-12 Months


"As the mutant fear spreads rapidly worldwide, riots have been contained by police and military officials." Proxy Blue's plastic smiling face managed to reinforce all the sarcasm conveyed in her tone with a sideways glance. "Or should that be 'brutally squashed'? In any case, it seems that Downing Street and the Kremlin are both with the White House in their condemnation of the mutant terror.

"And the public are asking, 'where did these mutants come from?' Anyone care to answer that one? I didn't think so. The French Ambassador to Beijing has the Chinese Premier behind closed doors. I wonder what's being said in there, hm? As for our antipodean siblings, they seem blissfully unaware. Or maybe their governments are better at keeping secrets, in which case a certain clandestine visit to Canberra by a Tokyo official bears watching." Proxy Blue leaned forward, winking conspiratorially. "And don't forget to keep those stories coming, human, mutant, alien or earthworm. I love a good bedtime read."

*****

Adam Kane looked General Sperling in the eye. "You're a soldier, you know that the first rule of war is to know your enemy and know yourself," he began seriously, but he should have known that the officer was too impatient for a lecture.

"Sun-tzu," Sperling said flatly. "Classic reading. What exactly are you getting at?"

"You have no idea how diverse mutants can be, in both nature and powers." Adam leaned forward as he tried to get his point across. This was a dry run for him. Beverly had been unable to get anyone to talk to him, but she had managed to get hold of a couple of schedules for people who he might be able to bully his way in to see the next couple of days. "Like any group of humans there are those that threaten and destroy, but the vast majority only want to be allowed to live their lives, have jobs, kids, dogs and white picket fences."

Sperling tipped his head and frowned. "Now, you know that's not going to happen in this generation. And I don't see many people intending for there to be a next generation."

Adam nodded. "I know that all too well. But these people are not mutants of their own choice. It was normal humans like you and, uh, me, that made them. How fair is it to deny them the opportunity to have those kids just because they might pass on the mutant genes? It's not a disease, and some would even argue that it's the next evolutionary step. How is it just to condemn them for something that's not of their making?"

"It's not," Sperling agreed. "But I don't make the rules. I just see some freak shoot flamethrowers at me or my men and I kill him. It's a matter of protection, defense, and following orders."

"Both the soldier's glory and his excuse," Adam muttered, feeling frustrated and pushing it down as he realized that it was a feeling he'd better get used to pretty damned quick. He changed tactic. "The other side of the coin then. There are people in the government who want this war, who are stirring it up. Is that not a kind of corruption? And isn't it your job to protect against that?"

"You're confusing me with a saint," Sperling smiled without humor. "It's my job to do as the boss says while trying to keep my men alive. A war gives me job security and I gotta say, show me a government anywhere on the planet, current or past, that hasn't been corrupt and I'll show you a big fat blue flying pig."

Standing outside Sperling's office, Adam decided that talking to soldiers really wasn't his forte, even intelligent soldiers such as Sperling.

Perhaps the politicians would be more amenable.

He could dream, couldn't he?

*****

It was much the same sermon that Emma and Shalimar tried to preach at a Mutant X safe house where a handful of New Mutants were muttering about taking up arms in revenge for the injustices done. Emma tried to emulate Adam, which unfortunately left her audience twitching nervously.

However, Shalimar bounded forward, made them sit up straight and pay attention. "We are not going to sit around on our asses and take this," she told them, "we're going to talk to the people that can make things happen. If we have to tie them to their armchairs and scream in their ears, we are going to make them listen. We are going to defend ourselves, first and foremost with words, but where we have to we'll defend ourselves with our powers. Some of us have natural offensive weapons, some defensive, some none at all. But we are never, ever, going to pick up a gun. Or a K-Bar, or anything other than what they gave us when they fucked up our DNA."

"Er, Shal," Emma said softly, "you're starting to sound like a human hater."

"What? No, I'm… uh, right." She cleared her throat and continued, making an effort not to let her natural enthusiasm get ahead of her. "We're also going to protect those who can't defend themselves. This not only means protecting mutants against humans, but also humans against mutants. It's in our best interests to both protect our own, and protect others from those who give us all a bad name. And we will only ever use lethal force in life or death situations."

She glared at the young people in front of her, and then scowled. "Got it?"

As one they nodded rapidly, eyes wide, hope and smiles written over their faces and Emma realized that, while these people were prepared to fight for their right to live, they needed someone to guide and lead them. That for the moment, she and Shalimar had found their calling.

*****

Jesse angrily sent the car hurtling down the Van Hansen's drive towards the main road. They were the last in a long line of friends and acquaintances of his parents that had money, influence and/or power. With those that had some influence, he dared to sound out the possibility of help in supporting human/mutant relations and taking down those that wanted to destroy the mutants. Some of them he'd been certain would have helped if they thought they could do it anonymously.

But Jesse was rapidly finding out that his parents' friends and acquaintances were only friends and acquaintances with the Kilmartin fortune. Power and influence didn't really feature in the Kilmartin heritage, what with Noah being a socially inept no-hoper who never looked like his maid had seen an iron, according to Arabella Montebrina, an ex-friend. Not to forget that his mother had been a white trash whore who had slept with more men than Mary Magdalene, and although Noah said she died in a car crash, we all know what happened really, don't we, as said by the junior Ms Van Hansen, much to her father's dismay. Of course, Mr. Van Hansen obviously hadn't realized that Jesse was still in earshot when he mentioned the hopes that Society had had for the youngest Kilmartin, with his mother's good looks and grandfather's brains. And then to discover the child was one of them, oh the embarrassment, do you think we should tell someone?

Feeling angrily suicidal for just a flash, Jesse hit the main road and floored the gas, fishtailing across and cutting up a couple of cars that honked and yelled angrily at him. He gave them the finger, felt better and headed for a couple of friends and acquaintances of his own that just might help out.

*****

In the dark smoky bar, Brennan swigged beer and played pool with some random guy. He liked this place, came in here regularly, had done so even before he'd met Adam. Here, apart from Proxy Blue jabbering away on the TV in the corner, it was like any other day. No war, no oppression, just civilized people enjoying a drink, a joke and a shot at the table.

He'd come here as part of his attempts to keep his ear to the ground, see what the buzz was, work out where he should best lay his talents, but most of the conversation seemed to be revolving around last night's hockey game.

The door opened and an old man came in. Everyone called him Eli, although no one knew if that was really his name, and he was a regular in this place, but otherwise homeless. Begged enough during the day for a few drinks, slept at the hostel, did no one any harm. Today was different and Brennan was shocked when virtually the entire bar rounded on the bewildered old man, even blocking the way out. They called him a mutant and knocked him to the floor, prepared kick the living daylights out of him. But then Brennan was standing over him, ready to fight, demanding to know what was going on.

"He's a mutant, and we don't want his kind in here," the barkeep said. "Causing us enough trouble as it is.  This place is supposed to be a haven away from it all."

"It's no haven if you discriminate," Brennan told him. "And besides, he's too old to be a new mutant. The first mutant ever made would still be less than forty."

"He is a mutant," the barkeep insisted and one of the other men pulled up Eli's hand, tearing off the worn glove. "And how do you know so much?"

Brennan swore as he saw Eli's hand. Six fingers. A natural deformity and not even an unusual one. Even Marilyn Monroe'd had six toes. "That's it? That's why you're calling him a mutant? And anyway, what has he ever done to you?"

"It's not what he's done, it's what he might do. And you didn't answer, what makes you such an expert?"

Brennan looked at the floor and shook his head before raising his hands to roll up a ball of electricity. "He's not a mutant and I know that, because I am!" Angrily making sure his spectators got a good look at glowing ball of energy, he blasted an empty table in the corner into splinters. The barkeep and patrons dove for cover, crying out in terror while Brennan took the opportunity to pick up the old man and take them both out of the bar.

Once out in the clear light of day, he looked back regretfully; he'd never be able to go in there again. And then he realized the bigger implications. No doubt his little tantrum will have escalated into a full-blown riot by the ten o'clock news.

Eli tugged at his arm, and Brennan looked down at the wizened and whiskered face. The old man seemed okay, just a little shocky and bruised, no worse than he'd get if he arrived too late to get a bed at the shelter and had to take cardboard box.

"You're a good boy," said Eli, patting his arm fondly. "A good boy." And then he was hobbling away towards the soup kitchen, leaving Brennan standing alone and wondering how the hell people could be so fucking cruel.

*****

"I'm sorry, did I just hear you correctly?" Mason Eckhart frowned at Senator Byrnes as they took coffee in the lounge of the Capitol Gentleman's Club.

"You did!" The fat man's rolls of fat wobbled indignantly. "I couldn't believe it myself. Even the redoubtable Ermintrude couldn't stop him and I'd have bet she could halt a hurricane in its tracks with just a glare. I mean, the cheek of it, bursting in unannounced like that!"

Eckhart could feel his lips twitch with suppressed mirth at the idea of Adam breezing past the stick thin Ermintrude with the sharp bones, sharp tongue and sharper wit. "Some people have no sense of propriety…" he shrugged, leaving the sentence hanging. "What was he after, did he say?"

"Oh, some nonsense about mutants having equal rights with humans. An absolutely disgusting affair."

"As you say." Eckhart leaned back in the chair and sipped at his coffee. "Mutants shouldn't be allowed to - "

"No, not mutants, boy. Just listen, would you?" Eckhart smiled politely and kept his temper in check as Byrnes rambled on. "He barged in just as the chiropodist was seeing to me! I mean, quite the wrong impression could have been given!"

Eckhart wondered exactly what the chiropodist might have been 'seeing to' to give a wrong impression before quickly deciding that that was area he really didn't want to think about too closely. "Oh, I couldn't agree more," he murmured, sipping at his tea. "Hm, don't you think it might be an idea to warn others about Mr. Kane dropping in unannounced? Personally I wouldn't give him the time day under any circumstance, far too aggressive. And I'm certain there are others who would appreciate knowing that they could be caught in, uh, situations that could cause the wrong impressions."

"Yes, yes, you're quite right." Byrnes slurped at his beverage. "It would never do, must make sure this whippersnapper doesn't cause trouble, eh?"

By the time Byrnes left for another appointment with his chiropodist, Eckhart was quite certain that the next occasion that Adam came across Ermintrude or one of her peers, he would not find it so easy to gain entrance.

*****