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A New Mutants fanfic by Icon_UK

Setting - Post Schicm, when the original New Mutants were living on their own in a house in San Francisco

Genre - Silly fluff

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Based on a silly random exchange a while back, and with special thanks to @selfsoulfriend for a frankly irresistible addition to the story. Thanks pal!

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It started, as such things often do, in the aftermath of a “family dinner”.

They weren’t technically family of course, but they had worked as a team for so long, and as classmates before that, that at least once a week they tried to have a communal meal, “Family dinner” was the nickname that Sam had given it one time, and it has sort of stuck.

By special arrangement with X-Men, Illyana was even allowed out of her jail cell on “day release” for these, under the watchful eye of the New Mutants, who shared responsibility for her actions. Since her old team were about the only people still speaking to her since the Legion debacle she didn’t push her luck, well not too much.

Cooking and cleaning were done in shifts and no one argued with one of Dani’s duty rosters (Not twice, at any rate), and whoever had duty for family dinner night could interpret it as loosely as they chose (or thought they could get away with).

Sam rediscovered the natural cook he’d always been, having been responsible for feeding his younger siblings when his Mom had been too busy.

Dani was NOT a natural cook, but tried hard and kept the food simple.

Nate was still adjusting to a world where food was always so freely available, so tended to get carried away, and though he didn’t cook per se, his deli spreads were spectacularly excessive in a “Who knew you could get decadent with cold meats?” sort of a way.

Warlock was excused cooking for reasons too numerous to count, but was always happy to help the others out, as long as his tasks were very clearly defined.

Roberto and Illyana had tended to order takeout when it came time for their turn, Roberto because he had no interest in cooking, only eating, and Illyana was, in truth, banned from using the kitchen following her last attempt at cooking, where some confusion over herbs had led to her stew becoming a semi-accidental invocation to SOMETHING, and which no one talked about by common agreement (No need to worry Cyclops on that score).

Tonight it had been Doug’s turn, and he had wanted to try out a new recipe that Mrs Livitz had given him.

The fact he could speak fluent Latverian (of course) had meant he had become something of a favourite of their elderly neighbour who liked to chat as she cooked, and she had shared old family recipes with him. So tonight had been something fairly unpronounceable (Even to Doug), which Dani been dubbed “Chicken a la DOOOOM!” (Though the “DOOOOM!”” had to be stage whispered in case Mrs Livitz overheard and had a panic attack. Doug had noticed that Latverian exiles were rare and tended to be rather jumpy)

The ideal accompaniment to this rich, spicy chicken casserole was, apparently, a local Latverian beer which had not been available in the US since the 1960’s due to trade embargos.

Doug had been prepared to substitute a domestic beer, but with one of her more innocent smiles, Illyana had summoned a stepping disk and three minutes later returned with a crate containing a couple of dozen bottles. Illyana declared it free of any spells, and Warlock had also checked it for any traces of psychoactive substances or nanotech… with Latveria, you could never be too careful, They’d set a couple of bottles aside for Mrs Livitz, just in case she’d like a taste from the old country,

The cold beetroot soup as a starter had been an unlikely success, the Chicken a la DOOOOM! had been very popular, with everyone wanting seconds.

Afterwards, stomachs full and a few of the (as it turned out, excellent) beers still available, most of the family had sat around the table and the conversation drifted comfortably towards the level of the silly.

Roberto started it…. “So, I see a lot of these secondary mutations around these days. Emma sure has a doozy.“

Amara smirked, “Hard as a diamond? Just reflecting outside what she always was inside.”

“Yeah, what’s up with those, and why don’t any of us have one… no offence Dani”

Dani sighed, “S’okay Roberto, as long as I know I can take you down nine times out of ten in a fight, I’m good. Besides I always thought you already had one…”


“Sure. You have an unerring ability to find a good place to get coffee… We could dump you in the middle of the Sahara (“I could arrange that!” chimed in Illyana) and somehow you’d have found a cold pressed, double espresso within ten minutes.”

Roberto hoisted his bottle and nodded solemnly “True. Such power is a crushing repsonstability, but I try to use it wisely“ (Roberto tended to slur his speech when exposed to any alcohol content stronger than mouthwash. His macho side was always embarassed the next day, but it never stopped him)

Amara joined in again “What about Sam and his books. NO ONE could read ALL of those Dune books as fast as he did. That HAS to be a secondary mutation.”

“Ah wish!” said Sam wistfully “Ah’d give a lot for a gift like that. Still doing it the hard way, one page at a time…”

“Oh how you suffer”

“Have you read the later Dune books? Sufferin’ ain’t the word.. Though you’ll notice that Amara NEVER has to wait in line at a checkout… EVER!”

Amara beamed, “That’s actually my PRIMARY mutation, I just generate a little extra heat around me, and people get uncomfortably warm and move away”.



Dani nodded respectfully, “That’s either blatant abuse of a mutant gift, or utter genius… not sure which.”

“Next time you’re in a hurry at the grocery store and there’s seven people ahead of you, you can decide.”

Dani  continued “…and as for Nate’s amazing ability to make any shirt he gets given disappear, well, perhaps the less said about that the better.”

This time Amara and Illyana clinked bottles

Nate looked genuinely puzzled… “But I keep all the shirts. They’re in a box in my room.”

Amara and Illyana chugged the bottle and cheered raucously.

Doug came back in from the kitchen where he’d been filling the dishwasher.. or convincing Warlock not to impersonate the dishwasher… it varied from moment to moment, as did Warlock, which really didn’t help.

“So what profound subject is the topic of discourse tonight then?”

“Secondary mutations”, offered Nate helpfully.

The other members of the team exchanged looks, and, smiling broadly shouted “THE HAIR!” in unison. This time Sam and Roberto clinked bottles. Only Nate had the good grace to look slightly abashed.

“What?” Doug’s hand went up to his blond hair automatically, and everyone else dissolved into giggles.

Doug eyed his team-mates curiously attempting, and failing (even with his enhanced abilities), to read the room, too many signals… “Ooooh-kay… can’t really let that one slide, though I think I might be happier if I did.”

Roberto gestured expansively “We’re discussing the incidences… incidenceses of secondary mutations, and we all KNOW you’ve got one.”

“Not that I know of, some people barely consider my powers a primary mutation”

Roberto snorted. “You can’t fool us, we know that hair of yours HAS to be a mutation.”

Doug forced a smile and whispered, “How many beers has ‘Berto had?”

Sam grinned “Three… but you know he’s a lightweight. Even so though…”

Dani joined in. “You can tell us Doug. Honest, we won’t judge.”

Doug leaned out the door and called out “Warlock, are you SURE the beer checked out clear for extra chemicals?”

“Affirmative Selfsoulfriendcypherdoug. Usual alcohol related toxins only.”

“I was afraid of that. Okay…. Why would you even THINK my hair was a mutation?”

Dani grinned “Because we KNOW it is.  Now… for the purposes of this exercise, do you have a comb about your person at this moment?”

Doug frowned… “No, I don’t normally carry one”

“I rest my case”


“Look at that hair, there’s no way that naturally fell into place like that. You’ve spent the last three hours in the kitchen and it doesn’t even look mussed. Still the perfect hair swoop”

“Hairswoop? Is that even a thing? I don’t think that’s a thing.”

Roberto was not going to be left out. “We’ve all seen you get up in the morning, and I swear you come out of your bedroom with “haystack in a hurricane”, and it’s “salon perfect hairswoop before you even reach the bathroom.”

Doug just gave him a look, “You watch me when I walk to the bathroom in the morning?”

“Now you’re delfecting… I mean deflecting… and no, not on purpose… if that helps. But as you said, when it comes to weirdo mutations, you led the field from an early age.”

“I don’t think I phrased it quite like that.”

“Close enough.”

“Right, I am now going to back carefully away from you crazy people, and go back to the kitchen, where the very black, very strong, very caffeine-saturated coffee is brewing. And I am going to suggest that you fill your mouths with that, and my frankly spectacular caramel pecan muffins (Roberto sniggered, but Doug let it one pass without comment) rather than this crazy talk? Anyone else want to agree on that?”

This met with generally positive cheers.

As he headed back to the kitchen Doug caught his reflection in the hallway mirror. An errant strand of hair the others hadn’t noticed caught his eye and he glared at it. It flattened itself down, and tucked itself back into the “hair swoop” (He’d remember that phrase, he liked it). Contented, he continued on to the kitchen.“Hair control” was a bizarre idea for a secondary mutation, but when you get a chance to rebuild your entire body from the ground up thanks to the technorganic virus, it would seem silly not to avail yourself of the opportunity for a couple of… minor improvements, and all that messing around with a comb was a shocking waste of time.

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The Appeal Process
An X-book fanfic by Icon_UK

This work is completely unauthorised. No permission has been given, no offence has been intended.

This was written around the turn of the century, literally, so nearly every single aspect of it has been repeatedly superceded by events, but it remains my first proper fanfic, and I always had a soft spot for it.

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"So, Douglas Ramsey of Earth 616, We understand you'd like to appeal against your death sentence."

"Yes your Fairness"

"Normally We would say something about this being 'Most irregular", but frankly, given your... genetic predisposition, We are actually a little surprised that it took you this long."

The setting was a trifle odd to say the least. The Courtroom itself was vast, though this was perhaps exaggerated by it's significant lack of walls, only misty clouds and starry depths seemed to be supporting the all too solid looking ceiling several hundred feet up. It all looked very cosmic.

The decor was classically simple with lots of white marble. Gold and jet tiles in the floor gave the appearance of a rather luxurious chessboard.

Seated behind a table just in front of the towering desk of the Judge, which would have dominated any, for want of a better word, chamber except this one, was a blond boy in his late teens, wearing what appeared to be an exotic black and yellow ski suit which meant, coincidentally, he complemented the rooms decor rather well.

Seated at the desk was the his/her Supreme Fairness, known to all as "The Judge", a faintly glowing humanoid figure in long red robes and a long, powdered wig. It's features and voice tended to shift and change as you looked at it. Sometimes it was male, sometimes female, sometimes black, sometimes white, sometimes oriental. It was less a being, and more a concept, epitomising the justice of a world and its many peoples over aeons of time.

The blond boy spoke. "Well, your Fairness, my mutant ability was both passive and mental in nature, and I didn't have a healing factor, so the usual channels weren't much help"

"No healing factor? Now that IS unusual. And "the usual channels"? Ah yes of course, the Xavier Protocols as We believe some wit in Records has taken to referring to the files."

"Yes, your Fairness, and on top of that, my cause of death was a bullet wound caused by a standard handgun."

"A handgun? Not plasma energy blasts of indeterminate nature?"

"No, your Fairness."

"No large buildings falling on you, or similar explosions, making recovery of the body impossible?"

"No, your Fairness"

"Mysterious other-dimensional forces at work?"

"Not that I was aware of, your Fairness, I was rather preoccupied bleeding to death at the time."

"Quite. Hmmmm... Time-displaced mutant assassins from potential dystopian futures causing paradox by the very nature of their being and intent?


"No alien intervention perhaps?"

"No your Fairness. Just a deranged human with a gun."

"Ummmmmm.... Are you in any way related to the Summers family? Lost twin? Chronologically displaced cousin? Third Uncle twice removed and not due to be born for a thousand years?"

"Not that my parents ever mentioned."

"Hmmmm...." The Judge said again, genuinely nonplussed "Are you QUITE sure you're a mutant, Mr Ramsey?"

"Yes, your Fairness. Actually, I checked the records and I couldn't find any other examples like mine, nearly all of them had am obvious way back. Anyway, having found nothing recently I went back further and found what I think is reasonable grounds. Article NM 52, Section 5, Sub sections 4 through 7."

"Article NM eh? We're rather surprised you were able to read those files, they do date back to pre-Babel days."

"Babel? Is he a mutant too? Cool name."

"No Mr Ramsey, THE Babel, Genesis... Chapter 9.. Tower.. Wrath of God etc etc. Remember where you are."

"Oh, THAT Babel, sorry. Anyway, the scrolls weren't a problem, my power lets me translate anything given a little time. This was nothing compared to Dire Wraith or Old Asgardian."

"Really?" The Judge looked interested and leaned forward in a semi-conspiratorial manner, "We've been having a little trouble with the instructions for installing Our Windows 98 upgrade, We wonder whether you might...."

"Sorry, your Fairness, my power's good, but it's not THAT good."

"Oh well, it was worth a try. By the way, We wouldn't mention Asgard again if We were you, it's something of a faux pas to mention other pantheons in situations like these."

"Now, let Us see..."; the Judge pulled a scroll out of thin air and pored over it, "Here we are, Article NM... Section... Sub section... Mm-hmm 'Reanimation caused by a pre-mortem infection of an organic life form by alien techno-organic transmode virus'? Is that the part you are referring to?"

"Yes, your Fairness"

"We have to hand it to the Babel boys, they certainly were THOROUGH in preparing their 'Eventualities' list. So you claim to have been so infected, Mr Ramsey?"

"Yes your Fairness. I also claim that I was left waiting for processing by the Afterlife Commission for too long. A prompt return could have been arranged with little or no fuss, continuity -wise. But bureaucratic delays meant that by the time I was accepted it was
too late to return."

"Not an uncommon complaint We must admit. What was the problem with the delay?"

"I'd been enbalmed, your Fairness."

"Ah! A tough one that We agree! Now let's see." The Judge consulted his notes. "Saved entire Earth on at least two occasions, defended planet against alien invasion, died saving the life of a friend. Selfless gestures and heroic acts aplenty. We've even had a character reference from Merlyn! It seems you helped out in a rather complicated case he was working on, you volunteered to help a Miss Katherine Pryde and her friends out I believe."

"Well..... Yes and no."

"Would you care to elaborate?"

"Well it DID happen but apparently it didn't happen too. Merlyn did sort of a flight simulator thing inside some guys head and asked me to get involved because it would help Kitty out. It never happened in real space/time though."

"All the same, you were prepared to help out?"

"Oh, absolutely.."

"Well, hmmmm.... that should still count We believe, Merlyn so rarely gives good references, you should _hear_ what he says about Arthur! Now to business, have you seriously considered the
implications of your return Mr Ramsey?"

"Did any of the other mutants in cases like this, your Fairness?"

"A valid point, but you are a rather an unusual case.... for a mutant. Your death actually satisfies the Gruenwald Laws of Mortality; Your cause of death was quite explicable. Your death was seen by reliable witnesses, the body was recovered and you were declared dead by a qualified medical examiner in ideal conditions. Returning would not be easy and might have serious implications for those who knew you. The Continuity Police would have hysterics for starters."

"However, it is not Our intent to prevent the due processes of justice. To that end We propose that you survey the world as it is now, to ensure that you would still be able to fit in, should We choose to recommend a dispensation for you. Fortunately We have a specialist in such matters available for consultation. Call Mr Jordan."

A dapper-looking middle aged man entered from a doorway that had appeared from mists rising up from the middle of floor. Wearing a well cut suit, he carried a clipboard and a large leather bound book with him. If there was an gene for quiet efficiency, it was fairly obvious he had been overly endowed with it.

"Mr Jordan is our special facilitator with Earth/Heaven jurisdiction disputes and has a lot of experience in cases such as yours. We suggest you journey with him, whilst We consider your application... Mr Jordan, if you would be so kind. Court is adjourned for multi-dimensional analysis and consideration of due process."

"Yes, your Fairness.. Please come this way Douglas."

As the two figures walked though the doorway and disappeared, mists rose again and the entire doorway vanished.

- - -

Doug found himself in a long corridor, made out of white marble. Hanging along both walls were picture frames, each filled with rolling clouds.

"Experience has shown that this can be quite a painful experience emotionally speaking. That's why I don't recommend you viewing your parents, I have already done that separately as it can be quite upsetting for the individual. This is more of a chance for you to see your peers... I have to ask though, were you emotionally involved with any of the people you wish to see."

"One or two... Three tops."

"That's normal for a person your age I suppose. Well we'll leave them to later. Shall we start with an easy one?"

"Okay, how about the New Mutants? They were the team I was with when I.. passed away."

Mr Jordan consulted a note in his clipboard. "I'm afraid that they don't exist anymore. The team disbanded some time ago."

"What happened to everyone?"

"Well, according to this they went their separate ways but one of them went on to lead a new group. Would you like to see them"

"Please, this should be interesting...

The mists in a nearby frame became more active and started to clear, revealing a perfect three dimensional image of a group of oddly dressed people, apparently in the middle of some sort of combat exercise.

"Good grief! Who is that big guy, the one that's built like a concrete outhouse?"

Mr Jordan looked pained. "Please Douglas, we only have until the end of time up here. Suffice it to say that Mr Cable would have been your Headmaster had you stayed around the mortal coil."

"Boy, I'll bet gym class was compulsory with HIM in charge."

"No doubt."

"And doesn't he seem to have any feet, his legs just sort of fade out into nothing?"

"Maybe it's part of his mutation, Douglas."

"Hey, can we zoom in on this thing, track that fireball in the sky if you can."

The picture expanded to focus on the individual form, a young man in a purple and white bodysuit and a flying helmet.

" WOW! The Sam I knew was really tall and skinny. He was built like a string bean, when did he get so.. buff? And what happened to his colour sense? Lilac? I like the aviator goggles though."

"Trust me Douglas, if poor dress sense is the worst thing you come across, you'll have it easy compared to most mutants. Samuel certainly seems to have adjusted to his current lifestyle leading a group ... X-Force I believe they're called."

"_Force_? Doesn't sound like Sam's style, they're a new one on me. Still, it's nice to see that he made full team leader. He was only co-leader of the New Mutants"

"His leadership skills come partly due to a re-dedication to his cause following your death."

"Would my coming back change that?"

"I doubt it, Samuel seems to be a most... dedicated person anyway."

"Then he hasn't changed much either. Good. Okay, so that's Sam. Now, who next. How about Dani Moonstar, Mirage. She was the other team leader."

Mr Jordan looked at his list, "Hmmmm, how odd. A slight territorial conflict here. Your friend is currently somewhere in Asgard, which containing an afterlife in and of itself outside my jurisdiction."

"Oh right, Dani and her whole Valkyrie harbinger of Death thing again."

"Her WHAT!"

"She was a part time Valkyrie."

"I wasn't aware that the Valkyrior accepted part time employees."

"Well, it was more of an extra-credit after-school activity thing. She was chosen by the Valkyrior to be one of them and that's not the sort of offer it's wise to refuse. Winged horse, Death perception, the whole thing."

"If I might perhaps make a rather tasteless comment at this time; Her death perception doesn't seem to have helped you much does it?"

"Oooh yeah, and believe me, I'm gonna ask her about that at the first available opportunity! Okay, now how about.. Magik? Illyana Rasputin"

Mr Jordan gestured towards another frame and the mists swirled. They parted again, then flowed back, then parted. The image beyond was hazy and rolling. After a short time a moving finger appeared and sketched, in letters of fire, "Normal continuity will resumed as soon as sanity is declared." and having writ, moved on.

Mr Jordan frowned and looked once again at his clipboard, a roll of print-out paper unravelled and trailed across the floor. His worked his way quickly through the list.

"Douglas, I try never to make value judgements about another persons friends, but you seemed to have moved in VERY strange circles. But even I should perhaps have expected some problems with this one. For starters 'Magik' ceased to exist some time ago at the age of fifteen, and then later died aged about five."

"Oh no! You mean Illyana died? What happened?"

"From the rather rambling notes I have here, the 15 year old Magik you knew was a temporal anomaly, who became infected with something called the Legacy virus, then ceased to exist, reverting to her natural five year old self, and then died of a disease she wouldn't catch for another ten years, biologically speaking. At least I THINK that's what it says. The tenses become a little confused about this point. And there seems to be some jurisdictional problems with her soul. When she was older she was 3/5 committed to evil, but that was retroactively erased, but her actions still existed. They'll be arguing that one till kingdom come. It's true what they say about Lawyers going to... the other place. She's comfortable in the meantime though, on a sort of metaphysical bail-bond it seems."

"Poor Illyana, is there anything I can do to help, does she have visiting rights or something?"

"I don't know. A nice gesture though, I'll look into that later Douglas, never fear. Now, who's next?"

"Well, that's most of the team worked out except for a couple. Sunspot? No, Bobby and I never really hit it off, might as well be honest about that. How about Magma? She left the team just before my accident, but it'd be nice to see what she's up to. Her real name was Amara Juliana Olivia Aquilla."

Mr Jordan flicked through his notes, then again, then back yet again, a frown on his face.

"Are you sure about that name Douglas, I have a Magma, but the name here is Allison Crestmere, an English girl. There's no Amara Juliana Olivia Aquilla here". He got the name right on the first attempt, which impressed Doug no end, most people had the decency to stutter over it at least once.

"The Magma I knew was the daughter of a Senator in Nova Roma, a lost tribe of the Roman Empire in the Amazon."

"You say that _so_ casually Douglas."

"I had a short life, but a weird one. Maybe it's someone else, another mutant who just uses the same name. It happens all the time I expect."

"Well, there is more than one Magma, but only one mutant by that name; Adolescent female? Blonde? Shifts into glowing yellow magma-form and can manipulate earth and lava mentally?"

"Well, yes, that does sort of sound like her.."

Something fluttered out of Mr Jordan's copious notes and he snatched it before it could hit the ground. He read it carefully "Whoops! This is a note from the.. Gracious me, the Retcon Authority. We so rarely hear from them in mutant cases. Normally their reality is convoluted enough without the need of such intervention. Hmmm..." Mr Jordan scanned the note carefully.

"The girl you knew as Amara apparently IS this Allison Crestmere, daughter of the British Ambassador. She and her entire city were the construct of an immortal being named Selene. It seemed she kidnapped people and then mentally reprogrammed them to think they were part of this Nova Roma colony. Her memories were recently returned to her and well, that's more or less where she is at the moment."

"But that makes no sense!"

Mr Jordan's tone was weary "So little in this case does Douglas, so little in this case does. Well, since she doesn't seem to have memories left from her time with you, her case is more or less irrelevant, wouldn't you say? Next."

Doug only thought for a moment before deciding; "Psylocke, I'd like to see Psylocke, Betsy Braddock".

Even after all this time he still felt himself start to blush at the mention of her name. Having a crush on a stunningly beautiful telepath ten years older than he had been, and having her return at least some of those feelings had been one of the weirder experiences in his life, but one of the more pleasant. Then his face fell.

"No wait a minute, she died in Dallas with the other X-Men." Doug frowned, strange he hadn't seen her around up Here then.

Mr Jordan looked at his clip board "Care to wager on that Douglas?"

The mists in another cleared to display a beautiful Asian woman with long purple hair. She was wearing what appeared to be several yards of silk bandaging and little else. She was facing half a dozen bikers in an alleyway, and was moving with exquisite grace and fluidity, leaping and vaulting, striking so fast that she could barely be seen. The bikers were going down like nine pins.

"Well, Douglas, I can see why you might want to see her again."

"I'm sorry Mr Jordan, I think there must be some mistake. I asked for Psylocke, but I think your screen is picking up a cable channel. 'Ninja Lingerie Models' maybe?"

"No Douglas, the records state that is Psylocke, Elizabeth Braddock, known as Betsy."

"No offence sir, the hairs almost the right colour, but the Betsy I knew wasn't that skinny, had much better dress sense and was.. well... not to put too fine a point on it, a lot less... Japanese than this lady is."

Whilst still talking, they both found themselves fascinated by what was going on, tilting their heads in unison as the figure on the screen moved. At one point they both winced in reflexive masculine sympathy as a biker received a particularly vicious kick to a highly sensitive area.

Doug paused for a moment, trying to work something out in his head, "Mr Jordan? I confess that I don't know too much about the subject but wouldn't that be a REALLY uncomfortable outfit for a lady to wear after a while? It would ride right the way up her..."

"Mmmmmh? What? I'm sorry, were you saying something?" Mr Jordan pulled his gaze away from the screen with obvious reluctance.. "Ohhh, yes, I see what you mean, I'm um.. sure that it could become a trifle... abrasive, after a while"

There was a rustle of paperwork followed by a long sigh.

"Oh look, what a surprise, her life has been turned upside down as a result of her association with Charles Xavier's School. Some time ago, she travelled through something called the Seige Perilous, had her mind was half wiped and was merged psychically with a Japanese assassin called Kwannon. She has now been cured of this... situation, but remains in the body of Kwannon as her original body has died from the Legacy virus. I swear, if I were alive I'd want the largest aspirin known to mankind right about now."

"Try living it as a lifestyle for a while. It was certainly never dull. Still, it's good to know she's not dead anymore"

Mr Jordan decided not to tell Doug about the fact she never really had been, and that she and the X-Men had "faked" their deaths and emigrated to Australia.

"Let's try... Kitty Pryde... She was my best friend even before I went to the school."

"Somehow, Douglas, that does not lead me to believe that she has settled down and is now living in domestic bliss. Call it a hunch on my part."

The mists cleared, showing Kitty, now slightly older and even prettier than Doug remembered, in a room with Nightcrawler, Brian Braddock, an unhealthy looking man in a black suit with a cigarette in his hand, and a partially obscured figure sitting behind them operating a computer console, a redheaded girl at his side.

"Hey, there's Kurt, and Brian! I saved his life one time. I pulled him off a carousel that would have killed him."

Mr Jordan looked at the huge, massively muscled figure in the image and then at Doug's far slighter frame and decided not to even ask.

"And Rahne too! She and I were.."

"Don't tell me, 'Really close when you were alive.' I have to say Douglas, I admire your taste in the fairer sex."

"She's grown a LOT since I knew her though. And in all the right places too!"

"Ahem Douglas, there's a time and a place for everything. Though given this experience of your friends I wouldn't like to say when."

The figure at the redhead's side turned his head, coming into profile and into a clear view of the picture.

Both Mr Jordan and Doug just stood there staring for several seconds, their jaws hanging slightly open.

"Douglas, I know this has been a long and unusually trying session for both of us, but it does strike me that there is something very strange here, even relatively speaking."

"But that's me....! But I'm yellow... and shiny... Hang on... That's Douglock... but I was Dou... Warlock was Dou... WE were Douglock. WHAT'S GOING ON HERE?"

"You mean you KNOW that.. individual?"

"When I was alive there were a few times I merged my body with one of my best friends, a techno-organic alien called Warlock. We became a joint entity with both of us operating as a unit. We looked like me, but were made out the same stuff as Warlock. We looked just like that guy there. I know I'm up here, I know Warlock's up here, so who is that down there?!"

Mr Jordan pulled out a handkerchief and mopped his brow as he leafed through yet more documents.

"It seems the Continuity Section don't know."

"They don't know? You mean that's a complete stranger?"

"Well not exactly, it seems that there's a bit of debate about what his exact relationship is to you. He has some of your memories and ethical beliefs as a personality template, though he has a mind and soul of his own. It seems he's connected with the Phalanx somehow."

"The who?"

"The Phalanx. Your friend Warlock's people."

"But Warlock was a member of the Technarchy from the Kvtch system. What's with 'the Phalanx'."

"It's probably a Marketing exercise. I must say that if I was an all-conquering star-faring race called the Kvtchian Technarchy, I'd probably try to change my name too, to something that sounded less like a Russian politician."

"And what's Kitty doing with everyone there?"

"She's a member of a new team that was formed after your death. It's called Excalibur, Kurt Wagner and Brian Braddock are both members, and Kitty is currently romantically involved with the skinny one with the bad tobacco habit, Peter Wisdom"

"Really! He doesn't look her type. Still... is she happy?"

"Yes, I believe she is, but frankly I've giving up guessing that sort of thing in this case. Today, yes. Tomorrow? Feh!"

"Well, I suppose as long as it's what she wants. From the looks of things that Douglock person is close to Rahne. I'm good at reading body language, and I don't think they've admitted it to themselves yet. Well, as long as she's happy too, and he/I/whatever treats her right. Otherwise he's in for a haunting he'll NEVER forget."

Doug turned away from the screen, clearly somewhat upset by what he'd just seen.

"Have you seen everything you need Douglas?"

"I think so Mr Jordan. My friends seem to be getting on with their lives quite nicely without me."

"Don't underestimate yourself Douglas. They all remember you with fondness and love, and your actions whilst alive may have helped them achieve some of the happiness they now have. That's something to be proud of, no matter what you decide."

Without looking directly at him, Mr Jordan passed a handkerchief to Doug, who blew his nose loudly.

"Thanks Mr Jordan, that means a lot."

"Good. And now, your decision?"

"If it's all the same with you, I think I'll explain that to the Judge."

"Of course Douglas. I'll be interested to hear your final choice."

They walked towards the doorway that had suddenly reappeared.

"Thanks for the... 'tour' Mr Jordan."

"Not at all, Douglas, happy to help."

+ + + +

A short while later, the young man in the yellow and black uniform stood before the Judge.

"Mr Ramsey. Given your highly commendable activities whilst alive, and the excellent references We have seen in this case, and also bearing in mind the somewhat ambivalent nature of your demise, resulting from the infection prior to your decorporation We are minded to grant your application in this case."

"However, please bear in mind that there would be a penalty involved in this. Having consulted with Mr Jordan, you would return in the form of a cybernetic organism, with various non-recoverable body parts replaced by regenerated techno-organic material. This might mean certain biological anomalies with your life and mentality, and We would advise to avoid your biological family, possibly indefinitely as they have already adjusted to your loss very well.
Would you prepared for this?"

"Actually, your Fairness, I would like to withdraw my application at this time."

"Really? Might We be permitted to ask why you wish to withdraw at this late date, Mr Ramsey?" The voice softened, "Douglas, if it is a matter of simple doubt, then do not worry, there would be a cooling off period before re-incorporation."

"Frankly your Fairness, I've just seen what the world is like at the moment, and I don't think I want to go back there at the moment. I like to think I did my best to make the world a better place when I was on it, I fought megalomaniacs, battled inter-dimensional sorcerers, prevent a Dyson Sphere from double-parking around Earth, sorted my paper before recycling. I even flossed! For what? So a bunch of whacked out maniacs could get involved in some mutant military macho posing competition to see who has the biggest calibre handgun? So the heroes could act as bad as the villains, treating people like dirt in the cause of some sort self-righteous crusade? And those are the people who'd be on MY side. I don't even want to think what the villains are like now."

"These things shall pass Mr Ramsey."

"And at the moment, I'd rather they passed without me your Fairness. Maybe later, when things have calmed down a bit. In the meantime I think I've earned a bit of my Eternal Reward. Might I reapply at a later date, your Fairness?"

"Barring trans-temporal rewrites or cataclysmic dimensional crossover events, We would be certainly be prepared to consider a reapplication at a future date."

"Thank you your Fairness, I'm sorry to have taken up so much of your time."

"Not at all Mr Ramsey, we do have all eternity up here after all. Case closed, pending future re-application!"

The young man turned towards the newly appeared main doors of the courtroom, which swung open to receive him. He stopped beside a lone figure first to shake his hand, Mr Jordan smiled and returned the gesture vigorously.

As he turned back to observe the next case, Mr Jordan heard another voice from just beyond the door, electronic and strangely modulated....


"Trust me 'Lock, you do NOT want to know! Let's just say that Earth at the moment is a weird place to visit and I certainly wouldn't want to get reincarnated there. We'll go get an ambrosia shake or something and I'll tell you all about it...."

The voices faded away, lost in the background humming of celestial muzak that filled the hall (It was amazing what Henry Mancini and John Denver could do with an infinite number of angelic voices and an all-harp orchestra).

The Judge looked down a list of cases awaiting It's attention, checking them of as It went.

"Hmmm... James Buchanan Barnes.. Good grief.. Not him AGAIN! Irene Adler? Well if _she_ didn't see it coming, she's got no one to blame but herself... Jason Todd? Now how did HE get on Our books? Ahhhhh! A class action brought by a group who call themselves 'The Hellions' of Earth 616, citing Temporal Anomaly Clause 5; Assassination by time-displaced entity from a probable non-linear future."

"Oh thank Here for that, a simple case! Very well, We will proceed after lunch. Court is adjourned."

The End
icon_uk: (Katie Cook Doug)

 A New Mutants/X-Verse fanfic by Icon_UK

Magneto had to admit that Scott Summers had flaws, many, MANY flaws, but when it came to devotion to cataloguing reports he was in a class of his own.

The Necrosha event was over, but Scott had insisted on debriefing and collation of reports from all parties as soon as possible, just in case some overlooked aspect came to light that required prompt action. He could hardly be faulted for that, but this event had been more emotionally draining than most, with many of the teams having to face lost loved ones in combat.

Magneto had dutifully completed his own report about his involvement, the dealing with of the revived Proteus, a sorry business, and was now reading the rest. He was exhausted, and wanted nothing more than to sleep, but shared Scott’s commitment to making sure everything really was over.

He paused a little before picking up the file that Sam and Dani had submitted, it was foolish he knew, but he still felt a certain proprietary pride in the New Mutants performance. He suspected they would not necessarily appreciate that, and how many of their successes were because of his training, and how many were in spite of his training, he tried not to think about too much.

Sam had always had an excellent writing style. If you were foolish enough to judge him by the stereotypes of his accent you might, for a moment, forget just how well read Sam was, and it showed in the attention he paid to the words he wrote. Magneto had graded enough of their papers to spot the paragaphs where Dani had added in her own, rather more colourful, turns of phrase.

As he leafed through the record he felt a scowl spreading across his face as his anger mounted. Not at the New Mutants, but for what Selene had done, resurrecting the Hellions had been in poor tastes, but DOUGLAS as well?

Magneto had long since given up any faith in a benevolent supreme being and had seen too much of the human capacity for evil to feel the need for a devil, but in that moment he commended whatever passed for Selene’s soul to the foulest demon that could lay claim to it.

It was hard reading, and he almost put the report down until he had calmed down, but kept reading, he owed the New Mutants that much. He was actually dreading reading the end of this battle, as he suspected he knew what would happen.

It was about two pages later that he stopped dead, and carefully went back and re-read the whole page again.

His cloak flew from where he’d hung it on the door and barely had time to settle on his shoulders before he launched himself out the window. He didn’t NEED the cloak to fly, but the more metallic material he had near him the faster he could move and he wanted to move FAST.

Two seconds later, anyone in the flight path between Magneto’s quarters and the Med Lab felt a twinge in their fillings as his magnetic field flared.

Less than fifteen seconds later he landed outside the medical building. He pulled his EM field inwards again so as not to disturb any of the delicate equipment inside, but he still floated down the corridor at high speed and anyone in hid path was pushed forcefully, but as gently as possible, out of his way (Annoying medical staff was always a bad idea).

He stopped at the isolation ward, landed gently and paused. Suddenly uncertain, he looked through the window in the door and saw what he had never expected to see. Sitting up in bed, looking the picture of health, was Doug Ramsey. He seemed a little older than when he had last seen him, and his hair was longer, but where magic was concerned anything was, apparently, possible. A bank of machines (probably Forges work, judging by how ramshackle yet functional they looked) were around the bed, and he had what were probably monitoring devices attached to him.

Warlock was by his side, which came as no surprise, and Danielle and Sam standing to one side as if still trying to assess things. Roberto was noticeably absent, probably with Amara, whose attack, by Douglas (whilst under Selene’s control), had also been outlined in Sam’s report.

No one seemed to be talking, well, Warlock might be, but he often forgot to make his mouth move in time with the words he was speaking, if he remembered a mouth at all. He could tell Douglas was taking everything in though, his gaze was, slightly different somehow, barely blinking, his eyes roving everywhere; at his friends, at the machines, and most often, at Warlock, as if looking for meaning… and probably finding it, Magneto mused. Doug’s eyes finally alighted on Magneto, and he smiled as if completely unsurprised, and motioned for him to come in.

Magneto was not used to being given permission like that, he GAVE permission, but felt he could make an exception under these circumstances. He pushed his way through the door.

“I honestly never thought that I would see this day! Douglas, it is SO good to see you again.”


“Now there’s a title I haven’t held in a very long time.”

“A title still has some meaning for me, and for you too… or so I perceive.”

His speech was also different, a little more stilted, as if taking a little more time to decide which words to use. But it was still unmistakably him, and he was right too.

He gave the quirky smile that Magneto remembered, usually when about to make a truly bad joke.

“Sorry I was late, sir.”

Magneto winced slightly, he should have seen that one coming.

“You’re not late any more Douglas, but don’t let it happen again.”

“No sir.”

Magneto nodded perfunctorily, did the same to the other New Mutants (who returned the gesture), and turned away to leave, before he might lose control of his composure.

“I’ll just go and check with the medical staff about how long you’ll be in here. Then I’ll be back and we can… talk”

“Yes sir”

As he left, Magneto paused for a moment and leaned against the corridor wall. He knew that he should see the bigger picture, see the loss of life, and pain, and wasted potential that Selene had inflicted on the world, but now, just for a moment, no matter how selfish it might be, he was grateful to the Universe at large that he had had one of his lost charges return.
icon_uk: (Katie Cook Doug)
Not sure if this counts as fanfic or headcanon, but I won’t let that stop me.

Shortly after arriving at Xaviers, and discovering the extent to which he really COULD make the Danger Room do prretty much anything, Doug started a nice little sideline in customised Danger Room scenarios. Not for money, but for occasional good will gesture, surprise present or as a swap for doing chores, it came in very handy, and some of it counted towards his final exams.

Sam - Sam had a surprisingly long list of his favourite sci-fi novel environments, all neatly listed and ranked in order of desirability. Despite the fact he’d actually been to a Dyson Sphere, his favourite remained a recreation of Larry Niven’s Ringworld… Doug even threw in some Kzin and a Pierson’s Puppeteer to accompany Sam on his explorations.

Dani - Didn’t take Doug up on his offer for a long time, but after she bonded with Brightwind, discovered that even a faux Asgardian environment made Brightwind happier, so Doug was able to go wild designing some Asgardian architecture castles and plains.

Berto - Though Doug turned down a few semi-harem scenario requests, there was more than one World Cup Final which had R DaCosta as a Brazilian foreward. In one case, all the other players were allowed to mimic Sunspot powers (and the ball was indestructible), so that Berto could cut loose with his powers with a clear conscience.

As a planned Christmas present from the team, Doug designed an entire “Magnum PI” role play game specifically for Berto, so that everyone in the scenario treated him as they would Magnum himself. Due to Doug dying just before that Christmas, the rest of the team never gave it to him (planning on doing so at a less emotional time) and the program was lost the next the Mansion was trashed. it was only recently, upon his return, that Doug was able to fish a copy out of his personal archive and present it to Berto, who loved it.

Xian - Never actually asked for anything, but Doug took that as a challenge, and eventually presented her with a Vietnamese village, just a small, peaceful place that had never known the war, but one where everyone spoke Vietnamese and Xian could relax whenever she wanted. When he presented it to her, it was the one and only time that Xian ever hugged him.

Amara - Having heard so much about it in Nova Roma texts, Amara was particularly keen to see what Ancient Rome would have looked like. It’s true that Doug may have taken a few liberties, there was a LOT of Ben Hur in it, and throwing in a simulacrum of Asterix and Obelix fighting Ceasar’s Legions might have been a step too far, but Amara took it in good part (and joined in).

Illyana - As a teleporter who had her own (admittely hellish) dimension that responded to her moods, Illyana never felt the need to indulge in Danger Room fantasy worlds. She did apparently have one idea for a scenario which involved the members of three different bands, but when she whispered the details to Doug he turned an interesting colour and explained that if he wasn’t going to program Berto’s harem fantasies there was no way he was going to program Illyana’s, especially as he was pretty sure some of her ideas was both illegal AND physically impossible.

Rahne - Never took Doug up on his offer, but eventually asked that he show her how to use the Danger Room systems herself. It wasn’t until much later that he realised that she’d just wanted to spend time with him. It was some time after that, that she used what he had taught her to replay his death over and over again, trying to find a means of saving him.

Warlock - Since he was a shapeshifter and someone to whom the entire planet Earth was already a weird, fantasy-adventure playground, Doug was really stumped by what to create for Warlock; there seemed to be nothing that he could possibly create for his selffriend that he couldn’t already experience, create or be.

Recreating the Technarch homeworld was not something that Warlock would have enjoyed either, given his memories of the place being all about Magus trying to kill him from the moment of his birth.

That changed after their Douglock fusion, and Doug first saw the world through Warlock’s perceptions. He spent days prgramming and when he finally unveiled it… it appeared to be a dark, three metre long, representation of the infinity symbol, hanging in mid air, and that was it.

The team were baffled, but Warlock, on the other hand, was in raptures. His attempts to explain the sheer beauty, and complexity, and simplicity, and wonder of it, were sort of confusing to everyone. Doug explaining that it was a sort of four-dimensional fractal, mostly using wavelengths of light beyond human visual perception, and replicating various vibrational states of lifeglow, didn’t really help, but it seemed to make Warlock happy and it was his present.

Doug considered this to be his only real contribution to “art”, and the fact that only his selfsoulfriend really understood it, made it particularly special.
icon_uk: (Default)
One of the fun things about Doug Ramsey is imagining someone whose baseline background and standard reactions were entirely weirdness-free having to deal with the assorted nutjob crap that comes with being an X-Mutant and not being quite sure how to handle it.

I had a go a little while back at Kitty and Doug’s first meeting post his resurrection and her return from the space-missile-thing. And a few other ideas cropped up, conversations that we’d never seen that might be fun to visit… so here’s another one….

I’m not sold on the title yet, so might change it

One Simple Rule For Not Dating my Sort-of Surrogate Daughter-Figure

By Icon UK

A Cypher vignette

Characters – Doug Ramsey/The father figure you do NOT want to piss off

As a New Mutant, Doug had met all of the X-Men. Sure, he’d met one or two of themwhilst hanging out with Kitty in his days BM (Before Mutation) there had been a sort of formal introduction using codenames when he and Warlock had been inducted into the team, and he’d been impressed by them.

Rogue spoke cheerily enough (though his newly conscious attention to body language screamed discomfort around strangers, it was odd to see someone who was invulnerable flinch, even minutely)

Storm inspired a sort of awe that he knew the other New Mutants shared.

Nightcrawler had been somewhat disconcerting, what with the blue skin and the yellow eyes… and the fangs… and the pointy tail… and the faint scent of sulphur. However, it was safe to say the sum was a whole lot LESS scary than the sum of the parts, especially when he found out Doug already spoke flawless German… Of course, that mean Doug was already somewhat sick of Kurt popping up next to him with yet ANOTHER German knock-knock joke that no one else would get.

Colossus had been huge and imposing enough when he had merely been Piotr, aka that Russian guy that Kitty had had a serious crush on, but discovering he could turn into an even taller superstrong solid steel form put a whole new slant on potential rivalries, but he had seemed to bear Doug no obvious ill-will.

Wolverine though, had been almost impossible to read, his self-control was so complete that it was actually scarier than the rest of them put together. He had greeted Doug with a firm handshake and a nod… which remained their longest conversation to date. (Roberto had commented later that he’d been impressed Doug had put his hand out to be shaken, Logan tended not to be the tactile sort. Doug admitted he wasn’t sure he’d ever do it again)

A few weeks later Doug was heading towards the computer lab for a study session, balancing an awkward pile of printouts in his arms and a pencil between his teeth. He was a little distracted, picturing a rather vicious software problem to challenge Kitty with, knowing full well she’d have come up with an even nastier hardware problem for him. As such he more or less literally walked into Wolverine turning a corner.

He managed to pull himself back just in time, but the printouts went up in the air and scattered in sitcom fashion.

He stooped to pick them up, and to his surprise, Logan assisted.

“Sorry Mr Logan!”

Logan looked down “You okay kid?”

“Sure Mr Logan”

“Just Logan will do”

“Ummm… if it’s all the same to you, I’ll stick with Mr Logan”

Logan snorted but didn’t pursue the matter. He bent down to pick up another piece of paper.

“So I hear that you and Kitty broke up.”

Well, that was brutally direct…

“Well…. not so much broken up as agreed not to take things any further and stay friends.”

“How you feel about that?”

That was even more brutally direct.. he wasn’t sure quite how to respond.


“That the truth?”


Wolverine cocked an eyebrow at him. “In my experience, when you answer a question like that with a question, you usually ain’t answered the question.”

Doug decided that lying to Wolverine would be a bad, if short, habit to get into.

“The truth? Okay, it SUCKS!”

Where had THAT come from? Still, no point stopping now.

“I wish she had wanted to take things further, I know I did. I put my heart out there and she said no. She was nice about it and all, I guess, but it’s not what anyone who says what I said wants to hear.”

Doug was a little surprised that he’d said all that, but then again, no one else had asked.


“And we were good friends before, and we’re good friends now and that makes both of us happy enough. Do I wish we were something more? Sure… but she doesn’t. And if it wouldn’t have made her happy, why would I want to go down that path? And I’m a lucky guy to have Kitty as a friend.”

Logan said nothing for several seconds.

“Good answer“ he said, and walked away.

Leaning against the corridor wall and letting out a long breath to release tension he didn’t even know he’d been feeling, Doug replayed the conversation in his head. He knew Logan was more than slightly protective of Kitty, and wondered what would have happened if he had answered any other way. He had obviously passed a test and had received something akin to a compliment from Wolverine.

It was only MUCH later he wondered about the odds of someone with Wolverine’s assorted super sensitive senses “accidentally” walking into someone like that. He got the feeling it would be a good thing if he pretended that that notion had never occurred to him.
icon_uk: (Default)
It was many years before he stopped judging a world by it's humidity, and what it's air tasted like. Definitely the signs of someone who had grown up scraping a living on a moisture farm.

The air of Tattooine was all he'd known for nearly 20 years. It tasted hot and dry for most of the year, hot and slightly, vaguely, damp during Harvesst.

Even after Second Set the air never really cooled, and he'd never been able to afford to go anywhere which had REAL air cooling.

He could never judge Tattooine harshly for that though, it was his baseline awareness for most of his life.

The air on the Millenium Falcon, his first ever closed enviroment spacecraft, had tasted of recycled... something... something with a lot of fur that didn't shower often... He was never sure if that was Chewie or Han and never dared ask.

The air on the Death Star was cold, and clinical and tasted of industrial cleanser. He never wanted to recall that taste.

The air of Yavin 4 was unlike anything he had ever known; The humidity had struck him like a brick wall as soon as he had walked down the Falcons ramp. His first reaction had been what a marvellous moisture harvest Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru could have had here, and that made him sad for a time. The planet had been incredibly beautiful, but the memory of that first thought always saddened him.

Hoth had been cold... absolute cold. He'd never known cold before, not in the air itself. It was exhilarating, feeling it burn his nostrils with unrelenting cold. Cold was all he ever remembered from that place, that and the lingering scent/taste of Bacta.

Dagobah had made Yavin 4 seem like Tattooine by comparison. The humidity was all but visible here, and the smell of swamp haunted him for months.

Until the Forest Moon of Endor he'd never known a place could SMELL green. The trees of the endless forests, all that strange alien green-ness. He'd seen pictures of course, but nothing could prepare a desert dweller for expanses of greenery that covered entire continents.

It was there he'd seen his first real river, fresh water just cascading along the ground. It had struck him as somehow wrong.. wasteful. Another sign of his upbringing. he thought with a smile.

He wondered when he'd get to visit an ocean world, there were many of them apparently, but the Rebellion had never had a base on one. He was determined to see an ocean, to see more water than his family could harvest in a year wash up on a beach in less than a handful of seconds.

And after that... who knew?
icon_uk: (Default)

Dangit, now I HAD to set one at the grave. Thanks for that nobiliorpomis!

“Look Sheila, there’s another one here.”

“Oh Phillip, they’re beautiful, but so.. strange looking.”

“I think it must be a friend from Xavier’s school who leaves them here.”

“Must be. I know Doug liked computers, but to make flowers out of … circuit boards and wire I think… Why?”

“Maybe they remind them of him. I think it’s rather a nice notion. They’ll never wither or fade.”

From the branches of a nearby tree, a blackbird with a glint of gold tracing it’s wings, watched silently as his selfsoulfriend’s parents departed, leaning on each other. Warlock was pleased someone understood.

icon_uk: (Default)
I’ve never tried a drabble before… it’s a challenging format (and I blame this post… it was going to be set at the graveside, but I changed my mind)

“Again, Sam?”

“Yep Bobby, he’s gone up there every night… then makes that sound.”

“He’s singing lullabies.”

“You sure Dani? Doesn’t sound like any lullaby I know. More like a modem.”

"I asked him. He’s singing in binary. It’s a thing… they used to do.”

“Strange, but it’s… haunting.”

Up on the roof, Warlock reabsorbed the transmitter, and marked off the latest coordinates. He’d try again tomorrow night.

He’d never know if his songs reached their target, but that wasn’t the point. He didn’t want his selfsoulfriend to be lonely, wherever he was. No one should be lonely at night.
icon_uk: (Default)

By Icon UK

Characters – Doug Ramsey/Kitty Pryde

One of the worst moments after his… well, “return” wasn’t really apt, but the English language hadn’t yet devised a word for what had happened to him without using terms associated with religious icons, was when Doug discovered what Kitty wasn’t there any more.

The horrible irony of having managed to come back from the dead, only you find one of your best friends had apparently died in deep space in the meantime was not lost on him.

He still hadn’t contacted his parents yet, and Rahne was a whole different issue, but had hoped that Kitty Pryde, the original other half of the original “Team Supreme” would be there to talk things through with him as they had always been there for each other. He knew she’d stayed in touch with his parents via Christmas cards and the like. Well, she had up until her own… departure.

Now Kitty was back, though stuck in phased form and apparently unable to speak. Which left him the slight issue of what to say. What DO you say to someone who you last saw shortly before you died? Even Hallmark didn’t have a card for that… or did they? He resolved to check it out. The X-Men could have made that a profitable sideline all by themselves.

He ran through some possibilities. He could say something in Shi’Ar… (She liked Shi’Ar, had always said it sounded like birdsong, but had she ever learned it herself?) Hebrew? (She could speak that, but as he was about as Jewish as a pork sausage it might be seen as tacky, or trying too hard to impress). He couldn’t, as he had with Amara, devise a private language for the two of them, since he hadn’t spoken to her yet, and even his somewhat amplified powers needed more than that to work with.

Okay then English it was. (The fact he was relieved by such a simple decision told him how stressed he was about this)

And what should his approach be? Play it cool, just casually walk in as if nothing had happened since the last time he’d seen her, years before. He could feel himself rocking backwards and forwards on his heels just waiting, so doubted his body language would sell that for any length of time. Plus there was the whole “Douglock” thing to get over between them. It hadn’t been Warlock’s fault Lord knows, he hadn’t known, but it would certainly put an odd spin on things between the two of them…

He didn’t want to seem TOO eager either, that would put them both in a very weird place.

The door to the Med Lab opened and he caught his first sight of her. She was floating in some sort of huge aquarium-like tank (his inner geek made a connection to Luke Skywalker in the bacta tank, but she was, thankfully, wearing more clothing) drifting in mid air with her eyes closed. He could tell she wasn’t in REM, but was just relaxing.

Well, that sort of sorted out the problem of his entrance. He walked through the doors before they could shut. He HAD to make first contact now (He made a mental note that he still had to watch that movie. It’s be nice to see Picard and the crew again, but the Borg always gave Warlock nightmares, so maybe not on their usual movie night)

Kitty’s eyes opened as if she were coming out of a doze. She caught sight of him and her eyes widened in shock.

He couldn’t think what else to do, his mouth went dry and his brain emptied. He reacted purely on impulse; He gave her a little wave.

Her expression didn’t change, but she gave a little wave back.

He pointed towards himself, and gave her the thumbs-up. He pointed towards her, gave a querying look, made the thumbs-up again, then thumbs-down, and then a little hand wiggling “so-so” gesture as an alternative option.

She made a face as she thought it over then gave the thumbs-up back.

He grinned.

She smiled.

What more needed to be said?

icon_uk: (Default)
I've been re-reading, as is my wont, Robert Aspirin's Myth books, and most recently "Class Dis-Mythed" where the magician Skeeve the Magnificent (Don't believe the hype, he doesn't) finds himself training some rather rebellious pupils.

His old employer Don Bruce (A Fairy Godfather... in every sense of the term, as his lavender pinstripe suit, Damon Runyons style mannerisms will attest) drops in to see him, and they chat, and then there follows one of my favourite examinations ever of power, it's application and what real power MEANS.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

I was in my room brooding when a knock came at the door.


"Can it wait, Bunny?" I asked, recognizing her voice. "I'd kind of like to be alone for a while."

"We've got a visitor," came the reply. "It's my uncle. He'd like to say hello."

That was different. Aside from liking him as a person, I was well aware that her uncle was not someone you would ever want to ignore or offend.

"On the way," I called, and started for the door.

Even if I hadn't been forewarned, there was no mistaking the short, heavyset figure sitting at the dining room table. If nothing else, his trademark lavender suit was a dead giveaway.

"Don Bruce!" I said as I approached, then hesitated. As long as we had known each other, I wasn't sure what a properly respectful greeting should be.

I needn't have worried.

"Skeeve!" he crowed, popping to his feet and sweeping me into a massive hug. "How's the old pizano? How's the retirement goin'?"

"Okay, I guess," I said. "How are things with you?"

I had hoped to keep things light, but Don Bruce hadn't gotten where he was by missing things.

"Just 'okay'?" he asked, cocking his head and peering at me. "This wouldn't have anything to do with these students that Bunny's been tellin' me about, would it?"

I shot a dark glance at Bunny. While Don Bruce had been nice enough about my retiring, he had also made no secret of the fact that he wanted me back working for the Mob. As such, I wasn't wild about the fact that Bunny had let him know that I was working again, even if it was just as a teacher.

"Well, yes," I admitted. "This teaching thing is turning out to be harder than I thought."

"The kids givin' you grief?" he asked sympathetically. "Grab some wine and tell me about it."

To my surprise, I found myself pouring out my disappointment with how the class was going. Particularly, how unhappy I was with my own inability to control the bickering and backbiting among the students. I had never really chatted with Don Bruce before other than in a business context, and it was nice to unload my worries on someone who wasn't directly involved in the proceedings. He listened intently, nodding and making occasional sympathetic noises, until I finally wound down.

"I think maybe I can give you a little hand with that," he said when I was done. "Would it be okay with you if I had a word or two with these hotshot students of yours?"

That caught me flat footed.

"Um, sure, Don Bruce," I said. "If you think you can spare the time, that is."

Again, he noticed my hesitation.

"Whatzamatter?" he growled. "Don't you think I'm up to it?"

"No! It's not that at all," I said hastily. "It's just that these kids are kinda mouthy and, well, I'm not sure they'll react to you with the level of respect you're due and are used to."

Don Bruce threw back his head and laughed.

"You hear that, Bunny?" he said. "You wonder why I love this guy? I want to give him a hand and all he worries about is that my feelings might get hurt."

He leveled a pair of hard eyes on me, all trace of laughter gone.

"Just get 'em down here," he said. "Let me worry about how respectful they are."

I looked at Bunny and shrugged.

"Roust the students," I said. "Tell them we have a surprise guest lecturer."

By the time the class was assembled around the table, Don Bruce and I were standing against the wall, conversing in low tones. I was asking him about what he thought would be an appropriate introduction, while he kept insisting that I keep my comments to a bare minimum and let him handle the rest. That sounded vaguely ominous to me, but I had little choice but to go along with him.

As I turned to the group, my heart sank. The three Pervects had their heads together, giggling as they shot glances at Don Bruce, and Melvine was leaning back with his arms crossed with an "impress me" expression on his face, and Tolk was chewing at an itch on his foot. In fact, the only one who looked remotely attentive was Bee, who was watching Don Bruce with a thoughtful, puzzled expression.

"All right, class," I said, raising my voice, "I apologize for the short notice, but I didn't know this speaker would be available until he dropped in for a visit. This is Bunny's uncle, a successful businessman here on Klah, and he's offered to share his insights with us on operating in the real world."

I nodded to Don Bruce and stepped back, mentally crossing my fingers.

He stepped up to the table and took a drink of wine before starting.

There was a titter of laughter from the Pervects.

"Yes, ladies?" he asked, looking directly at them. "Was there something you wanted to ask before I started?"

"I was just wondering where you got your outfit," Jinetta said with a grin.

"Yes," Pologne added. "Do you always dress like this, or is this special for our class?"

This set the three of them to giggling again.

"I dress this way because I want to," Don Bruce said calmly after the giggles had subsided. "When you reach a given level in the real world, you get to do that. In my mind, it's better than dressing to blend with or imitate any given group, or to rebel against an established norm."

"Exactly what line of magik are you in?" Melvine asked, a note of skeptical challenge in his voice.

"I don't dabble in it myself," came the response. "When necessary, I hire it done."

"Then why should we listen—" Melvine began then seemed to think better of it. "Then exactly what kind of business are you in?"

"You might say I head a little family business," Don Bruce said with a tight smile. "Actually, it's not so little. More like what you would call a mob."

There was a moment's silence as the class exchanged glances.

"Excuse me," Melvine said, his tone cautious. "Are we talking about organized crime here?"

"Maybe that's what it's called from the outside," the Don said. "When you see it close up, like from the inside, it ain't really all that organized."

"Um, sir?" Bee said, holding up a cautious hand. "Would your name by any chance be Don Bruce?"

"Guilty as charged," the Don said with a nod, then he winked at me. "That's something you won't hear me say very often."

My students were murmuring back and forth, their tone and manner noticeably more subdued.

"Now then," Don Bruce said, returning his attention to the class, "I believe you were about to ask why you should listen to me. Before I answer that, let me ask all of you a question. Why did you all want to study under Skeeve here?"

That took everyone aback. For a moment, no one spoke. Then they all tried to talk at once.

"My aunt told me—"

"Well, I heard—"

"Everyone knows—"

Don Bruce silenced them all with a wave of his hand.

"Let's start at the top," he said. "Mostly, each of you wants to increase his or her value on the job market. Right?"

There was a round of nods from the class.

"To my thinking," he continued, "what that actually breaks down to is the acquisition and use of power."

The nods were slower, and Bee raised his hand.

"Um, not to disagree, sir," he said, "but I just want to help people. I thought that studying under Skeeve would help me to do that better."

"Good answer," the Don nodded. "Very admirable. But you don't see many weak or poor people helping others, no matter how nice they may be as people. To help others, you have to be in a position to be able to help, and that gets back to what I was saying, acquiring and using power. See what I mean?"

"I—I think so," Bee said hesitantly.

"Now, this all gets back to why you should listen to me," Don Bruce said. "I may not be a magician but, as a businessman, one thing I have to know is how to acquire and use power. The problem with young folks like you, with the possible exception of the young gentleman here and the furry guy sitting next to him, is that you wouldn't know power if it bit you on the leg."

He turned his attention back to Bee.

"I couldn't help but notice that you seemed to recognize me or my name. Can I ask if I'm right?"

"Yes, sir," Bee said. "I was in the army with Swatter— Guido—and he often mentioned you with the greatest respect. Just like he mentioned Skeeve."

"The army, eh?" the Don smiled. "I thought you showed more sense than normally comes out of a book. For the record, I have the highest regard for Guido. I only wish he was here to help me make my next point."

"Um, if I may, sir. If it will help—"

Bee closed his eyes in concentration, and suddenly Guido was sitting there in his place.

"Hey! That's pretty good," Don Bruce said then turned to me. "What is that? Some kind of transfer spell?"

"It's just a disguise spell," I said. "It's actually still Bee sitting there."

"Well, it'll do for the moment." He went back to addressing the class.

"Now, my question to you is this: Look at Guido here, then look at me. Then tell me which of us you would least like to have angry with you."

It really wasn't much of a choice.

"Guido," Melvine said. "No offense, sir, but he's a lot bigger."

The rest of the class nodded their agreement.

"Uh huh," the Don said. "Guido is not only big, he's one of the best, if not the best, at what he does—which is to say, controlled violence.

"Thank you—Bee, is it? The point is made."

There was a shimmering in the air, and Bee was back.

"Now, you all made the obvious, expected choice. Unfortunately, you're all wrong."

He smiled at the frowns around him.

"Guido is big and strong, and I'd never disrespect him," he said. "The truth of the matter, though, is that I have over a hundred like him working for me. All of them specialists in controlled violence. If Guido gets mad at you, you have to deal with Guido. If I get mad at you, you can have the whole pack of 'em down on your neck. Are you starting to see what I mean about power?"

The class was murmuring back and forth again, but they were also watching Don Bruce with a new level of respect.

"The key word in what I was saying," the Don continued, "is control. Guido doesn't walk around randomly pounding on people. He knows how much power he has and the repercussions if he misuses it. He's not a bully looking for a chance to show off. He's effective and only uses as much power as is necessary for the situation. Technically, I have more power at my disposal than Guido has. That means I have to be that much more careful about how and when I use it."

He leaned back and smiled.

"All of that brings us back to why you're studying under Skeeve. Now, if I understand it right, most of you were recommended to him or heard about his reputation. I'm willing to bet that you were all a little disappointed when you actually met him because he isn't flashier or more impressive. That's because most of you are still young and tend to look at the surface, just like you were more afraid of Guido than of me."

All of a sudden, he wasn't smiling.

"Well, I'm not young and impressionable. I've been around for a long time and earned my position against some tough competition in conditions where, if you make a mistake, you don't get a bad grade or expelled from class, you get dead. Based on long, hard experience, I'll tell you here and now that your teacher, Skeeve, is one of the most powerful men I've ever dealt with. What's more, I don't think there's anyone that I admire and respect more."

He looked at me and gave a slow nod with his head in salute.

Startled as I was by his declaration, the only thing I could • do was return his nod with equal dignity.

He turned his attention back to the class.

"You might want to hear a little of how he built that reputation. Since he's not likely to tell you himself, let me fill you in on few of the highlights.

"When I first met Skeeve, he was the Court Magical for Possiltum. At that time, he had just backed off the largest, best-led army this dimension had ever seen. What's more, he did it with only a Troll, a Trollop, a Pervect, an Imp, a Gargoyle, a salamander, and an Archer to help him."

"Gleep was there, too," I said.

"I stand corrected. And a baby dragon. Even so, that's fairly impressive odds by anybody's books. As I was saying, when I met him, he was standing in for the king, who had taken it on the lam to get out of a marriage. If Skeeve had wanted to, he could have stayed and run the kingdom from then on. Instead, he straightened the mess out and moved to the Bazaar at Deva, where the Chamber of Commerce hired him for their Magician in Residence.

"On the side, he and a few of his friends challenged the two champion teams on Jahk to the Big Game and beat them out of their own trophy. Then there was the time that his partner, Aahz, was in jail in the dimension Blut—that's the one with vampires and werewolves—and Skeeve had to bust him out and prove his innocence."

That one got a reaction from the class. I had told them I would be sending them to Blut on a field exercise, but I had deliberately neglected to mention to them how I happened to be familiar with the place.

"One bit you ladies might find interesting was the time that Aahz resigned from M.YT.H., Inc. and Skeeve here went to Perv all by himself to convince him to come back. I'm still gathering information as to exactly how he pulled that one off and came back intact."

The three Pervects were eyeing me now with thoughtful expressions. I was glad Don Bruce had either failed to find out or chosen to omit mentioning how that little escapade got me deported from Perv as an undesirable.

"Now, you might think that all that would be enough to build a reputation for anyone. Well, it might, but in Skeeve's case, it's only the tip of the iceberg. Where his real reputation comes from is that he's a true gentleman.

"I said at the beginning that I was telling you all this because he won't. That ain't his style. He don't brag or bluster or swagger. What's more, he don't throw his weight around unless it's absolutely necessary. He don't have to. His track record speaks for itself. More important, Skeeve genuinely likes people. He's polite and respectful to everybody including his enemies, whether they're strong enough to hurt him or not. If you don't believe me, ask around.

"You've all met Massha? Well, when they first met, they were opposite sides of a caper—specifically, that Big Game on Jahk I was telling you about. Afterward, not only did he accept her as an apprentice, he set her up to replace him as the Court Magician at Possiltum. And my niece, Bunny. She had it in her head that she wanted to be a mob Moll, so I sent her to Skeeve as a bit of a test for both of them. As it turns out, he won't let her be a floozie. Instead, she ends up using all the financial training she got at school to straighten out the kingdom's books for Possiltum, and now she's got a rep of her own as a financier and negotiator. As a matter of fact, there's at least one bank in Perv that's been trying to hire her away from Skeeve for years, but she won't budge."

This was the first I had heard about it. I glanced at Bunny, but she was smiling at the class and nodding.

"That's the kind of reputation Skeeve has. Everybody respects him. He earns the kind of loyalty from his friends and associates that money can't buy."

He looked around one more time and rose to his feet.

"Well, I've been ranting here for a long while, and I'll be on my way. Just one last thing, though. Remember when I said I was more powerful that Guido? Well I'll tell you here and now that your teacher, Skeeve, is more powerful than I am. Of everyone I've met or worked with, he's at the top of my list to turn the Mob over to when I retire. Think about that the next time you want to mouth off about how your professors or friends know more than he does."

With that, he waved at Bunny and me and left.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
icon_uk: (Doug)
In honour of Cypher's return to active duty in this weeks issue of "New Mutants", here's an old fanfic of mine from many years ago. It's been published before, but not in a long while...

A New Mutant fanfic by Icon_UK

No permission has been given, no offence has been intended.

This story is set shortly after the first Legion story and the events of NM Annual #1.

+ + + + +


The New Mutants gathered around their prospective team-mate in the
corridor outside the Danger Room.

"Don't worry, Doug -- the Professor will take it easy on you your first
time through, I'm sure of it... Unless, of course, the safety locks are
disabled, or there's been some sort of malfunction. That's happened a
couple of times, y'know, and then things can get really hairy... One time
one of the monsters almost pulled Cyclops apart and if my brother hadn't
been there to intercept the missiles then..."

"Errr... Thanks, Illyana, but I'm not sure I can take much more of your

"Oh, stop teasing, Illyana, they were just flesh wounds! Just remember,
Doug, the only thing that might get wounded here is your pride."

"Dani, my pride is about the only thing stopping me from running off down
the corridor back to the locker rooms. I can't afford for it to be

"Well, if you can't handle it, Doug, you just need to say so." As was
often the case, there was an undertone to Bobby DaCosta's words which
sounded like he was spoiling for an argument, even when he was really
being sincere. Just in case, Sam Guthrie swatted him on the head.

"Pipe down Bobby. Come on, Doug, just have a bit of confidence and do your
best. The Professor never asks for more than that. We know you can do it."

With assorted final reassuring waves and thumbs up, the team sped off up
to the Observation Booth to get a better view.

Left alone, Doug fingered the collar of his new uniform as if it were
about to strangle him. He wasn't yet sure about the whole long underwear,
gloves and knee boots look, and felt very self-conscious (It had looked a
whole lot better on him in his astral body). It wasn't as if he had much
to show off, physique-wise. However, if spandex was what it took to be
on this team, then it was a small price to pay, provided, of course,
that none of his old schoolmates ever saw him... or his parents... or,
basically, anyone he'd ever met.

As the heavy doors swung open, Doug squared his shoulders, took a deep
breath, and walked into the Danger Room. In its inactive state it looked
like nothing so much as a vast bank vault: a huge chamber lined with dull
grey metal. Only the numerous cracks and lines in the walls gave any clue
as to where doors and hatches might be concealed.

He looked up to where he knew the viewing window was and could see the
rest of the team, as well as Kitty Pryde and the Professor seated at the
console. Kitty gave him a cheery thumbs up and waved what looked like a
large box of popcorn in his direction.

He smiled wanly in return. "Oh this just gets better!" he thought. "My
first time out and she treats it like a night at the movies!"

The Professor's telepathic voice, however, was calm and reassuring.

--The task is simple, Douglas, all you have to do is make it across the
Danger Room floor and press the red button visible on the far wall. This
will deactivate the program. I'm starting you on a Level One program, as
I do all my students.--

Doug still felt somewhat uncomfortable trying to broadcast his thoughts,
and spoke aloud to make sure he was saying what he meant. "Okay, Professor.
Give it your best shot."


The Professor and Kitty were running through the warm-up sequence on the
Danger Room systems. He telepathed again, this time on a personal mode
that no-one else could hear: --Douglas, I just want to reassure you once
again that your place in this school does not depend on the outcome of
this exercise. You can always withdraw at any time, with no shame or

Doug caught the eye of Bobby DaCosta and decided that he'd sooner chew
glass than back down. This time he did form his reply only in his mind.

--Professor, I'm wearing my underwear over my pants already, how much more
embarrassing can it get? I don't just want to be a student, I want to be
on the team.--

--Very well, prepare yourself, and good luck.--

Sam glanced over at Dani, then directed an intimate-mode thought at
Professor Xavier. --Ah have to say, Professor, are you sure we should be
doin' this?--

The reply reached Dani as well. --To be honest, Samuel, no, I am not, but
Douglas thinks he is ready, and I won't deny him the chance to find out.
For all his recent experiences with us, I am not prepared to risk him in
the more... outre situations our lifestyle often lends itself to. At least
not until I am sure that he can look after himself. Though it would be an
unusual circumstance, I am happy to take him on as a student regardless of
the outcome, but he may not become an active member of the New Mutants
until I have had a better chance to gauge his resourcefulness. The Danger
Room is a tried and tested means of determining that suitability.--

Behind them, the rest of the Mutants were discussing the odds of Doug's

"Ten bucks says he won't make it."

"'Berto! Huv'ye no shame? Nae just gambling, but against a friend!"

'Berto grinned somewhat smugly. "You should know by now that I'm never
ashamed of anything I do, Rahne. Doug's got guts, no doubt about it, but
let's be realistic here. He doesn't stand a chance and we all know it. None of us
made it through on our first run, remember? And we had physical powers to
help us. If he gets further than ten yards, it'll be a miracle."

Dani spoke up. "Excuse me, Bobby, but I managed to make it through the
Danger Room, and my power is as psychic as Doug's."

"Well, yes, Dani but you're... different, aren't you?"

"Oh really?" Somehow Bobby missed the landmine quality of Dani's sweetly
innocent tone. "Different from...? What, Bobby? ...most girls? ...physical

"Well, from most..." Bobby finally noticed the looks he was getting from
his team-mates (who were assuming that Bobby had spontaneously developed
a death-wish) and realised not only what he was saying, but who he was
saying it to. "Well, never mind. I still bet he won't make it."

Kitty turned her head to join in the conversation. "I'll take you up on
that, Bobby. I've known Doug longer than you and he might just surprise
you. In fact, how about we spice it up a bit? Ten dollars for the first
ten yards, then ten more for every yard past that."

"And if he doesn't make it to ten yards?"

"Then... I take your turn at cleaning duties for the next week."

"You're on, Pryde. Consider it a bet."

Kitty caught the Professor's gaze boring into her, clearly not happy
about the betting. She shrugged her best "What can I do?" look at him.

"I'll take you up on it too, for the sake of 'non-physical' mutants

"Fine, Dani, I can always do with more women carrying out my chores."
Bobby didn't even try to dodge Illyana's mock-serious punch on the arm.

"Well, it ain't going to be just women then, Bobby, Ah'm in too."

"Sam?" Bobby was starting to look worried now; was there something going
on here he didn't know about?

"Just a gut feelin' Ah'm gettin'. An' if Kitty and Dani have it too, Ah'm
not going to argue with it."

"I never bet, 'Berto, but I want ye to ken that, if I did, I would."

Amara and Illyana just exchanged glances and kept quiet.

The Professor now seemed satisfied with the readings in front of him and
spoke into the microphone. "Beginning Danger Room training sequence Ramsey


Doug watched warily as several androids emerged from a hatch in the side
of the Danger Room. Level one drones, humanoid in size and weight. Though
made out of a dull grey metal and limited to normal human parameters of
strength and speed, they still looked quite formidable. Clearly the
Professor wanted to either put him off, or stop him with minimum force.
Though he knew that they would be programmed not to cause him injury, any
one of them looked more than capable of stopping him.

Taking a few deep breaths, Doug started a running monologue with himself;
"So I'm not even worth a few holograms to make them look like real people?
Okay, I can deal with this... Concentrate Ramsey... You've been to a Dyson
sphere, you've tackled aliens, you've even been inside the head of a guy
with multiple personalities, you can cope with a few androids!"

He paused for a second. "All right, so the sphere freaked you out, the
aliens whupped your butt, and you found yourself getting in touch with
another guy's feminine side... Okay, note to me: devise new pep talk! Come
on, then, you metal maniacs, you're not just dealing with any old mutant,
you're dealing with a New Mutant."

The androids had positioned themselves between him and the switch, either
alone or in groups of two or three. He moved towards the nearest android.
It moved to block him, and he raised his arms in a placating manner.

"Look, I don't mean you any harm, I just want to get past, please. Can we
just talk about this or something?"

"He actually said 'please'? To an android?" Bobby was grinning broadly.

The Professor nodded approvingly. "Indeed, and I'm delighted to see he
did. Trying a non-combative approach to such a situation is a commendable
idea. The last student of mine to try that approach was... Nightcrawler,
I believe."

The first android lowered its arms and silently gestured Doug past. He
edged past it warily.

In the booth the Mutants gaped at what had happened. "I believe in
rewarding the non-violent approach," said the Professor simply.

The second android seemed to have other ideas as it didn't react to Doug's
repeated question.

"...the first time at any rate," finished the Professor.


This android was reaching out to grab him across the shoulders.

"Okay, so 'please' isn't the magic word with this guy." Doug ducked,
feinted left and then dived right before the android could turn to block
him again. As soon as he was past it, it froze in position.

The next android, learning from the previous one, didn't fall for the
feint, so Doug dropped and dove through its legs, only just managing to
squeeze through before it reached down to grab him.

The next one wouldn't let him dodge past, so he grabbed it by the "wrist"
and twisted it round, pushing it away before it could grab hold of him. It
was the closest thing to judo he knew, but it worked! The android stumbled
away and he jumped past it, freezing it in place. The next one he punched
in the jaw. Though the head unit was designed to give slightly rather than
just bruise his hand, there was still a satisfying "clang" as he made
contact, enough to be heard, not enough to bruise his fist too badly.

The next one he barrelled straight into, gauging what seemed to be the best
spot to push it over. He almost got it right, but it staggered rather than
collapsed, and managed to snag his ankle. He twisted and kicked, but it
wasn't going to give way to simple human strength. As he had passed it, it
was frozen too, but the grip seemed immovable.


"Oooh, too bad for the new kid, that can't be more than about what... eight
yards in? Goodbye, dishpan hands, hello, three weeks of easy living."

Kitty raised an eyebrow. "Don't speak so soon, Bobby. It ain't over until
the Blob sings in drag."

"The what??"

"Sorry, Brotherhood of Evil Mutants joke. X-Men humour."


Doug knew that he wouldn't able to break free unaided. Time for Plan B,
then. Well it was actually Plan A, but he had wanted to see how far he
could get unassisted. He thought his performance had been credible, he'd
got past three (and a half, sort of) of the androids on his own, but now
it was time for the real games to begin.

Doug spoke out loud: "Danger Room, accept command 'Kobayashi Maru.'
Authorisation: Cypher." A bit Trekkie perhaps, but what the heck. This
should make the rest of the Mutants' eyes pop out.

In the Observation Booth the Professor's eyes narrowed as he watched the
read-outs in front of him. Kitty's reaction was very similar, but seemed
less surprised. Both stabbed at several controls in front of them with no
apparent effect.

"Douglas! There seems to be some problem with the Danger Room systems, I'm
trying to shut it down, stay where you are. I'll send Cannonball down to
pick you up."

"It's okay, Professor, I've just taken charge a little."

"You mean this is your doing?"

"Sure is, Professor. I'll explain after the test."


Suspiciously, the Professor tried his control panels again.

"What's up, Professor?"

"I'm not sure how, Samuel, but somehow Douglas has locked me out of the
controls for the entire Danger Room."

"Is he in any danger? Other than from the maurauding androids, of course."

"I don't think so, Danielle. This isn't an accident, he seems to have
planned it somehow. Bearing that in mind, I think we should see how it
develops. On the other hand, it wouldn't hurt to be ready in case of
overconfidence. Magma and Shadowcat: run interference. Cannonball: you're
on retrieval." The three students nodded.


Doug called aloud "Command: Wolfsbane" to no-one in particular. Suddenly
his appearance started to alter; claws sprouted from his fingers, and fur
grew over his elongating hands and a face that was swiftly becoming more
of a snout. Bringing his... well "paw" was the best word, up to his face,
Doug took a brief movement to marvel at the effectiveness of the
interactive holograms. He felt no different, but the outside world would
see a very different Doug Ramsey now.

He slashed out with his 'claws' at the android's hand clamped around his
ankle and it popped open. Another raking slash and its head appeared to
be hanging at an odd angle.

Really getting into it, Doug sort-of-loped towards the next two androids
and snarled. As he had not thought to include a voice-changing subroutine,
it was not as impressive as it might have been, but overall he thought his
impression of a snarling wolf-boy was pretty effective.


The Mutants were staring at the scene with mouths hanging open.

"Professor, how is Douglas doing this, his power isn't copying other
people's powers, is it? I thought he said he could just learn new
languages quickly."

"His power is based on languages, Amara, but it also makes him
extraordinarily gifted with computers, which I think we are now seeing a
rather unorthodox demonstration of. I believe he's using the holographic
interfaces to change his appearance and apparent abilities. How he is
accessing them is another matter."

There was the sound of barely stifled laughter from beside him as Kitty
watched the proceedings below. "Well, I _did_ warn you not to underestimate
him." She offered the popcorn box around, and Sam grabbed a handful without
taking his eyes off the scene below.

Meanwhile, Rahne was having a momentary impression of what others must see
when faced with her wolf form and made a small whimpering sound at the
back of her throat as she huddled closer to Dani.

"Dani? Am I really that scary lookin'?"

"You? Nah! You're a lot more cute-little-puppy-like. However he's doing
this, Doug's been watching way too many Lon Chaney films. He looks much
scarier than you ever do." Privately, Dani thought that Doug had got it
just about right, but saw no need to frighten Rahne.


The next androids had spontaneously developed a much shinier appearance,
and wolf-Doug's claws just skittered across them, barely leaving a mark.
Their reaction time was increasing too, which meant it was time to switch

"Reset. Command: Mirage." Doug's appearance returned to normal. He'd
thought about adding in a headband and suede boots for this part of the
program, but had decided against it on the grounds of both taste and
Dani's likely reaction to someone making fun of her, even if it was meant

Doug advanced on the next group of three androids, put one hand on his
forehead and made rather hammy finger-wiggling gestures with the other
hand. In front of him appeared a pink-tinged hologram, much like Dani's
thought projections, this one looking like a giant electric can-opener.

The three androids back-pedalled furiously. One tripped over itself, one
swooned dramatically and the last one curled up into a close approximation
of a foetal position.

One attempted to rush him from the side, but retreated at the sudden
appearance of the Microsoft logo floating in front of it.


Kitty cheered out loud at that one.

"I'm going to kill him for this!" promised Dani, though she was laughing
as hard of the rest of them.

As their original numbers were being thinned out, more androids emerged
from the recesses of the Danger Room.

Sam's accent was getting stronger, a sure sign of worry. "We're moving
into a Level Two sequence. Those androids'll be stronger than normal
humans, won't they, and react faster?"

"Indeed, Douglas passed the Level One sequence I had established, so it
is automatically upgrading the threat parameter. He seems to be remaining
true to the spirit of the program -- in his own way, admittedly". The
Professor sounded almost pleased about that.


Doug only just managed to avoid falling into a trapdoor that suddenly
swung open in the floor. He would have fallen right in if he'd even been
jogging. But he knew enough about the Danger Room to test every footstep

However, he was unable to avoid the two large padded slabs that slammed
out from the wall on pneumatic pistons as he backed away from the gaping
hole. He was caught firmly between them in what he was sure was a
hideously embarrassing position, one arm and a leg sticking out from what
was basically two large mattresses.

Wedged inside, Doug shouted again "Reset. Command: Sunspot". It was rather
muffled considering his position, but, as he was still able to breathe
normally, he was counting on the padding to be sound-permeable.

Those in the Booth could see the visible yellow glove and boot suddenly
turn jet black, dark energy crackling around them. With a creaking noise,
the two slabs were forced apart by a shadowy shape within.

As he dived out it was clear that Doug had assumed yet another persona. He
now resembled nothing so much as the silhouette form of Sunspot, though
the outline was still his own.


Kitty heard a barely intelligible mumbling coming from Sunspot's general
direction, and was rather glad she didn't speak Portugese. She'd ask Doug
to translate it later -- she'd know how bad it was from how deeply he


Meanwhile, Doug grabbed the two nearest androids and slammed them into
each other. Then one attacked from behind, pinning his arms to sides.
Swinging around so the pit was behind him, he shrugged free almost without
effort, and elbowed it in the guts. The android was sent flying backwards
down the still open trapdoor. Sensing a humanoid body passing by, the
trapdoor snapped shut.

With a casual backhanded swat he sent the next android flying through the

"Hey, you guys, I could get used to this! I can see why 'Berto gets off on
it so much."

Now from the floor behind Doug animated cables emerged, and they swiftly
wrapped themselves around him until he was barely visible. They strained
a little as he stretched them, but they had enough give to trap him

From inside the cable cocoon, a muffled voice could just be heard.
"Darn... I was enjoying that... Reset. Command: Magma." The cocoon lit up
with a warm red and yellow light from inside.

The coils around Doug flowed like candle-wax and he stepped free without
hindrance. He was glowing all over in a familiar red and yellow pattern
and fire flared around his head.


"Hey, it looks like it's your turn, Amara! Goodbye Doug-spot, hello,

"Indeed, Roberto. I had no idea my other form was that... imposing

"It looks way better on you though, Amara."

"Why thank you, Sam."


Doug pointed dramatically and a lava bolt shot out of his hand, striking
the next wave of androids, who also seemed to melt into slag.

He moved forward again but found that his heat blasts had no effect on the
next wave. The androids were adjusting faster and faster.

"Oh-kay... Can't raise a rock wall in here, it'd block my own way. Here we
go again then. Reset. Command; Magik." Again his form returned to normal
for a second, then a silver sword burning with white light appeared in his
left hand and silver armour formed around his left arm and upper chest.


"So, Illyana, what do you think of 'Dougik'?" Bobby asked.

Suddenly the real Soulsword materialised in front of Bobby's face. Illyana
held it lazily, and spoke without actually looking at him, still gazing at
the scene below.

"I'll have words with Doug about his little... impersonation later, but, in
the meantime, Bobby, don't mess with the wickedest witch going! Besides,
think about the money you're losing with each step he takes." Bobby gulped
visibly as that realisation struck him, and wisely decided to keep his
mouth shut.

"Illyana..." The Professor's voice was warning.

Illyana suddenly gasped and turned to look at the sword in her had. "Oh
golly, Professor, did I manifest this old thing? I am SO sorry. What can
I have been thinking?" It vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

Doug was swinging the blade awkwardly towards the next android which was
now manifesting a sword of its own. He'd forgotten he wasn't left handed.
Okay, too much attention to detail there, but not to worry. He switched
the sword into his right hand and then realised he still had little idea
of how to use it. He waved it in what he hoped was a suitably Errol Flynn
manner and the android backed away slightly.

"He's not touching them with the sword."

"Good move too. If he's keeping within the rules, it wouldn't be able to
harm them anyway. The sword only affects magical objects, and androids
don't count."


Almost on cue Doug pushed the illusion too far and the sword passed right
through the chest of one of the androids without causing it any harm. It
ceased retreating, and moved forward.

"Oh well, so much for impressing the guys with my armed combat skills."
Doug then made a vaguely magical-looking gesture in the air, waved the
sword like a rather large wand, and shouted "Abracadabra!" Beneath the
next three androids, disks of light suddenly appeared and they fell
through them, vanishing from view. Actually holographic technology was
now cloaking them as they fell through more concealed trapdoors, but the
illusion was rather effective.


"I would never use a cheesy sounding incantation like 'Abracadabra'."
Illyana sounded almost offended. "A witty one-liner perhaps, but not

"Relax, roomie. Anyway, think about it -- Doug could probably read any
book of magic you have, so be thankful he's sticking with the cliches."

"Wouldn't matter. Reading spellbooks isn't enough -- you cast a spell
with your heart and soul, not your mouth." Illyana still sounded slightly

The Professor seemed interested despite himself. "I'm not so sure, Illyana.
Douglas' power is based on understanding the language and intent, not just
knowing how to pronounce the words."

Illyana chimed in again. "Professor, I don't think it's an experiment
we'd want to take too far. I doubt any of us would appreciate it if
Doug started translating chapters of say... the Darkhold, as a homework

Though it was clearly meant as a joke, Dani noticed Kitty shudder
slightly and Illyana, possibly without realising it, made a small warding
gesture as she spoke. Dani realised that, though she didn't know what the
Darkhold was, the chances were that, if it could worry Magik, ruler of a
demonic Limbo, and Kitty, one of the bravest (if occasionally annoying)
people she'd ever met, then she would probably be happier not knowing.


Doug could see other hatches opening in the far Danger Room walls as yet
another wave of androids were dispatched. These were bigger than the last
set and appeared to have built-in weaponry of some sort. He figured he was
near enough the deactivation switch for the final act.

"Reset. Command: Cypher." Doug's appearance returned to normal again.
A panel opened in the floor, and a hideously complicated looking Shi'ar
keyboard and monitor cube rose up on a simple plinth. Crouching over it,
Doug swiftly started typing commands, staring intently at the crystalline
monitor cube and the symbols that flashed around inside it in complex,
three-dimensional patterns.


"Professor, those are androids from a Level Three routine. They could
really hurt Doug. They've got energy attacks, don't they?"

"Indeed, but I think you should have a little more faith, Danielle. Given
his performance so far, it's clear Douglas is in control and I don't think
he'd let any random factors interfere."


"I could be in SO much trouble here!"

The androids had lined up in front of Doug, blocking his way completely
and advancing towards him relentlessly. He was still typing furiously,
and the watchers could see that sweat was starting to break out on his
forehead. With one final swift flicker across the panel, he stood up,
wiping his brow and letting out an explosive breath he had barely been
aware he was holding. The androids froze in place and then stood to
attention, still in a perfect row.

Turning towards the observation booth Doug addressed his audience.

"Ahem... Ladies, Gentlemen and Technarchs of all ages. Stevie Hunter
always says that, if you're going to do something, especially if the
chances are you're going to fail, then at least do it with style and
always, *always* have a grand finale! So, in that spirit..." He snapped
his fingers and caught a cane that popped out of a hole in the floor. At
the same time the androids suddenly developed straw boaters and bow-ties.

Cheesy music was piped in through the speakers as Doug started to perform
a moderately successful looking soft-shoe shuffle across the Danger Room
floor. Behind him the androids moved in perfect unison with his motions,
becoming the heaviest chorus line in history. With a final twirl of the
cane, Doug reached out and hit the deactivation switch with its tip.

"Danger Room Sequence disengaged. We now return you to your regularly
scheduled program. Have a nice day."

Doug and the androids then performed matching bows, though the androids
remained bent over when Doug straightened. Roses appeared out of nowhere
and fell at his feet and he caught a bouquet that had materialised from
the ether.

There was a spontaneous round of applause from the still laughing New
Mutants, and Kitty, Dani and Sam made "pay up" gestures towards Sunspot,
who bowed almost graciously in defeat. The Professor was looking
relatively stony-faced, though a slight smile might have been seen by
someone skilled in reading body language. His mental voice gave no clue
as to his feelings.

--Douglas, when you've quite finished, I think we need to have a little


Most of the New Mutants had left the booth, pausing only to smile or shake
their head in mock anger. Now Doug stood facing the Professor, who was
flanked by Sam and Dani. Kitty was running through several diagnostic
programs on the console behind them. Doug was explaining himself and
looking a lot less confident than he had a few minutes before.

"Professor, when I asked the guys what to expect, they all said the
chances were that I would have to make it across the floor of the Danger
Room unaided -- it's almost a tradition. When I specifically asked you
yesterday if I could use my powers to help me, you said I could. So last
night I hacked into the Danger Room systems and created the scenario you
saw. So I did use my powers to help me, and I did make it across the

"Indeed, most... impressive, and just when did you learn Shi'ar computer

"I used the English interface the first night I got here to communicate
with Warlock. But the first time with the pure code? Last night when I
hacked in."

"Are you telling me you learned to program holographic computers in an
alien computer language and achieved this whole... 'production number' of
yours... overnight?" The Professor seemed somewhat incredulous.

"Well, first I had to figure out the security system before it would let
me near the core program from my guest-room terminal, but all in all it
took me about an hour and a half. Then I had to get into the recordings
of the New Mutants' earlier sessions to work out what their powers looked
like and such. If I'd been outside the Mansion it would have been pretty
much impossible, but with terminal access in my room it was just a matter
of finding a shared system."

"Were you a party to any of this, Kitty?"

"No, Professor, I didn't even think there were any links between the room
terminals and the Danger Room."

Doug was warming to his topic now as he turned to Kitty. "There are if you
know where to look for them. There's a back door from the Danger Room's
main environmental control and the sewage treatment system for the rest of
the Mansion that you can access from the Housekeeping menu..."

"If I may return you to the topic in hand? Kitty, how easy would you say
it was to do what Douglas has done?"

"Well, Professor, I'm the best student you've got with the Danger Room
equipment, but there's no way I could have made it do all that in the time
allowed, and I've been using it for over a year now. As for duplicating
the appearance of not one, but multiple sets of powers? It'd take me days
to work it out even if I'd ever thought of it. Plus of course you'd know
about if I had, because I'd have been gloating for weeks."

"True. I must confess I did not expect this sort of subterfuge from you,

"With respect, Professor, it wouldn't have been very good subterfuge if
you'd been expecting it."

"A fair point. I was, in truth, rather impressed by the initiative you
showed. I was more intrigued by your rather... let us call it perhaps
'over-creative' approach."

"Professor, I admit I got a little carried away, but I kept to the limits
of the program. I didn't interfere with the Room's operations, only its
interaction with me. I did think about just making every android just
kow-tow to me, or ignore me, or something, but that wouldn't have felt
right. I wanted to prove I could adapt to random situations, like you
wanted, but in my own way."

"When I copied Sunspot's powers they acted as if I had his powers, same
with Wolfsbane and Mirage and the rest of them. None of the equipment cut
me any slack and I didn't interfere with their reaction time. As for the
final wave? They were completely independent of anything I'd prepared
other than arranging to have a keyboard handy. If I hadn't managed to
work out how to over-ride them on that terminal in there, they would have
finished me off just like they would anyone else."

"So that final part, the err... dance routine?"

"...was made up entirely on the spot on the keyboard. Ask Kitty to check
it out if you don't believe me."

"He's right, Professor, the only additional programming in those androids
was what he downloaded into them when he convinced them to become the
Rockettes. They'd have torn into him if he hadn't managed to stop them in

"I was never doubting the truth of Douglas' words, more the fact that he
was prepared to act in such a reckless manner."

Doug realised that the Professor had been genuinely concerned about him,
and felt a pang of guilt.

"Professor, let's be honest here. My power is so low key it barely
qualifies as a power, it's practically a skill. I know that, you know
that, the other New Mutants know that. So I decided to lose with style
and, whilst I could, take advantage of the only real skills I do have to
weigh the odds in my favour -- my knack with software. It was me against
the Danger Room and no one expected me to win, least of all me, so I was
going to do my best, like you wanted, and do it on my terms! And as a wise
man once said, 'I don't believe in the no-win scenario.'"

"And, as I recall, Captain Kirk learned the folly of that particular
belief when it cost him the life of a friend. Oh, don't look so surprised
-- Sam and Bobby have watched that film often enough for me to have
practically picked it up by osmosis."

"But Kirk always wanted to act alone, that was his flaw. I'll have the New
Mutants backing me up. That's the reason why I copied their powers and not
the X-Men. They're my team, I'd never let them down and I trust them never
to let me down."

The Professor felt a momentary chill, for a reason he couldn't, or
wouldn't, acknowledge, but was distracted by the co-leaders of the New
Mutants giving their opinions.

"You have to admit, Professor, it was a novel solution to the problem..."

"...and it was making the most of his skills and powers in an original
manner, which was the aim of this exercise after all."

The Professor heaved a sigh. "I think I can see where this discussion is
heading. Kitty, do you have anything to add?"

"Well, he'll never put Fred Astaire out of a job."

"Kitty..." The Professor's tone was more tired than anything.

"Sorry, Professor, but I'm not in the New Mutants. Doug's actions are
really a matter for you guys to decide. From an unbiased 'resident
computer genius' viewpoint, I have to say I've never seen computer
programming like this. He even upgraded one of the operational subsystems
and tightened the security net while he was in there."

"It seemed the least I could do since I was poking about inside the code
without permission."

"Most gratifying, Douglas. However, in future I would appreciate it if
you would discuss any amendments you plan to make to my computer systems
before you actually do so."

"Yes, sir."

"I would also appreciate it if in future exercises you will limit yourself
to the gifts you were born with and the skills you have acquired since
then. Frankly I'm not sure my heart could stand the strain of two Sunspots
or Magiks running around the place."

"Yes, sir." Doug managed to keep a straight face for that.

"And as you seemed so keen to injure yourself in this exercise, I think it
might be advisable if you thought about taking the extra credit course in
use of the medical facilities, on a voluntary basis of course. You can
even try cleaning it for a couple of weeks, since you'll be there so much.
Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal, sir." Doug was no longer looking quite so pleased.

"Very well then, we will leave the matter there." Doug breathed a quiet
sigh of relief.

The Professor consulted various notes he had made and looked over at the
similar pads that Sam and Dani had. He looked from one to the other,
clearly having some sort of mental communication with them, and nodded.
Doug was all but hopping from foot to foot in nervousness.

"Under the circumstances, Douglas, you have indeed passed the test, in
the unique sort of manner I have learned to expect from my students.
I am therefor pleased to welcome you formally both to Xavier's School for
Gifted Youngsters and the ranks of the New Mutants."

The Professor solemnly shook hands with Doug, who was somehow managing to
grin like an idiot and look abashed at the same time.

"Are you still planning on using the codename we discussed?"

"Yes Professor, from now on, you can call me: Cypher!"

"I do wish you'd reconsider. I appreciate the reference to your decoding
skills, but you must be aware that a cypher is another word for something
of no value, a zero. There are other names available: Codex? Babel?

"'Cypher' has been my hacker tag for quite a while now. Professor.
Besides, it may be nothing on its own, but I looked it up, and a cypher
is the zero that makes a '1' into a '10'!"

"Very well then. The choice is, of course, yours to make. I have discussed
the matter of a scholarship with your parents already and they were not
averse to the prospect. If you wish, I can arrange for a session with
them, where we can discuss the circumstances of your time here, and the
possibilities that your powers offer you for the future."

Doug's face blanched. "Umm, no, Professor, I'd really rather we didn't at
the moment. I'm still not sure how they would react to all this, me being
a mutant and all. Maybe when I graduate or something, but not right now."

The Professor nodded. "Again, the choice is yours, but it is something I'd
ask you to think about."

"Believe me, Professor, I've lost sleep over it. I love Mom and Dad and
everything, and I know thye love me, and I'm 99.9% sure they'd accept me
being a mutant, but I'm just can't take the slightest risk -- even if it's
only a 0.1% risk -- that I'm wrong. I'm not happy about lying to them,
I've never done that before about anything, but it's just too big a risk."

The Professor nodded solemnly, recalling his own experiences in that
regard. It seemed prudent to change the subject.

"Sam, Danielle, I think it's time you properly introduced the other New
Mutants to their new team-mate. I understand the tradition is for the new
student to buy for everyone else on the team at the Salem Soda Fountain.
I believe I might join you later, but don't wait to order on my account.
Mine, Douglas, will be a very large Chocolate Spectacular. I suddenly feel
in the need for a lot of sugar. Probably a reaction to a certain 'high
stress' situation I've been through this afternoon. Samuel, if you would
do the honours..."

"Sure thing, Professor, c'mon Dou..I mean 'Cypher'."

Doug smiled broadly at that. Being called by your codename name for the
first time by a teammate, THAT makes you feel like a superhero.

"Y'know, I REALLY like the sound of that..."

As the two -- no, three -- New Mutants left the room to join up with the
others, who had been hanging around outside the door, there were cheers as
"Cypher" was introduced and instantly engulfed in a round of back-slapping
and hand shaking.

Before the sound of voices faded into the distance, the Professor turned
to the youngest X-Man. "I'm sure you'd be welcome too, Kitty."

"No, Professor. Doug's a good friend and all, but it's a New Mutant
tradition and I'm an X-Man. I might join you all later, though -- for some
reason I find I have rather a lot of Sunspot's money burning a hole in my
pocket. Anyway I want to have a quick look at Doug's programming again, if
only to keep my 'resident computer genius' position for a little while
longer. You know, I think we could adapt his over-ride technique to deal
with one of Arcade's Murderworld programs, if we ever needed to..."

The Professor was listening to his students as they talked outside to


"So Doug, why didn't you copy me when you were in there? Something against

"Are you kidding, Sam? I'd have loved to copy your powers, but I just
couldn't work out a way to make it look like I could fly in there. I could
have faked your blast field and run around making 'woosh'-ing noises, but
it would have looked silly."

"And pretending to be Magma didn't?" Bobby asked. Doug just shrugged and
smiled sheepishly.

"It was the same thing with you, Warlock, your abilities were way too
complicated to duplicate in the time I had, you shapeshift way too much
so the holograms alone would have taken ages. It was weird enough seeing
myself look like Bobby and Amara, can you imagine what I'd look like if
I looked techno-organic? Ummm... No offence, Warlock."


The voices faded out of earshot.


Left alone in the Control Booth, Kitty having vanished off with reams of
print out, the Professor was about to activate the housekeeping programs
to clear away the debris from Doug's session. However, as he surveyed the
still bowed androids on the rose-strewn Danger Room floor, he recalled the
whole ludicrous training sequence. Secure in the knowledge that he was
truly alone and his dignity would remain intact, Professor Charles Xavier
finally started to laugh out loud.

Kitty Pryde's head popped through the ceiling. "Gotcha, Professor!"

The End