NUCLEAR PARADISE
Prologue:
Annie Rosiçky woke, confused and disoriented in complete darkness. Her mind was in turmoil, as if a black fog was smothering her brain, and for a moment she didn't know who she was, where she was, or what had happened to her. She struggled to collect her thoughts, and slowly, piece by piece, things began to seep back into her memory. The Brotherhood…the vaccine…the duel with her brother Gladiator…the pain…she remembered the pain. Gladiator's anger had amplified his power to a truly terrifying level. Annie had tried to stand against him, to protect the human race, to help Gary push aside his misunderstandings, to bring him back to the light – she had failed.
Jolts of agonising pain shot through her body as she tried to rise into a sitting position. She cried out and curled up weakly on the ground. Annie was no doctor, but she guessed at least half of the bones in her body were broken. Drawing her body in towards herself, she closed her eyes and put her hands over her face, hiding herself from the world, as if she could make it all go away. Part of her just wanted to lie there in her pain and sadness, feeling sorry for herself, wishing things would change. Part of her refused to give up, and urged her to do something, to use her powers to try and stop Gladiator a second time.
But Annie's defeat had been a crushing one. It had destroyed not only most of her body, but her spirit and her confidence as well. Her previous assurance was gone, along with her naïve assumptions that she would emerge victorious because she was fighting on the side of right. She had made too many assumptions…she had expected that she could change Gladiator's mind simply by talking to him…she had expected him to be exactly the same person she had known before he had joined the Brotherhood. She hadn't counted on him changing in the way that he had, changing into what Pyro wanted him to be.
The pain was still intense, and Annie knew she had to do something about it. Though in a bizarre way, she was reluctant to use her powers. Using them reminded her of the fight with Gladiator, the fight she had lost, and reminded her of the fact that she had failed the human race she had sworn to protect. The older X-Men had put their faith in Annie to stop Gladiator, and she had failed them. She had failed them, failed the humans, failed her parents, and failed herself. Annie felt as if she was the lowest creature on the Earth. She had let down everybody who had been relying on her, whose very lives had been depending on her success. Tears crept in at the edge of her mutated eyes, and she wanted to do nothing more than lie there and cry herself empty.
Some part of her took control, and forced her to get a grip of things. Annie stopped feeling sorry for herself, and started to think logically. She had to try again. She had failed, but that didn't mean she should give up. She had to try a second time, to fulfil the promises she had made. It was her duty as one who was strong to protect those who were weak. She had to defeat the Brotherhood and show Gladiator the error of his ways. She had to save the human race from the sickness the Brotherhood had infected them with. There was only one way to do it. There was only a tiny sample left of the cure her parents had developed, and Annie was the only person who knew where it was hidden. Somehow she had to set herself free and get hold of the cure before it was too late. Gladiator had beaten her once. A second defeat was inconceivable, since it would mean the end of humanity. She was the only one who could do anything to stop the chain of events Pyro had set in motion.
The first thing to do was mend the injuries her body had sustained. Annie took a deep breath, closed her eyes and concentrated her mind hard on using her healing power. Her body was so badly damaged that it wasn't easy, but eventually she felt the cool, soothing sensation spreading outwards from her heart. Her broken bones re-set themselves, her wounds closed, her pain lessened then disappeared, and she felt her weakened body becoming strong again.
Thank you God, for the gift of my power, she prayed.
Annie stood, still disoriented in the blackness, and experimentally put out a hand to either side. On her left she touched a wall, and leaning to her right she felt another. Reaching above her head, her hand touched a low ceiling, and by feeling around she located the other two walls that made up her small surroundings. Where was she? Some kind of prison cell? She had to find out where she was, and from there where she might find Gladiator. Maybe he was near here. Annie closed her eyes again, focused her mind, and pushed out with her telepathic power, trying to locate her brother.
Strange. She couldn't feel anything. Her telepathy wasn't working. It wasn't that she simply couldn't sense anybody – she just couldn't feel her power working at all. She tried again, pushing outwards with her mind, trying to locate Gladiator or one of the other Brotherhood members. Fear began to pulse in her brain as her telepathy failed once more. Annie started to panic. What was wrong with her telepathy? Had the Brotherhood done something to her? Had they 'normalised' her in some way, taken away her powers? No. Of course not. Her healing still worked. But why couldn't she sense anybody with her mind? Annie felt both blind and deaf without her telepathy; it was like a normal person suddenly losing both their sight and hearing in the same moment. It was terrifying, disorienting, and it destroyed the small amount of confidence she had been able to build up. Annie sank to her knees, her hands covering her face, sobbing in despair.
It was a beautiful summer's day, but for the two US army privates on guard at the underground military bunker less than twenty miles from New York City, it was a tense and anxious time. With the increasing fear of attacks by the mutant terrorists, there was a general loss of confidence spreading throughout the army. The US military prided itself on being the best trained, best equipped and most powerful fighting force in the world. They were not used to coming up against enemies they couldn't easily defeat, and the mutant terrorists had proved time and again to be virtually invincible. Despite there only being nine or ten of them, most of whom weren't even full-grown adults, the terrorists could strike as quickly and devastatingly as lightning, disappearing just as fast afterwards. Security on all military installations had been doubled and then trebled to protect the army's equipment from being sabotaged. This was a war, and one the US military were determined to win. The two privates at this bunker were recent recruits, young men who were determined to defend their country against mutant terrorism.
"Have you heard about Rodriguez?" the first asked.
The second looked over, "I heard he got transferred."
"Yeah, that's the bullshit story they fed us. I met an old buddy of his last night – truth is he got the Plague."
"You're kidding."
"No. They say you can get it just by being in the same room as somebody already infected."
"Holy shit."
"Yeah. Rodriguez caught it, only we're not supposed to know. Bad for morale. Don't let on I told you."
"Sure thing. Isn't there a cure for the Plague? I thought they were developing one."
"I heard that too, but it was just a rumour. There's nothing. They say the sickness was started by the terrorists. Seems they ain't content just to kill our army – they gotta go after our wives and kids too."
"Bastards," the other spat.
Before the first man could reply, both of them heard the sudden sound of gunfire. Jolted into action, they reacted with instinctive synchrony, slapping off the safety catches on their weapons, moving closer together into a defensive position where they could cover each other. Another burst of gunfire came, then another, then silence. Both men were tensed and ready to react in an instant, their eyes and ears straining to pick up the slightest sight or sound that might warn of imminent danger.
"Sounds as if it's coming from the east side."
"Yeah. Could it have been an accident? A gun left with its safety off?"
"Three rounds? Nah. We've got trouble. I can feel it."
Grabbing his communicator, the private spoke rapidly, "This is Wilson; I hear gunfire; requesting sit-rep."
He waited for a response, but none came. He tried to again, "I repeat, requesting sit-rep!"
There was no answer, but from around the corner of the building both could hear the sound of a loud thud, then a man's scream abruptly cut off. Both privates knew without doubt that there had been no accident. Whatever was happening, it was very real. To panic was natural, but both of them pushed their fears aside, letting their training take over. They had a decision to make. To leave their post would be to disobey orders, but the scream had obviously been that of a man in pain, and neither was willing to stay put when one of their compatriots might be wounded or dying. Slowly, carefully, they began to inch their way around the side of the building, ready to face whatever threat might present itself. As they got closer they could hear ragged breathing, and a man's terrified voice gasping, "What – what the hell are you?"
Neither of the privates was ready for the scene that greeted them as they turned the corner. Three men in US army uniforms lay dead on the ground, their necks twisted at grotesque angles. A fourth soldier, held by the throat, was being hoisted aloft by a giant, the tallest man either of them had ever seen. Beside the giant stood a gaunt figure, his body hidden in the folds of a cloak as black as night. Only his face and his hands showed, and those were chalk white. Further back could be seen a man who looked like a skeleton. The giant was slowly but surely tightening his grip on the throat of the trembling soldier, and the man began to choke as his windpipe constricted. Both privates raised their weapons.
"Put him down!!"
The giant and the gaunt, ghost-like figure looked over. The ghost's eyes were a terrifyingly bright blue, almost as if they were twin shards of ice
"Let him go or we'll shoot!"
The ghost gave what looked like a sneer, "Pathetic mortals…"
The giant closed his fist around the soldier's neck, and the man's last struggles ended as his body fell limp; his corpse was then dropped contemptuously to the ground.
"Drop them!"
Both men aimed at the black-cloaked figure and fired. Bullets thudded into the ghost's head, chest and neck, and both privates knew the satisfaction of revenge. They had already adjusted their aim to fire at the giant, when they realised something. The ghost was still standing, still facing them, and didn't appear to be wounded in the slightest. Before either of them could react, a falling shape overhead distracted them, and a figure dropped from the roof of the building on to their heads. A hissing sound was followed by the tearing noise of claws slicing into flesh, as the first private's neck was cut open, his blood spilling on to the ground. The other private screamed, a mixture of anger, fear and vengeance, and ploughed straight towards the ghost, determined to avenge his friend's death. He fired as he ran, emptying his weapon's magazine into the ghost's upper body. A click told him he was out of ammo, and he flung the gun aside, reaching for the combat knife at his hip. The ghost made no attempts to move out of his way, and the private drove the knife straight into his enemy's throat.
The ghost gave him another contemptuous sneer and pulled the knife free, dropping it to the ground. The private's eyes had already widened with horror, and he was reaching for a grenade when the ghost struck. A pale, deathly hand shot out to grip the private by the neck. The ghost's skin was as cold as ice, and the private struggled in his grasp, fighting desperately to free himself.
"I condemn you…" the ghost hissed.
No sooner had he sat down in the comfortable leather chair behind his expensive mahogany desk, than he was interrupted by the door being thrown open and his attractive young secretary hurrying into the room.
"Dr Van Gaarde!" she exclaimed.
"What is it?" he said impatiently. "Can't you see I'm trying to work?"
"It's the Horsemen, sir!"
"Yes, have them taken down to the lab, I want to run some tests."
"I can't, sir! That's what I came to tell you! The Horsemen have gone rogue!"
The geneticist's eyes, which had been lingering on her chest, moved up to her face, "What?!"
"We've lost control of them, sir! We're getting no response from their implant modules!"
Elias Van Gaarde closed his eyes briefly, "Let us hope to God that you are wrong. I don't have to tell you how disastrous this could be. If the rest of the world finds out what we've been doing…"
"I'm more worried about the Horsemen, sir! Out of control they might – "
"Yes, I know. Go down to the lab and check again. No, wait – I'll go down to the lab. You can go home, Miss Drake."
"Home, sir?"
"Yes, you heard me. Have the rest of the day off. Go on!"
She left the room, and Van Gaarde watched her go, admiring her bottom and her seductively swaying hips, barely covered by her skirt. She really was a beautiful woman, he thought. It would be a pity if he had to have her killed to cover up this mess. If the Horsemen really had gone rogue…
He headed down to the research labs, idly wondering what would happen if the world were to find out exactly what he had been working on these last three years. He didn't want to spend any more time in that high security prison. He had already spent more than fourteen years of his life there, before a government agency had offered him freedom in return for working on a specific project. He had accepted on the spot. Mutant genetics had always fascinated him, though his old research partner Davor Rosiçky had been the real expert. Van Gaarde often laughed at the irony of it. The human government, in their attempts to defend the nation from mutants, had enlisted his aid to breed their own race of super mutants. He had to admit, he had got more than a little carried away in the excitement at times. He had even named them himself. It had seemed fitting in a way, to name them after the Horsemen of the Apocalypse, his own personal armageddon against the mutants of America. Van Gaarde gave a shark-like smile. After all, it was those same mutants who were the reason he had ended up in that high security prison in the first place. Now it was time for revenge.
Elaine Drake arrived home approximately half an hour after leaving work. She was glad to be home early, not because she had any plans, but simply so she didn't have to spend any more time near the lecherous Dr Van Gaarde. She loathed the man intensely; it was only the extraordinarily high wage that enabled her to endure his company, his filthy chauvinist eyes openly and unashamedly roaming over her body. Elaine slammed the car door angrily as she thought about it, opening her handbag for her house keys. It made her so angry. A first class biology degree from one of the best universities in the country, and she ended up the secretary of some ancient, sexist lunatic. A man in her position would have been made a senior researcher by now; she had no doubt of that. Entering the house, slamming that door too, she headed upstairs for a shower. In her bedroom she undressed, angrily throwing down the tiny black skirt that Van Gaarde always insisted on her wearing to work.
"It's a wonder he doesn't just tell me to show up naked," she muttered to herself.
She couldn't believe that a man could actually dictate to his female employee what she should wear, but the man seemed to have some strange influence over whoever was ultimately in charge of the project. Elaine didn't know exactly who that was, but she suspected it was either the government or a big multinational corporation. Quite what the latter would want with a group of killer mutants she didn't know, so she assumed it was the former. And she had to admit, the money wasn't the only thing that kept her in the job. The work fascinated her. Mutant genetics had been the topic of her university thesis, and a research opportunity in that field had been a dream come true. Not that she especially cared for mutants; they were a source of scientific interest and that was all. She had never thought of them as being living creatures who had thoughts, emotions or relationships – they were just research specimens, like any other kind of lab animal. Whether they lived or died, prospered or suffered, was purely incidental. It wasn't like they were real people.
After having a shower, she dressed in fresh clothes and walked downstairs to get something to eat and watch the news headlines. It was when she reached the bottom of the stairs that she caught the first sight of the figure standing in her living room. Elaine's eyes widened in shock; it wasn't just that the woman was naked, but her skin was entirely blue and she was clearly a mutant.
"What the hell do you want, freak?!" she snapped. "Get out of my house!"
The other woman made no moves to leave, and Elaine angrily wrenched open the cupboard next to her, where her father had always kept his shotgun. Grabbing the gun, she made sure it was loaded and pointed it at the mutant.
"Get out, freak! I'll kill you!"
The blue mutant twisted to kick the gun from Elaine's hands, and the young woman gasped, then began to back away nervously, "All right, don't hurt me. You want money? My purse is upstairs. Let me just – "
She stopped as the other woman's body began to change shape. She couldn't believe what she was seeing as the mutant's body warped and morphed into another female form. Elaine screamed as she found herself looking into her own face. The mutant spun, kicking out at the geneticist, and Elaine Drake was killed, thrown to the floor with her neck broken.
Ten minutes later, the front door opened and the neighbours saw Elaine walking out towards her car, throwing it into gear and speeding off the way she had just come, back towards the research laboratory.
There were twelve of them gathered around the meeting table in the X-mansion. Cyclops was speaking, "OK, before we begin, I'd like to say a few words to our two newest members. Helios, Aqua – we've had to bring both of you into the fray earlier than we would have liked, but in the current situation we don't have any other choice. This is our most desperate hour. I know you won't let us down."
He looked at the two of them, and for a moment he thought, they're only children. What are we doing, bringing them into this? Then he pushed his doubts away. He had already considered the problem at length. They were the oldest and strongest of the students, and he felt both of them were ready to take up the challenge. He was confident he wouldn't be proved wrong – but at the same time he knew he'd never forgive himself if either of them got hurt from being thrown in at the deep end too early.
"OK, down to business," he said, taking his mind away from his worries. "The reason I called this meeting was to brief you all on something I only just heard myself."
"About the Brotherhood?" asked Storm.
"No – it's about that other group: the Horsemen of the Apocalypse. We hadn't heard anything about them since we fought them off from the school that time – until now, that is. A few hours ago a group of mutants answering their description launched an attack on a US army bunker."
"Wait a minute," said Shock. "I thought they were working for the government. Why would they attack the military?"
"I don't know. We have to find out. The Brotherhood are still our top priority, but this Apocalypse group could do serious damage if they put their minds to it. We'll have to keep an eye on them."
"What if they join with the Brotherhood?" asked Wolverine. "Two packs of murdering psychopaths – they ought to go together well."
"My son is one of the people you're talking about," Oculus replied icily.
"Yeah, well – no offence, but he's not exactly following in your footsteps, is he?"
"We have to find out more about the Horsemen before we can make any sort of judgement," said Cyclops. "Logan, Felicity, Kurt – I want the three of you to see if you can track them down. Watch them for the time being, and only intervene if you have no other choice. The rest of us will stay here on 'Brotherhood alert'. We still don't know where Pyro's got them based, and with Gladiator on their side it's too risky to attack them directly, but we have to be ready to take advantage of any mistakes they make. It might give us a chance to find Crusader. She's the only one who knows where to find the last surviving sample of the cure."
"What about our source inside the Brotherhood?" Gaia asked.
"We've heard nothing from them since the last battle."
"We still don't know who it is?"
"No. All their communications are anonymous. It could be any one of them. Except Pyro, I guess. OK – let's move. You three report back to us on a regular basis to let us know what you find."
"Got it," said Wolverine.
The meeting dispersed, and the two youngest X-Men walked towards the elevator together.
"I – I can't believe this is actually happening. I can't believe that – that they…"
The girl's voice trailed off and she looked nervously at the ground.
"I know what you mean," the boy said.
"You're only – only sixteen, and I – I'm only fourteen."
"Yeah. They only did this because of losing Annie, you do realise?"
Marina nodded, "I – I guess."
"They'd never have made us full X-Men at this age if they hadn't lost her," said Dominic. "As much as I'd like to think otherwise, I can't delude myself."
She looked at him sadly, then dropped her gaze, "Do you – do you think there's no hope? Do you think we can – we can save the humans?"
"We have to. We have to do everything we can."
"But – but do you think – "
"I don't know!"
Marina flinched, stung by the harshness in his voice, and looked at the floor unhappily. She didn't like being shouted at. It took a lot of confidence for her to speak at all, and it didn't take a lot to erode her confidence. Marina had been traumatised, scarred perhaps for life, by the death of her entire family, who had drowned before her eyes shortly after her fourteenth birthday. She had only survived the ordeal because her mutation enabled her to breathe underwater, and ever since that day she had been living a nightmare, haunted every second by those horrific images, terrified by the prospect of seeing them every day for the rest of her life. There were times when she would wake in the morning and for just a moment she would think that those terrible memories had only been a dream, and that she'd woken up to reality and everything would be all right. Within seconds her heart would be broken anew as she remembered that her nightmare was real.
Then she had met Gary. On the surface, they were the last two people on Earth who should have fallen in love. Marina: small, scared, neurotic, depressive – and Gary: powerful, angry, impatient, volatile. She should have been terrified of him from the minute go. He should have lost patience with her weakness and her mental problems, and wanted nothing to do with her. It hadn't happened like that. Gary had seen only a girl to love and protect; Marina had seen only a person who was deeply troubled like she was, somebody she could relate to and be comfortable with. They had met, they had loved, they had kissed – they had been separated. During a surprise attack launched by humans, Marina had been shot, and Gary, convinced she was dead, had give into his overpowering fury and declared himself an enemy of humanity. He had joined the Brotherhood. Marina had been healed by Annie, Gary's sister, and she had waited, hoping and praying that they might someday meet again. Sometimes she would build up the confidence to speak to one of the X-Men and ask if they had any news of him, but there was no indication of him coming back soon.
Marina's mental problems made it difficult for her to remember dates and times – life was just one ongoing saga of misery – and she tended to memorise things in terms of important events that had happened. Meeting Gary, for example. Losing Annie. It had been only two days ago that the X-Men had left, confident that Annie could bring Gary back out of his rage-fuelled vendetta, and Marina had built up her hopes that she would be seeing him again soon. Then the X-Men had returned, without Annie and without Gary. While Marina might have expected to be devastated, she was in fact quite the opposite. She was often a contrary person. Losing Annie, the person who had been using her psychic powers to help probe Marina's mind and gently try to heal her trauma, should have sent her over the edge. It hadn't. In a way it had made her stronger. When the X-Men had announced that they wanted to recruit more members, she hadn't hesitated in volunteering.
Now, at the age of fourteen, she was one of them, their youngest ever member. She had asked them to call her Aqua, and she was ready to face whatever trial or mission they might ask her to take part in. She believed in the preservation of human life, as all of them did, but her main goal was to see Gary again, to show him that she was alive, and to beg him to return to her. She knew she couldn't live without him. It was only hope of seeing him again that kept her going. Without him, her life was empty, and not worth living. He had to come back to her. They had thought that Annie was the one to achieve that, but Gary had fought Annie and beaten her. Marina knew she was the one person Gary would never hurt. She knew she was the only one who could bring him back.
A/N: Unfortunately I'm very very busy right now, so I'm putting this chapter up as a sort of 'taster'. The next chapter should be up 'reasonably' soon, i.e. some time before Christmas. Please leave a review to encourage me to go faster!
