X-MEN ETERNITY

X-Force #3 “If Hitler Invaded Hell...”

Rated PG-13 for violence and language
by R. John Burke

X-Men Eternity Message Board: http://solofan.proboards76.com/index.cgi

DISCLAIMER: The X-Men are a copyright of Marvel Comics. I don't own them, but this is only non-profit fan fiction. No money is involved and no infringement is intended. This is also partly a work of historical fiction; all characters are either fictitious or used fictitiously, and no infringement or insult is intended.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: X-Men Eternity started (in Uncanny #1: The Shattering) with the events at the end of "House of M" and went in a different direction. Nothing that happened after that is cannon for our purposes, and in fact a few things have changed; for a start, the team is spread through time and space. "X-Force: Eternity" is a sister series following the adventures of a splinter group of X-Men who are trapped in the past during an alternate World War II.

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“You know what I find amusing?” The anonymous, rather pudgy man lit a cigarette, took a long puff, and leaned back in his chair. “That crazy little Canadian is breaking his back trying to get Magneto for us (*last ish)... and we're only going to have to kill the fellow when he does.”

Washington, DC
Spring 1942
Alternate Reality #758

Steve Rogers, known to the world as Captain America, frowned at the pudgy fellow, whose name-- or all the name he'd admit to-- was Talbot. “I won't be a party to murder, Mr. Talbot... although I must admit the stench of that thing makes death seem pleasant.”

Talbot held up the cigarette before his eyes. “A futuristic friend assured me they cause cancer. Who'd have thought? Well... see you in hell.”

Cap leaned over the smaller man's desk. “Was your futuristic friend Magneto? How do you know so much about the man... and why does what you know make you want to kill him?”

“I don't *want* to kill him,” said Talbot, smiling. “I never *want* to kill anyone. With certain people, it just... becomes necessary. Believe me, Cap, if and when they bring back Magneto... he will make it necessary.”

Cap wrinkled his nose. “Mr. Talbot, if the President himself hadn't assured me you were absolutely essential to the Allied cause, I believe I'd punch you in the nose.”

“You wouldn't be the first.” Talbot looked up. “Can I do something for you, Captain?”

“Yes. I'm told you're the man to see about commencing an operation.”

“What sort of operation?”

Captain America paced the room. “There's a hell of a fight near Kharkov and we can't reach Logan's team. I think it's time we took a more active hand.”

“As in a rescue?” Talbot arched an eyebrow. “I wouldn't worry about Logan, Cap. The man's extraordinarily hard to kill.”

“And the rest of his team? Look, Talbot, we put them in this spot-- they deserve our full support."

Talbot ignored him, instead picking up a newspaper from his desk and slapping it with the back of his hand. "Will you look at this, Cap? Japanese internment. Now that's the sort of bull I have to put up with on a daily basis. With the boys in Congress on one side trying to 'help' and you on the other being all star-spangled, I don't know how they expect me to win a..."

Cap took the paper out of his hands, crumpled it up, and threw it away. "We gave our word, Talbot."

“So we did,” said Talbot, unperturbed. He puffed on the cigarette again. “All right, Captain, your generous nature has touched my heart. You go active as of 0800. Go hunt us up a Wolverine.”

Cap nodded to him, turned, and headed for the door...

“And Cap? This isn't the bush leagues. Leave your sidekick at home.”

Captain America made a face, then apparently decided that since he'd gotten what he thought was important, the strange little man wasn't worth it. He walked out the door, leaving Talbot in a cloud of smoke...

****

Kharkov, Ukraine
Soviet City Under German Occupation

"All right," said Betsy Braddock-- Psylocke-- holding forth her telekinetic sword. "Which of you chaps is first?"

The three Nazi skulls standing over her young friend Celeste (* see last issue) regarded Betsy as though she had three heads. Of course, if she had, she could have used her teke on all three simultaneously, and that would have put an end to her problems. As it was, they were just beginning.

The one on the left moved first. Betsy wasn't surprised; he'd struck her as... twitchy. Drawing the energy blade that was standard equipment for these shock troopers, he rushed her headlong. He probably shouldn't have. Betsy sidestepped his attack and swept with her own sword, forcing him to dodge. He plowed into a knot of trees, and Betsy stepped up to finish him...

The other two attacked from behind. Years of training saved Betsy's life-- she ducked a fraction of an inch below the sweep of a sword, then kicked the legs out from under the fellow attacking her. That left one free, and his sword stabbed down toward her heart...

ZAP! The Skull was knocked to the ground by a burst of energy.

Psylocke finished her opponent with a blow to the throat, then arched an eyebrow at Talia Josephine Wagner-- Nocturne-- who stood with her and Celeste in the clearing.

"That was new."

"That was a hex bolt. Got the pointy ears from Dad and the hex bolts from Mom. They're pretty handy."

"Scarlet Witch powers? You can't, for example, rewrite the Universe?"

"Are you saying it doesn't *need* it? By the way--" TJ pointed at the one she'd zapped. "He's still conscious."

"Oh." Betsy decked him. He groaned and lay still. "Better."

"I'll get the other one," said TJ, heading over to the trees where Betsy's first opponent was shaking off his injuries. She knocked him down with a blow every bit as efficient as Betsy's.

"Huh. You're really quite lethal, aren't you, dear?"

"That's what I've been trying to say!" TJ shrugged. "What part of 'I've saved Universes' did you guys not understand?"

"Well, you can't blame us entirely. You've been acting the part of Kurt's chatty teenage daughter. He wouldn't worry so if..."

"But it's cute that he worries," said TJ. "*My* version of Dad always pushed me so hard... oh."

"Oh?" said Betsy.

"Allow me to expand on that," TJ said. "Oh, *crap*..."

She was standing by the clump of trees, with the barrel of a rifle pointed squarely at her nose. Betsy turned to help her...

Click-CLICK. Another one was pointed at her ear. Looking around, Betsy saw the pale glow of at least half a dozen more Skull masks stepping out of the darkness.

"All right, gentlemen," she sighed, relaxing into ready posture. "We can stay for *one* more dance... but that's all."

****

The tiny bolt shuddered, rolled a few inches then came to a stop. The man sitting a few feet away, silhouetted in moonlight from the boarded-up windows, snarled and stretched out his hand again. The bolt rocked back and forth violently--

The bolt flew through the air, smacking into his palm. Erik Lehnsherr, known to his own world as Magneto, breathed a sigh of relief.

"My power is returning," he said, eyes closed, a smile spread across his face. "And none too soon."

The man sitting across from him, who had wore his blond hair long and his leather jacket tight and called himself Longshot, gave him a wide-open smile.

"You have the power to control metal? That must be fun."

"You thought a man named Magneto would control, say... animals?" The older man frowned. "You don't remember me."

"Should I?"

"I was allied to the X-Men... briefly... when you joined their team."

"Oh." Longshot shrugged. "I don't remember them, either."

"Apparently not."

"It's kind of better, not remembering," the boy continued. "Most things you remember only make you sad... or confused."

A third man, situated between the two of them on the floor and wrapped up in blankets, gave a small moan. He was Kurt Wagner-- Nightcrawler, a member of those same X-Men. He had no apparent connection to either of them, except that Longshot had found him lying unconscious, bruised and battered, in the facility they had just broken out of-- a building once belonging to the Soviet NKVD, now under the tender administrations of the German SS. (* last issues) He'd slowed their escape somewhat, with the result that they hadn't been able to get out of the city-- they'd holed up, awaiting his recovery, dodging the Skulls. Perhaps the X-Man would have been surprised, had he been conscious, not to be left behind. But Longshot wouldn't go without him and Magneto himself would have cheerfully helped a lizard or a serial killer to escape from the Nazis, just to spite them.

The X-Man groaned. His eyes fluttered open.

“Your pardon, mein herr, but have you the license number of the Hulk that pummeled me?"

Longshot went over and checked on him, pulling the blankets close around him. The X-Man shivered. Then he saw Magneto, and adrenaline just about healed him on the spot. He sat straight up:

“Do I find myself in another parallel Universe, mein herr, or are you simply slumming?”

Magneto arched an eyebrow. “Believe me, it was not my idea to seek out your company, Nightcrawler. The Universe plays cruel tricks.”

“I prefer to say that God has a sense of humor-- although, admittedly, an odd one.” Kurt turned to the other man. “And... Longshot, too? I suppose that explains the coincidences...”

“Does everybody here know me?” Longshot asked. “Am I a king or something?”

“Kätzchen!” Kurt exclaimed suddenly, his eyes wide.

“I'm not a king, I'm a cat?”

“Did you see her in there? Did she get out?”

Magneto frowned. “If you're referring to Miss Pryde, I really couldn't say. I have been... indisposed.”

“That makes two of us, mein herr.” Kurt groaned and stretched. A drop of his blood rolled to the floor.

“What happened to you in there?” Longshot asked. “Did they hurt you?”

The man called Nightcrawler shook his head. “I hurt myself, I think. I made the most violent, intentionally disruptive 'port I could manage. To get away.”

“Away from what?”

“I do not know,” said the X-Man, very far away. “There was something... familiar... about it.”

“You refer to the shadow,” said Magneto.

“You saw it, too?”

“It seems we have more in common than this predicament, X-Man. I have had occasion to enjoy its hospitality...” Magneto shuddered. His lip twisted as he remembered the thing that had helped the Nazis torture him. (*last issue) “There was... a great nothingness at its center.”

“Yes,” said Kurt.

“And yet, it... welcomed me. Absorbed what I was.”

“Yes.”

“It took my power.” Magneto hissed, feeling his own cuts and bruises. “I am recovering, but... weakened. It may not be be easy to get away.”

“We may need a little luck,” said Kurt, winking at Longshot.

“I place no faith in luck,” Magneto said. “Not even his.”

“You place no faith in *anything*, mein herr.”

They stared at each other. Even Magneto, to whom genetic mutation was not a curse but a symbol of advancement, found those yellow eyes disconcerting. He said, “You may detest me, Nightcrawler, but I suggest we need each other if we are going to escape.”

“I intend no escape without my friend.” Kurt started to rise to his feet, gasped, and nearly fell on his face. Longshot was sitting in precisely the right spot to break his fall.

“You'd better let me do the hard part,” the blond mutant said. “You're both too badly hurt to face them again.”

“We do what we must, mein freund,” Kurt said. “I will not leave her.”

“You're a fool, then,” said Magneto.

“Danke. That, I believe, is the nicest thing you have ever said to me.”

Magneto settled back against the wall and sighed. A lizard, a serial killer... perhaps even an X-Man. If he got his powers back in full, they could rescue the girl easily enough. If he didn't...

He refused to think about 'if he didn't.' Unlike this X-Man, Magneto had given up on God, but not on destiny. It was not his destiny to be crushed by these barbarians before he had a chance to even the score.

For now, he needed to bide his time, marshal his strength. He folded his hands in his lap and tried to rest. The last thing he saw before he slept was yellow eyes, peering at him out of the dark. They seemed to pull him in, just as the shadow had. For a moment, in the half-dreamy state just short of sleep, Magneto felt a surge of fear...

****

Psylocke swept with an elbow, knocking aside the aim of the Skull nearest her even as her telekinesis cut the feet out from under him. Nocturne had moved even faster, swinging up into the nearby tree and then dropping down on her attacker's head. Celeste Cuckoo, in the center of it all, watched the fight through wide eyes, but with the Skulls equipped with ahead-of-their-time telepathic inhibitors (* see last issue), could do little else.

Not that the others seemed to need help. Betsy had already floored another, using the body of his companion as a shield against his rifle and then flinging the one into the other, knocking them both down.

“Come now, gentlemen! If you want to show a lady a good time, you'll have to do better than this!”

She stepped around the trunk of a tree as another Skull made a sweeping attack with his sword, allowing his strange weapon to slice the trunk in half. The top part slid off and started to fall toward Betsy... until she gave it a nudge with her teke, and dropped it on the fellow who'd cut it down.

“*Much* better,” she said, and addressed the next.

TJ was also holding her own, dodging another Skull's blows with preternatural speed, only to deliver a series of acrobatic punches and kicks that sent him flying. Vintage Nightcrawler technique, minus the 'porting; he'd taught his daughter well.

Celeste would have been very happy about the course of events if not for the gun burrowing into her forehead. Five Skulls were down, but the sixth, rather than engaging Betsy in combat-- clearly not a wise move, from what he'd seen-- simply took a step back and went with the much less labor-intensive method of threatening non-combatants.

“*Halte, fraulein!*”

Betsy froze, growling softy. “You know, this is very bad form. Doesn't speak well of your training program, does it? Do you think Captain sodding America hides behind hostages? I can *assure* you Captain Britain would never...”

That was as far as she got before one of the Skulls she'd dealt with earlier-- they went down easy but they recovered fast-- smashed her across the back. Betsy gamely rose up to hands and knees, but they beat her down again and again until she stayed where she was.

“That wasn't very nice,” said Celeste, eyes glowing.

“I agree,” said TJ. She went on the attack; one of the Skulls raised his rifle and fired, and she fell hard. Celeste screamed--

One of the Skulls was talking into a radio built into his headgear. Celeste had picked up enough German from various brains in the area to translate:

“...no, don't bring them back here,” said a deep voice. “I already have a subject here, and I'd rather like to keep our friend's hands off any new ones. Take them behind the lines, to Bock's command post. I will deal with them there.”

“*Jawhol, Freiherr,*,” said the Skull. He turned to Celeste, raising his rifle--

She screamed again, and then fell silent.

****

Kitty Pryde shouted at the top of her lungs.

To be perfectly accurate, one would have to say she continued shouting-- had been at it for a solid half-hour-- but she might as well have kept it up, because nobody could hear her. She couldn't even hear herself. She couldn't see anything, either, for the very good reason that her eyes were gone.

She could feel herself being... spread out... discorporated, as she'd been when she'd been stuck in a phased state after the Morlock Massacre, only this time forcibly, as some... power... literally pulled her into a million pieces.

Somehow, as from very far away, she heard a voice in the midst of all this:

--You can save yourself from this, Katherine Pryde. You can yet be free.--

Kitty screamed at it wordlessly, furiously, making herself understood to it although she couldn't have said just how: *Who are you? What are you? How are you doing this?*

--You are doing it, Katherine Pryde. And you can do so much more. You can escape. But you must let go.--

*Let go?*

--Of all this. Of your friends, your world, your defiance. The fight is over for you, Katherine. When you accept this, you will be ready for what I can offer.--

*Never!* Kitty thought, and screamed again...

And then, suddenly, she was whole. She was in the glass cell she'd thought was meant for Magneto (*last time), and was staring at a brilliant light overhead. Kitty gasped for breath.

A shadow passed before the light; a man in a hood. Baron Heinrich Zemo.

“What... are you doing to me?” she breathed.

“I should think it's obvious, kitten. We are killing you.”

“...Why?”

“Well, to see if it can be done, for one thing. You have remarkable talents, my dear.”

Kitty groaned. “You should see me own some newbie in elfQuest."

"You can be spared all this, if you tell me where the others are."

"I'll tell you exactly where Logan will be." She leaned her head up to look at him. "Where you least expect it-- just in time to make you hurt."

"I look forward to it," Zemo said. "I think there's something we can learn from each of them. That large fellow with the metallic form, for example..."

Her eyes flashed. "Piotr...!"

He smiled. "Yes. I thought there was something there. We really must round him up. Experiments on mutant breeding could be very... enlightening."

"You're a pig," she said, regaining her feet out of pride. "You're a Nazi pig, which makes you ugly *and* stupid."

Zemo stroked the mask which seemed to cover his face 24/7. Then he gestured at the glass wall between them. "If you would make me regret my ungentlemanly ways, kitten, you need only phase through that."

Kitty tried-- as it had every time she'd ever tested it, the cell wall held. She pressed her hand flat against it, willing herself to pass through... It wasn't that she couldn't phase; she still could, perfectly. She just couldn't phase through *that*.

Zemo nodded to himself. "The problem you are experiencing, kitten, is because this cell is reinforced with power modified from your colleague Magneto. It is no merely tangible barrier. You could still pass through it... if you had the will. But I suppose you're a disappointment in that respect."

"Well, if you're not having enough fun, why don't you come in here and get me? Big, bad nasty like you, that shouldn't be problem, except you're scared of me. You should be. As soon as there are no walls between us, I will put an end to all your little schemes in about two and a half seconds." She snorted. "If you were really superior, you wouldn't need this cell."

Zemo leaned very close to the transparency. "I like that you don't fear me, kitten. It leaves me so much to teach you..."

"Dude. I once told off the Beyonder. You're a *gnat* by comparison. You're a buzzy little supervillain gnat... thing."

"If you were really so confident," said the Baron, "you wouldn't need bold words."

He turned and walked out the door. Kitty paced a circle around her cell, pounded on the walls a few times, then gave up. She sat cross-legged in the middle of the floor and tried to meditate. She'd worked on that with Logan, learning to still her mind and look inward. Ninja training or none, Kitty wasn't very good at it-- her mind worked like a hummingbird, mile-a-minute. Now, though, she had nothing to do but try...

Something-- a shadow-- appeared at the edge of her vision:

--Alone with your thoughts, Katherine Pryde?--

Kitty blinked. Spoke aloud: "You're still here. I kinda thought I hallucinated you."

--In a manner of speaking. Life is but a dream.--

"So you're... what, big shadowy evil guy? Do you want a prize for that? We've got a hundred of 'em."

--I am Slayer.--

"Yeah, *that* fills me with confidence."

--It's not such a bad thing. Would you not slay these villains, given the chance? Would that not be for the best?--

Kitty looked at the floor. "I don't know."

--Would you like to find out?-- The shadows inched closer... --Believe it or not, Katherine Pryde, I intend to help you get away.--

She frowned. "What is this, good cop/bad cop? You guys *really* want to see me phase out of here, don't you? Why's that?"

The shadow hesitated. Then: --The Nazis desire to test your limits. I desire you to surpass them.--

Kitty rubbed her temples, thought for about five seconds, and said, "I'm listening..."

****

Arlington National Cemetery
Washington, DC

Talbot heard the footsteps behind him and consciously quickened his stride, not so much because he thought he could avoid his caller as to make sure the man would be nice and out of breath and irritated for their chat. Basic strategy, control the circumstances of the meeting... but he didn't count on the other being such a damned arrogant fool.

"Talbot! Talbot, get back here! I know you saw me!"

He stopped short, turned slowly, expression neutral: "I really don't appreciate having my name shouted in public, Senator."

William Kelly was, as planned, beet-red and sweating under the early sun, but he managed a sneer: "Next time, don't make it necessary."

"I don't know what you mean." Talbot started walking again. "What're you doing here, Senator? Doesn't Robert have a football game today?"

The other man's breath quickened; he didn't like the reminder that Talbot knew about his family. "Robert's back in Massachusetts, dammit."

"Nice time of year to be in Massachusetts. Very temperate. Washington's so muggy."

"Talbot!" The Senator caught his arm this time. "Don't stonewall me. I will revoke your funding so fast..."

"Do you think I need your funding, Senator? I'll let you in on a little secret: All that pork-barrel stuff you and your colleagues push through in Congress? A percentage of it all comes back to me."

"I want to know about Captain America," the senator said, ignoring the jab. "Who authorized him to go active?"

"I did."

"Blast you, Talbot, that man is too valuable to be sent skulking around the Eastern front to rescue your little pet task force!"

"We need them." Talbot shrugged. "If you'd let me mass-produce the super-soldiers as I wanted, as Germany did, they wouldn't be so vital..."

"You know we can't have that!" Kelly countered. "A world full of these people... normal soldiers can be controlled!"

"...and DIE, Senator! Normal soldiers mostly die." Talbot gestured at the tombstones spreading out in every direction. "Look at them. Don't just turn away. They deserve better. If we'd had just half a dozen men like Steve Rogers and Logan in the Great War, most of them would be alive today.

"And by the way, you've already got a world full of those people. The Skulls are everywhere. We've got reports of Japanese super-soldiers in the Philippines, and cutting into mainland China. For all we know, the Russians have a hundred Omega Reds lined up. You started the game, Senator. I'm just getting us into it."

Kelly studied his shoes, grumbled something unintelligible, then raised his voice: "What if the cost of playing is too high?"

Talbot started walking again. "Do you remember what our friend Churchill said last year, Senator? I do. He said, 'If Hitler invaded Hell, I would at least make a favorable reference to the Devil in the House of Commons.' The man has a way with words, don't you think?"

"What if the nation isn't interested in traveling to the depths of Hell with you? We need Cap, Talbot."

"We need *all* of them," Talbot repeated. "Not just cover boys to get in the Red Skull's-- theoretical-- hair. We need to get dirty. We need Wolverines."

Kelly grunted. "Odd thing for *you* to say. Didn't you specifically order him to leave Bucky Barnes at home?"

"I did."

"For what possible reason?"

Talbot turned, studying his eyes. "Because, Senator, I think what you and your fellows did to that kid stinks."

"And your work doesn't?"

"Of course it does, but I know it stinks. I have the disturbing feeling you think you're on the side of the angels."

Kelly coughed at that. He said: "Your moral objections are noted."

"Don't misunderstand me. I'm not a nice man-- I'm paid to be not a nice man-- but there are certain course of actions that will only come back to screw you." Talbot smiled. "Besides, you people trained Barnes; he belongs to you. Cap belongs to nobody, and Logan's team belongs to me. We must recover them-- you can take that to the President if you don't like it. You'll be told to fold it into sharp edges and swallow it, but you can try."

Kelly made a face. "That won't be necessary."

"Good. Then we're done here."

This time, he walked away *quickly*. There was still time for Kelly to call after him: "Mister Talbot-- exactly what difference do you think Logan is going to make against a thousand Skulls and 300,000 German soldiers?"

Talbot just turned and smiled...

****

Kharkov, Ukraine
Just Outside the City Limits

"Yeah," said the man called Logan, as he helped Alison Blaire-- Dazzler-- to her feet. "We're gonna have to take Kharkov."

"What, the whole city?" said Alison. She shook her head in case she'd heard him wrong. "Just you and me?"

"Well, and Petey. And the other Russkie. Unfortunately."

Alison frowned. The ground around them was littered with bodies, a lot of them regular soldiers; the other side had decided to conserve their Skulls toward the end of their battle the previous night. (*last issue) Alison had never dazzled so many enemies in all her life-- if people didn't have a tendency to shout during battle, allowing her to recharge, she'd have run out of juice several times.

At least she hadn't *killed* hers. She wondered how in the world Logan's claws weren't stained permanently red. And he'd actually been slightly more gentle than Alexei Kamarov-- the Russian operative who'd prematurely adopted the name Omega Red. Even Piotr Rasputin-- Colossus-- had started getting pretty violent toward daybreak, when it became clear that Kitty and Kurt weren't coming back on time. For that matter, Betsy and TJ had never returned from their own errand, so yeah, things were bad. But still...

"I thought you said we didn't want to interfere in the battle," Alison said, following Logan as he stepped over the bodies, aiming for a couple of gigantic forms at the edge of the nearby trees.

"What I said is, we want to stick to our own mission. At the moment, darlin', our mission's in the toilet."

Alison wrinkled her nose. "You are such a charmer, y'know?"

"War brings out the poet in me," said Logan. He flagged down the others.

Omega Red laughed as he joined them. He retracted tentacles that had recently been stacking his kills. "Not a bad night's work, eh?"

"If you like killin' for the sake of it. Me, I like to win. Maybe you noticed, we got a lot a' bodies, but no Magneto, no Betsy..."

"No Katya," Piotr added.

"That, too. So here's the deal, Red: What I need you to do is head back t'your army and tell 'em the attack starts in two hours."

Omega Red grunted. "Do I appear to be your errand boy?"

Piotr gave him a look. "You will do as Logan suggests, Comrade, or you will deal with me."

"Amusing, Piotr Nikolievitch. But the Red Army takes its orders from Comrade Marshal Timoshenko, not from me-- and certainly not from psychotic little Americans.”

“I'm Canadian,” Logan said, jabbing a finger at him. “Mix that up again an' I'm gonna get offended.”

“*I'm* American,” said Alison. “I'm offended you're offended...”

“Lemme put this in words you understand, bub.” SNIKT! Logan popped his claws under the big Russian's nose. “We're getting' our friends back-- today. Your army can come in after us an' take back the city, or you can come in later an' pick through the rubble. It's all the same to us.”

Omega Red snarled softly under his breath. “I will tell them... but make no mistake, little man: We are not *allies*...”

“Never thought we were,” said Logan. Omega Red turned back the way they'd come.

“Was that wise?” Piotr said.

“Eh. I'd rather do this without 'im.”

“Spoken as a native of another land, tovarisch, but this is my home... and Katya's life means more to me than grudges. We could have used him.”

“Erm, I second that,” said Alison. She pointed to the city. “There's a whole lot of soldiers in there.”

“Yup. Against three X-Men.” Logan grinned. “Hell, I only sent off the Russkie 'cuz I like to give 'em a sportin' chance...”

****

The trio walked down the center of the street with rifles raised-- two ordinary soldiers and a Skull, with his gear now sitting on the back of his head like a child's Halloween mask. Kurt Wagner watched them from three stories up on a fire escape, where he was all but invisible in the shadows.

“I think they will do,” he said to his friend.

“I've got them,” said Longshot. He waited for the men to turn a deserted corner...

Constructed with a low body mass and hollow bones, Longshot could maneuver as nimbly as Nightcrawler and get where he wanted to go as fast as a champion athlete. In moments, he was in position just above the three Germans. He dropped down without a sound, landing behind them-- on his feet, of course. He threw three knives in quick succession.

One knocked the Skull's mask away, depriving him of communication. He turned with a yelp, and so did his fellows-- just in time for Longshot's other two knives to knock their guns out of their hands. The Skull still had his sword...

“That must be getting very heavy,” said a voice from the shadows, and it clattered to the ground. A battered and scarred Magneto stepped out.

BAMF! Kurt appeared behind the trio, momentarily shaken by his 'port...

“My friends are having a bad run lately,” said Longshot. “They need some luck, and some uniforms. Now, they can borrow *my* luck... but, well, I don't really have a uniform.”

Kurt translated into German, then added two words of his own: “Strip. *Schnell*.”

The ordinary soldiers were willing enough, but the Skull had Captain America's physique and a mind to use it. His hands collapsed into fists, and he took a swing at Longshot, whose “lucky eye” gleamed...

The Skull hit a patch of something slick and his foot slipped, dislocating his knee. Longshot held out one of his knives, which ended up right under the fellow's throat when he fell.

“Why does anyone even try that?” Kurt chuckled. Back to German: “Now, gentlemen, please... your clothes. I realize this is somewhat embarrassing, but we do have these lovely superhero outfits you are welcome to wear in the interim..."

One of the German soldiers glanced at his Nightcrawler costume. "I believe I would rather be nude."

Kurt shrugged. "Suit yourself, mein herr. But this *is* the Russian front, and it's liable to get nippy."

They wore the costumes.

****

Betsy Braddock had a headache.

In point of fact, she had a headache, a neck-ache, a body-ache, a couple of leg-aches and some arm-aches. But particularly the head, because that was the part that was furious at herself for getting taken down like an amateur. Even worse, she'd gotten TJ shot, which would probably result in Kurt-- quite correctly-- killing her. Assuming she ever saw Kurt again.

"How is she?" Betsy murmured to Celeste. They were bound next to each other in the back of a truck while in front, voices conversed and often swore in German.

Celeste frowned in concentration-- the soldiers' minds might be closed to her, but at least here she could be useful.

"She's stable, I think. It hurts her when the truck bounces."

"Ease her pain as best you can."

"I'm trying. She's also a little feverish. She keeps thinking about waffles."

Betsy licked her lips. "I could do with a spot of breakfast myself. Best not to think about it. I'm sure they'll feed us soon. Can't have us dying before they've had a chance to do all manner of horrible things to us."

The girl kept frowning. "You know, you're supposed to reassure me."

"Wasn't that? Sorry; this is why I'm not a mother."

The truck bounced along beneath her. Betsy sighed. Hopefully soon, they would get where they were going. They'd have food and a hospital for TJ and a means of escape. And, of course, some military idiot who would threaten and cajole and try to question them.

Betsy almost smiled. She just didn't think he was going to like her way of answering...

****

The three figures crept into Kharkov proper just before noon, past entrenchments and lines of soldiers and general chaos. The Nazis knew they'd been attacked the previous night, and hopefully didn't yet realize the limited nature of the strike. Hopefully, they'd never get a chance to find out.

Logan held up a hand, stopping his team on the edge of a square, where several Panzers and other armored vehicles were assembled, along with their attendant soldiers. Not a lot of Skulls visible, but that would change.

"Okay," he whispered. "I'll the *first* hundred thousand, you guys get my back."

Alison blinked. "You need to work on your sense of humor."

"I never joke, darlin'."

"That's what I meant. You need to get a sense of humor so I can assume you're joking."

Logan grinned. "Petey, armor up. Ali, I need a nice big blindin' light so they won't see it comin'."

"On it," Alison said, marshaling her strength. "What're you gonna do?"

"Me? What I do best, babe. I'm gonna raise a little hell..."

SNIKT.

He vanished. Alison groaned. "Do you know what'd help? If he wasn't enjoying this so much."

"Well," said Piotr quietly, "somebody ought to. I swear, if they have injured Katya, I will..."

Alison patted his armored forearm. "Hey, big guy... focus, okay? I need you. You're the only sane friend I have left."

"*If* she is hurt," Colossus repeated, "I will not be sane for long."

"Great." Another groan... then a flicker of movement out near the Panzers. "Okay. I think I'm on."

"*Spasiba*, Alison. I know you would prefer not to be here."

"Are you kidding?" She took a deep breath as she began to glow. "Where else would I get to star on a stage this big?"

One of the Germans yelped, and disappeared behind the body of a Panzer. His fellows looked around in confusion, unable to locate the source of the attack.

Alison stepped out into the light. "Hey, boys! How would all you hardworking soldiers feel about a little entertainment?"

At least two dozen pistols, rifles, and submachine guns whirled in Alison's direction. She smiled.

Then she Dazzled them.

****

Kurt Wagner marched toward the NKVD building, wearing a Skull mask and oversized uniform to disguise his unorthodox appearance. Standing to either side of him, Longshot and Magneto had only the uniforms. The hair was a little unusual-- Longshot had managed to chop off some, but not all, of his long hair, and Magneto's silver locks marked him as a little old for the Army. They would have to get by on charm.

Or not. A soldier stepped up to the before they could even approach the building. "Identification?"

Kurt rifled his pockets, and started to laugh. "I, eh, may have lost mine."

"That's unfortunate, *Hauptmann.* I'm afraid no one's allowed access to the building right now-- Zemo's pulling out."

"Pulling out? But...?"

Longshot handed Kurt something wordlessly. He frowned.

"Ah. Of course, *here* is my identification." Kurt passed it over; sure enough, his lucky friend had reached into the right pocket and pulled out the right papers. The sentry scanned it for a moment, then let him pass.

"Go right ahead, sir..."

They hadn't gone three steps when the sentry kicked Kurt's leg's out from under him and ripped off his mask. Half a dozen of his friends leveled submachine guns. The man grinned slyly and pointed to Kurt's tail, the barb of which was peeking out from under his jacket.

"*Entschuldigung, Hauptmann,* but we have few devils in our service."

"I'd have said you had a Wehrmacht full of them." Kurt lunged at the soldier and barreled into his stomach. "Longshot, go! Save Kitty!"

His ally didn't need to be told twice-- he was gone already, leaping and dodging a hail of bullets with a combination of enhanced agility and unbelievable luck. A couple of them then turned their weapons on Kurt; Magneto managed to shield them for a few moments, but he was struggling just to maintain a basic magnetic field.

"I'm sorry..." he whispered, sweat standing out on his brow.

The field fell. Rather than keep shooting, one of the soldiers stepped forward and drove his abandoned sword through his side, pinning him to the ground. He prepared himself to die. And then there was the most brilliant light from the end of the square...

****

Piotr Rasputin stormed from cover like a tank division unto himself. The assembled soldiers immediately turned their weapons on him, strafing him with bullets. It sort of tickled.

The crew of a Panzer hurried to get their tank turned around, to hit him with something bigger. Piotr charged them with legs pumping, grasped their tank by the tread, and overturned it. The men inside howled in protest.

"To coin a phrase, Comrades... Hulk SMASH!"

Piotr picked up a pair of soldiers who were blazing away with submachine guns and threw them in either direction, knocking down their fellows. Nothing in the city posed a serious threat to him, until...

BAM! Something barreled into him from behind, driving him to the ground. Piotr rolled and came up ready to fight...

A whole line of Skulls had appeared, weapons held ready. Piotr charged into their midst. He could see Logan a little distance away, slashing with his claws, destroying men and machinery and looking faintly pleased at the arrival of more serious competition. He *was* having a little too much fun...

Until the scream, from the far end of the square. Piotr and Logan looked up simultaneously...

Nightcrawler was there, surrounded by the enemy, skewered by a Skull's sword. Magneto was with him, but he was getting as badly mistreated as the X-Man. Piotr roared...

"Hold 'em off, Petey, I got this one!" Logan gutted three enemies with a single swipe, turned, and ran.

At almost the same moment, Alison Blaire appeared, nearly bumping into Piotr as she fired bursts of concentrated light one after the other.

"Piotr, I'm sorry to tell you I'm starting to get tired. I think this might be our Waterloo. And what d'you know, those French were *also* led by a short lunatic..."

Piotr dodged a sword swipe, caught its wielder's arm, and threw him across the square. "While we have breath, we fight!"

"Can't argue with that," Alison said.

By the tone of her voice, she would have liked to. She simply didn't have any better ideas.

****

For the hundredth time, Kitty Pryde addressed herself to the intangible barrier around her cell. It wasn't just matter, it was... patterns of energy, some kind of unique force that was neither entirely of Magneto's creation nor entirely of this world. If she focused, aligned her perceptions just so while phased, she could almost *see* the patterns in it. Could pass between them. She extended her hand...

--Yes,-- said the shadow in her mind. --Yes, that's right... that's very good...--

Kitty's fingertips phased through the barrier, then her hand. She almost laughed; she wasn't just phasing now, she was *disappearing*, becoming one with the energy patterns she perceived, but without losing herself. She'd had no idea she could have done anything like this, and wondered how far the practical implications might reach. Her entire forearm was through the barrier...

Something shocked her, and she pulled her arm out. The world seemed to compress around her, pressurizing, forcing her back into tangible form... she was knocked to the ground, stunned.

She heard heavy boots. Baron Zemo charged in, along with some bodyguards.

--What is the meaning of this?-- the shadow thundered. --I was almost finished!--

"Apologies, Herr Mörder, but I have reason to believe we are no longer secure in this city. We have already surrendered one captive; I do not intend to lose another."

--The entire POINT of capturing them was to...--

"Accomplish *both* our goals, mein herr," said Zemo. "If we lose her now, we accomplish only yours. You may resume your work... at a better location."

Kitty was too dazed to have the faintest idea what they were talking about; all she really knew was that whichever way it swung sounded bad for her. Whatever happened at their next destination, she resolved not to try that trick again...

--Too late, Katherine Pryde,-- said a voice that seemed to come from her own mind. --I am part of you now... and you are part of me.--

*Great*, Kitty thought, as rough hands picked her up and began to carry her. *So yeah, 'Never listen to big shadowy evil guy' just became #1 on my Rules for Super-Heroing list... is it my fault I just really can't stand the thought of being a damsel in distress?*

Damsel or not, Kitty had to admit she was now in some distress.

****

Longshot ran his knife along the edge of a window pane, nodded to himself, then tapped in exactly the right spot... the pane came out in one piece. He laid it aside and swung his legs through the window...

He was in a darkened room of the NKVD building. It looked like it had been occupied recently and abandoned rather suddenly; chairs were overturned and papers spread across tables. Longshot picked up one of the papers at random and slid it into his pocket. Then he inched his way to the door, choosing to go left because that direction felt better to him. He reached a stairwell...

A dark, billowing shadow was waiting for him. He recoiled-- and, strangely, so did it. Longshot drew one of his knives but didn't throw it. He peered at the thing and got the impression it was looking back at him...

--I thought I recognized your sense,-- it said. --I never intended to involve you in this. How is it you are here?--

"Just lucky, I guess." Longshot tried to smile, but was so repelled by the thing-- almost an instinctive revulsion-- that it lacked his usual charm. "I'm here for Kitty Pryde."

--The girl is mine, as Magneto was mine.--

"I don't think so." Despite his fear, Longshot forced himself forward... to his surprise, the thing retreated from him. "What is this... that I feel around you? It's very strange."

--Not really. You sense what I do: That we are opposites. Everything I am, you are not.--

Longshot frowned. "You're... bad luck personified?"

--For some people. Which reminds me, your friend Kurt Wagner was just a little too lucky. He got away before I could finish with him. Do tell him I'll be back.--

"Tell him yourself," said Longshot. He drew another knife and prepared to pounce...

And slammed into the wall suddenly as a metal filing cabinet flew out of the adjoining room and struck him in the back. An inch higher and it would have taken off his head. He recovered...

His own knives leaped from their sheaths and pinned Longshot to the wall. He glanced at the shadow in horror...

--You may also thank Erik Lehnsherr for the use of his power,-- it said, --if you survive.--

Longshot turned back: Every bit of metal from the office he'd just left was flying down the hall in his direction, sharp edges first. He couldn't gain any leverage, couldn't get away...

--Luck's run out, little man,-- said the shadow, and it vanished.

****

By the time Logan reached his friend, there were half a dozen Skulls and twice as many soldiers standing in a semicircle around him. He went berserker right away, slashing down two of them, but a third drove its sword into his gut and threw him back. Logan howled and got to hands and knees, his claws pulling back into his forearms as his body tried to heal itself.

Now they were surrounding him, as many cheesy masks and swords and guns as he could want to see, and their leader seemed to be gloating:

"Our business is with these two. Walk away, little man, and perhaps you'll live."

"Nope," said Logan. He straightened to his full height-- what there was of it. "Y'understand, I'd be just as happy to let ya have Magneto. But the elf's family. I'm takin' him."

"We have our orders. No one passes."

"Your funeral," said Logan.

SNIKT! He charged the lead Skull, felt his sides flare with pain as their swords bit into his flanks, then the harsher thud of bullets destroying his flesh as the submachine guns opened up. Logan kept coming.

RAT-A-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT!!! The guns blazed. His every nerve ending burned.

"YeeeeaaaaaRRRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHH!!!" Logan threw himself into the air, skewering the lead soldier, then slashing to get the ones on either side. He hit the ground beside Nightcrawler, what was left of him.

"Logan...?" his friend breathed. He couldn't answer. Couldn't even breathe until his throat healed, could only see out of one eye. He rolled over anyway, claws out, ready to finish the job or be finished--

A red streak plowed past, knocking down several Skulls and shredding their weapons. Then a somewhat larger streak in blue and white, pummeling their enemies to the ground. Logan felt confused...

The city went to hell around that time. He heard thunder in the distance-- no, not thunder. Soviet artillery. Omega Red had rallied his guys to the fight, and now the Germans were forced back. Blinding white dazzle-blasts and flashes of organic-steel armor led the charge for the Russians.

When Logan could see out of both eyes again, this reality's Steve Rogers was staring down at him. Logan hadn't thought much of the guy at first meeting (*issue #1), but...

"I'll be damned," he said. "We'll make a Cap outta you yet."

"Looked like you could use a hand," said the other man. He frowned. "They tell me you heal, but... can I do anything?"

Logan jerked a thumb. "Help my friend."

Cap pulled out the sword and tended Nightcrawler as best he could, then went to recover his shield. The two X-Men didn't quite look at each other.

"Kitty?" Logan asked at length.

"I don't know," said Kurt. "I'm sorry, Logan. I failed her."

"Ain't over yet."

They left it there. Several minutes later, when they'd reached a lull in the fighting, Alison Blaire collapsed on the ground next to them, while Piotr Rasputin fought to the last beside his countrymen.

"I owe you an apology, Wolvie," the Dazzler breathed. "You've got your rough edges, friend, but when you throw a party, you really throw a party..."

"That's a fact." Logan started to say more, but then the massive shadow fell over them. "Pete..."

The man called Colossus glowered down at them. "I saw. Katya isn't here."

"Don't mean anything. Just means they still got her, for *now*. Gimme a couple hours to start healin' and we'll..."

"No," said the big man. "She may die in a matter of hours, tovarisch. I will seek her myself."

"I'll go with you," said Cap, returning.

"Spasiba, Kapitan, but no. Stay here and guard my friends. I will return when she is safe, and not before."

"That's crazy, Pete!" said Alison.

"Are you certain--" Kurt began.

Piotr turned and walked away. Logan glanced at his comrades and grimaced. Then, although every step made him want to scream, he dragged himself to his feet and stumbled after Piotr. He nearly collapsed in the Russian's arms when he caught him.

"What is it, Logan?"

"I love her too, Pete. I ain't gonna let anything happen to her. You have my word."

"You can hardly stand, tovarisch," Piotr said. "Do not try to stop me."

"I won't. I been where you are, I know what you're thinkin'. Just... if you go now, be sure you're ready to make the sacrifice."

Piotr looked vaguely scandalized. "I love Katya, Logan, with all my heart. I would give my life to..."

Logan peered up at him. "How about your soul? You try to play lone wolf in a time an' place like this, might cost you more than you think."

"I hope not," said Piotr. "But if they come between me and Katya... we will find out."

Piotr Rasputin turned and strode into the city. Logan fell to his knees and cursed. He'd be more or less mobile in a matter of hours, but he knew too well, some things you couldn't heal. He hoped his friend wouldn't learn the same lesson.

END

In Issue #4: War on Two Fronts!
See the other Eternity series: Uncanny X-Men, New X-Men, X-Factor, & eXcalibur, online now!
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