthar a strange look. "Yeah, yeah, OK... Hey, Gunthar. You sure you know what you're doing?"
"Hell, no," Gunthar said with a shrug. "This is just some, what do you call it, fact-finding. Blow, Maxie."
"Sure, champ, sure," his trainer said, and left the room hastily. Slowly, almost haughtily, the newcomer entered. He was about Gunthar's age, give or take, and had a lean, saturnine face with a drooping moustache, wearing some kind of silent movie outfit. He looked around the dressing room.
"Quite a nice line of work you have," he said in an English accent. "You must be quite an old hand at it by now."
Gunthar's face didn't change expression. "You do what you gotta sometimes," he said. "I don't suppose you've ever been off the manor house in your whole life, right, pal?"
The newcomer shrugged. "Oh, touche, touche. I'm stung to the quick... I am Mastermind." He said this with quiet authority, as if he expected Gunthar to be impressed. And in fact Gunthar was impressed-a little. "You have come to Magneto's attention."
"Well, that was the general idea."
"No doubt. But Magneto is not entirely happy that you were able to get into communication with him. It is usually he who makes his wishes known, not the other way around." Mastermind frowned slightly. "And, while he doesn't say this outright, he isn't entirely happy, either, that you have been able to slip through his radar for so long. You are very much an older mutant. Older than he is, in fact. He should have been able to discover your whereabouts himself long before this."
"I'm pretty good at covering my tracks," Gunthar said carefully. He wasn't about to let this refugee from The Phantom of the Opera know-or Magneto, either-that he had a daughter who was a mutant, too. Not until Carmella was an adult and could make her own decisions.
Mastermind nodded without enthusiasm. "No doubt, Mr Unuscione, no doubt," he said in a bored tone of voice. "But now-you wish to join Magneto's Brotherhood? I must tell you, he has recently had an unfortunate experience along those lines. He was finally forced to-abrogate-his agreement with the recruit." Mastermind shook his head wearily. "He was not happy about that matter, Mr Unuscione. Not happy at all. What guarantee does he have that something similar won't happen this time?"
Gunthar cursed to himself. This was such a mess-! Getting into Magneto's band meant the very ideological commitment he had always tried to avoid. But Carm wanted it... He sighed to himself. What the hell. He had promised the kid. He'd stick to his promise. "How about a test?" he asked the other man. "To show Magneto that I mean business. There must be something I can do."
Mastermind's drooping moustache drooped even further. "Oh, my...you know, Mr Unuscione, I do believe I detect a certain lack of enthusiasm in your tone of voice. Are we sure that we're committed one-hundred percent to the cause which Magneto espouses?"
"Like you?" Gunthar growled. "You sound like you'd stab him in the back first chance you got, if you had the guts. Which I doubt very much."
Mastermind stood very silent for a second, then chuckled. "Oh, my," he said. "Perhaps I have underestimated you, Mr Unuscione. Perhaps you will fit in with our merry little band. You already have such a keen understanding of our group's-dynamics." And he smiled at Gunthar, who gave him a tight smile back. Finally, Mastermind shrugged.
"Oh well-what is life without uncertainty. Magneto, in fact, did have a little initiation test in mind for you, which he asked me to propose. If you could defeat-perhaps even capture-one of the X-Men. Bring him to Magneto. Our esteemed leader has long been interested in dissecting one of the X-Men, just to see what he might find." There was a pause. "I do not believe he much cares if the dissection is done while the subject is alive or dead. So that might perhaps make things simpler for you."
Gunthar winced inside. The sheer coldness of that little speech chilled him. He wasn't dealing with very nice guys at all. But what the hell, he knew that going in. And what were the X-Men to him, anyway?
"I'll see what I can do."
"A force-field," Professor Xavier was saying quietly, almost to himself. "That must be the answer, Scott. He generates a force-field around himself. If Hank wasn't even able to dent it, with all his power-"
Hank shook his head. He was back at the mansion, his wrestling career put on hold-for good, Charles thought bemusedly-while the team was dealing with an emergency. This discovery of a new mutant was clearly such. "Professor-I couldn't even bend it. And you know how strong I am." He turned to Maria. "Shift-maybe you could have done something with it. Maybe. But this Unus is a tough customer, Professor."
Charles nodded, and he noticed that Maria seemed unsure of something. "Maria?" he asked. "Do you have something to add?"
She finally just shrugged, and nodded. "Yes, sir. The fact is, I know this 'Unus'."
The others perked up at this bit of news. "Indeed, Maria?" Charles asked quietly. "And how is that?"
"You know I spent a few months in the carny, as a freak show?" Maria said, and Charles nodded. "Well, sir-Unus was there, in the carny, at the same time I was. His real name is Gunthar Unuscione. And his gimmick then was the same that it is now-wrestling, and also stuff like having people take pot shots at him with real bullets and seeing them bounce off-that sort of thing."
Warren looked thoughtful. "Geez, Professor, that sounds almost like the Blob."
"You're right, Warren," Charles said. "There are similarities between the two men. Can you tell us anything else about Unus, Maria?"
She looked unhappy, but went on. "Yes, sir. He has a daughter-Carmella. She's a mutant too, though neither of them knew what that meant back in those days. She was only my own age-thirteen-but already, she could create force-fields, too. Better than Gunthar could, really. She could extend them further, capture people in them without having them around her own body-that sort of thing."
Charles was intrigued. "That is very interesting, Maria. Perhaps if this Carmella could be found and persuaded to join the X-Men-"
But Maria was shaking her head. "I'd be very surprised if that happened, sir. Carmella is-" She paused, thinking of the right word. "-Unpredictable, sir. Very temperamental, and frankly a little nasty. And that was when she was only thirteen." Maria smiled ruefully. "I think she'd be a recruit for Magneto, if she joined anyone."
The Professor didn't look nonplussed. "Perhaps, Maria. We can but wait and see. In the meantime, it appears that the father-Unus-is the more immediate problem. Scott. Suggestions as to how we approach this matter."
Cyclops looked determined. "Simple, sir. Get into costume, go down and confront him. Ask him right out if he knows he's a mutant, and what his intentions are."
Charles looked pleased. "Direct and strategically sound, Scott. Very good. I had reached a similar conclusion. Don't wait for him to take the initiative."
"Too late for that, Prof!" Bobby called out. "I've just been watching the TV in the living room. There's breaking news." He looked around him. "What?"
It was Jean who answered. "Mr Drake," she said icily, "we adults have been having a serious discussion concerning a serious situation, and you have been taking off to avail yourself of the TV?"
"Oh," he said softly. "Well, sir," he said, looking at Charles, "I knew the situation was so serious that I had to check immediately to see if there was any breaking news." And his voice rose in triumph. "And it's a good thing I did, sir, because there is!"
Hank spoke with a note of admiration in his voice. "I do believe, Professor, that our frosty friend has avoided a demerit right now on sheer brass."
Charles smiled. "I agree, Henry- Bobby. Fine. Now-what is this 'breaking news'?"
Bobby smiled complacently at Jean. "Well, sir, someone just broke into a bank. Some sort of gang. And as they were escaping, they were waylaid by another guy who just grabbed the dough from them. They tried to shoot him, of course, but it appears that the bullets just bounced off. And he just walked away with the money." He looked at Hank, then the others. "He's described as tall, dark haired, wearing a hat, about thirty-five or a bit older."
"Unus," Hank said. "Well, Professor, it seems that our good Mr Unuscione has taken the initiative ahead of us."
"Agreed," Charles said. "All right, everyone-into costume immediately. Get going. Find him. Stop him." He turned to Hank. "Are you with us, son?"
Hank winced slightly. "As a better man than me said, sir: 'Once more unto the breach, dear friends'. For all the good I suspect it'll do us. But yes, Professor, I'm here."
Gunthar walked through the streets of New York with a couple of bags of stolen cash, wondering just what the hell he had been doing. He seemed to have some half-baked idea that by grabbing the money, he could finance himself as a super-powered criminal. That was just great, except that he didn't really want to be a super-powered criminal. Well, he had been using his instincts, and maybe that hadn't been such a good idea. Cripes. Now every cop in Manhattan was after him. Maybe he should get out of the suit and into the costume he had devised, in case Magneto accepted him? But that would just make him even more visible. Dammit. Maybe he should just throw the damned money away and go home and pretend this day had never happened. But that would mean telling Carmella that he had failed. He winced. He'd rather face the X-Men single-handedly than do that.
Then he turned the corner, and facing him were the X-Men, staring at him. He shut his eyes. Now the day was officially a catastrophe, as opposed to a mere disaster. Well, what the hell did he do now? He opened his eyes again, and the leader-Cyclops?-was addressing him.
"Unus-you haven't done anything really terrible yet. Just put the money back, and return to the wrestling ring. Forget everything else. Let's end this right here."
Unus frowned. There was something wrong with the X-Men-weren't there supposed to be five of them? But there was someone new-a tall figure, looked like a gal, but she wasn't wearing a mask...looked gray, kinda unformed... Hey-wait a minute-
"Maria?" he asked, hardly able to believe it. "By God, it is. It's been what-four years? You've grown up nicely, girl." He smiled almost shyly. "So you've come up in the world?"
"You might say so, Gunthar," she said carefully, looking at the reporters and cameramen who were almost a block away covering their encounter. Gunthar understood-she didn't want them hearing her real name. Well, they wouldn't get it from him. Screw it. If this girl wanted to be an X-Man, that wasn't any of his concern. But then, the Brotherhood wanted him to get his hands on one of them...
Oh, the hell with it. He wondered briefly what he should do. He had actually prepared a costume. Should he put it on? The X-Men were slowly starting to surround him. The winged one-the Angel-he was right on top of him. Cripes. Slowly, Gunthar started taking off his suit.
"You haven't got a chance, Unus.," the Angel said. "There are six of us, and we have you surrounded. Why not just do as Cyclops suggests, and we can all go home?"
Gunthar sighed to himself. This was excellent advice. He didn't want to fight the X-Men-especially if Maria was there. She had been a good, gritty kid, and he had wondered sometimes what had happened to her. But then he saw the look on Carm's face if he just came home without a fight. Hell's bells, he had to try.
He finally stood revealed in a red costume he had made, one that covered him from neck to toe. "Come on, flyboy," he said, trying to get into the spirit of the thing. "Let's see what you've got." The Angel flew around him several times at very fast speed, and Gunthar felt dazed. Geez-this kid was good! Then he got his bearings. He was pretty good, too. Just as the Angel finished his aerial acrobatics, the one known as the Beast came at Gunthar feet first, moving fast and hard. The Beast? Gunthar thought to himself, as he watched the X-Man approaching. There couldn't be two set of feet like that in the world, could there?
The Beast hit his force-field hard, and reacted exactly as his wrestling opponent had-he stopped dead, and got pushed back. Gunthar smiled. Yes, there was no doubt about it-this was the same "Beast" whom he had just met in the ring. Well, well. Small world. He had no sentimental attachments to this clown. If he needed to, he'd call a damned press conference to reveal his identity. Assuming, that is, that he'd walk out of this fight in one piece.
Cyclops came at him with a power beam. It struck harmlessly at his force-field, being diffused all over the area, one little piece of it glancing against Maria. "Sorry, Shift," Cyclops said to her. Shift? Gunthar thought, looking at the girl. Well, that wasn't a bad name for her. He got serious. She looked determined. If she was an X-Man, she'd obey orders. And she was a tough cookie. Gunthar knew she was more powerful than the rest of them put together. He had to concentrate, deal with her first and hope that the others would back off for a moment while he did so.
Maria looked at her old acquaintance. Gunthar hadn't changed much in four years-hair still jet black, body sleek and muscular. She thought, from his posture and tone of voice, that he somehow wasn't really into all this. Maybe they could use that to their advantage. But then-why had he grabbed the money, anyway?
She blinked slightly, and realized that a horde of press photograpehrs had inched closer to the battle-and that they were taking pictures of her. My God-why were they doing that? Then it hit her-this was her first real public appearance with the X-Men, and she was striking-looking, she supposed, in a way. Ugly, but striking. My God-she was making news! She actually laughed out loud. Meanwhile, Bobby was encasing Unus in an ice cage. She turned to Scott. "Cyclops-I might be able to talk some sense into him. Let me try."
Cyclops considered this for a moment, then shook his head. "Sorry, Shift," he said decisively. "We can't take the chance. Maybe if he hadn't grabbed that money. But now-we must regard him as hostile." Maria nodded, and slowly approached the ice cage. But just as she reached it, it smashed open, and Unus kicked away the ice.
"Is that the best you can do?" he said with a sneer, and Maria was pained. He was sounding like he was getting into the spirit of the battle-like he was enjoying being the Bad Guy. Well, take care of him first-talk sense into him later.
"Actually, Unus, no," she said, respecting his real name as he had hers. "I can make things really tough for you."
"Well, girl, go ahead and don't talk about it," he said, but Maria thought she heard a hidden appeal in his voice. She realized than that he was in a deep maze and didn't know how to get out of it. Carmella. The name came to her of its own accord. She was behind all this. Maria gingerly stretched out her right arm to where Unus was standing. She probed his force-field, fingers splayed. Then, with a sudden ferocity she made a fist and hit it hard. Unus shook inside his field, but it held.
"Pretty good, girl," Unus said. "You're a lot stronger than I ever would have guessed." He suddenly had a confident look on his face. "I dunno if I can beat you all, kid, especially with you on the team. But you bozos can't beat me, either." He moved forward, towards Maria, and she found herself knocked off her feet. He stood over her. "I'm getting the hang of this-Shift." He looked right into her eyes. "Just as you are."
Meanwhile, the other X-Men had surrounded Unus again. The Beast jumped up over his force-field, making him turn his head towards him. As he did so, Marvel Girl took the smashed ice of Iceman's cage, squeezed it into a ball, and hurled it against Unus' field. At that exact same instant, Cyclops' beam smashed against the field in the same spot as the hurled ice. Maria saw the field quiver and shudder, but it held.
That was all the opportunity she needed. She threw herself against the field and Shifted into her oak form-one of her "ent" forms, as she called them. She didn't want to use the diamond form unless she absolutely had to, for fear of injuring Gunthar inadvertently. But this form had perhaps 75% of the strength of the diamond one, and she felt the field quivering as she smashed into it. Unus looked confused-he had never seen her in this form, and she planned on using that to her advantage. He put his hands up, as if to ward off the blow. She threw a hard right with her "oak" fist-and the field held again. Unus recovered, and smiled slightly.
"Not bad, kid," he said. "You've learned a lot, out there on your own. But I've learned a few tricks, too." And he threw himself at her hard, pushing not only her out of the way but also forcing back Cyclops and Marvel Girl, who had been closing in on each flank of their opponent. The Angel came back into the fray, swirling around Unus' head almost faster than the eye could see. Unus was forced to distract his attention somewhat to look at him, and when he did Iceman attacked his field with a giant ice club. It smashed into fragments when he did so, some of them hitting Maria. She shut her eyes and sighed. The rest of the team seemed a greater threat to her today than Gunthar was.
"Sorry," Bobby said to her, and she shrugged. She turned to Scott. "OK, Cyclops-what's our next move?"
Cyclops looked frustrated. "Honestly, Shift-I don't know!" He shook his head. "Neither side seems able to take out the other."
"Let me keep hammering away at his force field," she said, still in her oak form. "It'll give sooner or later. It has to!"
Cyclops looked at some debris in the street caused by the battle so far. "I don't know...the damage might be severe."
The Beast suddenly appeared next to Cyclops. "Cyke-we need time. I have an idea. Have Angel deposit him on top of a skyscraper or something. Then we retire to the Mansion post haste. I think I know how to defeat Unus without anyone getting hurt."
Cyclops considered this. "OK, Hank. You're back in the fold?"
"Like the meekest and most mild of sheep, O Fearless Leader."
"Fair enough." He gestured to Angel, who had heard this exchange. He approached Unus and stretched out his arms. Then he flew straight up and into the sky, taking Unus and his force-field with him. They saw the two of them get smaller and smaller, and Angel finally left Unus near the top of the Pan Am building. He flew quickly back to the team, while they collected themselves.
This wasn't easy. As soon as Unus was out of sight and the menace ended, reporters and TV crews swarmed over the X-Men, and the one they gave their attention to was Shift. Who was she, where did she come from, was this her real form, what were her powers, how was she able to turn herself into a tree, for Chrissakes, what else could she do-
On and on it went, and Maria looked helplessly at Cyclops, who finally took command. "Ladies and gentlemen," he said after a few moments, "the X-Men are dealing with a serious threat to public safety. We would strongly advise all of you to clear the area. As for our newest member-she is named Shift, and her powers and fighting ability and spirit speak for themselves. We are very happy to have her with the team."
Needless to say, this did not satisfy the media horde, and they called out questions to the others-mostly, of course, to Jean. Numerous cameras flashed in her face, and reporters asked her endless questions, from what shampoo did she use, to which of the X-Men was she sweet on, to why she wore her mask with those silly pigtails, to whether or not she was really Ann-Margaret, to whether she was going to quit the X-Men and start a Hollywood career, to-
Finally, Scott got them all away, though Maria felt it was a little like the retreat from Moscow. She was still getting some questions from the reporters, as was Jean, and a couple of lady reporters had questions for the Angel. Jean, Maria thought, wasn't entirely displeased with the attention. She smiled. To be brutally honest, neither was she.