Kurt Wagner stood outside of the room his mother lived in, poised to knock on the door. A dozen different scenarios passed through his head as he tried to figure out exactly what he was going to say to her to try and persuade her to take on this suicide mission. There was no way that he could gloss over the fact that going into U.S. airspace was liable to get anyone involved killed, if not captured and experimented on. And he was about to ask her to risk her neck for someone whom she had never trusted or cared for. An uphill battle at best.

He knocked on the door and was greeted with a quick command to enter, which he obeyed without a word. Mystique Darkholme was standing in the center of the room looking at a piece of art that Kurt recognized as having been painted by his now missing adopted sister, Rogue. A bolt of pain snapped through his chest at the sight. Where his sister was now was anyone's guess. She had left after taking one final painful shot from that bayou thief, Remy. He had stolen her heart and broken it more times than anyone cared to count. Finally, she had simply disappeared into the wilds of Australia, taking with her nothing beyond the clothes on her back, something about a vision quest. A foolish notion he blamed Logan for. He couldn't understand why she would turn her back on her family in order to go seek something within herself. Not when things were going as they were, when they needed every able body in order to keep the fight going.

"Are you here for something important, Master Wagner, or just a chance to view your sister's artwork," asked Mystique turning to face him. She wore the tiny skull near the center of her forehead; it appeared to wink at him

"Mother," he switched to his native German. "I need your help." Raven Darkholme answered in the same tongue.

"I am not going to get that woman and her husband. I have no interest in assisting them."

"I know that you have no interest in helping them, but you cannot deny that they have helped us all. No matter what crimes they are guilty of, they do not deserve to be abandoned in their hour of need."

"You sound like a true pupil of Xavier, Kurt. It is about time that they pay for the trouble that they have caused, both in the human and mutant communities. Or have you forgotten how many bodies are on the conscience of Master Essex?"

"I doubt that he has a conscience for them to rest upon, but still can you truly say you will ignore the good that they have done?"

"Whatever good they have done, they did for their own selfish reasons, I'm sure."

"The same could be said for you and Master Lensherr, Mother."

"That is indeed true, and were he and I in the same situation, I would not be surprised to find that we were left to rot in a prison just as they are going to be."

"Mother, should I remind you how much you owe her? You owe her the life of your grandchild. You owe her my life."

"No, Kurt. You owe her your life, and you owe her the life of your daughter. I wouldn't be surprised to find that she was the reason that everyone was sick in the first place. If you think that she deserves so much, you should go yourself to help her," Raven's voice escalated to a near scream, an out of character show of emotion bringing to Kurt's mind the memory of rumor of the history that Mrs. Essex and his mother shared. Neither woman would say anything about the rumor, both of them skillful at sidestepping questions about their previous lives and the activities that they engaged in. But the reaction of those who faced them in battle was enough to say that they were considered formidable and feared opponents. Kurt had seen an entire squad of men turn tail and run when she started toward them. He had heard the whispered tales of her touch melting flesh, though he had never seen her do it himself. Even if it was nothing more than a rumor, it was an effective tool to terrorize her opponents.

"I can see that there is no reason for us to continue this conversation, Mother."

"No, Kurt, there is no reason for this conversation to continue. I am not going to help Lenneth Essex, no matter what you offer me." Mystique then turned back to the landscape that her daughter had painted years ago. With one hand, she nearly brushed her fingers against the canvas, pulling back to keep from putting her fingerprints on it.

"I miss Rogue also, Mother, but Madame Essex is not to blame for her disappearance."

"I know that, Kurt," she snapped. "Rogue has nothing to do with my problems with Lenneth. Or perhaps I should call her Poisyn."

"Poisyn?"

"Look her up in the database, Kurt. It will tell you everything that you need to know and perhaps you'll understand then why I want nothing to do with helping her avoid the fate that she created for herself." Mystique moved to a chair and sat down, waving Kurt to let himself out without another word. The fuzzy elf left then, quietly closing the door behind him.

"Poisyn," he said to himself in the hallway as he walked toward the computer room where the database was housed. "A codename? Lenneth Ascher-Essex never needed a codename, did she?"


Time had ceased to mean anything to either of the Essexs. They slept when they choose, eat when there was food, hot or cold, and filled their time with what they could find to do.

Nathan lay on the cot, his chest exposed, looking up at the ceiling. He had become intimately acquainted with the ceiling, knowing the composition of the stones above him and the graduations in color much like the skin of his bride. The woman was sitting on the floor, eyes shut. He idly wondered what exactly she was thinking about.

"Nathan, I'm deathly bored, love," she said to him, opening her eyes and fixing them on him. He turned on his side and propped his head up on his hand.

"And what exactly do you intend to do about it, Lenneth?" He asked, curious and amused.

"I think I'll take over this base to ease my boredom. I think perhaps I should make this into my own little kingdom." She rose from her seated position with the swish of the silk kimono she was wearing. "After all, that should keep me occupied at least until the end of the day."

"The end of the day?"

"Of course, Nathan," she said her tone becoming somewhat snippy. "It isn't as if this is a large compound. There are only 300 people on this entire base, most of them with an I.Q. below 100. It won't take me that long to bend them to my will. Especially not if I start from the bottom and work my way up."

"Why from the bottom to the top?"

"Because that's where the real power is. If I own the guards, what are the higher ups going to do? They're out-numbered five to one, prisoners in their own base." She crossed the space between them. "Besides, once I own the lower level flunkies, you'll have many strong, stupid rats to play with."

"Humans are a waste of my time."

"Yes, but you have nothing other than time to waste here. And besides wouldn't you rather waste your time finding ways to make better soldiers out of these poor stupid animals than staring at the ceiling while you wait for them to decide to allow you to have another book?" She put one hand on his chest and leaned in close to his face. "I would rather rule them than have them rule me, husband, or has your pride begun to slip in your years of captivity?" Then she looked away, hiding her eyes. "But if it is your wish that we remain living like animals while these inferior creatures rule over us, then I will abandon my mad and foolish plan."

The manipulation was obvious to them both, a game played for sheer familiarity's sake. He guided her face to his with his free hand.

"Far be it for me to deny my bride anything she wants. Feel free to take over this place for fun, my love."

She smiled at him, a slow predatory smile that showed just slivers of teeth.

"Splendid, you spoil me, love." She kissed him lightly on the cheek then before straightening up. She pulled her hair up into a pile on the top of her head, letting white wisps loose to give her a slightly disheveled look. Walking to the cell door she called loudly for the guard. Turning back, she said,

"I won't be long." With a wink she was gone.


Ororo 'Storm' Munroe looked up from the basinet where her son laid, his thumb firmly stuck between his two small lips. Taking the edge of his make-shift bib, she wiped away the drool dripping down his chin. He had his father's brown-red hair, though it was arranged in curls more like her own. Pulling loose her ponytail, she let her hair flow over her shoulders. Shaking it out, she tried to release the tension she felt. Word had come in days ago that a team was going to be assembled to attempt the rescue of Master and Madame Essex. She knew that he was going, there was no getting around the fact that he was going. He was the only person currently within the compound who had gone to human occupied areas and come back with his powers still intact. And of course, his infiltration skills were going to be necessary in order to get past the security systems. He was going to risk his life for Madame and Master Essex, two people who had made his life heaven and hell respectively. He had admitted to her early on that he had slept with Madame Essex on more than one occasion years ago, though he assured her that it was long over. Of course, the fact that he had helped Master Essex destroy the morlocks had only made that admission more disgusting.

A room away, a door opened and shut followed by the sound of several things being dropped on the floor.

"Shush," she hissed automatically. The footsteps immediately disappeared from sound, though a hand landed on her shoulder.

"Just got him to sleep, non?"

"Yes," she whispered, turning her head to receive his forehead kiss. "He's been crying all day. I think he knows you are leaving." The pair walked out of the nursery and stopped in what could be called their living room.

"Seems everyone knows that ol' Remy is leaving. Too many saying he ain't coming back though." He palmed his deck and started dealing himself a game of solitaire on the counter that separated the kitchen from the living room. "Don't like dat so much, chere."

"It's a suicide mission, and everyone knows it," Storm confirmed the general understanding of the others living in close proximity. "And there are those who think that it's stupid to try and save them. After all, if their powers have been taken, there isn't anything they can do to help us anymore."

"What dey can do for us ain't the reason we be sticking our neck out for dem. It's what dey already done."

"You mean murdering the morlocks and using humans as lab rats?"

"No, I mean leading us when we were disorganized and liable to end up dead and curing a plague that nearly claimed the lives of everyone here, including you and me."

"That doesn't erase the wrong that they've done."

"Non, it don't. But dat ain't our choice. As Kurt say, everybody face God someday. Until then, dey live wit dey choices. Ain't no reason for us to give up on dem. If doing bad tings were reason to give up on someone, den dis Cajun is at the top of the list for givin' up on."

"You've changed."

"So have dey. And dat's why I'm willing to go. To stick my neck out for dem. Sinister ain't my favorite person, to be sure. And 'is wife is as crazy as he, but dey've both done too many tings for others for us to just turn and walk away from dem."

Ororo looked at him with wide eyes; this was a new thing, Remy defending anyone with this kind of vehemence. Not since Rogue and her complete destruction of a facility with every member of its staff. The death of Xavier and several others that he considered friends, the disappearance of Rogue, and Essex's ascension to leadership had taken most of the fight out of him. She leaned across the counter and kissed him hurriedly.

"What dat for, chere?"

"Just wanted to steal a kiss is all," she replied turning around to get something out of the cupboard.


Nathaniel Essex had gone to sleep, woken up, eaten, translated the Times into Latin, and gone back to sleep before she returned. How many hours that had required, he didn't know, but he wasn't surprised to find that she didn't look the least bit tired when she returned.

Lenneth walked up to the cell door, flanked as usual by two guards, twirling the keys to the door. He sat up and looked at her, then to her followers, their blank stares told him everything that he needed to know. A smile crept onto his face, the points of his teeth appearing in the tiny gap between his lips.

"I see you have done as you said you would, Lenneth."

"You expected less, Nathan," she asked standing outside the door. With a pout, she showed the key ring to the guard on her left. "Which key opens this door?"

The man looked at the key ring and pointed to a key with a square top and two teeth.

"That one, Mistress Essex."

"Thank you, Edwards," she stuck the key in the lock and with a twist the door popped open. "Your accommodations have been changed, Master Essex. May I escort you to your new flat?"

He crossed the floor to her and placed her hand on his forearm.

"I would be more than happy to allow the lady to escort me to my room," was his arch reply.

"Of course," she said. "Edwards, Nicholson," she addressed her flunkies. "Get that cell cleaned up and make sure that you are very careful with our wardrobe, specifically Master Essex's. I will not be pleased if there are any creases where there should be none."

The pair swept away then, leaving the two guards to do her bidding. Wherever they passed anyone, the people bowed to them. Lowering their eyes in deference to the woman who had convinced them that she was their leader.

Finally, the two reached a wooden door, a lovely mahogany out of place in a compound made of metal.

"Beyond this door is your new flat, love. And there is a present awaiting you within."

"My, my, another present? Is there an anniversary I've forgotten?"

"Our anniversary, love? No. Not this month. Nor a birthday. Perhaps once you see your present, you'll understand."