Karima's escort opens the door of what I assume to be her spacious limo, ushering us in. Karima cannot be much older than sixteen; a woman-child and by muddied appearances it seems as though she is afforded every luxury.
Without a well-connected leader in Cairo the urchins found themselves at the mercy of the city. Karima tells me that members were rampantly disappearing and because she was unable to contact me, she was forced to seek refuge with another notorious member of El Gibar's clan.
Ellison proved himself to be their varnished knight, she tells me that the years have not been kind to my old companion, she intimates that he too is lacking in kindness. However, Karima was desperate for the protection of his reputation and welcomed the aid of anyone who could slow the mortality rate among the numbers of what has become her clan. They joined him in Madripoor, she hints that he was a poor replacement of Achmed as a mentor.
"A few months ago," she tells me, "Ellison sent us on an outing; our task was to steal from Madripoor's prince."
"Viper," I whisper, in answer and recognition.
Viper's involvement forces me to consider Ellison's welfare; she is not a woman known to take pause, she is a woman of action and this characteristic precedes her.
"How do the Shadow King and Sinister fit into this?" Davis asks, leaning toward the girl.
"They have no place in this," Karima responds, meeting my eyes with her own, nervously moving her hand from her lap and casually brushing her forefinger across her nose.
"Karima's powers are to create clones or original beings by gleaning psychic information from her own mind or the minds of others. The clones are so full that they believe themselves to be authentic."
"Shadow King was a clone?" He asks, looking into Ororo's eyes, remembering his affection for her.
"He wasn't the only one love," Psylocke responds, looking into his eyes then leaning her head toward Legion and asking, "Was the real one this bloomin' daft?"
"I don't know," he says dryly with a quarter of a shrug and a tilt of his head. "I was dead."
"Me too!" Psylocke exclaims, smiling wryly and wrinkling her nose.
Legion chuckles lightly.
"Hush children!" Emma says, her expressive eyes overflowing with amusement. "Mother Superior has to let the clone down easily before he is returned to oblivion."
I cut my eyes at them, sigh and give an affirmative nod.
The Davis clones fade away, at first they are incorporeal then progressing speedily toward nothingness.
Goddess! The zealots cannot be blamed for fearing us, not when we are now creating life.
"Now for the obvious question," Emma says, leaning toward Karima. "Now, why exactly did you try to kill us, Cupcake?"
"No," she says hurriedly. "I wasn't trying to kill you. We were luring you; the X-men are so busy but we needed you so badly. Viper has Ellison and we're stuck on this island and when he's dead we'll be worse off than we were in Cairo. The X-men were my last resource."
"So those people aren't dead?" Legion asks.
"No, no one real was ever hurt."
She sounds like a leader, more able to make difficult decisions than I when I took leadership responsibilities at twenty-four. Here sits a sixteen-year-old girl with the weight of dozens of others on her shoulders, refusing to collapse while bearing her crosses.
"Ellison hasn't been executed yet?" Legion asks, folding his hands in his lap.
"Have you pooped yet?" Psylocke asks Legion, looking at him with her questioning eyes. She rests her face in the palm of her right hand, as though this were a serious inquiry.
Karima looks at Psylocke, raising an eyebrow, and then returning her attention to Legion.
"No," Karima answers Legion. "Viper wants a public execution, she has an obsession with Queen Mary I."
"I mean since you've come back, doll," Psylocke says, gesturing with her hands, still talking to Legion. "What exactly is going on with you? You are so stiff! Have you got the resurrection blues; everyone here has been at least a little dead, right? So it can't possibly be that and none of our fathers paid attention to any of us while growing up so it isn't that either, is it?"
"Psylocke!" I yell.
She turns to look at me, her expression is perplexed; I would swear that she has no clue how inappropriate she is being. How could she not, we are in dire straits and in the midst of this crisis she feels inclined to explore the composure of an interim X-man.
I narrow my eyes and look to Karima, realizing that for the past few minutes I too have been resisting headiness. She, however, seems oddly composed while my teammates are in stitches.
"She said that the clan would have her full protection." Karima says, recognizing my obvious suspicions.
"What have you done Karima?"
"The little bitch sold us out!" Emma screams, laughing chaotically, only for Legion and Psylocke to join her fits.
"You seem unaffected, Karima," I say, holding her sleeve in my clenched right hand. "Viper would not have conditioned your immunity to her poisons. Not when you are a potentially formidable adversary."
I pat her person; there must be some sort of device or injection that would serve in helping to keep her sober in the afterward of extended exposure to Viper's drugs.
"Where is it Karima?"
"No Storm," she replies, sinking backward into the seat, trying to avoid my clumsy, probing hands.
The car stops and the door swings open, her manicured hand rests on the frame of the door, near the glass of the tinted window. I feel heady; she bends looking into the car, dismissing the giggling trio and resting her triumphant green eyes on me.
"You're looking well, Windrider." Viper comments.