X-Calibre - The Omega

Chapter One
“Introductions”
Kurt Darkholme looked out over the ocean. From his high perch, he could see everything anybody would ever want to see. The sea, the clouds, the sunset...time seemed to slow down. Kurt noticed a seagull lifting up off the water and shifted his weight to see the bird better, and realized what he was sitting on. A defense platform, a Colossus, a warning to anyone that they were approaching Muir Island, Sentinel factory, an island devoted to death. The seascape had become foreign, part of a world that did not exist anymore, the thing that should not be. Kurt’s thought wandered, in the direction of Apocalypse. How could anything look so beautiful after that era of death? And what shocked him even more, was his inability to accept that this beautiful seascape even though he was seeing it with his own eyes.

“Mein Gott…was haben wir gemacht?”

He spoke, in his native tongue, involuntarily. The words came out as a whisper, and were carried away by the wind. What else could he say, here now, looking out at the sea?

“No, I don’t deserve this, this isn’t right, not after what I’ve seen and done.”

The flaws in the scene began to emerge. Metal on water, spots of discoloration. Kurt turned away. He couldn’t stand to watch it. He stood up, turned to the island that would be, with any luck, the world’s hope for the future. Kurt closed his eyes.

“Heaven help us all.”

A flash of crimson, the stench of brimstone, and Nightcrawler disappeared. Redness filled his eyes, and then faded. He was standing on the north beachhead of Muir Island, his new home. He momentarily locked his knees and waited for the shock of the mammoth jump to pass. He stood in the sand for a little longer, not sure if he was preparing, or hesitating. Nightcrawler had never done anything like this in his life. Gathering a group of youths to train them? How? What could he teach them? Why?

Jason looked at the red sky as he walked down Fleet Street. Tucking his hands into his pockets, he shivered slightly as the London wind bit into his skin. The air had an odd feel to Jason, as if it were alive, charged. He remembered the feeling, remembered it like an old friend. Stepping into the small flat in the ally off Cheapside Row, he stopped cold. Emblazoned on the wall, fading, but still clearly visible was an X encircled in fire. Below it, a simple note. Muir Island.

Jason sank to the battered chair.

“So, it’s happened. I knew it would. They could never leave well enough alone.”

Memory filled his mind. He saw them all: Summers, Grey, Magnus, Lebeau. He’d let them fight without him. Looking up, fire filled his eyes.

“Not this time.”

Standing, Jason allowed himself to relax, focusing inward. Drawing from within himself as he had been taught so long ago. His body began to expand, growing, rippling. His tattered clothes changed, melded into the white and black that had filled London’s skies long ago. A white eagle against a solid black suit, and a mask that engulfed his face, leaving only his red eyes visible now covered his body. His now golden hair shone in the dying light. Stepping to the center of the room, he felt the air charge as the air molecules themselves accelerated with a kinetic charge. Moments later, a red streak filled the sky over Fleet Street as Jason McElros, now Knight, rocketed toward Muir Island.

Each moment he spent preparing he found more reasons not to do this. The more he thought, the more he hesitated. Time to stop. Don’t think, just do. He forced his legs to move, one foot at a time. He stood at the entrance, held his breath, and opened it. He made his way through the halls, empty, vacant, forgotten. If he hadn’t known what had gone on in here, he would have felt chilled anyway. It was a ghost town, like everyone just left. There were open doors, files left out, books open, like a snapshot of life, with no people. One foot at a time, he told himself. Don’t hesitate; just do.

He arrived at the door to the meal area, and stopped for a second. Lying beyond that thin piece of metal was X-Calibre. Doubts were piling up in Kurt’s mind. He put his hand on the doorknob, twisted it, pushed lightly on it, and teleported.

*BAMF*

Releasing the charge around him, Jason dropped to the roof. A smell of brimstone permeated the air. Cloaking, he slipped inside. These hallways had once been a home to him as he had funded the research here. Before Apocalypse. He saw the group standing in the meeting room and the demonic face of the Nightcrawler.

*BAMF*

People’s heads turned to see who was coming into the room. And upon their confusion after finding none, Kurt laughed. Every single person must have expected a sneak attack, because things were being thrown at him from various corners of the table they were sitting behind. He quickly flipped down to the floor. Upon recognizing their founder, they stopped. A few faces turned red for a second. Jeez, these are kids! What was I thinking! Or wasn’t I! A few stood up, one of which was Kristen Kross, the technopath, responsible for vacating the plant.

“You did good, Kross. Not a soul around. How soon can we have power back up?”

“Pretty soon.”

Not a good answer, but probably the best she could do. Kurt turned to the rest of the team. He couldn’t think of anything to say. Thoughts of his dead teammates flashed through his head. What could he say about the struggle that had happened, about the lives lost, and about why he had assembled the team? “They tried...they failed...they died. And now we get clean up the mess.” Six blank stares where the only response he got to his little creed, Damn, and I spent weeks thinking of that line!

“I’ve brought you all here, because you’re the world’s new hope. The Omega, the ones who will end this reign of death. We’re here because the world needs someone to clean up the mess left by Apocalypse. Plain and simple.” A few nods.

“The world needs a future. We’re going to give it to them by protecting the present. You know what we’re going to do. Train, practice, learn, protect. But what we’re about, is hope.”

Darkholme said a silent prayer to whoever was listening, a prayer about tomorrows.

Children, Knight thought. He could see the thought echoed on Nightcrawler’s face. The time had come. He allowed the field of invisibility around him to fall. The sharp gasps of X-Calibre were followed by a hum as those with the ability prepared to launch an energy assault. Nightcrawler raised a hand.

“McElros.”

“Darkholme.”

“Why are you here?”

“If you are going to make a last stand Darkholme, then I’m not going to let you stand without me.”

“Why now? What makes this different than any of the times Magnus approached you?”

“You have assembled the last hope, Darkholme. They have the raw power, but lack the finesse. Magnus didn’t need me. They do.”

“What makes you think we need you?”

“This is our last chance, Darkholme. Either we all fight, or we all die. We will fight to the last, for the last we are.”

“Could you be anymore overly dramatic?” Lane Gallup, who called himself Khaos, mumbled to himself as Nightcrawler made his speech. Nobody else had heard him, or at least he assumed nobody had, because he was on the other side of the room away from everyone else. He didn’t exactly plan it that way, but then nothing ever went the way he planned it. Case in point: the scenario he found himself in at the current moment. He never quite figured out how Darkholme had found him in the first place, but it didn’t make much of a difference now, did it?

Lane sighed and pulled a cigarette from the pocket of his shorts and stuck it between his lips. Striking a match, he lit the cigarette and took a short drag from it. He turned and watched as Knight appeared from nowhere, almost as if he was trying to outdo Nightcrawler’s previous entrance. It was almost humorous. As he listened in on Knight’s little dispute with Darkholme, Lane could only wonder why it was they were over-exaggerating the situation to the point where it was ridiculous. In all honesty, the situation was serious. It was just Lane that was being ridiculous.

Taking another drag from his cigarette, Lane leaned back against the far wall and watched everyone else’s reactions.

Klaw shook her head sitting against the wall on one of the tables. Kristen Kross was seated next to her. These mutants had to be taught and both of the girls knew it.

Peace and love and justice. It isn’t that easy... the words are good, but fighting is not the answer after so long under Apocalypse’s hate killings. They had to learn. Learning was the key, even if it wasn’t in Nightcrawler’s agenda. Klaw knew herself that she had to learn.

A lot of work had to be done here. Klaw looked at Kristen who was clearly in thought. It wouldn’t take long before Kristen would have all of Muir Island working to their satisfaction. Some days it felt like Muir Island was the only safe place for the mutants anymore.

“Well, if this is an open meeting,” Klaw spoke up, “I want to suggest we hold regular training sessions when Kristen gets our facilities up to their highest performance. We’re a team of young mutants. Most of us can’t control what we’re born with. If we can’t control it, then how are we supposed to defend ourselves ever?”

“The plague of Apocalypse is dead... right now we have to deal with the plague of anti-mutant humans and the small leftovers of the Apocalypse evil,” Klaw spoke up again slowly warming to the crowd who were assembled.

“I suppose we need to start this out right here,” Klaw tilted her head shifting her cat eyes around the room, “I’m Phenix Creed... codenamed Klaw for obvious reasons. I was born in New York, and became one of Sinister’s experiments. I was brought here as a prisoner after Apocalypse was killed. Kross freed myself and the other mutants. I am looking forward to working with you all.”

“What else do you have besides claws?” Lane’s attention finally moved from Knight.

Klaw grinded her teeth as the tension in the room seemed to refuse to lighten. “Nothing that is reliable right now. Now, if somebody else would like to do the talking, I would love to get along with everybody here. I’m sure we don’t all have the holier than thou personalities we have witnessed so far today.”

Jason listened to the thoughts being voiced by Phenix Creed. He shook his head and looked at them. Children, mere children. He’d been bringing down mutant criminals before most of them could walk. She made some good points, however.

“Its a good point you make Klaw. Finesse, as I said, is of critical importance. I have no doubt that there is at least one of you in this room that equals or excels me in raw power. However, many of the opponents that we may face have two major advantages: experience and finesse. The first cannot be taught, but is ingrained as you learn from battle after battle. The second however, can be taught, and must be learned, or this group and all in it will fall, just as did those before.”

There was one, Khaos, casting a look at him that said he didn’t care for a word Jason was saying. “You got a problem?” Khaos looked around, not appearing to believe that Jason was talking to him. “Well?”

Lane blinked taking him a minute just to process that the question had been directed at him. Running a hand through his dirty blonde hair, he muttered quietly to himself before answering out loud.

“This is Darkholme’s gig, not yours,” he started as he stood up. His left foot kicked at the ground awkwardly, like a small child when they’re nervous. “If he wants to lecture us on what to do, I’m okay with that. What I’m not okay with is some nitwit half scan showing up and acting all ‘high and mighty’ because he happens to have a few years on the rest of us.” His gaze dropped to the floor and he sat back down, taking a long drag from his cigarette. “But that’s just me,” he muttered.

Jason leaned in very close to Khaos, almost whispering. “You must think that because you’ve managed to save your own ass for most of your life you’re pretty hot stuff. Here’s a bit of news: I’ve been laying my life on the line longer than anyone in this room, including Darkholme. This is his show, fine. But I don’t plan to work with anyone who doesn’t grasp the idea that he has a hell of a lot to learn. You grasp?”

Jason reached his hand out and touched a small cup sitting on the table with the tip of his finger and sent it sailing across the room. Walking across the room, he turned to Nightcrawler. “I’ll be outside. Let me know if they decide to grow up.” Jason left and walked down the hall.

Kross stood up and walked to her place at the table. “I need to make something clear, before we all part.”

They all looked up to her, except Knight who had run out of this meeting and was roaming her island unfettered. “This is my island. These are my facilities.” She hoped she was making her point without sounding like too much like a bitch. “You are all guests here, for now.”

She paused a second to gather her thoughts. “I have a list of temporary quarters for you all.” It was about this point when she realized that she did not like speaking to groups of people. “I...I have made arrangements to keep us with enough food and clean water for a long time to come. So. You all will have a place to live, food to eat and someone to train you.” She glanced to Kurt. “But there are rules. One, remember you are guests and this is my place. Two, once I bring the systems up you will all be monitored within the island defense grid. You must volunteer to be, or you leave the island.”

She sat back down. “Oh, I’m Kristen Kross. And I’m done.”

Kristofer Trotsky, a medium Russian with silver hair, and a red body suit with two silver jagged lightning bolts running up the side of his body, looked around the table. So many new faces. Each person looked like his or her life was just as interesting as the next. Time to break the ice. He stood up. “Although I do not like it, I will let my activities be monitored, Comrade Big Brother,” He flashed a smile at Kross. “I do hope that you won’t pry too much into our lives.”
A little laughter from the few that read Orwell’s masterpiece, but once they realized that he was Russian, it stopped. So he continued. “I am Kristofer Trotsky, alias Blitzkrieg. As you may have guessed from my accent,” he said referring to the way he enunciated his words in the classic Russian tone, “I am Russian. I lived in North Eastern Russia until an Apocalyspe fanatic, Vein, killed everyone. I live to see the downfall of tyrants.”

Klaw spoke up, “Blitzkrieg?”

“Yes, Comrade Klaw. My powers are derived from the control of lightning. I look forward to working with all of you.” He sat down and decided to let the others introduce themselves now that the ice had been broken.

“If I may go next, my name is Christopher Planes, or appropriately named, Wraith,” Chris telepathically spoke up in the second of silence, and shook his head when he watched the team jump startled, and then look around for him. “You won’t find me, I am permanently cloaked and the voice in your head in my only means of communication. I wasn’t born with a mouth, or vocal chords; my telepathy makes up for it.”

“This cloaking ability, is this a natural mutation?” Kurt asked, he remembered seeing Wraith’s acceptance notice to come to Muir Island, but he didn’t remember seeing ‘being cloaked’ as one of his powers. When he didn’t see him in the room, Kurt just figured Chris backed out.

“No, it’s not. I was born at a Weapon X lab in France, an underwater lab as you could imagine. Anyway, my natural power is telepathy, and the absorption and redistribution of any energy attack used on me. The ‘geniuses’ at Weapon X tampered with my DNA, and used my powers to somehow wrap me in a cloaking field. But, they screwed up and I can’t turn it off, forever leaving me invisible to the naked eye.” Chris attempted a joke at his own expense, but the team could feel the apathy through his ‘voice’, “It’s not exactly a hit with the ladies.”

“My hope with X-Calibre is to find a cure to my cloaking, and search for my lost brother, Alan, who was separated from me shortly after birth at Weapon X,” Wraith finished his introduction.

Watching members of the group slowly walk forward and introduce themselves was beginning to drag on in Mathew ‘Visarge’ Cross’s mind. After Wraith had finished his own introduction and a sufficient pause had been given, Mathew raised himself from the floor and walked to a spot where the whole group could hear.

“Friends,” giving a gesture to cover all the occupants of the room, which looked odd in his black chain mail armor that contrasted against his pure white hair, “I am tired and I can see that many others are here too. How about we find ourselves some food, a place where we can eat and then carry on with these formalities. Nothing helps conversation like a full stomach I have found.”

Turning back round and picking up his visor, he held it under his arm and said, “Unless anyone has a better suggestion?”

Nightcrawler broke his personal silence, “Ja, I agree. This room is cramping us. Those that are hungry can head to the cafeteria. Otherwise, I am sure Klaw wouldn’t mind giving the rest a tour of Miss Kross’ magnificent island.”

“I could use some fresh air; that drug addict smoking in the corner doesn’t help much,” Klaw said; the breath from her voice disturbed a cloud of smoke that floated near.

Lane sheepishly raised his hand at Kurt’s mention of a tour. “I wouldn’t mind getting up and moving around. I think my butt fell asleep,” he muttered, standing up slowly. He took one final drag from his cigarette and tossed it on the ground, stomping it out with his worn-out combat boot, and he grinned in Klaw’s direction. “And I’m a chain-smoker, not a drug addict.”

Trotsky also stood up and stretched. “I am game,” and joined the small group amassing next to the door.

Blitzkrieg, Visarge, Wraith and Khaos all made it clear that they wanted to get out of the small meeting room. As one of the original inhabitants of the new island, Klaw felt it her duty to give them a tour.

“Well, I guess us five can go on our way. Kristen, this will give you some time to work on things I guess...” Klaw smiled at her friend.

“Time is no matter,” Kristen slowly walked out the door, giving a smirk.

“Okay, if anybody else wants to join us, I’m sure you will be able to find me. I’m going to give each of you one of these.” Phenix handed out small comm links like one she had sewn into her uniform. “These links allow you to communicate with each other and for us to find you in a time of danger.”

“Now we get official,” Lane commented picking his up off the table.

“Anybody who doesn’t want to come along, your name is on your assigned room. Go down the stairs into the main complex. All your rooms are in the North Wing, Level Two.” Klaw pointed some directions out on a small map.

Jason allowed himself to let go and felt the change as his active form dissipated, taking his costume and sword with it. He was again simply Jason McElros. In this form, he was weaker than Knight, but still possessed low-level powers. Coming to a staircase at the end of the hallway that led to the roof, he opened the door at the top, feeling the night air blow across his face. Looking out over the skyline, he thought of the last time he’d enjoyed this view...

Jan. 12, 1979
Muir Island: Lab

Colin McElros rubbed his bearded chin as the doctor walked Jason back into the main office. Colin’s well-tailored suit and expensive haircut betrayed him for the businessman he was, if his warm embrace of his son didn’t. The doctor took Colin into his office, closed the door, and took a seat behind the desk.

“Mr. McElros, I ran a series of standard genetic tests on your son and we confirmed the presence of an abnormality in his DNA code.”

“Doctor, I’m not a scientist. Give it to me in plain English. Is he a mutant or not?”

The doctor looked nervously at the desktop. “We detected mutant genes and a latent ability...”

“Is he going to be one of those freaks doctor? Is my son going to grow a meter and his skin turn green, or what?”

“We’re not certain. Usually the tests indicate what the abilities will manifest themselves as but Jason... its almost as if he’s a different kind of mutant. Not quite telekinetic, but with kinetic manipulation abilities of a sort. We think that he may be able to draw on some kind of outside force that would... alter him...”

“I’m a freak you mean.”

Colin and the doctor both shot their eyes at the door. Jason had quietly opened it and had been eavesdropping. “Jason,” Colin said as he stood.

Jason bolted for the stairs, running up toward the roof. Slamming open the door, he felt the brisk, fresh night air blowing through his thin Beatles T-Shirt. Sitting on the edge of the roof, he began to cry. He felt Colin’s strong hand on his shoulder.

“Jason... I promise, no matter what, come hell or high water, we’ll get through this. I don’t care what public opinion says or what it costs me, but I won’t let anything happen to you...”

The Present
Muir Island: Roof

“Too bad, Dad... too bad indeed.”

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