Well, it's time for our final time jump... from this point on, we're about five years after the last chapter (in other words, five years after Ascension Part Two, and X-Men: Evolution as a whole). Oh, and excuse the grammar.
Act 2, Chapter 1 (5)- The Black Helicopter
The windows of several cars in one of the many streets of Bayville suddenly shattered, victims of a sonic boom created by a mutant running past them at, well, sonic speeds. This hadn't been his first run past this street. In fact, some of the cars had the opposite windows already broken when they had been parked in the other direction the last time he'd visited.
Pietro Maximoff, noticing a car window he hadn't shattered, zoomed back past it, and once he was satisfied with the littered glass, he ran back in the direction he had been going. Quicksilver, as he was known when he wore his blue-green outfit, carried a small sack with him as he swerved in front of a passing car, dodging it at the last second, then making a right at the following street. Still thin and sleek, Pietro had matured, and the resemblance to his father could no longer be ignored (though Pietro was thankful that his jaw wasn't as prominent). He wore the same costume he had worn as a member of the Brotherhood, though it was now so tight that it left little to the imagination... something the vain Pietro rather enjoyed.
Quicksilver laughed to himself. He ran around another car, making a full circle before the driver could even make a full stop, and when he did, Quicksilver stopped in front of the driver's side, reached through the window, and slapped the driver on the cheek. As the driver screamed profanities and honked his horn, Quicksilver thumbed his nose and ran off...
...Right into an optic blast.
"Yoooowwww!" Quicksilver yelled as he skidded along the ground. Standing nearby were three of the X-Men: Cyclops, Rogue and Iceman. In the years following the Brotherhood's split, Quicksilver had only encountered the X-Men twice. By now, he was used to the new black and yellow uniforms. Cyclops's uniform had short sleeves, and his hair was cut very short. Rogue wore a coat over her uniform and wore her hair parted to the side. Iceman's uniform was difficult to make out, as he had a tendency to encase himself in ice more often now than as a teenager.
"This is your third strike," Cyclops warned, pointing to him with what Quicksilver called 'the warning finger.' "This time, we're turning you over to the police."
"Sure, if you can catch me!" Quicksilver dodged a few more optic blasts and ice beams and just to spite them, ran between Rogue and Iceman, close enough for them to grab him but too fast for them to even try. Once he was behind them, he stuck his nose out and dashed away.
"Watch me," Rogue said. She kicked off the ground and flew into the air. Quicksilver looked back and was more than a little startled by the sight of Rogue flying. How long had she been able to do that? More importantly, how was it she was able to fly fast enough to catch up to him?
Quicksilver picked up the pace. Rogue could fly much faster than she could run, but Quicksilver hadn't begun to strain himself just yet. In fact, he was starting to enjoy it. He slowed down ever so slightly and Rogue closed in, pulling off one of her gloves. Just when she had him, Quicksilver sprinted ahead with new speed.
"Get your scrawny little ass back here!" Rogue yelled. "I swear, when I get you, I'm gonna-"
Quicksilver ducked suddenly and Rogue shot ahead of him, flying up to avoid crashing into the wall of a butcher's shop. She hovered in the air, looking around for Quicksilver, but there was no trace of him. She landed on the street and groaned. Cyclops and Iceman soon caught up to her.
"I lost him," Rogue muttered. "The little creep got away."
"It's alright," Cyclops said. "We'll find him again. He's already had his third strike, so we'll contact the police and tell them to keep an eye out for him."
"Maybe we should have brought Jean or Kurt," Iceman suggested.
"We don't need them," Rogue snapped. "I'm just getting used to flying, that's all."
"He has a point, we've been short-handed lately," Cyclops said. "Let's get back to the Institute."
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Quicksilver hadn't actually ducked. He'd fallen right into an open manhole. Once he had heard the X-Men above leave, he was free to react to his new surroundings.
"Ohhhh EEEEEEUUUUUUUUCCCHHH!" Quicksilver stood up out of the brownish-green sludge and shook it off his hands, resisting the urge to wipe it off his body. He pulled himself onto the paved walkway to the side and shook himself off. His hands were filthy, so he couldn't risk checking to see if his hair was okay. He had to figure out how to get out first. Unfortunately for him, the manhole's ladder had been broken off. Quicksilver guessed it might be lying in the sludge, but he wasn't about to go in and look for it. His only other option was to walk around and find another exit.
Only, that wasn't an option either. As he tried to walk, he realized that his right leg was screaming at him. Why didn't it hurt before? The initial shock of lying on human waste was greater than any pain he felt, Pietro guessed. Grabbing his leg, he sat down on the walkway.
"Hey! Is anyone still up there?! Rogue? Cyclops? Anyone!"
"I'm here."
"Well good, because I- GAAAH!" The last thing Pietro expected to see was his old rival, none other than Evan Daniels himself. Spyke walked towards him, slightly hunchbacked and covered with layers of bone armor. He still wore a pair of jeans and red sneakers, though no shirt would fit over his armored back. He walked with a bone-spear that he used as a walking stick and stopped next to the sitting Quicksilver. "Oh... it's you, Daniels. So, you still haven't gotten the bone-plates off, huh?"
"No," Spyke replied with a considerably deeper voice. The tips Spyke's spikes began to glow a hot yellow. "What are you doing here, Pietro?"
"Okay, hang on. I was running around on the street, some moron left the manhole open, I fell in, and my leg's either sprained or broken, I really can't tell. Before we go any further, I need to ask something. How can you stand to live in this FILTH?"
"Shut up. Let me take a look at that." Spyke examined Pietro's leg, then created a makeshift splint out of bone. To Pietro's shock, he tore off the material around Pietro's leg.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, what are you-"
"Will you shut up and let me help you?" Spyke propped the splint to Pietro's leg and wrapped the shreds of Pietro's leg coverings around it to keep it in place. "That'll hold it until you can get some real medical attention."
"Uh, yeah, thanks," Pietro said, looking away. "So, you wouldn't happen to know a way out, would you?"
"Yeah. The sooner you're out of here, the better. I don't think the others will take too kindly to you." Spyke helped Pietro to his feet, then left Pietro lean on him as he helped him walk. "What are you doing running around open manholes?"
"Long story."
"I have time," Spyke insisted.
"Alright. I was running around town breaking things, the X-Men showed up and started chasing me, so I fell in."
"That's your long story? What were you doing breaking things?"
"I got bored. I've been doing it a lot lately. I'll break some windows, maybe steal some jewels, some cash. Anything that catches my eye."
"Are you still doing that?" Spyke asked incredulously. "I thought you were too old for that. What do you need to steal things for?"
"I don't," Pietro said quickly. "I'm doing it for the thrill. I'm addicted to adrenaline and there's no going back. You know, the X-Men are being pretty lenient lately. I've only done this in Bayville three times, I guess, and they're only now willing to call the cops on me. The last two times, they said they'd let me go if I promised not to do anything."
"That's their policy," Spyke explained. "If they can get you to stop making the rest of us look bad, then they don't see a reason to call the police. It'd just attract attention."
"So you're not doing the vigilante thing, then?"
"Only when they're not looking." They continued walking in silence for another few minutes. Pietro could see solid chunks floating in the water and rats scurrying along pipes. Distant drips echoed through the hollow tunnels and Pietro had to continue wondering how anyone could possibly live there, let alone WANT to live there.
"Hey," Pietro said, breaking the silence, "When did Rogue start to fly?"
"About a month ago," Spyke explained. "I don't know the whole story, but from what my aunt told me, Rogue just held onto a mutant for too long and permanently absorbed their power. Actually, I figured Kitty would've told Lance and you guys would've heard by now."
"Us guys? Wow, news doesn't travel far in the sewer, does it?" Pietro grinned. "The old Brotherhood's done. We split up a few years ago."
"I know, but I thought maybe you'd kept in touch. I'm too busy with actual responsibilities to really keep track of this stuff."
"Please," Pietro scoffed. "You're defending a bunch of low-lifes who can defend themselves. Admit it, you stay down here because you're ashamed of the way you look."
"No!" Spyke yelled. "But most of them are. But they can't all defend themselves. That's why they need me." There was more silence. "Actually, Scott came down and offered me a job at the new campus. I turned him down."
"That's too bad. You could probably have made enough to support the entire Morlock colony," Pietro said idly.
"Maybe. But they depend on me for protection, not for food. They bring me food. It's like that symbiosis stuff Mr. McCoy was talking about. Oh wait, you skipped that day. And all the others."
"I had more important things to do with my time."
"Like scheming with your dad?" Spyke retorted, referring to the day of the Sentinel attack.
"Listen, I did what I had to in order to save myself. It was either go down with the rest of you, or stay by my father's side and wait it out. You can't tell me you wouldn't have done the same thing in my position."
"Sssspyke..." Caliban jumped down from the overhead pipes, pale and taller than either boy. He looked Pietro over as if he was covered in... wait, he was covered in shit. "You know the rulesss," he hissed. "No topsiders."
"Someone broke the ladder on 53rd," Spyke explained. "I'm taking him to another exit."
"...I know this one..." Caliban looked at Pietro with his dead, yellow eyes. "Quicksssilver. Magneto'ssson. He could be a ssspy."
"I've had a rough day, corpse boy, just find me a way out," Pietro snapped.
"Take him to Callisssto..."
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"So you're Magneto's boy," Callisto said. Pietro sat tied to a chair in the inner chambers of the Morlock tunnels while several of them looked him over. Pietro was surprised to find that their leader Callisto wasn't all that ugly. Grungy, in need of some proper grooming, yes, but considering that her worst features were an eyepatch and a large scar across her face, she was downright beautiful for a Morlock. Spyke and Caliban stood to one side. "How do we know you're not here to cause trouble?"
"You have my word," Pietro said. "I fell in, that's all. That's why I've got a busted leg. I don't even know if it's sprained, or broken, or what. All I want is a way out."
"You know him, Spyke," Callisto said. "Can we trust his word?"
"I think he's here by accident like he says..." Spyke looked Pietro over. "But I can't say he's someone who can be trusted."
"Oh, come on! That was a long time ago! Nothing bad happened to any of you!" Pietro complained. "We were on opposite sides, I was following orders!"
"But you betrayed your own teammates, too! Your own sister!"
"Hey, if someone like Magneto gave you the chance to either stand by him or fall with everyone else, you'd do the same thing. All of you would!"
"You underestimate the strength of loyalty," Callisto said to him. "Until we're convinced that you're not here to cause any trouble, you'll be our prisoner."
"You're going to keep me in this shithole?! You can't do that! It's inhumane! Look at me! I'm covered in FECES! I need a show-" The touch of Torpid, the young girl with oversized hands, froze Pietro in place and finally shut him up. Two of the others picked him out of the chair and took him away.
"I don't think keeping him here is such a good idea, either," Spyke told Callisto. The chamber resonated with their footsteps- it wasn't part of the sewer system, but a large tunnel carved out of rock, like many of the Morlock tunnels. They had already been there, ready for them when the Morlocks first arrived. They reinforced the tunnel with brick stones and loose pipes they had found in the sewers, and they slept under tents stolen from the surface. "What if he is spying for Magneto? Won't he come looking for him?"
"I know it's risky, Spyke," Callisto said to him, "But we have no reason to trust Quicksilver. In fact, we have every reason not to. Magneto hasn't done anything to us yet, but we know about him, and we know he can be dangerous."
"Which is why we need to let Pietro go," Spyke argued. "Magneto's with the X-Men now. If anything, Quicksilver might be working for Mystique."
"I'll get Healer to fix his leg. Give him some food and water. Once he's ready, we'll start questioning him."
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Quicksilver fidgeted in his makeshift cell, if it could even be called that. He was put in a corner behind some long bone-spikes that served as bars. Pietro could get out of there anytime he wanted. They knew it. But they had insurance.
"How's the leg?" Spyke asked from the other side of the "bars."
"How's the leg?! When did you become a sardonic prick, Daniels?! Geez!" The Morlock Healer hadn't actually fixed his leg. He had just eased the pain slightly, but it was still in no condition to be used. He had been cleaned up, and he could see that his leg was twisted inward. "Your healer's a quack, you know that?"
"He's just grouchy. He doesn't trust Magneto, so he doesn't trust you. Besides, if you healed up, you'd probably get out of here without any problem."
"So has your little sewage council made a decision?"
"Not yet," Spyke told him, sitting down on a slab of rock next to Pietro's cell. The chameleon-like Facade seemed to grow right out of the wall next to Spyke. Facade's nose twitched, and he climbed off the wall. "Facade, any news?"
"None yet," Facade told him. "I've hit most of the usual spots, but there is no sign of activity. I don't think anyone is coming for him."
"Well, duh! Nobody knows I'm here," Pietro protested.
"Facade, could you double-check? Magneto and his goons can be pretty sneaky," Spyke requested.
"Do you think he's telling the truth?" Facade asked.
"I do, to be honest. And I think you're right about there not being anyone looking for him. But we can't take that chance."
"Right. I'll be back soon." Facade jumped onto the wall and vanished. Pietro noticed some movement along the wall, but soon couldn't tell if Facade had stopped moving or if he was already gone.
"You just ordered that guy to do the exact same thing he'd just done," Pietro said. "And he agreed! Is he that stupid?"
"No, he just knows we have to be careful down here," Spyke replied. "Maybe you don't understand, but it takes more than a bossy attitude to make a leader." Pietro's eyes narrowed. "You have to respect the people working with you. You can't expect anyone to listen to you if you can't listen to them."
"What are you talking about? I respected my team. And don't bring that Sentinel business up again, you've been riding that since I got here."
"I heard stories, Pietro. You were trying to make them afraid of you," Spyke explained. "That doesn't work. You're not Magneto, you know."
"I know that. I know that! I just... I just can't stand being told what to do! Naturally, someone who thinks as fast as I do should be in charge. Why doesn't everyone just accept that?" Pietro crossed his arms and snorted.
"Nobody likes being told what to do. That's why you ask. You don't order." Pietro looked away, as if refusing to accept any part of Spyke's lesson. Callisto arrived, accompanied by the lizard-like Lucid and the aged, bearded Healer. "What's the word, Callisto?"
"You're free to go," Callisto said. Healer put his hand through the bars and grabbed Pietro's leg. Pietro winced, but soon the pain was gone, and his leg was full healed. "Blindfold him."
Spyke pulled one of the bone-bars loose and Lucid walked into the cell, placing a blindfold on Pietro. Someone took his hand and led him out of the cell, and for several minutes, he walked. He could hear the echo of his footsteps, and he could feel that at several points, he was walking through mush.
"Climb," the voice of Spyke told him. Pietro began to climb up a metal ladder. He was amazed that his leg was working so well, when only minutes before it had been giving him so much pain. Once he reached the top, Spyke removed the blindfold. They stood in an alley, next to a garbage dumpster.
"So that's it, then?" Pietro asked. Spyke nodded. "Okay, then. I'll be on my way, then."
"Yeah. Stay out of trouble, Pietro," Spyke said.
"Oh, come on. Trouble can't resist me. Catch you later, Evan!" Quicksilver sped away, leaving Spyke shaking his head. He jumped back into the manhole and pulled the lid over it.
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And boy, was he right. Less than an hour after leaving the Morlock tunnels, Quicksilver was racing through the road leading out of Bayville, passing by the city limit and onto the wilderness. He swerved around what few cars and trucks he found along the road, at one point even darting in front of a trucker and giving him the finger before dashing off.
Then, there was a long stretch of road where Pietro didn't encounter anyone else. This was normal; he'd run through this road at least six times in the last month, and he rarely found anyone there except for the occasional big rig. Strangely, he only had one other companion- a black helicopter.
Yes, a black helicopter. And it was doing a very lousy job of being inconspicuous, considering it was shining a searchlight on Pietro.
Still, Pietro was determined to lose it, he didn't care why it was following him. He accelerated, forcing the helicopter to follow suit. Then, Quicksilver slowed down, letting the helicopter pass ahead. It also slowed down, turning around to see if it could still spot him. When it did, Quicksilver waved to it and continued along the road, forcing the helicopter to once again change direction.
Pietro looked ahead: there was a toll station, one that he always ran through. His favorite practice was sliding underneath the barrier, then knocking on the booth window, making faces at the attendant, and running off.
This time, he noticed that there were several armed soldiers standing in the way. Pietro skidded to a halt.
"I get it. You're trying to stop me, huh?" Pietro taunted. "That's too bad, because you can't!" Pietro turned around to run the other way, but in the brief amount of time he'd taken to taunt the soldiers, several vans had already appeared behind him, each unloading several more armed soldiers. Leading the troops was a tall black man with a shaved head and a goatee, his right eye marked with a thick black "M" tattoo.
"This is your stop, Quicksilver," the commander said. "We need to have a word with you."
"Send me an e-mail. I've got places to be, you know." Quicksilver dashed right at the commander, harshly pushing him aside and heading for the road. The commander tensed up, then pulled a white, plastic handgun from his holster. He held it out and his hand began to glow red with energy. The energy jumped into the gun and shot out of the barrel as a concentrated blast, fast enough to reach the distant Quicksilver and knock him to the ground.
"That takes care of him," the commander said. "Go pick him up."
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Pietro woke up in a dimly lit metal cell, with no recollection of how he had gotten there. He sat up, remembering only that something hit his back. His back was a little sore, as were his arms and legs- having fallen over at high speed, he must've rolled a bit. His head was also throbbing. He rubbed his face and looked around at the cell.
Nothing. Just a thick door with a small window. There wasn't even a cell across from him, just a plain wall. He walked up to the bars and tried to look around, but the entire room was curved in a circle. He realized that the cells were in the cylindrical center of the room, preventing any of the prisoners from seeing each other, or the door, if there was one.
He sat back in the cell. After an hour (or what seemed like an hour), a bottle of water appeared from a sliding compartment on the wall. He took it and quickly drank it. After that, Pietro had nothing to do except marvel at having been captured twice by two separate forces in the same day.
Pietro had lost track of the time when the commander who had taken him down arrived, joined by two masked soldiers. The commander wore a dark blue uniform with a red and yellow emblem on his shoulders. Pietro realized that he was dealing with SHIELD. The commander entered the cell with his troops and closed the door behind him.
"Pietro Maximoff, Quicksilver," the commander said. "I'm Commander John Lucas Bishop, SHIELD Department of Mutant Affairs. We've been tracking your movements for the past two months. If you didn't have such a habit of running by the same place several times, we probably never would've captured you."
"Yeah, yeah, are you arresting me for everything I've done?" Pietro asked, crossing his arms and rolling his eyes.
"Yes," Bishop replied. "SHIELD Command has declared you a danger to society. After local law enforcement and the X-Men failed to bring you down, the task fell to me. I'm not even going to bother reading off your list of crimes. They're petty, but too numerous to let you remain free. You're facing imprisonment for continued reckless endangerment of innocent lives and property."
"Don't I get a trial?!" Pietro demanded.
"This is SHIELD," Bishop explained. "You're lucky I'm even telling you why you're being held. We have the right to detain you without trial until we feel you're no longer a threat to society, even if it means a life sentence."
"Okay, so just give me my uniform and leave me alone," Pietro said, lying down on his bunk, no longer wanting to argue.
"We're not through with you yet," Bishop warned. "I can arrange to have you pardoned and released, on two conditions. The first is that you promise to stop your reckless adrenaline addiction."
"Yeah, whatever, what's the second condition?" Pietro asked impatiently.
"That you become an temporary SHIELD operative and help us find someone who's been on our suspect list for the last two years."
"You've got to be kidding. You want me to work for you now? Last time I helped SHIELD all I got was a ride home. Like I can count on you to keep your word."
"You would be given command of the mission, and you'd have a team to help you," Bishop explained.
"A team? And I'm in charge?"
"No, I'm in charge, but you will have field command," Bishop corrected. "Upon completion of your mission, you will be pardoned and released from SHIELD custody."
"One question, Bishop... why me?" Pietro asked.
"The only leads we have on our suspect are his list of associates, most of whom we know next to nothing about. The only one on the list that we have any information on is the Scarlet Witch."
"Wanda?" Pietro asked, now sitting up. "Do you know where she is?"
"No. But you might be instrumental in finding her, and your target."
"Lucas," Pietro muttered to himself.
"You know him?" Bishop asked, raising an eyebrow.
"No, but I've heard of him. What do you guys know about him?"
"Nothing, except that he has psychic powers we haven't been able to measure, and according to our intelligence, he's a potential threat to national security. He and his pals have clashed with the X-Men numerous times, but they refuse to share any additional information. As per orders, we're respecting their privacy and conducting our own investigation. Your job is to track the Scarlet Witch, and through her, to find Lucas. If and when you find him, we will decide what to do about him."
"Okay, what kind of team do I get?"
"We have six SHIELD operatives ready to go with you, after prep time," Bishop explained.
Pietro grinned. He realized he was now in a vital position. "SHIELD agents? Please, I can't take down a telepath with your goons. I'm going to have to pick my own team. They've gotta be people I know I can count on to get the job done."
"I know what you have in mind, Quicksilver, and it's a bad idea."
"If her own brother can't get to her, then who else are you going to find?" Pietro asked with a wry smile.
"...Done," Bishop relented.
"Good." Bishop and Pietro shook hands. "So, when do we start?"
"I have to clear this with SHIELD Command," Bishop explained. "So you're staying put for now." Pietro frowned. Bishop and the two troops left the cell, leaving a disgruntled Pietro inside.
"Director's not gonna like this, sir," one of the troops, Lieutenant Denti, said to Bishop.
"They're not, but it's my call. He's a mutant. And as you both know damn well, our agents don't do well against powerful mutants. It's going to take a team of them to get this done, and we can't let them know that this might turn out to be a suicide mission."
Uh oh. Suicide Squad?
Forget it. Go to the next chapter.