Note; This chapter contains some mature language.


A TEST OF POWER
BY DR
Chapter 13

In all your dwelling places the cities shall be laid waste,
and the high places shall be desolate;
that your alters may be laid waste and made desolate,
and your idols may be broken and cease,
and your images may be cut down,
and your works may be abolished.
Ezekiel 6:6

The present

Regrets. He supposed he had more than his fair share, but then again who didn't. Charles never doubted his humanity and all the imperfections that went with it, despite the countless times he had been dubbed a saint or labeled as perfect. He at least made a conscious effort not to dwell on his regrets knowing that it would just be counterproductive. But if there was anyone who had an equal number -- or potentially more, it was undeniably the man sitting across from him -- although Magneto would never admit to it.

What an odd pair they were and what a strange relationship they had, he thought. Friend, bitter enemy, ally, and rival. For a time, he even led the X-Men in his stead, as impossible as that was to believe now. A different time of day, a different season, a different moon phase; he supposed all of those things or something even less meaningful could have been responsible for the bizarre inconsistencies of how they related to one another. How often had his students asked him about the nature of his friendship with Magneto? In truth he reflected now, his answers had always been wholly inadequate, diversionary. That was because after all this time, he didn't know how to explain it to himself.

So it didn't come as a complete surprise when Magnus had contacted him and suggested they meet to discuss the current situation with Sinister and Apocalypse. What had surprised him was that Eric had been perfectly agreeable to meet with Charles at the mansion -- and without any of his telepathically resistant accoutrements. Charles recognized the positive nature of the gestures. But Magnus did have one demand -- that they meet alone.

He had agreed to the meeting and the stipulations that went along with it. Charles counted it as one more regret amongst many. He had been forced to lie to some of his X-Men, as well as take certain precautions to conduct their meeting in secrecy. He knew what he had done was more than simply a white lie. Unfortunately, Charles knew how crucial the meeting was and felt forced to take the necessary steps to see that their summit took place. After all, Scott and most assuredly Logan would never have allowed Charles to meet with Magneto by himself.

So that was how he found himself in his study with Magneto -- with no one else present. He arranged things very carefully, from the seemingly trivial to key and important elements. The room had been thoroughly swept for any electronic eavesdropping devices with the most advanced Shi'ar technology built for that very purpose. Charles had personally programmed Cerebro to detect and disrupt any telepathic communications other than his own. Erik himself was maintaining a low level EM field that would alert him to the use of any electronic device, which he could disrupt as well. There wasn't a more secure way that Charles could think of to conduct this meeting.

He didn't know which category the seating arrangement fell into, but he didn't think that sitting at his desk with Magnus seated directly across from him like one of his students, was something that Eric would approve of. He had learned many years ago that these small things seemed to hold considerable importance in Magnus' estimation. So instead, they sat across from one another in two identical chairs, a small coffee table between them -- sipping tea like two old friends. Two old friends. There it was again, Charles thought. It's what they once were and still should be he reflected sadly. How was it possible that their relationship had gone through -- what it had gone through? he thought for perhaps the thousandth time. Were they both insane? Or perhaps Sinister's theory about psionic energy and its effect on the mutant mind had some actual scientific validity. He would have to give Sinister's assertion some serious thought.

"Don't be so contemplative Charles. Spending time trying to understand how we can possibly work together toward a common goal, considering our history is unquestionably reasonable. But I've given it enough thought for the both of us -- and I'm here," Magnus said matter-of-factly. "Don't waste another second trying to fathom a rational answer."

"I thought I was the telepath here Eric," Charles said with a bemused expression.

"You don't have to be a telepath to see what is plainly written on your face. I've known you long enough, and have seen you wrestle with that formidable conscience of yours. Is working with the sworn enemy of you and your dream -- is that what's troubling you?" He shook his head. "I see you haven't lost any of your naiveté Charles," Magnus continued. "History has shown us that alliances of convenience are quite common, even between the worst of enemies. In the end, this will be no different."

"An alliance of convenience is not quite how I view this," Charles sighed, -- "and I'd somehow hoped you'd feel differently as well. Needless to say, I find many things about our past and present troubling." Charles paused, endeavoring to provide Magnus with the least inflammatory answer, choosing his words carefully. "Working together has always been a fervent hope of mine. I just can't seem to divine a reason why we cannot."

"Perhaps your prophecy for equality between humans and mutants has always seemed an impossibility and consequently has never appealed to me."

"I've never claimed to be prophetic but I believe we have the moral obligation to see that prophecy of peaceful coexistence fulfilled."

Magnus slammed his fist down on the armrest of his chair. "You're infuriating Charles. How many more dead mutant bodies do you need to see? How many more Sentinels must be fabricated -- each new design, each successive generation superior at fulfilling its genocidal programming -- the extermination of all mutants? How many more groups like The Friends of Humanity, or individuals like Bolivar Trask, Bastion, and Ahab, -- how many more murderers must you come across to see that your Dream is a fool's errand?" Magnus practically screamed.

There was a good ten seconds of silence between them. They just stared at each other with similar looks of disbelief that said -- how is it possible that after all this time you can't see that I'm right?

Charles broke the silence. "How Eric -- how can you possibly oppose simply living in peace?" Charles asked, almost as if he were trying for the very last time, pleading for Magnus to understand.

"Ask the humans that same question, Charles," he said shaking his head. Magnus raised his arm and looked at an imaginary wristwatch. "Only four minutes and I'm receiving a sermon that I could probably recite from memory."

Charles let out an exasperated sigh. Their conversations always seemed to degrade in the same fashion time and time again. "You know it's not my intention to deliver a sermon. It's never worked in the past," he added almost wryly. "But I think it is important that before we embark on this endeavor we understand each other very clearly."

"And what am I to understand Charles? Shall we rehash the past, comparing philosophies, values, beliefs -- in pursuit of what? After all the blood that has been spilled, is there any realistic chance that we can resolve our differences? Even though the veritable chasm that divides our viewpoints is miles apart, I can say without any hesitation or doubt that neither of us would disagree on what needs to be done about Apocalypse."

"Is that true Eric? You've spoken of nothing but mutant superiority. How in any way is that different from Apocalypse's survival of the fittest credo? Victimize the weak, sweep aside those who are unable to defend themselves. I'm shocked that the two of you have never worked together before," Charles said a little more vehemently than he meant.

"You surprise me Charles. What a vitriolic little speech. I didn't know you were capable of such an affront." Magnus composed himself, quelling his all too familiar temper that surfaced when he and Charles discussed their opposing philosophies. "Apocalypse and I are nothing alike," he said pointedly. "I do not wish for war with humanity, but I'm not foolish enough to think that a war is avoidable. But I'm going to disregard your insult because I know how important it is, maybe more important than it's ever been before that we work together. But let me make one thing abundantly clear -- I am going to kill Apocalypse. There will no half-measures and our goal will not be to reason or to incapacitate him while attempting to explain the error of his ways. I trust that neither you nor any of your pet doves will stop me from ending his life," he said with a sour expression on his face.

"I agree," Charles answered firmly. "He must be killed."

Eric's eyebrows rose to the top of his head expressing genuine astonishment. "The world's preeminent telepath -- and pacifist condoning murder? What is the world coming to?"

"Don't be so surprised Eric. Have you already forgotten that I know quite a bit about Apocalypse -- from Cable himself? This is not a matter of rehabilitation and there is no magic remedy or cure for what I believe Apocalypse is. I know that he represents what the Askani call a nexus point, a critical focal point in the timeline, where everything that matters revolves around whether he lives or dies. In more ways than one, I've seen what befalls this world's population, or what remains of it, if Apocalypse is allowed to live."

Magnus seemed convinced. "Then we are in agreement -- on this one point at least."

"While we are being agreeable with one another, for you personally, this isn't about saving the planet but more about your daughter Anya." Magnus was about to interrupt him but Charles stopped him. "Please Eric, I meant no offense," Charles said, his tone softening. "I understand what it is to lose a child, and know deep down what lengths I'd go through to get him...to get David back if it were all possible. I also know you could have lied to me about the reasons for your involvement. Instead, during our initial contact, you chose tell me about Sinister's revelations about certain things in your past, very personal things. That more than anything else was why I agreed to this private meeting. If what Sinister said is true, what was done to you -- to your daughter was unconscionable. I assure you that I, along with all of my X-Men, will do everything in our power to see her safely returned to you."

An olive branch -- some way to possibly mend the rift between them. No matter how many setbacks, hope always seemed to spring eternal in Charles. If they could get through this, and it was at all possible to miraculously see the return of his daughter -- perhaps this would be the catalyst for their renewed friendship -- and a partnership towards a common and peaceful future.

At the mention of his daughter's name a minute ago, it didn't escape Charles' notice that a dark storm cloud seemed to settle over Eric's features, and then was quickly gone. Charles had seen that expression or mood before -- it was one of vengeance -- vengeance at all costs, and that scared Charles. But what caught Charles completely off guard was the next few words spoken by Magnus -- and the sincerity in which they were delivered.

"I haven't yet allowed myself to believe that she might still be alive. I'm -- I'm almost too afraid to hope that Sinister's ludicrous story is true, because I don't know if I could go through it again, and lose her -- and remain sane," Magnus said, the last three words, almost a whisper.

But Magnus came back to himself, his voice once again strong and confident. It was if he allowed himself a brief moment to be human, and then discarded it as if it never existed. He also chose acknowledge Charles' pledge, but in his in his own way. "I also give you my word of honor that I will put our differences aside and neither I nor any of my Acolytes will do anything that will endanger any of your X-Men. We will be a team and I won't allow any petty rivalries to jeopardize the primary goal of -- killing Apocalypse. If Anya is still alive, I will see her safely returned to me...after Apocalypse is dead."

Charles was astonished but at the same time saddened. "How incredibly easy it was for us to form an alliance and work together. I just wish it were for something other than the ending of someone else's life."

Magnus put his teacup down rather noisily. "Must you always spoil everything by being so morose Charles?" Magnus said, seeming truly exasperated.

Quickly changing his tone and expression, for a moment, Charles could almost see the Eric of old, excited, inquisitive, hungry just for the experience of learning something new.

"I must admit to being fascinated by what you've told me so far. I'd also like to thank you for sharing the information from both Cyclops and Cable's meeting with Sinister. I don't believe either of them would have been so forthcoming. The connection and rationale Sinister described between the Mutant Massacre and the Legacy Virus -- inconceivable. And what Henry told you concerning Sinister's self-proclaimed historical significance -- incredible, although I have my doubts about his altruistic claims." During their initial conversation about his encounter with Sinister, Magnus conveniently left out the fact that he swore that he'd kill both Apocalypse and Sinister. Charles didn't need to know everything --- and it would only upset him. Sinister wasn't the only one who could play at being altruistic, he thought wryly.

Magnus continued his cross-examination of Sinister's character, his tone one of distaste. "I've met the man Charles, face to face -- and only once. That's all it took. You know my history as well as anyone. The very first second I saw him, reminded me of the so-called scientists and physicians in the camps. The same cold indifferent arrogance was pervasive in all of them -- just like Sinister. I could see it as plain as day. There was no way to hide it, even in a shapeshifter like Sinister. I don't like him and I most certainly don't trust him," Magnus said bluntly in summation. "I also find it almost impossible to believe that Sinister could be responsible for so much," he said, but a bit of uncertainty had crept into his voice.

Charles nodded his head in agreement. "I found his claims questionable yet we've been able to verify quite a bit of his contributions to the scientific community, things that have benefited mankind greatly, especially in the field of medicine. We've been putting together bits and pieces of historical records, cross-checking facts, dates. Upon conducting exhaustive background investigations on all the individuals that Sinister claimed to have been, we were able to uncover certain specifics that led us to conclude that Sinister was indeed those people. We've created a report chronicling all that I've said in great detail. You're free to examine it and draw your own conclusions."

"I would most definitely like to examine everything you've put together. I'd also like to ask -- is Sinister only gathering mutants to fight against Apocalypse?" Magnus asked, a curious expression on his face.

"Yes he is Eric," Charles answered, pleased by Magnus question. Because of their different philosophies, he sometimes forgot what a keen and perceptive mind Eric had. "I've taken the time to contact some of the non-mutant teams such as the Avengers and the Fantastic Four, as well as others. As far as I've been able to tell, Sinister has only contacted mutants."

"It seems if Sinister was only interested in killing Apocalypse, any one of the organizations you'd just mentioned would be invaluable in accomplishing that goal. What do you make of that Charles?"

I'm not sure yet, but I believe it is of some significance," Charles replied.

"There are some other things that I find somewhat -- dubious. For instance, don't you find it strange that he came to ask me for help but not you? Perhaps he's afraid to meet with you because of how powerful a telepath you are and you might be able to discern his true intentions. I know he's met with Cable, but he had quite a bit to do with his creation, and possibly designed some failsafe to prevent Cable from ever being able to read him."

Charles nodded his head. "It is something I've been pondering since these encounters with Sinister began." Charles had no idea why Sinister had contacted Magneto of all people to help him. As far as he knew, Magnus was telling the truth and he and Sinister had never even met before. For that matter, why he had contacted any of his X-Men and revealed what he had about his own past as well as his connection to them was a complete mystery. Perhaps there was a grain of truth and that he truly needed their help in order to destroy Apocalypse. And certainly contacting him directly knowing the influence he had over his students would have been the more prudent and expedient way for Sinister to achieve his goals. Yet Sinister had chosen not to do that. But Charles thought that his X-Men, Magneto, and anyone else Sinister might have recruited were meant to be some form of distraction, most likely decoys. Charles was no fool and had no intention of providing Sinister canon fodder for Apocalypse's amusement. Eventually, Sinister would have to present his coordinated plan to fight Apocalypse -- and Charles knew that Sinister would have to come to him if he truly wanted the others to agree to help him. Charles would have his say then -- as well as a plan of his own.

"I don't think I will be able to read his mind," Charles said in answer to Magnus' assertion about why Sinister had not met with Charles.

"Why not?" Magnus asked.

Charles leaned back into his chair, a reflective expression on his face. "It was many years ago, when I'd won a scholarship to Oxford. I wasn't the recalcitrant narrow-minded individual you probably believe I am today. I was young, impressionable, eager to learn, enthusiastic to find some direction -- a noble cause to champion."

"Hard to believe," Magnus commented dryly.

"Really?" Charles answered with an equal measure of sarcasm. "If I recall, you and I weren't very different."

"The folly of youth. I grew up Charles. But let's not go over that ground once again. So you were saying that you were a freshman at Oxford -- if I recall correctly, that's where you met Moira," Magnus added with no emotion, despite his feelings about her.

"Yes I was," Charles remembered with such fondness and couldn't help the emotions from reaching his face. "We met during a tutorial given by renowned geneticist. His work was groundbreaking and revolutionary. Listening to him was like emerging from a dimly lit room into the brilliance of the noonday sun.(1) His lectures were exhilarating and both Moira and I may never have devoted ourselves to the study of genetics if it were not for this Professor. But what I found most intriguing was the fact that I could not read his thoughts. I've always suspected but was never sure. After all that I've learned recently, I am almost positive it was Sinister.

"Who else could it have been?" Magnus said brusquely, seeming annoyed. "So what?" he continued. "He recognized your mutant potential, your intellect, and sought to cultivate both. Who knows what his intentions were?"

"I think his intentions were completely benign," Charles replied. Magnus gave him a look of complete skepticism -- or that he was a fool. It was a look that he was all too familiar with.

Charles simply shrugged knowing that it would be difficult to convince Eric of what he was about say. "You would have had to attend one of his lectures and felt the passion in which he delivered the subject matter, to understand my meaning. He had a genuine love for teaching and a true devotion to the students. I can also say without any reservation that he was the finest professor I ever had. And he didn't just instruct the class in the sciences, but an amazing amalgamation of geopolitics, ethics, and philosophy -- and somehow managed to relate it all to genetics."

"It sounds simply exhilarating," Magnus replied disdainfully. "A gifted performer and shapeshifter, with years to perfect his craft of masquerading as different people -- in order to get whatever he desired," Magnus offered up as a simplistic explanation.

"Perhaps. But I can't deny that it was his class that inspired me to devote myself to the field of genetics. In a way, I almost feel I owe him something," Charles replied almost wistfully.

"Why don't you let me pay your debt for you -- in my own way?" Magnus' expression changed suddenly. "We are no longer alone."

"I know," Charles answered, exhaling sharply. "Please come in Logan."

Wolverine stepped through the door with a very unpleasant expression on his face.

"Yer playing a dangerous game Chuck...screwing with our heads like that," Logan said with a menacing tone in his voice.

"It isn't something I'm proud of Logan. I'm not trying to defend what I did," he quickly added, trying to diffuse Logan's anger, "but I simply placed the desire for you to go to Harry's tonight, nothing more. I could have placed any number of more convincing thoughts into your mind but did not -- including stopping you the minute I sensed you on the school grounds -- but again decided not to. I didn't want to 'screw' with your minds as you put it, only distract you for a short time. I just thought it would be the safest course of action -- for everyone. But you must believe me when I say I would have told you and the rest of the X-Men everything that I did, soon after Magnus was safely away. I'm truly sorry."

"Please just perform some act of contrition or whatever it is you X-Men do to apologize, but spare me this inane banter about regret or acts of forgiveness," Magnus interjected, his tone one of impatience.

Snict -- Wolverine extended a single claw. "Maybe I'd perform my own brand of apology. It's a little messy, but ya can't argue with the results," Logan said with an evil smile.

"Please, this is exactly what I wanted to avoid," Charles looked at both of them earnestly, hoping that things wouldn't escalate.

"You'd find yourself outside the mansion impaled on the surrounding wrought iron gate before you moved another inch towards me -- to deliver your apology little man," Magneto answered mockingly.

"Perhaps both of you need to be reminded of how powerful a telepath I am," Charles said in such a commanding tone that both Magnus and Logan's attention were immediately and solely on him. "I will brook absolutely no violence between the two of you. Am I clear? He looked at them both, and in the intensity of his gaze they could see why he was reputed to have the most powerful mutant mind on the planet.

He retracted the deadly adamantium blade and reached into his shirt pocket. The smell of cigar smoke filled up the room as Logan lit up a stogie and leaned up against the closed door, taking up a relaxed posture. "Alright Chuck, if you're getting so excited that yer gonna resort to threats, I guess this must be pretty important. But I'm gonna stay Bub," Logan said punctuating his words with a fierce stare at Magneto. "This is a free country -- we ain't in Genosha," Logan said, still staring at Magnus.

"What an astute political mind you have Logan. I never thought you left the kennel all that often."

"I get out often enough, Bub. Enough to know I ain't gonna sit here and trade bullshit barbs when somethin' needs to be done about both Sinister and Apocalypse. I know the X-Men can't take down either one by themselves, so we're gonna need help -- even if it means hookin' up with the likes of you."

"Well, thank you for the vote of confidence," Magneto said dryly. "As for me," Magnus looked back to Charles, "I don't see myself fighting with -- and certainly not for Sinister. He is obviously gathering a group to fight for him -- because he cannot fight for himself and is a coward. I'm neither a mercenary or a patsy."

"Man ain't no coward," Logan said as if Magneto's comment was stupid.

Magnus looked back at Logan, annoyed by the interruption. "And how would you know that?" Magnus answered, his tone already dismissing Logan's reply before he even said it.

Logan tapped the end of his nose.

"Please," Magnus snapped back, irritated at what he perceived as Logan's stupidity. "He's a consummate shapeshifter. I'm sure he could mask the smell of fear if he so chose."

"Maybe, but that ain't the only thing Einstein. I guess most folks like to think we're above the animals, especially genetically elite asses like you -- but we ain't. We all got animal in'us -- human, mutant, ain't no difference."

"Are you going to lecture us on your theory of evolution, or are you going to make a point?" Magnus asked, his irritation at having to listen to Logan clear in his voice.

"Keep yer bucket on. Everybody knows what the law of the jungle is. Even when you were a kid, everyone knew about sandbox rules. One kid always ruled the playground -- even if he was a bully, lots a kids still followed him around. Same thing in your teens, or in the business world, or in a war. Some guy's lead and some guy's follow; different shades of the same thing. It's not something you have to talk about, you just know. When we get older, you tend to get less sensitive to things like that, I guess you can call it gettin' civilized, but you still feel it -- just not as strongly. People like me, who are closer to their animal side," Logan said with a beastly smile in Magnus' direction," never lose it. Matter of fact, I can feel it all the time."

"So what are you trying to say," Magnus asked, "because you bay at the moon at night, you can tell that Sinister is not a coward?"

Logan chuckled. "Not a bad explanation, Bub." Instead of a clever retort, Logan just asked Magneto a question. "You know in nature about an alpha male or female, top dog?"

"A hierarchy or pecking order in pack animals? Magnus answered wearily.

"Yup. Ain't no different in us," Logan said pointing to himself. "You an' Chuck, you're alpha's -- different kinds, but still alpha's."

"And Sinister?" Charles asked.

"Way, way up there on the alpha scale. He's as far away from being a coward as you are," he said looking directly at Magneto, "as you an' I bein' friends.

"Thank God for some things," Magnus answered sardonically. "And what does your keen sense tell you about Apocalypse?" he asked.

"Well -- yer gonna need a whole new scale for ol' purple lips. He's the real deal Bub, nobody I come across is in his league. He does the scarin' and he ain't scared of nothin', simple as that. So I suggest you and Chuck use those big brains you got and get to plannin' something -- and it better be good. I don't think either side is gonna take prisoners, and a lot of people are gonna get hurt -- or worse."

Magnus realized he had nothing further to say to Logan, because for once, he was in complete agreement with him.


Interlude 1 - Plainview, N.Y.

The Plainview Nursing Home had been in existence for over eighty-five years. It had possibly the largest staff per patient ratio in the country, while the institution itself was both modern and spacious. The grounds were spread over one hundred acres -- trees, flowers, and an assortment of ponds dotted the landscape. It was a family owned facility that took great pride in providing clean and adequate care for the elderly. It was rare in this day and age to find a nursing home that was not owned and run by a large parent corporation and whose concern was only with the bottom line -- and nothing else. The employees were thoroughly screened and were chosen for traits like compassion, attention to detail, and extreme patience.

None of these things mattered to Aron. Perhaps they would have if he had been mistreated. But the sympathetic and special care he received at the nursing home was all that he knew -- and he had been human for about a year.

It had been an intolerable year for Aron. Humiliating beyond description. He had been a cosmic being of almost immeasurable might, a member of an ancient and powerful race extraterrestrials -- a Watcher. But unlike every other member of his race, he had forsworn his sacred oath to passively observe and never interfere with the affairs of other races. Unlike his dispassionate brethren, Aron delighted in the pursuit of personal power and gain, sacrificing anything and anyone who got in his way. He received particular pleasure in killing human beings, manipulating those in power in the hopes of destroying everyone on the planet. But as much as it pained him to admit it, he discovered that there were things that he could learn from this race of primates. The truth of the matter was that he would not be alive, albeit in the body of a pathetic human, if it were not for them, he thought distastefully. More accurately, he would not be alive if he had been unable to learn certain things from -- mutants.

Much to his surprise, Aron discovered that there were a small number of mutated humans born with an X-factor gene. Among this group, there was an even smaller minority who demonstrated a large variety of incredible abilities. It was very unusual that in so young a race, this evolutionary anomaly would place such vast powers in the hands of these simple mortals. Despite the fact that Aron had been dubbed a rogue Watcher, by using his race's time honored method of observation, he confirmed that it was true -- and found a way to exploit the mutants for his own purposes. Aron was able to identify a handful of mutants who could actually transfer their life essence -- everything they were into another living body. When Aron had first stumbled across this power in certain mutants, he immediately recognized that this ability could be extremely useful to him personally -- and in a variety of ways. He immediately set out and gathered as many mutants who exhibited this power as he could find, experimenting on them in order to discover the basis of this ability. All of them were killed in the process, but in the end, utilizing his vast cosmic powers, Aron was able to mimic this ability himself -- although imperfectly.

It was at that time, approximately a year ago when Uatu himself had subdued Aron after discovering his barbaric conduct and repeated interference with the affairs of mankind. Uatu decided that it was his moral obligation to deliver Aron to the other Watchers for judgment. As fortune would have it, Uatu's entire race had been called away on mission of cosmic urgency.(2) For the time being, the magnitude of their plight overshadowed even the severity of Aron's crime. When Aron had learned what his race had been summoned about -- that was when he had immediately set in motion radical plans to insure his survival.

Aron had discovered that somehow his inoffensive race, or more accurately -- The One, had come under the scrutiny of the Celestials. The One was a unique Watcher of extraordinary importance, a giant amongst a race of giants, and served as the sole repository of all their knowledge -- all of their observations gathered over countless millennia. But in ways that weren't readily apparent to the Watchers themselves, The One somehow served as the foundation or the heart of consciousness for the entire race.

The race of Watchers and the race of Celestials had been in conflict in every plane of existence for countless millennia. Their war if it could even be called that, was more of a conflict of philosophies than a contest of arms or might. But recently the Celestials had escalated their conflict and deemed that The One was somehow a threat to the cosmic balance -- and had to be destroyed.

Aron concluded that the fall of The One would signal the complete destruction of his entire race. In order not to suffer that same fate, Aron brilliantly devised a means to convert the entire Earth solar system into his own private pocket universe. Although countless living beings would have lost their lives in the process, Aron cared little and was committed to his escape. But Uatu, with the help of the Fantastic Four, thwarted his plans once again.

As Aron had predicted, the Celestials destroyed The One but in the process the Celestial executioner, Exitar, had been destroyed as well. Somehow, this restored the equilibrium of the universe and the cosmic scales were once again balanced. But Aron could not know that the Watchers would make a collective decision to begin the long process of regenerating The One -- to once again store all of their collective knowledge into a living receptacle. Just as the Celestials would decide to regenerate Exitar for their own mysterious purposes. But what was most shocking of all was that Uatu had decided to sacrifice Aron -- by converting him to living energy, to serve as the core of the new One. (3)

But at the last possible moment Aron had seen his fate, and used his recently acquired ability to transfer his life essence into the body of another. It would have been foolhardy to attempt to transfer himself into another Watcher. Any Watcher would have been able to stop him -- his ability was just too new and untested. In addition, he consciously decided to separate only a small part of himself, to hopefully escape unnoticed by Uatu and the rest of the Watchers. This left him depleted and without just about all of his cosmic powers.

All these necessities, coupled with his rush to escape his fate, had forced Aron to throw his quintessence -- his core, into the most convenient receptacle that could house him. He had also discovered that his newly acquired ability was imperfect. He couldn't just wrest control of any body, but only a matching energy matrix, although he was still unsure of the scientific details. But what he did know was that if he attempted to assume a body that did not match his living energy patterns perfectly, he would simply remain in his original body. It was very similar to puzzle pieces fitting together, or a key fitting into a lock -- if you did not have the correct key, you could not open or close the lock. Aron hadn't yet learned to manipulate the pieces so they would fit together -- yet. That was how he found himself in this worthless -- infirm body. It was most certainly not by choice. But it had saved his life and ever so slowly during his convalescence, he had gathered more power, gradually restoring himself to his past glory and preeminence. Well, he was nowhere near that level, but in time. In addition, he believed he had discovered a way to possess and control any human or mutant being -- he just needed a little more time to recoup some of his power. Soon he would leave this decrepit shell and seize the body of a powerful mutant, and then Uatu himself.

He positioned his wheelchair so that his entire body would bask in the sunlight that streamed through the large glass panes of the common room. A blanket that had been covering his legs fell to the floor. Before he could reach for it himself, one of the staff immediately picked it up and placed it gently back on his legs. Aron roughly pulled the blanket further up his waist, scowling at the young man. The man who was about twenty-five years of age, just smiled and took no offense. Aron's reputation was well known by the staff, but they always tried to make him feel comfortable and wanted.

"I hope I didn't startle you Mr. Guerin," the attendant said politely.

"How could a clumsy oaf like yourself ever startle me?" Aron snapped at him.

"OK Mr. Guerin, I'll let you get back to what you were doing," he said with a small smile, and went to see who else he could help that might be more appreciative.

He hated the humans that fawned over him. He hated how he had to rely on them to feed and bath him, or for just about anything he needed to survive. His withered and depleted body was nothing more than a prison -- an ugly fleshly repository for his greatness. He refused to converse with either his fellow residents or the staff. They were beneath him and had he possessed even a vestige of his cosmic might, he would have killed them for just the presumption that they were allowed to address him.

There was one attendant, a young nurse whom he was somehow able to tolerate. Her name was Alexandra. She possessed a respectable brain as well as manners that Aron was capable of enduring, and much to his surprise he actually looked forward to her visits. While she went about her duties, she would engage him in conversation, but more importantly, unlike most of the babbling apes he had been exposed to, she was content to just listen. Aron found himself speaking to her about subjects that would certainly label him as either delusional or senile, but humans seemed to expect this of the elder members of their society so his comments were viewed as harmless. Although he knew that it was probably unwise to speak of the fantastic topics he sometimes decided to bring up, he just needed a way to pass the time before he could return to his former station and powers. She would listen to him intently and sometimes even ask intelligent questions no matter how outlandish his claims must have seemed to a simple human. He even considered letting her live after he regained his cosmic power.

Uatu would pay dearly for every shame and disgrace he had suffered in this place. He would kill Uatu and every other member of his race -- all the humans as well. His mood lightened with the thoughts of the slaughter he would visit upon both races. Perhaps he would spare Alexandra -- one life out of billions didn't seem like that much of an inconvenience.


New Mexico, 100 miles northwest of Los Alamos - The Johnson Federal Nuclear Waste and Storage Complex

Like many Government facilities, it was necessary to go through at two or three levels of camouflage to uncover what its true purpose was. About twenty years ago, the abandoned salt mine was annexed by the U.S Government to store nuclear waste material deep under the Earth's surface. While the mine was still used for this purpose, shortly after the facility became active, a portion of the mine was set aside and a state of the art prison complex was secretly fabricated.

Many years ago, as part of what was thought to be a full-proof security system, a team of engineers and planners had decided to build a maze of randomly dug access tunnels. Some of these tunnels led to the surface miles away from the nuclear storage caverns, others led to dead ends deep into the earth. This made it an ideal way to clandestinely get prisoners to the facility ensuring that none of the mineworkers saw anything out of the ordinary. It was specifically built to house the most heinous of criminals and special arrangements were always required to transport them to their permanent home. The list of inmates included super-powered villains, the most powerful mutants, cybernetic organisms, even aliens. The mildest of these individuals refused to conform to societies mores and laws and would kill with the least provocation. The worst -- would completely overturn society, exterminate entire populations -- commit genocide. They were all kept in solitary confinement and in separate parts of the facility. They exercised, ate, and slept completely alone. Contact with the outside world was forbidden. The prisoners themselves were completely ignorant of other inmates. For all they could tell, aside from the guards, they had the entire facility to themselves.

Only one human being was incarcerated in this facility. He had no special powers, posed no special threat to any of the guards, and in no way could he ever have any chance of escaping from this prison. Yet it was this human being that Apocalypse was here to see.

William Stryker considered himself a very mindful and observant person. Although he had been dozing, he was a very light sleeper and had awoken instantly. There was practically no delay as all his senses came on line and he became fully cognizant of his surroundings. This talent had always served him well during his military career and probably had saved his life on more than one occasion. But it had not been a loud or even a small sound that had awoken him -- it had been the complete lack of noise that alerted him that something was --- different.

He sat up slowly and gently placed his bible on the night table that was beside his bed. The small nightlight was the only source of illumination in his cell and cast large exaggerated shadows across the ceiling. But Reverend Stryker was a very composed and self-assured individual, his confidence in his faith and God were unshakable. Even though an eerie sense of dread had descended about the cell, with unnatural calm he still took time to note the passage that he had been reading before he had fallen asleep. Revelations 1:18 I am he that liveth, and was dead; and, behold, I am alive for evermore, Amen; and have the keys of hell and of death. A fitting passage that he could always draw comfort from in that in many ways, those few words described his life.

He was under both electronic and actual physical surveillance at all times. A guard post was positioned directly across from his prison cell. Two guards were always stationed within ten feet of the cell's entrance. He looked out and saw that both of them were slumped over their desk -- unmistakably dead. At a glance, Stryker could tell that their necks had been broken. A very large man was standing behind the guards, a strange smile on his face. He was plainly dressed and other than his size, was quite unremarkable. Stryker had never seen him before -- in the prison or at any other time in his life. His memory for people and places was flawless. No doubt he was responsible for the guard's demise.

"Master Sergeant William Stryker, U.S. Army Rangers."The man's incredibly deep voice echoed in the underground room that contained his cell. Stryker was immediately struck by how forceful and commanding the stranger's tone and presence were.

The man stepped around the desk and stood directly in front of his cell. Stryker could feel an aura of power about him, and suddenly felt comforted that there was a barrier of energy between the two of them. Although he got the impression that if the stranger wanted to, he could smash his way through it and into his cell with no effort at all.

"Oh, I apologize for using your former appellation. I sometimes have the tendency to live in the past -- both recent and ancient I'm afraid. I had forgotten -- you had a spiritual awakening of sorts, a metamorphosis. But your change was not even remotely similar to the gentle and protracted transformation of the caterpillar to the graceful butterfly that even children are familiar with," he laughed to himself. "Your personal evolution was much more abrupt and not nearly as attractive I'm afraid. You had what I believe is referred to as a calling."

Stryker didn't comment and was completely at a loss for what was going on. He just stood there with a grim expression on his face and simply waited to see what happened next.

"I see that I've insulted you. You must prefer the title of Reverend. Is that your current title...or after all that has transpired, have you given up your vocation, lost your faith in God and prefer no title at all?"

Stryker finally decided to speak even though he knew that the stranger had been goading -- choosing to insult his beliefs as a catalyst. "My faith has never wavered, and will never diminish no matter how much time I spend in this prison. But I don't care what you call me, nor do I have any desire to discuss my faith with a complete stranger."

"If I could somehow let you see over countless years how many people have claimed to know the mind of God and how may wars and deaths could be attributed to that outrageous presumption." Apocalypse looked at Stryker and could see that his words were wasted. There was nothing he could say that would affect Stryker's views -- and was pleased.

"I must admit to being slightly disappointed. Here I was hoping that you could impart some precious pearl of wisdom to this spiritually poor soul -- some fire and brimstone passage from one of your more passionate sermons. Perhaps a favorite homily that turned the misguided to pious and devout followers?

"Are you a human or are you a mutant?" Stryker asked abruptly.

Apocalypse laughed. "What possible difference could that make?" He leaned back on the desk, ignoring the dead guards, resting a portion of his weight on its edge. A deep groan of protest issued from the heavy oak desk.

"All the difference in the world," Stryker answered through his teeth, some emotion finally creeping into his voice.

"None regarding your freedom," Apocalypse replied, implying that the offer of freedom was his to grant -- or just as easily withdraw.

"I can see that my freedom," he said pointing to the dead guard," was no easy thing to come by. This is a first rate security facility with well trained and well armed individuals. You appear to be alone, unarmed and yet, don't have a scratch on you. Either you're a very luck fellow or a powerful mutant, which would make this possible."

Apocalypse laughed. "Humans are just as proficient at killing as mutants are and have been doing it for much longer -- in most cases that is," he added with a strange smile. "But I understand that this," he pointed to the dead guards, "must seem rather odd and my appearance here is something of a surprise. I just find your life to be of particular interest to someone with -- how shall I say -- someone with my unique perspective. I can't decide if the road you've chosen to travel is one of revenge or one of redemption. Although I think you've lost the ability to distinguish between the two."

Perplexed, Stryker couldn't decide if this man's comments were meant to be insightful, passing along some subtle message or derisive. "You have a very mocking tone stranger. I hope you feel the risk is worth eternal damnation."

"I'm hardly a stranger Reverend -- no not at all. You may not know me personally, but I assure you I've always been a friend. You could consider me your personal benefactor. In its early days, your ministry was quite poor, your resources extremely meager. For more than a quarter of a century, you worked very hard to gain followers, establish financial backing, and used any and all means to gain information. On all those fronts, I anonymously and generously contributed to your cause."

Stryker remained virtually expressionless but could not keep the skepticism from reaching his eyes. "And I'm supposed to accept this all on -- faith?"

Apocalypse smiled broadly. "Touché Reverend." A look of concentration crossed Apocalypse's very human looking face. "How can I most easily and effectively prove my point? After all, it was some time ago. Well, many of your devotees -- you named them Purifiers, were sent by me. One in particular, Robert Miller, was extremely adept at getting FBI files --- Fred Ducan's files. Those files were the basis of your holy campaign against Xavier, the X-Men, and mutants in general," Apocalypse offered up as evidence for his support of Stryker's cause.

"That information, although never made public, could have been obtained through any number of channels. It tells me nothing."

The hum of the energy field that kept Stryker prisoner suddenly went silent. He also could no longer see the faint shimmering that was always present when the energy field was in place.

"Perhaps your freedom will tell you all you need to know."

He made no move. He was reluctant to step out of his prison cell. He didn't know if it was fear of the stranger or something else entirely. Either way, he suddenly felt very uneasy and could not bring himself to step closer to his supposed liberator.

"Come, come now Reverend -- the monitoring devices have been rendered inoperative. There will be no guards to witness or prevent your escape. Like many prisoners, have you become comfortable with your surroundings and are now fearful of the outside world -- afraid to leave the familiarity and safety of its walls?"

"What will I owe you for my freedom?" Stryker asked, ignoring the intended slight.

"You will owe me nothing. But you will do what I wish by simply being true to your own nature."

Stryker snorted. "And I suppose you know what my true nature is?" Stryker said scornfully.

"Oh you'd be quite surprised about what I know...particularly about human nature. You for instance like to live life without any of the restraints of civilization, unfettered, in complete command of others, like a man of power should be able to. That is what I offer you now -- to return to your former station. Free to spread your brand of -- madness."

Again the stranger smiled broadly. Stryker saw a brand of madness or insanity that he didn't know existed -- and that chilled him to the bone. But he wouldn't lie to himself -- he wanted to be free of this sterile ungodly place...at just about any cost. Perhaps God once again needed him to do His work. Who was he to question the tools and people God would use to do His will. "Suppose I believe you're capable of this -- this next to impossible feat. What did I do to deserve..?" Stryker stopped himself, changing his intended question, his voice taking on a more cynical tone. "How does this help you in any way?"

"A fair question. You help to foment the war that I desire. You wish to exterminate the mutants you despise, crush what you deem a weak and impoverished human society -- if you are able, strong enough, I support your cause. I simply invite you to indulge in all of your prejudices. I will do everything possible to pander to your narrow-minded bigotry and intolerance. After all, anyone who would murder his own wife and child, that kind of conviction is to be admired, that kind of religious fervor to a cause is so rare and precious an attribute."

Stryker's eyes narrowed slightly, almost imperceptibly -- but other than that, there was no outward sign that Apocalypse's comment had any effect at all.

"Impressive. Neither the facade of denial nor an inquiry on how I know what only you yourself know to be true." Apocalypse shook his head and his expression seemed to acknowledge some wondrous accomplishment. "Truly an admirable example of self-control. I must commend you on such a splendid illustration of self-discipline considering how heinous and personal your actions were with your wife and child.

Apocalypse waited a moment for some recognition of his comments. "Granted you have no reason to confide in me -- but not even a flicker of surprise about a secret you've kept buried all these years?" he simply asked.

"Are trying to illicit a confession?" his voice tinged with both anger and suspicion. "Is that what this is all about? I've been in this prison for what seems like forever. The authorities will never grant me my freedom. What possible difference could it make if I killed them, or my mother and my father, or anyone else for that matter? I was never tried but always knew that I was serving a life sentence."

Apocalypse shrugged. "Perhaps I was simply testing your mettle...or I'm as evil as you and wanted nothing more than to torture you with the knowledge that someone else knows what a coward you are," Apocalypse said with a smile that seemed to support his claims of malevolence.

"You claimed to be a generous contributor to my cause. I've had better friends than you." he said with a cynical edge in his voice.

Apocalypse laughed. "No doubt, but you seemed to want to know that my knowledge and interest in you was genuine. Perhaps I could have chosen a more suitable way of showing this. Although, I've been told that subtlety was never my strong suit. So let me say this -- you've killed many people Reverend. Some by your own hand, others indirectly, with orders from you. Hardly the way one would expect any religious leader should conduct themselves." Apocalypse's tone was one of mild or false admonishment.

Instead of shame there was only a gleam of pride in his eyes. "I did what I had to do...what God had put me on this earth to do," Stryker said with clear and utter conviction.

"Did he indeed? Did he place you at that nuclear facility at the start of your military career? You're well versed in the effects of radiation and its correlation to mutation. Don't delude yourself. The mutated seed came from you, and you alone Reverend, not your wife. Your exposure to radiation ensured that. It was you again that impregnated your wife with that defective gene, unless you're proposing infidelity or something more outlandish like an immaculate conception." Apocalypse said with a sarcastic tone and smile. "I hate to think your wife, heaven forbid, the woman who shared your bed for all those years was cavorting with mutants."

There was murder in William Stryker's eyes, an aura of rage had formed around him, but he still didn't move and looked on silently.

"Was it God's hand who slew your child the minute it took its first breath...was the bloodied knife in God's hand or your own?(4) Perhaps it was a test -- just like Abraham was asked to slay his own son as the ultimate method to determine his loyalty. He passed his test -- and I assume you did as well. How positively Biblical." Apocalypse laughed, pleased with his own wit.

"Even the Devil can quote scripture," Styrker said, his voice shaking for the first time.

Apocalypse continued, his voice was louder, deeper, inescapable, and to William Stryker, seemed to come from everywhere all at once. "Was it God's hand who denied your wife Marcy from holding her first and only child -- and in the next second snapped her neck? Then in a fit of despair over your actions, you decided to take your own life. How tragic for someone with your devout beliefs -- to commit one of the most heinous of sins against the deity you claim to worship," Apocalypse said gravely. "But God must have forgiven you and once again intervened on your behalf, blowing you free of the very car you set aflame. Your wife and child were burned beyond recognition -- God covered up your crimes. He wouldn't want one of his most pious followers to suffer in prison when after all, you were just doing his work," Apocalypse said, nodding his head in mock understanding.

For a moment, it appeared that Stryker, filled with rage, was about to launch himself at Apocalypse. Instead, his legs went out from under him and he collapsed to his knees. He buried his face into both his hands and began to sob. His body shook uncontrollably as a catharsis of emotions buried for years poured out in a torrent of both self-pity and grief.

"I wonder if you believe in a vengeful God or a merciful God? For your sake Reverend, you should dearly hope and pray for the latter.

Apocalypse turned his back to Stryker and began to walk away, but stopped momentarily, still facing away. "You're free to go Reverend -- as free as any man can be with your personal history."


References:
[1]Uncanny X-Men #389
[2]Fantastic Four #399
[3]Fantastic Four #400
[4]God Loves, Man Kills