God's Trumpet
Chapter 3: Choosing Sides
Crescendo slept late into the day, worn out from yesterday's meeting with Magneto. He slunk out of bed, noticing that the others were still sleeping. Crescendo shrugged indifferently. It wasn't as if they had any reason to get up.
"Hello?" a voice called up from the lowest floor. The voice had a British accent, like Magneto. Before he had mutated, Crescendo could not distinguish two British voices to save his life. Now he could detect differences in the vibrations of the sound waves.
"So you're awake," the man called up. Crescendo was surprised. How did the man know that someone two stories above him was awake?
"I can sense you," the man answered. "You think quite loudly. Please, wake your friends and bring them down. I have something to discuss with you."
Crescendo stirred up sound waves in his friends' rooms, telling them to wake up. Raptor and Midas emerged from their rooms, Swarm staggering out shortly afterwards. The four mutants came down to the first floor to be met by a bald man in a wheelchair and a young dark-skinned woman with white hair.
"Hello," said the bald man with a friendly smile.
"Who the hell are you and what the hell do you want?" asked Crescendo.
"Forgive me. My name is Charles Xavier. I am here because of the destruction of the clinic. You see, I was the clinic's chief financial benefactor. When I learned that the Purifiers attacked it, I came searching for any survivors. You're Crescendo, aren't you?"
"Yeah."
"Dr. Marlow told me about you. Very brave, tailing those mobs like you did. I was looking forward to the day you would join us at my school."
"Thanks for the offer," Crescendo said, "but I've made other plans."
"He's joining Magneto's Brotherhood," Raptor blurted. "They all are."
"The Brotherhood?" said Xavier. "You're joining Erik's terrorists?"
"And what do you intend to do about it, Charles?" Striding through the door was Magneto, in his trademark cape and helmet. "These young people have made their decision. Or will you use your talents to 'convince' them?"
The white-haired woman glared at Magneto. Though it was a sunny day, Crescendo felt the air getting colder and heard the distinctive rumble of thunder. Charles put a hand on her arm and whispered something calming in her ear. The temperature returned to normal and the thunder disappeared.
"You know that I won't, Erik," Charles said wearily. "Abusing power is your province, not mine." He turned back to Crescendo and the others. "Do you realize what it means to join the Brotherhood? Are you prepared to kill humans?"
"Why not?" Swarm shot back. "They seem prepared to kill us."
"Not all of them," said Charles. "There are humans who are willing to accept us and help us."
"And they died at the clinic," said Crescendo as he walked out the door to the car Magneto had waiting for them.
"Well," said Magneto, "I don't see this conversation going anywhere." He motioned to the door. "Swarm, Midas, shall we?"
As the two mutants followed Crescendo out the door, Midas stopped by Xavier's wheelchair. "Professor?"
"Yes, Midas?"
"Were there…" Midas paused. "Are there any other survivors?"
"No," Xavier answered somberly. "I'm sorry."
"I see." Midas followed Swarm out to the car.
"You're still welcome to join us, Raptor," said Magneto.
Raptor shook his head. "I'm no killer."
"Not even after that scene at the clinic?"
"Nope."
A column of sound was directed past Xavier and Magneto and straight to Raptor, so that only he could hear. "Your pride will get you killed someday."
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On the outside, Rev. Mathias Bell was one of those televangelists, sincere in his faith but not above making a few million bucks from it. He roused his flock with fire and brimstone, preaching violence but appearing to never follow through with it.
On the inside, Bell was even more unstable than he appeared to be on stage. Once, he had been one of those modern, liberal reverends, teaching their bland, watered-down Christianity and somehow managing to worship God and put up with Satan at the same time. Things had changed when that creature was born.
The girl had been meant to be his child, his beloved daughter, his pride and joy. He had thought all children to be innocent, untouched, pure. But on that day, Bell learned that Satan's corruption could reach someone even in the womb. The creature that had emerged from his wife's womb was so deformed, so vile that it could only be one of Satan's spawn. Bright yellow eyes that shone like heated coals and skin the color of raw meat. It was truly the Devil's child.
When he first saw that squirming, wailing monster in his wife's arms, God's fury and revulsion poured into him. But he had resisted it, waving his tolerance around like a little talisman, warding it off. Stacey, his wife, hadn't cared that their child was a mutant and for a while, Bell convinced himself that he didn't care either.
Then, one day, he held the creature while his wife had left to shop for groceries. He gently rocked it, trying to get it to stop crying. Its wail was starting to makes his ears hurt.
Then, suddenly, the baby was silent.
Bell looked down at it, thinking it had finally gone to sleep. But its eyes were open, wide and unblinking, staring straight into his own. Bell gazed into its golden eyes, mesmerized.
Then, he felt an unknown intrusion probing into his mind. The baby. It was as if the baby was peering through his mind, exploring it. The baby's mental probe shot deeper into his mind.
Then, pain.
Bell felt as if his head exploded. White hot pain filled his skull, blinding him. He screamed, trying vainly to force the creature's probe out. Finally, he flung the creature hard against the wall, hearing a dull thump.
The pain stopped.
Bell slumped down in the sofa, trying to catch his breath. He turned to look at the body of the creature he had thrown at the wall. The baby's soft skull had burst open against the wall, leaving a large red stain. Its limp and broken body lay beneath it.
As he looked at the murdered child, he did not feel the regret or fear he expected. He felt elation, ecstasy. Bell knew that he had finally done what God wanted from him. To do God's work was a wonderful feeling, no matter how unpleasant that work was.
The Lord had been pleased. He sent Bell allies, men of great wealth and power, to protect him. They silenced his traitorous wife and helped him gain a televised pulpit with which he could continue his mission, purging mutants from the world.
Now he sat in his study in the mansion that his works had earned him, preparing his latest sermon. He heard a knock at his door. "Come in."
"Rev. Bell?"
"Hello, Anne," Bell said warmly. "What can I do for you?"
Anne stepped forward shyly, a piece of yellow paper in her hands. "I found this in town today." Bell accepted the paper and unfolded it. It spoke of a mutant community meeting with the words NO HUMANS featured prominently.
"Thank you for bringing this to me," Bell said solemnly. The mutants were organizing, no doubt for another terrorist act. And they were holding their meeting in a church, no less! Turning a house of God into the headquarters for Satan's army. Was there no end to their depravity?
"What are you going to do about it?"
"We could sneak someone in to take care of their leadership," said Bell.
"I volunteer!" Anne blurted. She seemed desperate for this mission.
"I appreciate your eagerness…" Bell began.
"Reverend Bell, I spent my life trying to help those monsters and I led that disastrous raid on the clinic. Give me a chance to redeem myself!" Her zeal was inspiring.
"You shouldn't feel bad about the raid. We destroyed the place. It was a success."
"But so many of our people were killed. I need this."
"There's a very good chance you'll be killed," said Bell.
"Then we'll meet in Heaven."
Bell fell silent as he got up from his desk and embraced the young woman. Anne was surprised for a moment, but as she grew more comfortable in his arms, she embraced him back.
In the short time he'd known her, Bell had grown fond of the repentant young woman and he knew why. Anne was the same age as his daughter would have been and even had a slight resemblance to his wife. It was the ultimate sign of God's pleasure. He had seen fit to return Bell's daughter to him.
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The skinny man stood on the stage of the church, making a feeble speech of "education," trying to reassure the mutants in the audience that the new anti-mutant "cure" was voluntary. Crescendo shook his head at the man's naïveté.
"They're trying to exterminate us!" shouted a man in the audience.
"No one's talking about extermination," the man on stage replied.
"No one ever talks about extermination," came a strong, clear voice from the audience. The crowd fell silent. "They just do it."
Magneto stepped out of the crowd, making his way to the stage. All eyes were on him. He was flanked by Pyro and Deathstrike. Swarm, Midas, and Crescendo followed, forming a small parade. They were there for two reasons, to protect Magneto and to make a display of power.
As they made their way to the stage, Crescendo looked out of the corner of his eye and saw a familiar blonde head. Anne! What's she doing here? Had she become a mutant or was she simply a spy for the Purifiers? Crescendo knew he had to stop her but to attack her now, without any clear provocation, would throw the meeting into panic and hurt the Brotherhood's cause. Meanwhile, Magneto continued his speech.
"And you go on with your lives, ignoring the signs around you. And then one day, when the air is still and the night is fallen, they come for you. Only then do you realize that while you're talking about organizing and committees, the extermination has already begun. Make no mistake, my brothers, they will draw first blood. They will force their cure upon us. There is only one question you must answer: Who will you stand with?"
As they walked down from the stage, Crescendo sent a private message to Magneto. "The Purifier woman from the clinic is here." Without looking back, Magneto nodded.
"You talk pretty tough for a guy in a cape." Crescendo, being at the back, turned and found himself face to face with an Asian man. The young man was flanked by three women, all in black.
"Back off," said Pyro. Crescendo said nothing, preparing to blast this newcomer apart.
"Hey!" a woman covered in tattoos shouted to Magneto. "If you're so proud of being a mutant, then where's your mark?"
Magneto smiled sardonically. "I've already been marked once, my dear," he said as he pulled up his sleeve, revealing a set of numbers tattooed into his skin. "And let me assure you, no needle will touch my skin again."
Midas and Crescendo looked at the numbers, not understanding their meaning. "He's a Holocaust survivor," Swarm whispered to them. With that bit of knowledge, Crescendo felt he understood Magneto much better.
Pyro swaggered forward, looking the man in the face. "Do you realize who you're talking to?" A wisp of flame appeared in the palm of his hand.
"Do you?" With the sound of a switchblade, needles appeared all over the man's head.
"Watcha gonna do?" asked Swarm. "Rub your face on us?"
"Don't worry about 'em, Quill," said the tattooed woman. "She's a beekeeper and her boyfriend's just a walking music box."
"What use'll you be?" asked a large, manly woman with heavily gelled hair. "Unless we wanna fight to a soundtrack."
Crescendo looked straight into her eyes. "Maybe you should see how this music box can split your skull."
Swarm said nothing. Instead, a loud buzzing noise came from the high, shadowy church ceiling. Deathstrike extended her claws while Midas reached for his adamantium switchblade. The last member of their group, an Asian woman with pink highlighted hair hanging down into her face, created a glowing energy blade, like a rod of light. The other mutants around them stared intently, expecting a fight to break out. They backed away, giving them a wide berth.
"Please, please," said Magneto, stepping between them. "In dark times like these, mutants cannot afford to fight other mutants. Our enemies are the humans." With a courteous smile, he extended his hand to the tattooed woman. "I am Magneto."
Warily, the woman took his hand. "Callisto," she introduced herself. "This is Arclight," she motioned to the woman with the gelled hair, "Psylocke," she pointed to the girl with pink highlights, "and Quill," she pointed to the spiky-faced boy.
In the same gentlemanly tone, Magneto asked, "and what is your gift, Callisto?" Callisto ran around the room, becoming a blur, and returned within a second. "That and more. I know that you can control metal and that there's no mutants in here above a class three, except for you and the pyromaniac." Pyro smiled at what he took as a compliment.
"You can sense other mutants," said Magneto, his smile becoming a grin. Callisto nodded.
"Maybe she can sense if her friend is male or female," Crescendo muttered. Arclight raised her arms, preparing to clap her hands together. Deathstrike shot forward like a snake, pressing her claws against Arclight's throat.
"Crescendo!" Magneto scolded him. Slowly, Magneto pushed Deathstrike's claws back into her arms. "My apologies, Arclight. Callisto, I need you to help me find a certain mutant."
As Magneto briefed Callisto on the details of Mystique's rescue, Crescendo saw Anne wading through the crowd, one hand reaching into her pocket. "Magneto…" he said softly.
"I know, Crescendo," said Magneto.
When Callisto saw them looking past her, she turned around and saw Anne. "That woman isn't a mutant!" she shouted. The result was chaos.
Mutants prepared their natural weapons, aiming them for the poor woman. The man who had made the speech about education stood between them and Anne, trying to calm them. "Please, this woman is not here to harm us. Just let her go."
"She'll reveal us to the humans! Kill her!" shouted one mutant. There were shouts of agreement from all around.
"Take it easy!" the first man shouted.
BANG!
Everyone was silent. A wisp of smoke rose from behind him. The man collapsed, a bullet wound in his back, revealing the pistol Anne was carrying. Anne quickly emptied her clip at Magneto, who easily stopped the bullets. Anne dropped the gun and drew a broad Bowie knife from under her coat. Magneto prepared to pull it out of her hand when, inexplicably, she dropped it on the floor. Her back went rigid and her eyes were wide, as if someone had a gun to her head.
"I know that look," Crescendo muttered.
In the silent church, a single man's footsteps echoed loudly. A man in a long black trench coat, looking like the Grim Reaper, stepped out of the crowd and picked up the knife.
Nightmare.
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Well, I hope you've enjoyed the latest installment of God's Trumpet. Don't forget to leave a review.