by Adam J. Manley
Disclaimer: The X-Men, Avengers, Defenders, Fantastic Four, and all related characters are Copyright Marvel Characters, Inc. The characters used here, other than use of codenames copyrighted by Marvel Characters, Inc., are original creations, Copyright Adam J. Manley.
Author's Note: This story was written before the terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001. In fact, I finished it almost exactly a month before the tragedy. It creeps me out, but that's not the point. I'm saying this so that you know in future chapters, characters may or may not refer to 9/11. However, I am not placing it here, as it would disrupt the flow. Besides that, everybody knows what happened. I don't think we need my repeating it here.
Chapter One: Impossible
If you told somebody you were a part of the next stage of humanity, born with powers and abilities far beyond those of a normal man or woman, how do you think they would respond? Most likely, they would laugh, shrug it off as some sort of fantasy, or get you committed into the local mental institution. In short, they would believe that such a thing is impossible. What these people do not realize is that only one thing is truly impossible: impossibility itself. Given, many things are improbable. But not impossible.
Every day, people are diagnosed with lethal conditions, told they have only a certain amount of time to live. Yet every day, a small amount of these people live beyond the time they should have died. Sometimes by only a day. Occasionally by weeks or months. And then there are the rare blessed who live years beyond their expected date of death, possibly living a long and full life. Some don't even die of the condition that was supposed to kill them so long before they actually passed on.
So why is it so unbelievable that mankind's natural adaptation, combined with the many sources of radiation that we are exposed to every second of our lives, could possibly result in a human born with extraordinary powers? Why is it considered impossible for our species to mutate into something new? It's time to cast away society's old views on impossibility, because the improbable is now probable. On a planet with a deteriorating ozone layer, in a time of nuclear weapons and genetic miracles, in a generation of humans that has little concern for the radiation output by both technology and nature, something has happened. Welcome to a brave new world.
SEPTEMBER, 2001
"Little more than a year after the debut of the hit movie, X-Men, the existence of real mutants has been confirmed. Rumors of people possessing super-human abilities have spread like wildfire in recent months, and yesterday scientists finished examining the blood sample of a high school student who had gained the ability to manipulate metal.
"What the scientists found was a mutation in the gene sequence. The girl possesses an extra gene, labeled Gene X, which is not found in any species previously existing on Earth, including humans. What this means is that these gifted individuals are part of an entirely new species, already being called mutants after the popular comic book term, and may well be the next step for humanity as a whole."
Somewhere in the Pacific Northwest, two young men sit in the shadows after watching the news report. Not even they realize what impact their conversation will have on the future, that they are discussing the very fate of all life on Earth.
"Indeed it is the next step," the cloaked figure muses. "It is a transfer of power from humans to mutants. Time for the old to step down to be replaced by the new."
"Then you're set on your course," sighs the other, brushing his long hair behind his ears. "There's no way I can convince you to join my side? To fight for coexistence?"
"None."
"Very well. You know, then, that when we next meet, it will be as enemies. I will do everything within my power to stop you."
"No quarter asked..."
"...and none given."
"Good luck, old friend."
"To you as well."
NOVEMBER, 2001
It is a glorious age. Mutants are not only accepted, but they have become the latest fad. Mutants flaunt their powers for all to see, while normal humans quickly befriend mutants, achieving popularity or fame through association.
In a small town in Oregon, a group of high school students revel in their newfound good fortune. Never before has life been so good to Daniel MacLaughlan, Rich Richmond, Eric Simms, Mike Hough, Ryan Richmond, Zeb Smith, or Adam Jameson. They are all longtime friends, having met each other for lunch every day for the past few years. Today, they train in the use of their powers by playfully fighting against one another.
"Gotcha, Daniel!"
The red-haired Eric Matthew Simms has always loved violent video games. Now, as he uses his telekinetic powers to lift Daniel off the ground, he does so carefully, with a new appreciation for his friends. He knows that the slightest lapse in concentration would let thousands of minds, millions of stray thoughts, flooded into his head. When his powers first manifested, that is exactly what happened. what frightened him, though, was the thoughts that stood out, that still haunt the back of his subconscious, were those of violent criminals. Bank robbers. Rapists. Terrorists. Mass murderers. He knows he will never forget the horrifying experience, or what he learned from it.
"Let me down, you sonova..."
Daniel Stuart MacLaughlan, with his camouflage outfit and black hair buzzed as short as can be imagined, loves violence, vulgarity, and the military. So it was only fitting when he manifested powers similar to those of the character Wolverine, a vulgar, violent, ex-soldier. All five of his senses are enhanced, making him an excellent tracker, and nearly impossible to sneak up on. His razor-sharp bone claws are almost as dense as diamonds, able to slice through virtually anything. Finally, he has the ability to heal wounds that would be lethal to an ordinary human.
"I've got him, Daniel!"
ZAKT!
Richard Lee Richmond II is practically an angel, in more ways than one. The most obvious angelic attributes are due to his mutant powers. His impressive, snow-colored wings allow him to soar through the air over the others, while the "holy energy blasts" he emits from his eyes and hands allow him to take down his opponents without causing permanent physical damage, as he now demonstrates on Eric. Other than his powers, though, he is the stereotype of an all-American high school boy: blond hair, blue eyes, and devoutly religious.
"Geronimo!"
Michael Davis Hough laughs his battle cry as he comes to the aid of his cousin, leaping onto Rich's back and forcing him to the ground. His powers are more obvious even than Rich's. When his powers manifested, he sprouted shaggy black fur all over his body. He gained rows of serrated teeth, like a shark has, while his fingernails sharpened into potential weapons. His ears grew larger and pointed, and even his eyes changed to resemble those of a cat.
"Two points!"
Ryan Lee Richmond shouts victoriously as his ice blast knocks Mike into the fence, freezing him there momentarily. Ryan, the brown-haired brother of Rich, is the youngest member of the group, and has established a clownish reputation. Only fitting, then, that he should manifest the powers of the Classic X-Men's young clown, Iceman.
"Come on, Mike, don't let a Freshman get the drop on you!"
Zeb Theodore Smith shouts to his friends as he sits off on the side. He nearly tears his messy brown hair from beneath his favorite red cap as he frantically tries to complete the homework due the very next period. Zeb's powers are neither obvious nor flashy. He simply has a certain knack for any kind of technology. One could say he communicates with it. In any case, given enough practice, his abilities will allow him to walk through the best security system in the world without being detected. Such power, however, could be in better hands. For as long as these people have known him, Zeb has been a good person. Yet there is something else deep inside him. Something that only occasionally reaches out from the depths of his subconscious in the form of a quick temper. An omen of darkness.
"Mike, you aren't incapacitated yet. Just flex your muscles, your enhanced strength should break the ice. And no sick jokes about the way I phrased that, Daniel!"
Adam Manfred Jameson brushes his long died-blue hair behind his ear and takes his glasses off for a quick cleaning as he reminds Mike of the full scope of his powers. He instructed Eric in putting up mental shields to keep every stray thought from entering his head. He helped Daniel through the pain of bone claws slicing through his skin. The only one in the group with no powers of his own, one could, and should, wonder how he knows so much about mutant powers. Yet nobody does. Abnormalities are accepted as normal, be they powers, physical deformities, or unexplainable knowledge.
"This is the life, isn't it?" Zeb asks as he scribbles in the last answer of his assignment and slams his book shut, preparing to join the fight.
"It won't last, you know," replies Adam.
"What do you mean?"
"Mankind hates and fears that which it doesn't understand. Mutants are accepted now, but that's because thus far there's only been good publicity. Mutants saving lives, staring in movies and plays, et cetera. What do you think will happen when a mutant robs a bank or murders somebody?"
"Come on, nobody'd do that!"
"Why not? Anybody can be a mutant. Even people of questionable morals. Do you think that AIDS only affects people that deserve to die?"
Zeb remains silent, digesting the concept just introduced to him.
"Good point," he says.
At that very moment, a similar conversation is occurring in a secret military base somewhere in the state of Washington.
"Good pint," Dr. Timothy Tucker says, after listening to the words of Special Agent Nicole Nimrod.
"That is why we must proceed with haste," Agent Nimrod says passionately, her blond hair starting to come loose from it's tight ponytail, a few strands falling lightly across her intense face. "Project Defenders could well mean the survival of the human race."
"I agree. But what about your other project?" Timothy inquires. "Is it right to build those...things? Is it right to believe that if one mutant commits a criminal offense, that they all will? Are we becoming genetic Nazis?"
Nicole looks as though her green eyes could burn Tucker to ash on the spot as she shouts, "Think about it! We're on the edge of a genetic WAR! A good many of those...FREAKS have more power than an ATOM BOMB encoded in their very GENES! Wouldn't you be suspicious of somebody who carried around a concealed gun at all times, even if they seemed like a good person?!"
Trucker simply sighs, turning back to his workstation, realizing this is an argument Agent Nimrod will not allow him to win. At least not yet. He strokes his full, deep red beard as he thinks about the project, his superior officer, and the distant past.
Doctor Timothy Albert Tucker has led an enlightened life. Growing up, he was the eldest of five. His father, a prejudiced, drunk man stuck in what he considered a dead-end job. His mother, a timid homemaker who was too afraid of her husband to leave him. To the outside world, they were a cheerful, 50's sitcom family, right down to the perfect lawn and the white picket fence. Unfortunately, few people realize that appearances are deceiving. Timothy excelled in high school, for the most part because he was too afraid to go home. So he would spend all his time in the school, the library, or the museum. When he was at home, he would use homework as an excuse to hide away in his room, away from the pain of reality. Yet, he still managed to make many friends. Friends he could never invite over to his house, for fear of what his father's bigotry and alcohol would make him do.
Timothy was only sixteen when his mother died of a weak heart. She had been fighting with her husband when her heart failed her. In his drunken state, Timothy's father didn't know enough to call 9-1-1. Several hours later, when the kids arrived home from school, it was too late. After the funeral, Timothy swore on his mother's grave that he would never be like his father. That he would help those unjustly persecuted and those in destructive situations like his family had been in. To this day, he lives up to that vow.
"You're thinking about your dad, aren't you?"
Timothy had been so deep in silent reflection that he had not heard his friend, Jacob Simpson, approach until he had been startled by the sudden sound of his voice.
Jacob is a tall, African American man with dreadlocks and perfect teeth. Even now, as he attempts to look serious, he gives off an air of care-free confidence.
"What makes you think that?" asks Timothy, picking up the papers that had fallen as a result of his being surprised.
"You had that look on your face," replies Jacob, smirking as he continues, "and you never jump that high unless you've been thinking about your dad."
"I guess you're right," Timothy chuckles. "So, what are you doing here?"
"You didn't get my message?"
"I haven't checked my answering machine or my e-mail in a week or two. Been busy."
"As usual. "Well, today's the day they start training me to be a super-hero."
"Today? I didn't realize it was so soon. Well, good luck."
"Luck's always been on my side, hasn't it?"
"Yeah, you were always the biggest daredevil in the city. But one of these days, it's gonna catch up with you. After all, you..."
"'...Can't live on luck forever,' I know, I know! But I remain faithful that the day I run out of luck will be the day after I run out of ways to tempt fate."
Jacob Isaak Simpson was the middle of three children. He still remembers always having to fight for attention. His older brother was the perfect son: star player in almost every sport, president of the student body, an A+ in every class, a future. His younger sister was the truly talented one. She could play just about every instrument, play any song, draw, paint, and so on. Jacob, though, was too average to be noticed. His classmates, his teachers, his coaches, even his parents were always overlooking him. Ignoring him. Always paying attention to those they saw as better than him. He realized he had to fight for attention, and he did. He started taking risks, doing stunts. He could do any trick on a skateboard or a bicycle. He would accept and complete every dare. When he was old enough, he was bungee jumping, skydiving, and scaling cliffs. He got all the attention he needed and more. He became known throughout the neighborhood as The Daredevil.
DECEMBER, 2001
Jacob stands at the door for about a minute, listening to the joyful holiday noises emanating from within his friend's house, before Tim finally gets tot he door.
"Jacob!" Tim exclaims, pushing the top of a Santa Claus hat behind his head. "Merry Christmas!"
Tim gives Jacob a hug, and then notices the young, fair-skinned brunette standing next to the door.
"And who is this?" he asks.
Jacob smiles. "This is the love of my life, Renee Rickson," he says as he pulls Renee close. "She's another Defender volunteer. That's where we met."
Tim shakes hands with Renee. "Well, it's good to meet you! Now come on in, both of you, out of the cold!
MARCH, 2002
"Packing already?" Marcia Jones asks, popping a bubble of gum the same color as her spiky, hot pink hair. "When ya leavin'?"
"Tomorrow. It's only about a week until Uncle Tim's big project goes into it's final phase," responds the equally spiky, fiery-haired Katrina Tucker.
"I still can't believe they're letting you see some top-secret experiment," Marcia muses. "What's up with that?"
Katrina laughs, explaining, "It's not really top-secret. They're gonna give a big press release the next day. They just didn't want many people to know about it until now. Afraid the project would be slowed down by the controversy and stuff."
Marcia turns her face away, her almost eternal smile fading for a moment. "Yeah..."
Katrina looks over to her friend, sighing. She stops packing and walks over to Marcia, putting an arm around her shoulder.
"Hey, it'll be okay," she says. "I can't possibly believe they would hunt just any mutant. It's just a precaution in case some moron decides to kill people or try to take over the country or something like that."
Marcia looks back at Katrina, tears welling up in her eyes. "You're absolutely sure?" she asks, her voice quavering.
"Sure I'm sure!" Katrina smiles. "You have nothing to worry about as long as you don't run off and join with Osama or something."
APRIL, 2002
"I can't believe it's snowing! We haven't had a decent snow in years, and it snows NOW?!"
Zeb voices everyone's thoughts with these words. The Willamette Valley has not had a good snow for several years, let alone so late in the year.
"A friend owed me a favor," Adam smirks.
"How exactly does that make it snow?" asks Daniel.
Adam smiles again. "That friend happens to be a mutant. A mutant who can control the weather."
"You hang out with other mutants?" inquires Rich.
"No, you're the only mutants I could ever possibly know," Adam replies sarcastically. "Almost half the school consists of mutants. Do the math."
Adam walks inside to get a cup of hot cocoa. While inside, he turns on the TV. He sits down as a "Breaking News" report comes on, interrupting the Easter movie playing. Adam's eyes widen suddenly, his cup falling to the floor and shattering.
Outside, the others are having the time of their lives in he two-foot snow. Making snowmen, hiking and climbing, having snowball fights. They have no way of knowing that this would be the last moment of happy "normalcy" they will experience for a long time.
Adam bursts out the door, shouting, "Everybody inside NOW!"
"As he runs back in, his friends look at one another, confused, before following slowly. Inside, they find Adam intently watching a news report on TV.
"What's wrong?" asks Rich.
"I've always said it wouldn't last," Adam replies quietly. "Terrorists in Seattle. Mutant terrorists. They've taken the Space Needle."
Everyone grows silent, now realizing the urgency of the situation. Yet, with all their powers, all they are able to do is watch and hope.
"Gabrielle Nelson here live a few blocks away from the Space Needle, which has been taken over by a group of mutant terrorists calling themselves the Brotherhood. Their leader, calling himself The Reaper, is demanding that mutants be given sole control of the entire Pacific Coast. The President has issued a statement declaring that there is nothing these people can do that will force the government to give into terrorism."
At that moment, there is a sudden bright flash from behind the reporter. It is not until after the deafening noise of the disaster is heard and the unnatural winds nearly knock the reporter off her feet that the horrible truth is realized: the Space Needle has just exploded.
Worse, the explosion is not ceasing. All over the world, on almost every channel, people watch in frightened silence. The explosion continues from he small mushroom cloud where the Space Needle was in all directions. It engulfs small buildings, and the taller buildings topple as the lower levels are demolished. It has only been about five seconds before it reaches the reporter and the cameraman, both too scared to run. The screen goes blank for a minute, then returns with a "Please Stand By" message.
Within ten seconds, the base of Project Defenders is hit by an earthquake and an immense power surge. Twenty seconds after that, Portland, Oregon, is shaken by an earthquake that has not decreased in strength. Five seconds later, the 'quake has reached the small group of horrified teenagers in Adam's house, having not slowed down or weakened one bit. Finally, seven minutes after the time of the initial disaster, the news reports come back on, and the world is silent as their worst fears are confirmed.
Seattle has been destroyed.