PLEASE REVIEW MY ISSUES!
X-Terminators Issue 11 April 17th, 2001
Diagnosis:Homicidal
The room was empty, except for a single chair behind a table. The first prisoner was ushered in. His name is Caliban. Formerly a member of the Horseman of Apocalypse, X-Force, and of X-factor. Currently a deranged homicidal lunatic who has been genetically altered by Apocalypse. His mutant powers allow him to track almost anyone by scent, he has enhanced strength and reflexes and razor sharp fingernails. A side effect of his mutation has left his skin white and his body disfigured. He currently sits, manacled to the chair.
The door opens and in walks a green haired man holding a manila folder. "Hello Caliban, I am Dr. Samson. I will be reviewing your case and deciding your mind state. I have been asked here by some of my friends to do this as a favor. Are you ready?"
Caliban just spits on the table and growls. "Ok, let's begin. What is the earliest memory you can recall?"
"Memory? You want Caliban to remember? What do I get out of this meat?"
"Possibly a release, but more likely a diagnosis of your psyche. And a better understanding of your overall condition at this point in time."
Caliban snorted in disgust but continued anyway. "Ok, Caliban is game. Apocalypses cell chamber. That is my memory."
"Ok, how long ago was that do you think?"
"I know not what time. Not too long ago. Caliban remembers a few other things from before that, but they are fuzzy and hurt when I think about them. Someone named Sam and someone named Kitty. But it hurts."
Samson scratched some notes in his pad. "Would it surprise you to learn that those names belong to two people who consider you their friend? One Samuel Guthrie and one Katherine, Kitty, Pride."
"Caliban has no friends. Only enemies who wish to hurt Caliban so Caliban must destroy them all first. Apocalypse told me so before he left."
"Caliban, Apocalypse is dead. What he told you was to harm his enemies. He was a very bad man. You used to know this. You were a Morlock living beneath the streets of New York. Apocalypse and Sinister masterminded the slaughtering of your people and only a few remained. You escaped with the help of X-factor and for a long time helped them fight against those who would hurt others."
Caliban was seething. "YOUR LIES DISTURBS CALIBAN! APOCALYPSE IS NOT DEAD! MORLOCKS ARE NOT DEAD! CALIBAN TIRES OF THIS ATTEMPT TO DISTRACT."
Samson motioned to a mirror and two guards immediately came in and escorted Caliban out of the room.
"What would you have me call you ma'am?"
"Whatever."
"Surely not Copycat, you have a name I am assuming."
Copycat just glared at the doctor. She sat at the same table in the same chair as Caliban had.
"Ok, Copycat. How about we just get started. We know that you attempted to infiltrate Valhalla in order to steal records and erase the memory banks. We also know that you work for the Alliance of Evil. Why?"
Copycat licked her lips.
"Ok, we do not have any information about you other than a few prior arrests under aliases so if you could provide us with some basic background information it would be appreciative for the records."
She sat there with a bored look on her face, staring at the ceiling. Samson motioned at the window again.
"Maybe sometime later you will be more cooperative."
"Rucus, I am not even going to attempt to ask your real name, as I have met with limited success with the others on this topic."
Rucus immediately smiled. "Benjamin sir."
"Benjamin? Ok, I am glad you are being cooperative. Now, you had last been seen with he Nasty Boyz, a faction run by Sinister for his own goals. Since their beating at the hands of X-factor your whereabouts have been unknown, as well as your whereabouts previous to your stint in the Nasty Boyz. Would you care to shed some light on the events before and after?"
"Why sure, let me think here. I was born, I became a mutant, Sinister recruited me, and then the Nasty Boyz thing you mentioned, then I was in the Alliance, and now am a guest at this fine facility. Is that good enough for ya?"
"A little more detail would have been nice, Ben."
"Ben? Who is this Ben you speak of? My name is Timmy."
Samson stopped scribbling in his pad and looked up at the man, who had began laughing hysterically. "Rucus, I thought you were going to be civil?"
"YOU THOUGHT WRONG!" Rucus then attempted to blast Samson with a sonic boom but nothing happened. Samson motioned towards the window. "I had hoped you would have been better than that. Your powers are negated while in this room, you are weak as a newborn child. The guards will put you in a muzzle and return you to your cell. If you ever have the urge to be more forthcoming feel free to get in touch."
"Tower. Your profile has been well documented. You have been with the Alliance of Evil since the very first encounter of the group. But still we know nothing of you. Are you going to be cooperative and fill us in?"
Tower jumped from his chair and attempted to kick over the table, only to fall to the ground in pain from having kicked solid adamantium.
"I thought not."
"Where are the other two you wanted me to interview Alex?" Samson sat in the room talking into the mirror. A voice sounded from a monitor. "Ramrod is sedated after an escape attempt and Monsoon hasn't said a word since his capture so bringing him here would be like talking to a wall."
Samson put down his pen and began to rise, "Ok, I guess my work here is done. I send the bill to you Alex?"
"No, send it to Val Cooper."
Samson laughed as he left the room.
The two figures were tired, bleeding and full of hatred for each other. They had been fighting for an hour and neither had gained any ground. Feral quickly dove to the right to avoid a lunge from Thornn only to be caught in the gut with a flying knee.
"AAARH!! BITCH! I should have put you to sleep years ago. I wouldn't have to be doing this now."
Thornn grabbed Feral's head and slammed it on the concrete. "You shouldn't have killed them, you should have controlled those urges you had like I do. It isn't impossible you just indulge. It is time to put you to sleep."
Feral looked up, blood dripping from her mouth, smiling for all she was worth. "You don't have it in you sis." Feral's hand darted for her belt and removed a knife that had been hidden there, a stabbing motion later and Thornn's claws had sliced open Feral's throat. Thornn dropped to her knees and cried for what she had, had to do.
X-Terminators Issue 11 April 17th, 2001
Diagnosis:Homicidal
The room was empty, except for a single chair behind a table. The first prisoner was ushered in. His name is Caliban. Formerly a member of the Horseman of Apocalypse, X-Force, and of X-factor. Currently a deranged homicidal lunatic who has been genetically altered by Apocalypse. His mutant powers allow him to track almost anyone by scent, he has enhanced strength and reflexes and razor sharp fingernails. A side effect of his mutation has left his skin white and his body disfigured. He currently sits, manacled to the chair.
The door opens and in walks a green haired man holding a manila folder. "Hello Caliban, I am Dr. Samson. I will be reviewing your case and deciding your mind state. I have been asked here by some of my friends to do this as a favor. Are you ready?"
Caliban just spits on the table and growls. "Ok, let's begin. What is the earliest memory you can recall?"
"Memory? You want Caliban to remember? What do I get out of this meat?"
"Possibly a release, but more likely a diagnosis of your psyche. And a better understanding of your overall condition at this point in time."
Caliban snorted in disgust but continued anyway. "Ok, Caliban is game. Apocalypses cell chamber. That is my memory."
"Ok, how long ago was that do you think?"
"I know not what time. Not too long ago. Caliban remembers a few other things from before that, but they are fuzzy and hurt when I think about them. Someone named Sam and someone named Kitty. But it hurts."
Samson scratched some notes in his pad. "Would it surprise you to learn that those names belong to two people who consider you their friend? One Samuel Guthrie and one Katherine, Kitty, Pride."
"Caliban has no friends. Only enemies who wish to hurt Caliban so Caliban must destroy them all first. Apocalypse told me so before he left."
"Caliban, Apocalypse is dead. What he told you was to harm his enemies. He was a very bad man. You used to know this. You were a Morlock living beneath the streets of New York. Apocalypse and Sinister masterminded the slaughtering of your people and only a few remained. You escaped with the help of X-factor and for a long time helped them fight against those who would hurt others."
Caliban was seething. "YOUR LIES DISTURBS CALIBAN! APOCALYPSE IS NOT DEAD! MORLOCKS ARE NOT DEAD! CALIBAN TIRES OF THIS ATTEMPT TO DISTRACT."
Samson motioned to a mirror and two guards immediately came in and escorted Caliban out of the room.
"What would you have me call you ma'am?"
"Whatever."
"Surely not Copycat, you have a name I am assuming."
Copycat just glared at the doctor. She sat at the same table in the same chair as Caliban had.
"Ok, Copycat. How about we just get started. We know that you attempted to infiltrate Valhalla in order to steal records and erase the memory banks. We also know that you work for the Alliance of Evil. Why?"
Copycat licked her lips.
"Ok, we do not have any information about you other than a few prior arrests under aliases so if you could provide us with some basic background information it would be appreciative for the records."
She sat there with a bored look on her face, staring at the ceiling. Samson motioned at the window again.
"Maybe sometime later you will be more cooperative."
"Rucus, I am not even going to attempt to ask your real name, as I have met with limited success with the others on this topic."
Rucus immediately smiled. "Benjamin sir."
"Benjamin? Ok, I am glad you are being cooperative. Now, you had last been seen with he Nasty Boyz, a faction run by Sinister for his own goals. Since their beating at the hands of X-factor your whereabouts have been unknown, as well as your whereabouts previous to your stint in the Nasty Boyz. Would you care to shed some light on the events before and after?"
"Why sure, let me think here. I was born, I became a mutant, Sinister recruited me, and then the Nasty Boyz thing you mentioned, then I was in the Alliance, and now am a guest at this fine facility. Is that good enough for ya?"
"A little more detail would have been nice, Ben."
"Ben? Who is this Ben you speak of? My name is Timmy."
Samson stopped scribbling in his pad and looked up at the man, who had began laughing hysterically. "Rucus, I thought you were going to be civil?"
"YOU THOUGHT WRONG!" Rucus then attempted to blast Samson with a sonic boom but nothing happened. Samson motioned towards the window. "I had hoped you would have been better than that. Your powers are negated while in this room, you are weak as a newborn child. The guards will put you in a muzzle and return you to your cell. If you ever have the urge to be more forthcoming feel free to get in touch."
"Tower. Your profile has been well documented. You have been with the Alliance of Evil since the very first encounter of the group. But still we know nothing of you. Are you going to be cooperative and fill us in?"
Tower jumped from his chair and attempted to kick over the table, only to fall to the ground in pain from having kicked solid adamantium.
"I thought not."
"Where are the other two you wanted me to interview Alex?" Samson sat in the room talking into the mirror. A voice sounded from a monitor. "Ramrod is sedated after an escape attempt and Monsoon hasn't said a word since his capture so bringing him here would be like talking to a wall."
Samson put down his pen and began to rise, "Ok, I guess my work here is done. I send the bill to you Alex?"
"No, send it to Val Cooper."
Samson laughed as he left the room.
The two figures were tired, bleeding and full of hatred for each other. They had been fighting for an hour and neither had gained any ground. Feral quickly dove to the right to avoid a lunge from Thornn only to be caught in the gut with a flying knee.
"AAARH!! BITCH! I should have put you to sleep years ago. I wouldn't have to be doing this now."
Thornn grabbed Feral's head and slammed it on the concrete. "You shouldn't have killed them, you should have controlled those urges you had like I do. It isn't impossible you just indulge. It is time to put you to sleep."
Feral looked up, blood dripping from her mouth, smiling for all she was worth. "You don't have it in you sis." Feral's hand darted for her belt and removed a knife that had been hidden there, a stabbing motion later and Thornn's claws had sliced open Feral's throat. Thornn dropped to her knees and cried for what she had, had to do.