(Three)

Fallen landed her craft with ease, settling the Lucky Dragon down in Central Park where a command post for the rescue efforts had been set up. She was nervous and excited, it was strange for her to be going along with the team instead of just dropping them off as she usually did. She was a good pilot, one of the best the Dognan had ever made, and she was very brave. She had flown without cloaks so that the folks there would know she was coming and a big 'X' had been draped over the side of the ship on a banner. She was taking no chances.

Over the years Fallen had flown many missions for the X-men and so, like Jael, she had modified her ship from a simple transport vessel to one with automated defenses. There were now several cannons that fired Ristle blasts from reserves stored in two large batteries she had constructed down in the Engine Room. Few people could enter the ship without a hand scan or a by-pass only given by herself or Seth. There were security grids and shields on the exterior. She could park her ride and then leave it without worrying about it being hijacked.

The crew departed and stepped down on the grass. All were wearing the special uniforms the Professor had designed for the team. Light black leather and spandex, all designed for the comfort of the wearer. All wore black jackets as well. The sleeves were decorated with large X in a circle, the sign of the X-men, making them recognizable to those who might not know them.

Fallen was a little uneasy in her uniform, it was rare that she was ever called to wear it for real. She usually just dropped off passengers and then left, but today she was staying to do some real work with the team. She took Wolverine's lead and followed him as the crew walked slowly over to the command center. Some of the other relief workers there stopped what they were doing and stared, others made some nasty and bitter comments. Fallen heard a hiss, "Oh sure. Muties started this, now we got more muties helpin' out. Who needs them!"

Fallen kept her head down, but she wasn't really afraid. She was a powerful telekinetic walking here among friends even more powerful than she was. A battle out here would have only one ending and it wouldn't be hers.

An area had been cordoned off in one small section of the park and some trailers had been set up for theCommand area where all the relief work was being coordinated. The group stopped outside the largest trailer and Logan thumped on the door with a fist, growling loudly, "Knock, knock!"

The door opened, giving Logan a good view of who was inside. The fire chief and Mayor were there with some other City officials and men from the local utility companies. Chuck Crenshaw, the current Mayor, stepped outside to greet the X-men and extended his hand. "Ah, Mr. Logan! It's good to see you again!"

Scott Summers need not have worried so much about the meeting of these two men. Logan preferred to keep busy and had helped the City out on numerous murder and missing child cases, using his enhanced senses to play detective. This wasn't the first disaster case he had assisted on though it was the biggest. He shook the Mayor's hand and being blunt and unpolitical, got right to the point. "This is our crew. We got some flyers, some telekinetics fer liftin' stuff and some sniffers, too. That's my niece over there, Molly. She can speak sign language if ya need an interpreter. Also got some telepaths, this is Jean Grey-Summers."

"We've met," the Mayor replied, shaking her hand as well. "I've got a man who'll take you down to the site. It's actually three sites, the area of debris extends almost to three blocks alongside the Park. You'll have to spread out some."

"That's all right. We got some badges so that we can be identified by power. Just tell us where ya want us and we'll be there."

"Thanks."

The Mayor then pulled Logan aside and bent down for a confidential whisper, "Do any of you have an idea who might have done this?"

Logan bristled a bit at the implied notion – that since he was a mutie and muties had done this, that all the other muties would know who it was. Truth was, he did know but that information hadn't come through the usual channels. He wasn't about to admit he had once seen Jael for himself and had thought he had recognized the guy from that mornings tapes. That information had been withheld from SHIELD and if it had gotten out, he would no doubt be taken into custody and debriefed, something that would certainly entail pain and other less pleasant forms of persuasion. "That's SHIELD's end of things, Mr. Crenshaw. We're just here to clean up the mess and help keep the peace."

The Mayor nodded gravely. He had gotten the response he expected. Really, he hadn't seen the X-men ever start any trouble though they were often around to finish it if a super powered being got out of hand. The X-men's public face was one of keeping the peace, not instigating.

The Mayor was perfectly aware of course that SHIELD had in fact already been on the scene for some time. They had arrived first, only moments after the first building had collapsed. Since mutants were suspected of causing this, they had immediately cordoned off the area where Sheba's ship had crashed, keeping it well out of sight of the crowds. The public might be thinking that this was the work of mutants, but SHIELD hadn't wasted any time in investigating the craft that had been left behind. They couldn't be sure if it was of alien manufacture or just something a mutant super brain had cooked up. It had at first been thought to be a smashed up car from when the buildings had fallen, but it hadn't taken long to see it was so much more. They might not discover who had actually made the craft, but they would be sure to try and backwards engineer whatever they could salvage and use it for themselves.

Sheba's body had been left behind, headless, on the grass but that in itself meant nothing, so many mutants out there didn't even resemble normal humans. Nothing could be judged on appearance alone. They had bagged her remains just the same and carted it away for forensics to go over.

SHIELD, of course, had done their best to keep the Mayor ignorant of as much of this as they could, and the rescue workers as well. They were a government agency and as shady as they came. They would do their best to keep the public from panicking. It was bad enough that there were already some bad rumblings in the crowd, violence was inevitable.

The Mayor of course said none of this to Logan, he just patted the guy on the back and said, "The peace you'd better leave to us, Mr. Logan. It'll look better that way and keep the crowds happy. We're just pleased you came to help out."

The pleasantries were soon over and Fallen found herself marching out with the rest of the crew. As promised they had a guide telling them where they should start helping out. As they moved closer to the work area, it was growing louder. Rescue workers were using some heavy machinery to move debris, but mostly it was the crowd of onlookers that was the source of the noise. The police werebusy working, holding back masses of angry humans. Many were holding anti-mutant signs and protesting loudly against the crew in black as they approached the site.

"Damn, stinkin' muties! Go back to your hole!"

"We don't want you here!"

"Let's burn 'em boys! Let's put 'em all in camps! Let them kill each other in there instead of out here where we live!"

Fallen shuddered a bit, withering under the wrath of the crowd. In all her time here she had never been face to face with the anti-mutant hate like this. There were big banners and effigies of burning mutants. Just the thought of the camps reminded her of the conditions she had lived under with the Clan. The memories were not fond ones.

Max was behind her, all two-hundred and fifty pounds of him. "Don't you worry, I won't let them get ya," he promised.

She could defend herself if need be, but she was grateful none the less. "They're so hateful!"

"Nah, just ignorant. Let's show 'em what good muties do, eh?"

"X-men! Spread out!" Logan hollered over the noise, gesturing for them to pair up and follow their guides to where they would be needed. Fallen paired up with Molly and they moved out. They would spend much of the next twenty-four hours digging through rubble and searching for survivors. As a telekinetic, Fallen could lift the debris more carefully than any machine, even using her Ristle to cut if needs be. Molly meanwhile could sniff out the bodies of the dead and trapped, assisting in the recovery. It was going to be brutal work and the hours would be long.

Fallen took in the scene before her with a rising sense of discomfort. The smoke and debris reminded her of distant Dognan battles she had been forced to participate in as part of her work as a pilot. A main gas line had been ruptured and there was a large fire burning in one area. The smoke and destruction brought forth terrible memories of the Dognan pens and she was chilled at the thought of a real war. Was this a real Dognan invasion like had happened on her home world? If it was, she would fight the Dognan to the death to stop it. This time she had weapons and powerful friends. She wasn't going to let them come in here and destroy this Earth she now called home.

Wolverine wasn't far away, digging through some of the rubble with Rogue at his side. Rogue was mildly telekinetic and used that to enhance her strength. She was carefully lifting some overturned cars out of the way so the rescue workers could get closer. Logan was directing her to a safe place to fly off the remains and stack them for later disposal.

Fallen watched as Wolverine grew more and more silent, a sign of his terrible anger. He was furious at Jael for doing this, knowing deep in his heart that the terrorist had been responsible for it. Logan had seen the blurry footage of the battle on the television. His one visit with Jael had been upsetting enough that he could recognize the terrorist and assume that he had been a participant in this. He was angry at Jael not just for playing the stupid Game, but for tipping the scales against mutants here in the real world. The rioting was only sure to worsen. Out here, even as much as the X-men were working, the whole time the mutterings of hate went on behind their backs from those they working with. Even the rescuers really didn't want them here even though the work was going much faster now.

Not everyone was mean though, Fallen gratefully accepted a cup of coffee from a Red Cross worker. "Thanks."

"You're welcome. I'm Lucas," he said, smiling at her. He was very young, maybe sixteen. He was dressed in white coveralls that only exaggerated the bright green of his hair. He wasn't a mutant, just a very vivid punk rocker. He had a Beastie Boys pin on his uniform. "You're like that other one, Meer. The one that used to work at the fire station."

Fallen laughed, remembering fondly the pilot she had met years ago. One of Jael's pilots had escaped from his underground lair and had been picked up by a fireman named Bob Kenna. Meer became a mascot for the station and had managed to get her picture in the local newspaper. The X-men had seen it and later used Meer to track Jael down. He escaped that day but not without taking some damage.

"Yes, I am like Meer," she answered, not being entirely honest. Meer was a lesser pilot and not as sentient as she was. Meer was more like an above average dog that could speak some in the Dognan language. Fallen was as bright as any human and mechanically, even more so. She had built the Lucky Dragon from scratch.

"Meer was very friendly," Lucas said. "I got to meet her once when we were doing a fund raiser. Haven't seen her in a while though. I think she and that fireman guy retired."

"I'm sure they're still around somewhere," Fallen replied, remembering Meer's enthusiasm for her job. She had been especially fond of riding on the bright red fire trucks.

"Well, I gotta go. Just wanted you to know that not all of us hate you guys. I say you guys rock!"

Fallen laughed at his enthusiasm and watched him go. She turned when she heard a soft grunt from behind her. Who was that guy? Molly signed.

"Our one fan. Enjoy him while he lasts," she joked and let Molly share her coffee.

Molly took a sip and returned the cup, freeing her hands to speak. One of the workers thought he heard noises over here. There might be someone still alive.

"Then let's get to it," Fallen said, taking Molly's lead and heading off to work. it was just the start of a long day to come.

(break)

While the crews above were clearing the rubble, Jael was down below, celebrating. He sat on his large throne, doing his best to keep still as Sheba's Siskans were brought in. He was a bit drunk from the wine and excited by the party. Razel had outdone himself and brought the finest champagne and the best food available. Jael had feasted and drunk well, his eyes were droopy and contented.

Sheba's Siskans were a motley bunch, even to his intoxicated eyes, and he could see most of them were useless. They shuffled around, looking nervous and shy. They were dressed in the light thongs of Siskan Courtesans which left them mostly naked, making their Marks that much more visible. They looked rumpled and dirty, Sheba had obviously grown as bored at caring for them as he had his own. At least they had brought their angels, most of them were carrying a wooden box of some kind. He would have them washed and then he would select those he would keep and then dispatch the others to the killing room. Sheba kept her spares alive, but Jael wasn't so patient. Besides, he wasn't about to have them turned over to whomever might defeat him. Better it was to cheat them all.

"Where's the Rogue?" he demanded, drunkenly waving his empty wine glass in the air.

"Here, Master!" Razel said, dragging one Siskan along by the arm. She was a tiny thing, pale and white, reminding Jael of the white slaves back home on Cerise. At least her body was human. Her Mark was large and orange, confirming her status as a Rogue.

There were four basic Marks in the Game, each with its own color. Red were for Masons, Brown were Builders, Blue were Receivers and the Green was for Channelers. The titles correlated to the types of angels they might find. The angels would be combined to make the Game player's machine, his Shalayesk weapon. The red were Masons and so found items that connected things, clasps and binders. The Builders tended to find items that were parts, wheels and engines and metals that could be used to make things. The Receivers and Channelers dealt with energy, their Angels would be used to power the machine, probably. Jael hadn't been playing the Game long enough to assemble much a of machine, but with these new additions, he could get to work on that straight away.

The Rogues were a whole other thing entirely. There were at least four that Jael knew about, but their colors and titles were a mystery. This one before him was very pretty with her long white hair and he would be certain to keep this one alive. Her angel must be magnificent! He scowled when he saw her arms were empty.

"What is this!" he demanded in Siskan. "Where is your angel!"

The Siskan cowered immediately at the commanding sound of his voice. " 'S in the machine!" she squeaked. "M' Mistress tooks it already!"

Jael couldn't help but smile at the strange sound of her voice. She was a Lushna-esk 'gram all right, an empath. The Mark said it was so. But more than that she was Kintay du Lushna-esk, one of the "touched". At some point in her life she had been melted, perhaps more than once. The result was a much more powerful 'gram, the mangled speech a dead giveaway. He had heard of such 'grams but this was the first he had seen in person. He knew Kimble was like this, but that one had so far eluded his grasp. Were all Rogue 'grams Kintay? he wondered. What a pleasure it would be to find out.

Jael smiled at her disarmingly. "Pardon my rudeness, dear. Pray, where is this machine?"

"M' Mistress didn't ever say. It come to her when she tooks me from Kraystan, m' Master b'fore her," the Siskan responded quickly, only wanting to please.

"Did anything else besides these Siskans arrive?" Jael asked Razel, turning away from her.

"Yes, my Lord. A large crate."

"Bring it."

"Of course, Master," Razel replied and left.

Now waiting, Jael returned his gaze to the Siskan in front of him. "What's your name, child?"

"Numiah-lay, Master," she responded, quick to acknowledge that she had just changed hands again.

"Star? How lovely. Tell me, do you speak the human English?"

"Yes, Master," she answered, changing languages quickly.

"Very good," he said, pleased. She was very responsive and he was falling in love with her already. She was so very small and pretty, her pale orange eyes blinking up at him. "I see your Mark, such a marvelous color. What is your Title, dear?"

"Regenerator, Master."

"Hmm. How exciting. Did your maker teach you well? Do you know best how to please?"

Her eyes brightened. "Oh yes, Master!"

"Come here, then. Show me."

Star approached him, crouching down at his knees and tipping her head up to be kissed. She reached out and lay a careful hand on his large brown chest, admiring his tattoos. She was indeed a powerful 'gram and wise in the ways of her powers. One quick look at this man's shine told her a lot. He wanted to be in charge, he was the boss. He would use her, yes, but he would never love her. Not the way she dreamed of. He would never accept her as something real or alive. He was just like Sheba, cruel and empty inside. The best she could hope for was to please him and hope he was just too busy later to keep using her. Sheba had closeted her away where it was small and safe, perhaps this one would as well.

Jael kissed her, grunting happily when one of her tiny white hands slipped between his legs and gave him a gentle squeeze. He felt her Kundatesh come at him and lick the corners of his mind, promising much pleasure to come. He was eager for it, but still had business to tend to.

"Very good, my dear. I'll have you washed and sent up to my room. There's a good girl."

Star smiled up at him, giving him her best face. The close contact had confirmed her suspicions. This Master would be no better than the last. He had been around his own Siskans enough to be addicted to the Kundatesh, his body was hungry for it. She would please him and he would feed off of her vibrations. It would ensure her survival, but this man would never grow to love her. That great big empty spot inside of her would remain. Such was her fate. She had no choice but to accept it.

"Take them all to be cleaned and properly dressed," Jael ordered to his alphas waiting nearby. They nodded and removed the Siskans, taking them out of sight for the moment. Such a large group would take time, it would allow him to inspect the crate Razel had seen. There, just as promised, his teleporter returned, towing a large crate behind him on a manual worksaver. The box had been too big to carry and he was using this large dolly to move it into place.

"Here it is, Master," Razel said, his eyes gleaming with excitement. He couldn't wait to see what was inside.

Jael rose from his throne and came closer. Razel handed him a crowbar and watched as his Master opened the box. Jael opened the box and pulled out some straw stuffing. He grinned. Here it was. Sheba, the fool. She had used some of her Siskan's angels to create the beginnings of a Shalayesk machine, but never had the brains to complete it or even thought to use it in her fight against him. The whole point of collecting the Siskans in the first place was this. This machine was power itself, a device of conquest. Just the thought of all that power made him smile.

The item before him was actually in several pieces, the beginnings of a special suit of armor and some sort of gun. He could see the binders there, the small engines that were no doubt protective shield generators for the armor or future weapons. He wouldn't waste time as Sheba had. He would take the angels she had neglected and assemble the rest of this machine as quickly as possible. Once that was ready, he would be sure to visit the next player in the Game. He wanted this world and he would have it.

Razel took a step closer, daring to interrupt his Master's thoughts. "Lord, there is more."

Jael quirked an eyebrow in surprise. He had been given so much already. "Yes? What is it?"

Razel just smiled. "Sheba's crew was concerned for their safety. In return for their safe conduct away, they have offered you one of Sheba's command ships."

Jael burst into amused laughter. Was there any greater form of flattery than this? Because the destruction in the City had been so great, Sheba's people assumed he was far more powerful than he actually was. He possessed ships of Dognan design but nothing as powerful as a command ship. A Dognan command ship could carry as many as a thousand crew members and had plasma guns far more powerful than anything he could equip on his own, much smaller vessels. This was too much, with that ship alone he could do some real damage, perhaps even go after Xavier himself with little trouble. It was something he would give some serious consideration to.

He grinned his large, toothy smile. "Tell them we would be more than happy to accept their terms."