X-MEN ETERNITY

X-Force #4: "The Two-Front War"
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" follows 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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"Get ready..."

Ukraine, Approaching German Army Group South
Spring 1942
Alternate Reality #758

The covered truck bounced and jostled its way along uneven terrain, while inside, two drivers and three prisoners all wished they were somewhere else. None of them would get where they wanted to be anytime soon, but presently it was the youngest of them who felt the most lost.

Celeste Cuckoo huddled in the bed of the truck, in a corner, glancing out what passed for a window and wondering why she wasn't home dodging math homework or playing volleyball or doing one of a hundred thousand other semi-normal teenage things, instead of trying to shepherd a group of X-Men through a temporal crisis of nearly infinite proportions. She supposed some people were born beautiful, and others lucky. Since all the sisters who comprised the Five-in-One group mind were equally beautiful, perhaps they fell prey to a cosmic shortage of luck.

Beside Celeste, Talia Josephine Wagner-- Nocturne-- slept fitfully, troubled by a gunshot wound (* last issue), her comfort always dependent on the mental opium of her connection to Celeste. It was... hard, taking the other young woman's pain all on herself, but that wasn't the part of the task that bothered Celeste. She'd handled far worse; not so long ago, she'd felt the deaths of two of her sisters in exquisite telepathic detail. The Five-in-One could never truly be apart from each other, not even in death.

Perhaps, Celeste thought, that was why the Scarlet Witch's reality shift had brought her sisters back. (* issue #1 onward) They'd never really rested, in peace or otherwise. It would be like someone else attempting to put 40 percent of their brain to sleep while the balance remained awake. Maybe that was why Xavier...

Celeste shook off that thought. Dangerous to think about Xavier in any detail. The third prisoner sharing the bed of the truck-- Betsy Braddock, the X-Man called Psylocke-- was no longer telepathic, but she had been once, and could be again all too easily. If that happened...

The girl shivered. That was a new kind of pain to her, something unexpected. Knowing how fragile it all was, how easily it might become so much worse. She wondered if Xavier had *always* borne that knowledge, and how he endured it.

"Celeste?" said Betsy, crouched in waiting on the other side of the bed. "I said..."

"I'm ready," Celeste told her. "Are you sure you can..."

"Darling," Betsy grinned, "it's child's play."

"You're certainly confident. Like Miss Frost."

"The difference, dear, is that *my* confidence is justified."

"You think so?" said Celeste. She couldn't help a little smile. It made Betsy about as uncomfortable as it was meant to.

The older woman turned aside. "The trick will be keeping Nocturne on her feet. Are you certain you're up to it?"

Celeste nodded. In point of fact, she was not-- not by herself. But she'd have the whole Five-in-One channeling their mental energies into her. Before the switch, even that might not have been enough. Now...

"Do it, then," said Betsy.

Celeste took a deep breath, her eyes glowing brilliant white, and probed deep into TJ's brain...

"Whoa!" yelped the elfin girl, and she sat straight up. "Wow wow WOW, whatth'heckwazzat?"

Betsy frowned. "How do you feel?"

"Great. Really great. I mean, really really..." TJ trailed off, fingering the bullet hole under her right shoulder. "Whoa, 'kay, I'm still shot. I bet that'd hurt like hell if I was feeling any pain."

"You might have overdone it," Besty said to Celeste.

The Cuckoo shrugged. "This is the only way Miss Frost taught us."

"All or nothing, eh? Very Emma."

"She'll pay for it later," Celeste admitted. "I've sent her endorphins through the roof. When she crashes, she might sleep for a couple of days."

"I'd be nice if you were both not talking about me like I'm dead already," TJ said. "Okay, so later I'll chill for a few, promise. But right now I'm jazzed and I just want to-- Betsy, can we kill some bad guys now? I mean I'm really sick of these yo-yo's and I think we should--"

Betsy held a hand to her lips, shushed her. "TJ, pay attention. I know it doesn't feel like it right now, but you're still very badly hurt. You need to conserve your strength and lie still until we need you. Can you do that?"

"Lie STILL?" From the look on TJ's face, Betsy might have just asked her to walk on water. Which come to think of it, in her present state, might have been the easier task. "Okaaaay... but now I've got ideas for like thirteen great new songs in my head, and I need a guitar and a pencil. It's like a concept album. Wait'll I tell Alison, we can..."

"You're not going to live to see Alison unless you do as you're told," Celeste snapped.

Betsy glared at her. The girl shrugged; sometimes you had to abandon subtlety. With eyes as wide as saucers, TJ looked from one of them to the other... and then lay down, very still.

"Kurt's going to kill me," Betsy hissed, rubbing her brow.

Celeste resumed looking outside. Several minutes later, she said: "I think we're coming to a good place."

"Alright," said Betsy. "Here we go..."

As the truck wide a wide turn beside a wooded patch, Betsy reached out with her teke and found a tree with a cracked trunk. She clenched her fist and felled it in their path. The truck swerved and skidded to a halt. Celeste could hear the drivers in front, muttering and swearing. One of them said something definite-sounding; the door on his side opened, then slammed shut.

He appeared at the back of the truck a moment later. Gesturing carefully with his rifle, he said in broken English: "You... fraulein... you... move things... with ze mind, ja?"

Betsy smirked. "It's one of my lesser talents."

"Out," he said, gesturing with the rifle. "Come, come. *Schnell.* Any tricks... I shoot zem."

Betsy obeyed, careful not to move too quickly or even to make eye contact with the guard. That was Celeste's job. She watched his movements carefully and finally noticed it-- the tiny, blinking light of a telepathic inhibitor at his belt. That anachronism generated the empty darkness that kept Celeste from using her mind skills on their enemies. Skull issue-- no doubt the shock troopers knew enough to keep it out of sight. But this fellow was just a go-between, a grunt, and...

*There*, Celeste thought, sending a picture of the inhibitor into Betsy's mind. The woman called Psylocke nodded...

The driver never even got to shift his aim. Under cover of swinging her legs out out of the truck, she drove a kick into his midsection, precisely targeted to shatter the inhibitor. The man started to yelp, but the moment the emptiness was gone, Celeste grabbed his mind and held it tight...

"TJ, now!" Betsy whispered.

Talia Josephine jumped up as though she was spring-loaded and threw herself bodily at the startled driver. She disappeared into him, and the startled look vanished as her mutant ability to possess another took effect. The soldier straightened up and winked at Betsy, and together they walked toward the cab of the truck. Celeste saw the next exchange in Betsy's mind:

"What's the matter?" asked the driver's partner, in German. "Can't she move the...?"

"Change of plans." The possessed soldier's weapon came up against the other man's temple, causing him to look quite astonished until Betsy knocked him cold and dragged him into the woods. Then the two of them returned to the rear of the truck.

"Amateurs," Betsy said, smiling.

"So now we just turn around and we're home by lunchtime, right?" said TJ-as-Nazi. "I can't wait to see Dad and oh crap when he finds out I'm shot he's gonna kill *you* and lock *me* up in a convent or..."

The soldier's knees buckled. Betsy reached out quickly to steady him/her.

"Oh wow... Oh wow, I just felt a little dizzy and..."

"Celeste!"

"I know!" said Celeste, working as hard as she could to steady TJ telepathically. It was so hard with her mind inside another's... "Betsy, it's wearing off too fast!"

"Yes, I know." Psylocke held up a hand for silence, thinking quickly. "How far are we from Kharkov? Did you get that from his mind?"

"Too far. There's a post just ahead, though. Maybe five minutes."

"All right... then this is my stop."

"What?" said TJ, who had the soldier standing under his own power again-- barely.

Betsy said, "I'm going to stir up a little trouble, get them off balance. *You* will use your borrowed friend to drive ahead, report my escape, and hopefully liberate some medical supplies. Then you will return to Logan and Kurt at top speed. Understood?"

"No, look, I'll be..."

"TJ, you need help now!" Betsy snapped. "Celeste can barely keep you from keeling over, and every moment she has to do that damages you further. No, this is the only way. I promise you, I will keep their attention on me. But you have to do strictly as I tell you. Please."

From what she knew about the X-Men, Celeste would have been likely to call Nocturne's father the least stubborn of them. But she did boast some of Magneto's blood from her mother's side of the family, after all, and more than a little of his formidable will seemed to have been passed down. She blinked only after an impressive stalemate.

"The way I feel, I can't possess him long. Better hurry."

"Right." As TJ returned to the cab, Betsy gave Celeste a nod. "You'll need to be her strength."

"I know," said the Cuckoo. "Um... Betsy, wait."

The senior X-Man tapped her foot. "Celeste, we really..."

But Celeste's eyes were already glowing white, and she stepped into a place between time...

****

The Five-in-One convened in a black, featureless room. As usual, it was the group-mind's leader, Sophie, who spoke first:

"It's going as we feared. I think you'll have to do it."

Celeste frowned. "I'm afraid..."

"You should be," said Esme, always the wild card. "We can't afford to make them stronger."

"If she's going on this path, she'll need what we can give her," said Phoebe Cuckoo.

"There's no other choice now," said Mindee. "It's all happening much too fast."

"You know what she'll have to do," said Sophie.

"Maybe not," Celeste countered. "Logan might still..."

"Logan can't," said Phoebe.

"Betsy can," said Mindee.

"You have to do it now," said Sophie, in a tone that brooked no argument.

"But... she'll be so much harder to handle. And what if she finds out about..."

"Yes, what about that?" Esme asked, with a nasty smile. "No, girls, it's out of the question."

"Esme," said all four of her sisters, "bite us."

"Do it," Sophie concluded.

"You'll be sorry..." their renegade sister chided, singsong, and the group-mind faded, to Celeste's dismay...

****

Back in the real world, she steeled herself and reached out to Elisabeth Braddock.

"Betsy, take my hand."

"I've no time to--"

"Take my hand, Betsy, now!"

Frowning at the girl, Betsy reached out and let Celeste grip her hand tightly. The glow from her eyes brightened, almost seemed to spread to both women, bonding them together...

"ARGH!" Betsy dropped to her knees, tried desperately to let go of the girl's hand, but Celeste held on doggedly. She finally wrenched herself away, and the glow faded...

"What... what have you..." Betsy gasped. "Dear Lord, I'm..."

Celeste nodded, carefully burying her own trepidation. "Now you have what you need. Go on. I'll keep her safe."

Before Betsy could even begin to reply, TJ started up the truck's engine. Celeste closed up the truck, then banged on the metal several times, signaling TJ to drive...

Betsy kept watching them as they drove away. Just when they were almost out of sight, as her mind was fading from Celeste's range, she climbed unsteadily to her feet. Holding out her hand, she manifested her psychic dagger-- once, and now again, the calling card of the mutant Psylocke-- and staring at it in wonder, walked in the other direction.

Celeste shuddered. So it would get worse again. Apparently it always did.

****

The German sentry didn't see him coming.

Piotr Rasputin approached in human form, as silently and stealthily as his bulk would allow, crouching behind a partially obliterated wall on the outskirts of Kharkov. The Soviet Red Army had pretty well taken the city back, and well ahead of historical schedule, thanks to the assistance of Piotr and his friends. This youth was only a rear guard, and soon even he would melt away.

*Very* soon, if Piotr had anything to say about. Just now, he didn't care about the city or anybody in it. He cared about one person: Katherine "Kitty" Pryde, his love, whose capture by the Nazis had sent him off on his own. (* issues 2-3) Logan had warned him that it would not be easy, but then Logan was a joyless misanthrope. It was part of his charm.

The sentry paced a little nearer. Piotr armored up, turning to Colossus, and waited...

The man sat on the edge of the wall. Piotr reached one hand around, grabbed him by the back of the uniform, and *yanked*...

The soldier hit the ground next to him. Piotr weighted him down, slamming an armored forearm into place below the man's neck.

"Be very silent, comrade," he whispered, or something like that-- he combined Russian with what German he knew from Kurt and hoped he was intelligible. "A single sound, and your life is forfeit. Do you understand?"

The man-- almost more of a boy-- nodded, and Piotr wondered if he was bluffing. He hoped he was.

He said, "I am looking for a young woman who was captured last night..."

****

Toward the center of the city, the man called Wolverine sat on the edge of a captured Panzer, puffing his cigar while the Soviets marched rows of German prisoners past him. A few of them tossed resentful glares in his direction-- Logan distinctly heard the German words for "midget," "freak," and "wild man." He just smiled and nodded in return. He'd sharpened his claws enough in the last two days. Anyhow, the victors didn't *have* to take anything personally. He would have felt much less charitable f he'd lost the battle.

Although, in a way, hadn't he? Logan had allowed himself to get shoehorned into the unfamiliar role of team leader on the theory that he knew twice as much about war-- and ten times as much about *this* war-- as anybody else on the team. Fair enough; but that meant it was his responsibility to keep the less experienced X-Men safe. At the moment, the only ones he knew to be safe were Alison Blaire-- Dazzler-- and Kurt Wagner-- Nightcrawler. And Kurt looked like maybe Krakoa had just chewed him up around the edges and spat him back out.

Logan himself had looked that way after the battle, but of course, he healed fast. It was easy for him to forget that others didn't. Something to keep in mind as a leader.

"Logan!" said a voice from a little distance off. Logan turned to Steve Rogers, this reality's version of Captain America, a fair hand in a fight in any Universe. "Logan, come on, we've got him!"

Logan hopped off the tank and ran to the middle of the square, where a field hospital had been set up for the wounded. Kurt was there already, with Alison (and Magneto, their target, although Logan was trying not to notice him). They all stared at:

A young man, blond and handsome at his best, now somewhat battered and crisscrossed with gashes where dozens of metal objects had impaled him. The Russians had found the man who called himself Longshot in the SS command building, and had spent half an hour carefully extricating him from his predicament: Near-crucifixion on one of its walls.

"I don't believe it," whispered Alison Blaire, stroking his cheek. "I never thought I'd... he's got to be okay..."

She started to cry. Kurt put an arm around her. Logan had never been entirely sure how things had ended between Ali and Longshot, but he knew they'd begun with the Dazzler giving her heart to him in a way she probably never had to a man before or since.

"He should be fine," said one of the Soviet doctors, who spoke English. "I've never seen anything like it... every single bit of shrapnel missed his organs. No internal injuries. Impossible."

"Nein," said Kurt Wagner, "just very lucky."

"Who did this to him?" Alison asked.

"Six guesses," said Logan. SNIKT-- he popped his claws and whirled on Magneto. "An' I got 'em all pointed in your direction, bub."

"Sheathe your claws, Wolverine. I did not do this to the boy. I couldn't. I've been too weak, since my captivity. (* issues 2-3)"

Kurt said, "That's true. He could barely hold off a few bullets during the battle."

"Says him." Logan jabbed the claws a little harder. "I ain't convinced."

Magneto's eyes flashed. "Have a care, little man."

"Why? Gonna shred my metal bones? Let's see ya try. 'Course, if ya can, then you're prob'ly lying about Longshot, an' if ya can't, I'll get to kill ya. Win either way."

"Logan," said Kurt quietly, "they tortured him in there."

Magneto sneered and looked away. He was proud enough to almost prefer death at Wolverine's hand to admitting defeat by the Nazis.

"The creature has his power now," Kurt said. "The shadow. It took Kitty. It tried to take me. And now Longshot."

"Great," said Logan. "Now we're literally jumpin' at shadows."

He looked down at his claws-- would they be any good against a creature with Magneto's power? Would they be any good at all to save his friends? Logan sheathed them, and puffed his cigar, and thought a lot of bleak thoughts.

"What is this shadow?" Cap asked. "Is it something I can--"

"Personal, Cap. You done enough for us. You got an extraction team comin'?"

The American superhero nodded. "Before the day is out."

"They gonna pack up Magneto for delivery back to the States?"

Another nod. "That's the plan. Talbot will be pleased."

"Ask me if I care." Logan took another puff. "I'd be obliged if you'd drop my friends off back in London."

They all looked at him in surprise. Kurt said, "Danke, Logan, but I don't think..."

Logan turned a disapproving glare on him. "Wasn't a suggestion, elf. You're no good to anybody, banged up like you are-- an' Longshot's worse, an' Ali could use a rest, too. I'll hold the fort for Betsy an' the kids, but you're better off..."

"All other things aside," said Kurt, "I cannot go without TJ."

"TJ?" Magneto said. "You have yet another X-person? They multiply like vermin..."

"That vermin is my daughter," said Kurt, irritated. Then he did a double-take. "And, erm, your granddaughter, come to think of it..."

"I beg your pardon?"

Not that it wasn't worth the price of admission just to see Magneto astonished, but Logan grunted. "She ain't your daughter."

"Well, she counts as much as Rachel does for Scott, and we always..."

"Guys, shut up, okay?" Ali hissed. "I think he's coming around..."

He was. Blue eyes blinking open, Longshot reached up and dried the tears of the woman leaning over him.

"Wow," he said. "I must have the prettiest nurse in the place. What luck..."

****

WHAM!-- Colossus struck a wall, and most of it collapsed around his shoulders. He shook it off, rose, and kept moving forward.

He'd stirred up a hornet's nest of trouble in following the sentry's directions. There was a building on the edge of town, in the last of the German-held sections, where the boy had speculated his master (Baron Zemo, of all people!) might have evacuated if he didn't plan to leave the city entirely.

Which apparently he did-- because Piotr had arrived at the building to find it bursting with Nazi Skulls. A last line of defense was organizing, and Piotr Rasputin walked right into it. He might as well have whacked the hornet's nest with a stick.

They came at him three and four at a time and Piotr plowed through their midst, taking away the reach advantage of their swords. He grabbed a Skull in each hand, smashing one against the wall while tossing another into a crowd of his friends, and still he moved on, unstoppable.

At one point, they grabbed and held his arms on either side, holding him back, while one of their number with officer's stripes stepped forward and drove a glowing knife deep into the organic steel of Piotr's chest. He roared and bucked the others, then ripped off the officer's mask and backhanded him across the room. Something *crunched* when the man hit ground. Piotr hoped it wasn't his neck. Sort of hoped.

Another knife bit into Piotr's shoulder blade. They were crowding around him-- he smashed through a wall with two blows and broke into the next room, a wide auditorium where the sounds of combat echoed twice as loud. He had more room to maneuver-- and they had more room to crowd in numbers, drowning him with their weight.

One of the Skulls, who wore a particularly ornate uniform (a high-ranking officer?), pushed his way to the fore. He spoke to Piotr in excellent Russian:

"This is as far as you go, Bolshevick. You cannot fight us all."

"The evidence suggests otherwise," Piotr said. "But I concede it might be time for a change of scenery."

Piotr tossed the two Skulls closest to him, buying himself a little room to smash through the floor to the basement level below. He grabbed the Skull who'd spoken by the front of his ornate uniform and pulled him down the hole after him. The chamber below was a storage room, dark and cluttered. There was another, smaller alcove to Piotr's right. He dragged the Skull in that direction, fending off any of the others who tried to follow by flinging chunks of debris to knock them out of the sky. Then he turned and leveled one wall of the chamber, caving it in, and barely pushed the ornate Skull (and himself) into the smaller room before they were buried together.

"Well, you've bought yourself time," the German said. "What now, Bolshevick?"

Piotr wasn't listening; for him, this room was worse than the others. Small, pitch-black, and framed by unremarkable concrete walls, it reminded Piotr too much of the cell where he'd spent his "near-death experience," tortured for untold months by Ord of the Breakworld. He wondered if this was anything like what Storm felt in a claustrophobic attack. He could almost see the needles approaching his skin...

"I am not caged," he whispered. "I AM NOT CAGED."

"Yes, you are," the Skull said. "They'll dig us out in a few minutes. What have you accomplished? Nothing."

Piotr spun and grabbed him by the throat, all rage and instinct and fear. He had to concentrate very hard to keep from breaking the man's neck.

"One thing I have accomplished, fascist," he said. "I have separated you from your men and captured their leader. I suppose that is worth something."

The Skull laughed. "It would be, if I were in command. I'm only an *Unterschädelfuhrer.*"

Piotr frowned at the rank, which he translated with some difficulty as 'lieutenant.'

"You lie," he said. "Your uniform..."

"Ja, ja, I understand your confusion. These markings are still new. They do not indicate rank, but function. Allow me to demonstrate..."

He reached up and grabbed Colossus' fingers, which were still around his throat. Although he couldn't have had any sort of leverage, he almost casually bent them back and forced the X-Man to release him.

Piotr gaped at the Skull, who might have been smiling beneath his mask. Their strength was only supposed to be equivalent to Captain America's, perhaps a little more. Impressive by human standards, but no match for a heavyweight like Colossus.

"Did you think we'd use the same Super-Soldier formula forever?" The Skull grunted.. "You forget, the Third Reich employs the most brilliant scientific minds in the world. I am an *uberschädel*... a Mark Two."

He swung from the heels, and Piotr was knocked against the wall, his head snapping back in genuine pain. The German soldier advanced.

"And now, Bolshevick, we will find out what it takes to break your steel hide in two."

Colossus regained his feet and cracked his knuckles. "More than you possess, fascist."

"You may be surprised..."

He swung again. Collossus dodged and replied with a blow of his own. The Skull was rocked back on his heels, but nothing more. They grappled together, and the battle was joined...

****

The night was cold. Seemed like all the nights were cold on the Eastern Front, even as summer approached. Logan was sitting on that tank again, and thinking. He'd never liked thinking more than necessary; he did entirely too much of it now. But at least he got in some good smoking time.

His enhanced hearing picked up a footstep. It wasn't hostile, so he ignored it until it approached.

Steve Rogers cleared his throat. "I have a message from Omega Red."

"How many letters?"

"Four in the first word, three in the--"

Logan laughed. "Same to him."

Cap grimaced, then sat down beside him. "The more substantial part of the message concerns the tactical situation. There's a group of Skulls holding out dogged resistance at the edge of the city, but the Soviets have it in hand. But their search efforts in the woods around the city have turned up nothing."

"I could'a told 'em that."

The bigger man shrugged. "Now your sense of smell has been verified."

"Didn't need to be. I trust my nose more'n most people trust their brains." Logan's cigar glowed a brilliant orange, and he exhaled smoke. "Your ride here yet?"

"Soon." Cap was quiet for a moment. "The Russians do have reports of some impressive guerrilla activity, further behind the lines. That puzzles them, because they don't have any operatives there."

Logan looked up and started to laugh. "They do now. That's Betsy. Betcha anything."

"I'm not a betting man, Logan."

"Figures." Logan flicked ash off the cigar. "I'm more worried about the kids."

"That girl, Kitty, means a lot to you."

He frowned at Cap. "How d'you know?"

"You hardly ever scowl when you say her name. She's almost unique in that regard. Almost."

"Look, Cap..."

"See? You scowled." Steve Rogers quickly sobered. "The way I see it, they'll take her back behind the lines, but not too far, because Zemo's notably impatient when it comes to his work. Lithuania's a good bet."

Logan nodded. "Vilnius. They got a good-sized Jewish ghetto there. Nice place to land a stray 'Cat, where nobody'll ask a lot of questions."

"Vilnius, then," Cap agreed. "Do you think Colossus can find her there?"

"I think he'll move Heaven n' Earth trying. I would."

Silence, for a moment. Then a distant rumbling, coming closer, accompanied by somebody laying on a horn. Logan heard it about two seconds before Cap commented:

"Is that an automobile?"

It was. Moments later, a covered truck barreled into the square, accompanied by the sound of Russian submachine guns blazing away. It evaded at first, then blew out a tire and went into a skid, its rear bed smashing the Panzer. Cap put up his shield in time to avoid getting crushed, but he and Logan were both knocked to the ground.

Red Army soldiers come running up after it, and Cap found his feet, shouting in Russian for them to cease and desist. Meanwhile, Logan-- noticing a fire in the engine-- tried the door to the truck's cab, found it jammed, and popped his claws to cut it open. He pulled out a couple of smallish forms, just before the thing went up like a Roman candle. Cap hit him from behind, knocking the whole group down to save them from flame and shrapnel.

"Ouch," Cap said a moment later, as the truck burned. "Are you...?"

"Sorry." Logan winced. "Metal bones. Should'a warned ya."

He rolled over, away from the two girls he'd saved. One of them, Talia Josephine Wagner, was heavily medicated and pale. The other, Celeste Cuckoo, rubbed soot from her eyes and trembled as she stared at the truck.

"There was... a driver in the back," she said. "I guess he's..."

"C'mon away," Logan said, and left the tank for the soldiers while Cap scooped TJ up in his arms and carried her toward the field hospital. "You okay, kid? You hurt?"

"No, I'm... you've got to see to TJ. She's very bad."

"They'll help her." The girl was about Logan's height; he could look her in the eye. "Betsy left you?"

"Yes. She said she was going to get their attention."

Logan laughed. "Babe's got style, give 'er that."

"I think you should go after her."

"Why's that?"

"Just a feeling." Celeste looked back at the burning truck, and shuddered. "I... can't drive, you know. I needed two sisters in alternate dimensions poring over driver's manuals to pull that off. And I *still* crashed us."

"Eh." Logan ruffled her hair. "Not a bad trick with a stick shift. Sure you're okay?"

"I want to go see TJ."

"Yeah," he agreed. "Me, too..."

****

Piotr Rasputin picked the uber-Skull off the ground, flipped him upside-down, and drove him headfirst into the floor. He didn't even lose concentration, but braced himself and sent Piotr flying with a kick. Piotr hit the far wall hard, but shook it off.

"How many like you are there?" he asked, as he closed ground again.

"Enough," said the German, and he struck.

Piotr dodged and delivered a punch to the man's kidneys that should have cut a fair-sized tree in half. It did drop him to his knees. He growled and hammered blows into Piotr's midsection, one after the other. Piotr hadn't felt such pain since the last time he'd fought the Juggernaut. But if he lost his footing, he would lose the fight, and then Katya would be lost. Piotr Rasputin could not allow that. He endured the pain.

"Fall, damn you, as your people will fall before us!"

"Why? Because you are the master race?"

The Nazi sneered, even as he struck again. "If you require proof, I'll..."

"No. I have all I require." Piotr grabbed the man by his shoulders, hauled him to his feet, and threw him across the room. He advanced, giving no quarter, driving blows into the man's body, his face. When the Skull's guard was up, Piotr seized his collar and flung him, overhand, back into the pile of debris by the door. The Skull coughed and sputtered, tried to rise to his feet, and could not.

"We call that the Fastball Special," Piotr said. "Ideally, it is not to be tried without adamantium bones. But I trust you get the idea."

The Skull rose to hands and knees. "What... are you?"

"I am *Homo sapiens superior,* fascist. As the Americans say, I got your master race right here." Piotr gripped the man's throat in both hands and lifted him high in the air. "Where will Zemo go with Kitty Pryde? Tell me now."

"Kill me," said the German with a snarl.

"I do not prefer to do so, but I will. Where... is... she?"

--Piotr Rasputin.--

Piotr nearly lost his grip. Suddenly the room seemed a little brighter, as all the oppressive darkness coalesced into a man-sized shadow on the other side of the room.

"By the White Wolf...!" Piotr exclaimed. "What is this, another trick?"

The Skull shook his head furiously. He was as frightened as Piotr.

--I am one who knows where Katherine Pryde is being taken. I am with her now. I can show you where we are.--

"Then do it!" Piotr exclaimed.

--Certainly. One condition, though. I hate prying ears. Snap his neck.--

Piotr glanced at the wide-eyed Skull, then back at the shadow. "No. I cannot--"

--Then you didn't mean what you told Logan. You didn't really mean you'd do anything.--

"How do you know about that?"

--Maybe you don't really love her at all. She's such a pretty young thing. Could it be you're using her?--

Piotr snarled something-- wordless, guttural. The shadows around the man-shape expanded once again, and suddenly he saw: Kitty, bound in the back of a Nazi command car. They must have done something to stop her from phasing...

--She loves you, though. Her love is so strong... I felt it. I don't doubt you'll be the last thought in her mind before she dies.--

"Monster!" Piotr howled.

--Funny, that's the word she used, too.-- A tendril of shadow extended toward the Skull. --He's the monster, Piotr. You know it's what he deserves. Kill him, and then I'll take you to her.--

The Skull shouted something defiant in German. Piotr wasn't even listening. He couldn't take his eyes off the image of Kitty...

"I will not kill for you," he said

--I misjudged you, then. Say goodbye to the pretty kitty.--

The shadows began to drain out of the room. As they did, they reappeared in the car, slithering tentacles wrapping themselves around Kitty, who screamed...

"NO!"

Piotr never knew if he'd meant to kill the Nazi. His fists might have tightened from reflex. He might have been so taken aback that he simply couldn't help himself. Maybe. In the end, it didn't matter. He heard the ice-cold SNAP, and could only watch in horror as his opponent's head lolled at an unnatural angle.

--Excellent,-- said the shadow. It extended a tendril toward one wall. --Break through there, Piotr. Quickly, or they will catch you. When you're outside the building, I will come to you again, and show you where to go.

--You're a fine young man, Piotr. You've made the right decision.--

The shadow slithered back to the corners of the room and faded. Piotr cast aside the body in his hands with revulsion, despaired for half a moment, then steeled himself. He had not wanted it to happen this way. But it had, and now he was being led to Katya. Now he could save her. Wasn't that the only thing that mattered?

Piotr Rasputin took a deep breath and decided that it was.

****

Kitty Pryde heard the Slayer's voice in her brain, as she'd been able to ever since she'd succumbed to its temptation to try an escape (* last issue). She'd been able to watch the scene with Piotr play out in her head. She was in the back of Zemo's command car as he had seen-- had, in fact, screamed mentally just when he'd heard her do so-- but it was a cry of anguish, because she knew Piotr was falling into the same trap she had. She felt the shadow's quiet laughter.

--You pick them for looks, not brains, don't you, dear?--

*Damn you,* she thought at it. *What did you accomplish there?*

--Oh, nothing, really. He's not even one of the ones I need. I just like to do that.--

*Hurt innocent people? A good man like Piotr? That turns you on?*

--Not hurt. Expose. I show them what is already there. I strip away illusions, and prove to such brave heroes as him, and you, what hypocrites you are.--

*And this accomplishes what?*

The shadow didn't answer for a couple of minutes. It was probably outside the building with Piotr. From the vague glimpses she got of its psyche, Kitty didn't think it could be two places in the same reality at once. Small comfort.

When it returned, it sounded deliciously pleased with itself: --Everyone hates, Katherine Pryde. Even you. If you didn't, there would be no place in your mind for me.--

*Great,* she thought. *So just 'cause I've got some leftover issues about, who knows, Ogun or the Hellfire Club or some other sleazos running around my brain, that gives you the right to...*

--Oh, not just them. Don't flatter yourself so. You hate innocents, too. You hate all the humans who fear you. You hate the Germans who allowed these Nazis to come to power, even though some of them are decent people. You hate your father, for being weak and dying on you. Perhaps not consciously, Katherine, but on some level it's instinct. You just can't help it. And that's my way in.--

*In?*

--It's time we took this to the next level. The good news for you, Katherine, is: You'll get to do something about all those people you hate. They will suffer and die for what they've done. And you will be yourself their executioner.--

"No," Kitty said aloud. "I won't. Never."

--Never's a long time.--

The blackness surrounded her brain, kicked in the doors, shed light on all the secrets and every nasty little thought she'd ever had. Kitty's fingernails dug into the upholstery as the shadow pervaded her consciousness, grappled with her over every memory, every desire, every dream. She saw the parts of herself that called to the shadow, and tried to fight them with the parts that despised it.

She thought: *No no no NO NO NO I WON'T LET YOU I CAN'T I WON'T I'LL NEVER GIVE IN NEVER NEVER NEVER I...*

"I..." she said aloud. "Huh."

Just like that, it was over. Kitty Pryde smiled and leaned back in her seat and started to whistle.

****

A couple of American GI's loaded first TJ Wagner, on a stretcher, then a handcuffed Magneto onto yet another truck.

"Are you *really* my granddaughter?" he asked, as they made her comfortable.

"Don't worry," she said. "We're not close."

"That's something of a relief, my dear..."

Longshot went next, with Alison Blaire beside him, complaining to the soldiers that they were handling him too rough. They ignored her, of course, but the mere act of whining seemed to soothe her.

"Sirs," one of them said, approaching three men and one young woman in the middle of the square, "it's time."

"You're certain about this?" Kurt Wagner asked, looking doubtful.

"Yup."

"I just think--"

"Don't worry 'bout me, elf. I been doin' this since they fought this war the *first* time."

Kurt sighed. They'd argued it over and over already. Logan's head wasn't as dense as adamantium for nothing. "I'll contact you from London."

"I'll let you know when they're safe."

The two men shook hands. "God be with you, Logan."

"Stay outta trouble, Kurt."

The man called Nightcrawler laughed, nodded to Captain America, and boarded the truck. Cap turned to Logan with an odd look in his eye.

"What?"

"I had a feeling you'd stay," Cap said. "You don't scowl when you say 'Betsy,' either."

Logan grunted. "Get outta here, ya dumb Yank. Tell Talbot next time he sends us on a mission, we don't need any extra help."

Cap frowned. "You're welcome."

"Thanks."

That just left Celeste Cuckoo, whose eyes glowed very bright for a moment while she looked at him.

"What? Is my hair layin' flat again? I hate when it does that..."

"You're the best at what you do, aren't you, Mr. Logan?"

"Damn near."

She nodded. "Then maybe it won't get worse this time. But probably it will."

She took Cap's hand and they boarded the truck. Logan lit another cigar, stuck it between his teeth, and walked in the other direction.

****

Vilnius, Lithuania
One Week Later

The building in the middle of the Nazi-created ghetto was shabby, foul, and more or less the perfect place to hide something in plain sight of everyone. Nobody would have suspected the building was even livable, much less that it housed a secret facility for the oppressors of those around them-- unless they had insider knowledge or, perhaps, a secret guide.

Piotr Rasputin was surprised to find the building nearly empty when he arrived. Few passersby, almost no guards, absolutely no Skulls. He slipped in unnoticed and descended creaking stairs to the basement level, where he took the first door on the right, as instructed.

The room was wide, immaculate by comparison to its surroundings, and full of computerized equipment far beyond its time. In the center was a cylindrical cell, constructed of glass, with a single guard on either side and a woman sleeping under a blanket in the middle. Piotr breathed a sigh of relief.

Both guards raised their weapons and shouted warnings. Piotr ignored them, allowed their bullets to bounce off his armored form, and pounded their skulls together. They fell in a heap. He did not particularly care whether they would rise again.

The sleeping form stirred. "Piotr...?"

"Shh," he said. "In the center of the cell, Katya. Cover yourself well."

She sat cross-legged and slid the blanket over her head. Piotr smashed the glass, covering everything nearby in glittering shards. He hurried inside, pulled the blanket away... Kitty Pryde smiled at him with big, hazel eyes he could have fallen into, eyes he'd feared he might never see again. They embraced.

"Piotr," she murmured. "I thought it had me. I was so scared..."

"It is alright. Everything is alright, now."

"Pete... drop the armor. Just for a second."

He frowned. "Why?"

"He's played so many games. I need to touch you, to know you're real..."

Piotr nodded. He made a mental effort and the Colossus disappeared, replaced by strong, flesh-and-blood arms which he wrapped around her. "Better?"

"Much."

They kissed. Piotr didn't care how he'd gotten there or what he'd done or whether it had been right. *This* was right, and nothing that had brought him here could possibly be wrong. Now he didn't care what happened next.

Kitty pulled away. "You're a great kisser, Pete. Can't do that with the armor."

He laughed. "I suppose not."

"Can't do this, either."

She looked down, and Piotr followed her gaze. Kitty was phased, her arms sunk to their elbows in his chest. If she were to solidify... he stared at her in horror.

Kitty's eyes flashed from hazel to black, and she smiled. "Good-bye, Petey."

She *clenched*. Piotr screamed.

****

The thing that looked like Kitty Pryde tossed her lover's body to the ground and stood, wiping blood off her hands. She took a step toward the door.

"Ain't gonna come off easy, pun'kin," said a voice. "I know."

SNIKT. Kitty stopped cold. A short, compact form stepped out of the doorway, trembling with barely-controlled rage.

"I was wondering when you'd show, Wolverine. I expected you'd be the one rushing off half-cocked."

"I got delayed," he said. "The kid loved her. He was a pal a' mine."

"You don't say." Kitty smiled, the odd black glitter in her eyes making the expression frightening. "Too bad you couldn't save him. You've never really been able to save anyone you loved, have you, Wolvie?"

"Why don't you come outta her?" Logan said. "We'll fight this fair."

She laughed. "Oh, but I 'm enjoying it in here. Kitty Pryde is a nice girl, people instinctively like her. They trust her. That's ever so much fun for me."

Logan took a step inside. "Notice you made Pete armor down. You went outta your way t'get Magneto's powers. Scared a' metal?"

"Maybe." She smiled.

"I got some metal." Logan showed his claws. "You don't come outta her, I'm gonna use it."

"Really, Logan?" The girl approached him, only inches away. Her scent, her stance-- every sense told him this was no game. It was Kitty's body. "That might not be healthy for... us."

She tried to step around him. Logan growled and grabbed for her. She dodged, avoiding his claws. Their dance left her with her back to the door, facing him and smirking... *teasing*.

Logan growled. "I'm gonna kill you the bad way for this."

"Aw, Logan. Can you really kill your little kitten?"

"You don't know me very well, darlin'. I can kill anybody."

"Go ahead, then." She brought one of Logan's claws up against her heart. "Do it. Come on, Logan. She wants you to. She wants to die, for what she's done, and she will. But not until I'm done with her."

Logan snarled. His hands shook.

"Where's that killer instinct I've heard so much about? Come on. Right through the heart. I'll hold still. You can do it quickly. It's a mercy to her. Go *on*, Wolverine. She thinks of you almost as a father-- but we both know you're really just an animal. Do what animals do. Kill your prey. She's waiting."

Logan looked at the girl. He looked at his claws. He retracted them.

Kitty smiled. "She knew you couldn't, Logan. She loves you, and hates you, for that. But take heart, old man. At least Piotr won't die alone."

She reached for him, for his stomach where he had no metal. She could rip his guts out. Logan didn't resist.

"One thing you should know," he murmured.

"Oh, this should be good. After all these years, what *are* the Wolverine's last words, anyway?"

"I didn't come alone."

"What?" Kitty completed about half a turn-- and then a dagger of purplish Psi energy plunged into her brain.

****

Kitty howled with two voices at once.

Betsy Braddock had connected up with Logan outside Kharkov, five days earlier, and they'd followed the trail of their young teammates together. They'd split up to search the facility, but somehow Logan had maneuvered their enemy into the right place at the right time-- for just the right strike with a newly recovered weapon. Betsy grinned; she did so love it when things fell into place.

She twisted her psychic dagger, sweat standing out on her forehead as she waged a mental war with something cold, hard, and unfathomably vast. She had the advantage of surprise, however. "Come out of her, damn you! You've done enough harm today. Now... come... OUT!"

Kitty threw back her head and her back arched; Logan caught her before she could fall. Something-- a darkness, a shadow, a billowing cloud-- streamed out of her and up through the ceiling, anger and pain cascading off it in psychic waves. Betsy nearly collapsed.

But there was no time for that. She ran to Piotr Rasputin, checking vital signs. The thing had seemed a bit cocky. She hoped-- there. It hadn't done a thorough job. Piotr was dying. But he wasn't *quite* dead. He had perhaps a minute.

Betsy ran to one of the blinking machines. If this thing absorbed Magneto's power, then perhaps...

"Logan!" she snapped. "Come on, I think I have an idea! Hurry, we might save him!"

Logan said nothing, was on his knees beside Kitty's body. Betsy turned to him.

"Logan, dammit, I need you! He only has-- look, I know that was harrowing, but you played it beautifully! How you knew I was on my way back down, I'll never..."

"I didn't," Logan said. "I didn't know, Betts, 'till *after* I sheathed my claws."

Psylocke trailed off. Their eyes met.

"We can save him," she whispered, but she didn't think Logan was listening.

END

Next: The Homefront
See the other Eternity series, Uncanny X-Men, New X-Men, X-Factor, & eXcalibur-- coming soon!
Up Next: X-Factor #4: "Family Business"