TWELVE

Morgan felt the heat from the blaze as he drew closer. The fire burned deep and orange and ate more of the beautiful old mansion with each second. Parts of the roof had already collapsed. Windows were exploding everywhere. He hoped to God that there was no one still inside, but the rational part of his mind told him that there would be. He shrugged off his jacket and let it fall to the ground. His white shirt was covered in spreading blooms of sweat under his arms and over his chest and back. He couldn't remember the last time his heart was beating this fast.

Keeping to the relative cover of the hedges, he moved as fast as he could. Up ahead he saw a lone figure watching the blaze, a little too close to be a casual observer. Morgan slowed and clicked the safety off his Glock. The figure hardly seemed to notice him. Clad in black and holding an automatic weapon in his hands. Barely more than a kid. Morgan aimed his weapon and stepped away from the hedge. "Drop the weapon," He called out. The boy started, and his body tensed. Morgan hoped the kid wouldn't turn and let of a burst from the gun in his hands. He hated machine guns. "I said drop the weapon."

The boy turned, still holding the gun but not pointing it at Morgan. The light from the fire danced across his face, which was pale and streaked with soot. His blonde hair was cropped military short. There was no mistaking it. Morgan was staring at Jeremiah Blacksmith. "Jeremiah." He said the boy's name softly, and the boy's baby face rippled in a frown. "Jeremiah, drop the gun."

The boy met Morgan's eyes and shrugged. "Why should I?"

There was a pause. "Don't make me shoot you, boy."

"Go ahead. I don't want to live." Morgan could see the boy was crying.

Morgan tried another tack. "Where is Creed?"

"Somewhere inside, I think. The others ran, deserted us, but I'm going to stay until he comes back." His voice was a monotone and his face was twisted in anger. "The muties scared them away."

Morgan glanced up at the mansion, then his eyes settled back on Jeremiah. He didn't have time. One of them needed to make a move.

Jeremiah spoke again. "How did you know my name?"

"I've been looking for you. I'm a detective with the NYPD."

"Am I in a lot of trouble?"

Morgan nodded slowly. "I'm not going to ask you again. Drop the weapon."

Jeremiah lifted the gun slightly, and Morgan's finger tensed on the trigger. Jeremiah regarded the gun for a few moments, as if deciding what to do with it, asking it a question. He looked up again with wide glistening eyes, and slowly raised the tip until it entered his open mouth. Morgan took a step forward but the warning in the boy's sudden movement stopped him. He reached out a hand to Jeremiah, trying to establish eye contact. Tears slid in fat droplets from Jeremiah's raised chin, and his trigger finger was trembling. "Don't do this..." Morgan said softly. "You know you don't wanna do this."

Jeremiah closed his eyes. Morgan had no choice. He aimed for the boy's shoulder, hoping that he could squeeze the trigger before Jeremiah. Morgan squeezed his eyes shut and a gunshot rang out in the already crackling atmosphere. Morgan heard the boy's body hit the ground and open his eyes, sweat sliding down his forehead.

But Jeremiah wasn't there. In his place stood short a man with jet-black hair and blazing blue eyes that bore into his. The man was baring his teeth and Morgan could hear a low growl coming from deep inside his throat. Morgan's bullet had hit its mark, all right. Square in the shorter man's shoulder. Morgan held the gun firm, this time aiming for the head. "What did you do to the kid?"

The other man cocked his head to the side. His body hunched and his head down, he looked like a feral dog. "What were you about to do?"

Morgan hesitated. He had all but dismissed the feral man as a vagrant who had wandered onto school grounds, and he was willing to shoot him again if he needed to, but the way the other man spoke gave him reason to think otherwise. "This kid is mixed up with the Friends of Humanity. He was about to kill himself."

"So you were going to shoot him?"

"If I had to." Morgan could see Jeremiah lying on the ground behind the feral. He was unconscious. "I don't have time for this. I don't have time for you."

The feral straightened. He was frowning now, all malice faded from his face. Like he was trying to see right into Morgan. "You're a cop."

Morgan nodded. "Detective Vic Morgan. NYPD."

"You know what this place is, what's going on here?"

Morgan nodded again. He didn't lower the gun. "I'm here to find Graydon Creed."

"Then we both have no time. Either drop the gun and follow me or stay out here and baby-sit the kid. Creed's in the upper levels."

A quick glance at the burning building told Morgan that to walk right in would be madness. The whole structure was likely to collapse in on itself as the fire ate away at the ground level, inch by inch. He holstered his gun and nodded. "Lead the way."

Bobby Drake knew that his time had run out. The kids with him, entrusted to his care as he saw it, were going to drown underneath their school, and everyone would know he failed. Sam had regained consciousness just before the water level rose that final few inches. Bobby's legs were screaming at him after supporting Sam's weight for almost half an hour. Now his lungs were burning and it felt like his chest was going to implode. A few of the younger kids were struggling seriously now, and he would swim over to them and support them for a while until they calmed down. He looked up at the impregnable ceiling of the danger room, an eight-inch thick barrier of concrete and steel that would eventually serve as the lid of his very tomb.

Sam grabbed his arm suddenly and pointed. One of the younger boys, whose name was Curtis, was sinking quickly, his body slack and motionless except for his flailing arms. Bobby considered his options: Either exert that last precious amount of energy and swim after the boy, or let the boy fall and wait for himself to suffer a similar fate.

The question was academic. Bobby motioned for Sam to stay with the other kids and dove down with two powerful kicks, his legs protesting at this new torture. Sam could feel his head buzzing with dizziness, and his limbs felt unusually light as he reached Curtis' slowly falling body, and scooped the boy up in his arms. His vision was shimmering and it looked as if black fingers were clawing at his eyes. He realized that his pulse was pounding behind his eyeballs. He was not going to make it. In fact he could see the other kids were slowly falling too, as each one lost consciousness. Bobby kicked as hard as he could but his chest was burning, his body heaving, and  he wanted so badly to yawn, to take huge gulping breaths of air. The panic in him subsided as blood began to drift out in a fine mist from his nose, and he dropped Curtis' prone body. The floor was fast approaching and Bobby was surrendering himself to it, offering himself to it, welcoming it.

He watched in absolute calm as he saw a shard of light pierce through the ceiling, and that shard of light became a flood. The muted sounds of rending metal could be heard. It sounded like whales singing.

The walls around him looked as though they were made of rubber, bending ever so slightly, as his body was lifted back up, up and towards the flare of light. His body broke the surface and warm, exquisite smoke filled air rushed into his lungs like an old friend embracing him. He was suspended in mid air, as were the other students, and he couldn't quite comprehend what he was seeing. His savior. A man in a flowing dark jacket over a crisp white uniform. Regal, iron colored hair and blazing eyes. Bobby said the name in a croak, and looked at Charles Xavier, who was waiting in the elevator nearby.

"Magneto."

Morgan and Logan charged up the stairs to the bell tower. Logan took the lead, two steps at a time. They stopped abruptly in front of a wood paneled door, and Logan crouched down, his body rigid and unmoving. He sniffed the air and pointed at the door. "He's on the roof. Probably about eight of his boys with him." He paused and sniffed again, a scowl spreading on his face. "He has Ororo, too."

"One of your people?"

Logan nodded. "One of the teachers here. I can smell her blood."

Morgan unclipped his holster. "There's nowhere for them to hide up there."

"They're probably waiting for a chopper. The roof has a landing pad."

Morgan wondered what sort of school, even a school for mutants, has a landing pad on it's roof. He knew that Xavier had spared no expense on the mansion and it's facilities, but he considered the landing pad a bit on the eccentric side. Logan seemed to read his mind and said, "This place is not what people think"

Morgan nodded, and told himself he'd push for a full explanation later. He contemplated the door in front of them, and what was waiting behind it. He didn't like the idea of charging onto the roof with guns blazing, but it didn't strike him as incredibly smart to try sneaking through the door undetected either. Creed would be smarter than that. Hell, he probably already knew that they were behind the door now, planning his downfall.

Logan took a deep breath and looked at Morgan. "Alright. We break down the door, you following after me. You stay the hell behind me until I can either disarm them or they run outta ammo. You get a chance, go for Creed, get Ororo away from him the first chance you get."

"You can't be serious--" Morgan stopped as he looked into Logan's eyes. They shone with determination. He meant to do this. Something told him to trust in what Logan was saying. He took his gun out of it's holster, checked it, then nodded. Logan stood up and clenched his fists. Three glinting steel claws slid from the back of his left hand, then his right, and he moved towards the door swiftly, waiting for Morgan to fall in behind. Morgan could hear the distant thumping of a chopper approaching, and it was matching the beat of his heart. The door gave a little groan as Logan shouldered it open, and then kicked it free of them. The door swung out hard and came clean off its hinges, crashing to the ground loudly. Morgan felt for sure that they were as good as dead, but he couldn't hear anything over the deep thumping of the helicopter.

The first man to notice them was too slow to sound the alarm. Logan had already sunk his claws into the young man's belly before words could pass his lips. The young man's eye went wide, and Logan held him there, waiting for him to struggle, but no struggle came. Logan let the young man fall to the ground gently. Morgan could see Creed, his back to them, watching the approaching helicopter. He had dragged the unconscious Storm over to the ledge, his fist balled up in her shiny white hair. Logan noticed it too, and his body tensed.

There was no time to make a move. One of the soldiers at Creed's side saw them approach, and shouted out word that the muties were behind them. Morgan gritted his teeth as a jarring barrage of gunfire assaulted them with brutal force. Logan's body jerked as bullets entered his flesh, but he stood his ground. Morgan stuck behind Logan with his weapon at the ready. What Logan just did was tantamount to suicide.

But still, he walked slowly towards the soldiers, who by now had realized that their weapons were useless against this new foe. They began to back away, some of them dropping their weapons and running, and Morgan would shoot them in the back of the knee to stop them. There was no telling how long they were subjected to the vicious attack. Morgan couldn't tell if just second had passed because it felt as if he was moving through tar. He couldn't keep up with the amount of activity in those frantic few moments. Shouts were being drowned out by gunfire as Logan moved swiftly through the small pack of young men. Morgan could see their numbers thinning. Logan moved forward and ran his claws into the belly of a young man, whose eyes went wide, as though he couldn't believe he was stupid enough to fall for that old trick. Men were yelling at each other to kill the muties, and Logan tore through each one of them, his eyes wild and his forehead drenched in sweat.

Morgan had now broken away from behind Logan, his gun aimed and sweeping in broad arcs of his arm in front of him. He was making his way towards Creed, who still had his back to the melee, the unconscious Storm draped over his shoulder. The chopper was fast approaching. Creed made a gesture to the pilot with an open palm, which Morgan took as a good sign. It meant he wasn't armed.

Then, Creed's voice boomed over the noise of the chopper and the battle behind him. "Logan!"

Morgan looked back to see Logan pick a young man up by the shirt front and throw him aside, his shoulders hunched low, claws scraping along the concrete, kicking up sparks. Creed turned around slowly and smiled as he slid a shiny pistol out of his jacket pocket. He pulled Storm close and held it to her head. "Take one step closer. I want you to give me a reason to blow this nigger bitches head off."

Logan stopped. He was fast, but not fast enough to stop a bullet at point blank range. Creed grinned. The chopper was almost ready to touch down. Smoke and debris flew around them fiercely. Morgan covered his eyes as tiny shards of glass assaulted his face. He was of no use to Logan if he couldn't see what the hell was happening.

"You're going nowhere, Creed," Logan replied, his voice harsh and grating over the sound of the approaching chopper. "You're a coward who hides behind a woman to survive. You are no hero, no messiah. You ride on the backs of those stupid enough to believe in your causes. You are nothing, you hear me?"

Morgan heard footsteps coming up the stairs. Looks like the Calvary was about to arrive. He turned his back to the storm of debris and smoke and dust to see Cyclops emerge through the doorway, followed by Sebastien, Chamber and Jean Grey. Jean laid eyes on Creed and started towards him, and Morgan grabbed her by the shoulders. Jean struggled and Morgan held his grip. "We can't afford to make this worse, ma'am," Morgan said quietly. "Creed is likely to do something very stupid."

"But we can't just…" She broke into tears and Cyclops pulled his arms around her, releasing Morgan's grip.  Her red hair whipped around Cyclops' shoulder. "We can't let her go, Scott. It can't be like this."

Sebastien walked forward and watched the scene playing itself out before them. Creed had a vicious grip on Storm, and Logan was but a few feet away. One good lunge and he could retrieve Storm from Creed's grasp. Logan's frustration showed in the way he paced slowly back and forth, his eyes never leaving Creed. They were talking, but the sound didn't carry over to where he was standing. Sebastien could see the fear in creed. It was almost like a colour that wreathed itself around him, hidden in the smoke and dust. Sebastien concentrated on that feeling. Creed was scared. They could use that to their advantage…If only they knew what he was scared of.

Chamber grabbed Sebastien by the elbow and pulled him near. "I know what you're thinking," He said. "You're wonderin' if your powers will work on Creed as they do on mutants."

Sebastien frowned. "What are you talking about? What powers?"

Chamber paused, dragged him away from the others but not far enough to lose sight of Creed and Logan. "The things that have happened here since you arrived…the tension, the violence, all of it. I think you caused it."

Sebastien pulled his arm from Chamber's grasp. "I did not—"

"Now don't get offended. I never said you meant to do it. I think your powers manifested when you were attacked. I think you have the ability to heighten whatever underlying fear people have within them, and multiply it a hundred fold. It affects everyone around you. I think you're beginning to realize it yourself."

Sebastien could barely take all of this in. There was no time to question it. He weighed his options as he watched Logan and Creed. The helicopter was hovering above now, and Sebastien could hear sirens in the distance. Police, fire crews, they were heading to the mansion, but they would not reach them in time, that much was clear. Logan had moved no closer; it was simply too dangerous.

"Do you think I could direct it?" He asked Chamber.

Chamber shrugged. "I hadn't really considered it. Mutant abilities can be controlled and harnessed with time—"

"So in other words I will just have to wing it and hope to God it works?"

"Yeah."

Sebastien sighed and ran a nervous hand through is hair. How was he supposed to direct a power he didn't even know he had? The knot in his stomach tightened and he closed his eyes and concentrated. There must be something that he could do…. Creed hated mutants. He wanted to cleanse the earth of them. That much he knew. If you want to destroy something that must mean you are afraid of it. Why was Creed afraid? What triggered it?

Creed motioned for the men on the helicopter to lower the ladder. The smoke was making his eyes water, and the Negro was going to be a dead weight climbing the thing. He wanted to be free of her when they took off, but there was no way he could discard her yet. She was the key to his escape. If he dispatched her now, then Logan would be on him the second her body hit the ground. He watched as the ladder unfurled and hovered near his shoulder, hoisted the weather witch over his shoulder and kept his eyes on Logan, who had stopped pacing and was obviously trying to find an opportunity. All the mutant freaks needed was any opportunity. They wanted to take over, to destroy humanity…. To destroy the good American family with their impure genes…to destroy a child, a boy, who was subjected to years of cruelty at the hands of one mutant…

Creed felt a wave of nausea hit him like a punch in the gut. What was happening? He hadn't thought about his father in years. Not since he saw him last. Then all at once, another flash of images hit him and he stumbled backwards. His father's face was burned into his eyelids, like a negative image, a parody of a ghost.

Chamber nodded to Sebastien. "Whatever you're doing, keep it up."

Sebastien shut his eyes and tried to concentrate. The sheer energy needed to direct his power was draining him, making him dizzy. He'd found Creed's fear. It was like a black thorny thing in his mind's eye, and it was writhing at the ties that bound it. It wanted to be released. Sebastien had to help it along. Then the image of Creed's father, as Creed was seeing it, flashed at Sebastien like a solar flare. Sebastien opened his eyes and shouted across the rooftop to Creed "Your father is a mutant!"

Creed swung around to follow the voice. The men in the Copter were shouting at him to climb the ladder quickly, but he ignored them. "What did you say?" He said quietly at first, and then repeated the question loudly "WHAT DID YOU SAY???"

Sebastien walked forward. "Your father was a mutant. Your mother too. You have a mutant half brother and you are the only one who is human."

Creed shook his head. "I am the only one who is normal! The only pure human in that line of filth!"

Logan watched the exchange in astonishment. What was the kid doing?

Creed's face was a mask of rage. The ladder spun wildly as it hung from the helicopter. The men in the copter were frantic now, trying to persuade Creed to escape while he still had the chance. The sirens were getting closer and parts of the mansion were collapsing. The situation was now officially critical.

"This crusade of yours," Sebastien continued, his eyes still closed. "It is your way of coping with the jealousy. That jealousy has eaten you up and almost swallowed your mind."

Creed was moving swiftly towards him now. The Negro was getting cumbersome on his shoulder. Logan stood in between him and Sebastien with his claws raised. "If you want to take my advice," Logan said, pointing to Creed with the tips of his claws. "And I sincerely hope for your sake that you do, you will get on that copter now and walk away. Leave Storm and go."

Creed hesitated. He was not a fool. He knew capture was immanent. He planted a foot on the first rung of the rope ladder and hoisted the Negro's weight along with him. He was still half facing Logan though, and his hand still clutched his gun. "Let me go if you want the black bitch to live," He yelled above the deafening roar of the chopper's blades. "Take my word, Logan. I climb this ladder and take her with me and I guarantee you her safety. She will be dropped off at the nearest safe spot away from here. You try anything funny, you leap of this building after me, I blow her head off."

Logan hesitated. His face was a mask of hate. He looked back at Cyclops and Jean, and wondered what was going through their minds. Jean was cleaving to Cyclops and weeping. If there were any chance Creed would keep his word, if there were any chance he could know that Storm would be OK…

"If you have any honour, you will keep your word." He yelled. Tears were forming in his eyes. "If you don't I will come after you and skin you alive."

Creed believed him. "You have made the right choice, mutant," He replied. "I am a man of my word." He began to climb the ladder quickly; amazed that Logan did not try to attack him.

Chamber ran to Logan's side. "You can't just let him walk out of here, Logan!" He pleaded. "We have to do something!"

Logan just shook his head and wiped away his tears with the back of his rough, calloused hand. "There's nothing I could do. If I had pulled anything Creed would have killed her."

"He's going to kill her anyway." Sebastien said from behind them, as they watched the chopper ascend. "I can tell. He'll wait until he's clear of here first because Storm is his insurance policy."

In the air, Creed could see the blonde boy who tried to hijack his mind. He dumped the bitch on the floor and moved to the side window. His head still burned from the pressure of the boy's emotional assault. He smiled and cocked his pistol, then yelled at the pilot to hold this position for a few seconds longer. The pilot didn't like the idea of sticking around with the cops so close, but Creed pointed the gun at him and it shut him up. He aimed it squarely at the blonde boy's head and fired.

On the ground, Jean screamed and Cyclops ran towards Sebastien as he fell. Logan watched the Copter as it banked and began to peel away from the mansion at high speed. There was nothing he could do for Storm now….

Then, as if to answer his unspoken prayers, a metallic shriek ripped through the air. Logan turned around to see the helicopter rocking from side to side, like a fish caught in an invisible net. The copter's blades were shuddering. Creed leaned forward and spoke rapidly to the pilot, who was frantically trying to right the craft. A blue pulse surrounded the copter and the blades stopped altogether, but the copter was still in the air. Logan rushed forward, to the very edge of the rooftop, and watched as a lithe figure shrouded in the same blue energy ascended until he was face to face with Logan.

Magneto smiled. He wore his helmet and his eyes shone. "Leave this miserable piece of human trash to me." He said in a deep, commanding voice. Logan stepped back as Magneto landed on the rooftop and gestured with his hand. The helicopter was wrenched from its position and glided closer to the mansion. "Graydon Creed. You are behind this. Release the woman."

No answer came forth from the copter. Creed had picked Storm up again and had the gun pressed against her temple. Magneto laughed at his foolishness. "I will liquefy that bullet before it even leaves the chamber. Release the woman. I shall not ask you again."

Creed pulled the trigger but the chamber clicked empty. Again and again, the hollow click. He threw the gun aside and pulled open the door, then thrust the Negro out, headfirst. Storm went hurtling towards the earth. "Logan," Magneto said. "Get her."

Logan pitched himself off the building and streamlined his body to reach Storm in time. He grabbed her arm and curled his body around her. They were falling faster now, the ground rushing towards them. Logan felt a slight tug inside him as a magnetic pulse lifted him back up. They were deposited on the rooftop beside Magneto, and Jean rushed to their aide. Storm was still unconscious as Logan cradled her in his arms. Behind them, Cyclops and Chamber were attending to Sebastien.

"Now, what to do with you, mister Creed. You have been a most bothersome nuisance of late and you have destroyed everything Charles Xavier holds so dear. Tell me. How would you like to die?" He had risen up and he was staring into the cockpit. Creed was staring back, sneering at Magneto.

"I will not beg to any mutant."

"Nor should you have to. I offer you a choice, Mr. Creed. I think you'll find any begging would fall on deaf ears." Magneto sighed heavily and smiled. "You have two choices: One, I kill you here, right now, and you at least get some measure of celebrity having died for a cause you believe in. Or I let you live, detain you here, and the police will deal with you accordingly. You will go to court, go to prison and everyone will know you failed."

"Like you did?"

Magneto smiled. "I find that amusing Mister Creed. Really I do. Your American bravado is ugly and so is your hate."

It took only a gesture, and Creed's fate was sealed. Steel beams from the debris below were speared into the copter at ferocious speed. The copter reared up like it was going to fight, then it exploded in a fist of orange fire. Metal flew everywhere as the remains of the copter hurtled downwards. Magneto turned slowly in the air and began to drift towards the rooftop. Hank McCoy was wheeling Xavier through the broken door. "It's over, Charles," Magneto announced as his feet touched the concrete roof, just feet away from Xavier's wheelchair. Xavier looked stricken, his face drained of all colour. "Charles?"

Xavier wheeled himself to where Sebastien lay. The bullet had hit his side, and the wound was seeping blood. "Thank you, Erik." He said quietly, his eyes focusing on Sebastien. Xavier called Jean to his side, and she knelt beside Sebastien and inspected the wound. Chamber was holding Sebastien's hand. "We need to get him to an E.R. He's lost a lot of blood already," She said in a half whisper. "The Med Lab was flooded during the attack." She stood up and wiped her hands on her Jeans. She was staring at Magneto. "You helped us. You saved our kids. Why?"

Magneto smiled ever so slightly, his eyes shining. "Back in Cairo, when Charles and I were young men, I knew that our paths would lead us in different directions. We talked about the same ideals but we had different ways of pursuing them. Even then, I knew Charles Xavier was a great man. I told him then, I gave him my word, that if he needed help I would be there. All he had to do was ask."

"And he bust you outta prison." Logan's voice came from behind them. Storm was conscious and he was helping her walk. Logan frowned in Xavier's direction. Xavier held up a hand for patience, holding Logan's gaze. "Logan, things were complicated…my powers had temporarily left me. I could not fight this war alone."

Jean came around and began to support Storm's other side. Xavier inclined his head. "This is not the time to discuss it. I will explain my actions-in depth-to you all later. Right now, we need to attend the wounded."