And high above them all, the Angel soared again. There simply was no feeling like the night wind through your feathers. God, feathers! Not the cold, metallic parodies he had been wearing for so long. He could FEEL these wings, the updrafts buffeting him, the slightly damp quality of the air. He laughed ecstatically.

"I'm whole again!" he screamed at the world. "Sweet Jesus I am whole again!"

He was halfway between sobbing and laughing in his joy. God, it's like I've been dead for all these years and now I'm rising from the grave. He did laugh then, in pure exuberance. Granted, this was no simple gift. Apocalypse would demand his price. But those were the worries for another day. With his wings back, he was certain nothing could stop him now. If Apocalypse wants to claim his due, let him try. The X-Men will trash him. He grinned and did a high loops, stretching his wings and grappling with the winds.

He looped again and then smiled mischievously, thinking of Betsy. A little night ride by moonlight will probably go a long way to solving the problems between us. With a triumphant howl, he ducked his wings and dove for the mansion, feeling younger and more alive than he had since an awful day in the dark tunnels of the Morlocks.

"Piotr!" he exclaimed in surprise, taking the huge man's hand and shaking it firmly. "What the hell are you doing here?"

The huge Russian's face was grim. "I would that my visit was purely social, my friend, but it is not. Something awful has happened in Ireland."

Scott did come fully awake then. "Come in and tell me." He led his friend inside.

"No, I want the others to be here too."

Scott nodded crisply. "Must be real serious, if you came all this way to say it in person," he mumbled. **Jean?**

"It is, my friend. I could not in good conscience speak of it over the comm channels."

**What is it, Scott?**

Her words were slurred but there was no irritation. A relief, there. Maybe we can get that argument resolved. **Get everyone up. Piotr's here and he says he's got bad news.**

A startled pause. **Okay**

It took a few minutes, but the bleary-eyed collection of some of the world's most amazing people assembled in the den, wearing disarrayed collections of whatever clothes they could find on such short notice.

Piotr looked at all of them and everyone could see the barely suppressed turmoil on his honest face. "Last night, someone burned Cassidy Keep," he said gravely. "Two bodies were found. We believe that they were Sean and Theresa."

A heavy, stunned silence. Scott felt a terrible cold, remembering his friend and his bright, winsome daughter. "A fire?" he said in disbelief.

Piotr nodded. "Excalibur is investigating. They sent me here...to tell you. I thought it might make a difference to hear it from a friend."

"What is the rest of it, Piotr?" Jean asked hoarsely.

Piotr turned to her. "There is evidence of murder." And he told them all the rest, making them all pale even more.

Scott felt Jean's fingers in his hand; he looked at her and enfolded her slender hand in his strong one. "Oh Scott..." she murmured, tears bright on her cheeks.

"Sounds like a cold-blooded killing," Logan growled. "Not an attack. Who do we know who would that?"

"Who do we know that wouldn't?" Rogue asked softly.

Logan nodded, eyes glittering. "Whoever did is gonna pay," he murmured. "I'll go get the jet ready."

Scott shook himself from his daze. "No, wait, Wolverine, we can't just go running off like that."

The hirsute hero smiled in a feral way. "No?"

"No," Scott said more firmly. Jean nodded almost imperceptibly to him. "First off, Excalibur is there. They can handle the sitch. Second, if this was a plot and there's others who are targets, we can't afford to go running off like crazy. And third." This was harder to say. "We're 'it' for heroes in the USA, pretty much, got it? And since it was kind of our fault, we have to stand watch."

Logan for once in their association, nodded slowly. "The first two, I'd contest you on. But I understand staying at your post."

Caliban smiled gently as he laid the flowers on the plaque. "Lilacs for you, Auntie Annalee. Your favorite." He remembered how she had smiled in joy whenever he'd come home with some to fill her vase. And though she had to chide him, for Morlocks were not supposed to go the surface, she had chided him gently.

Annalee had raised him as her own son, taken him in and loved him. And she rested here, with all the others dead and slain in the massacre. A dark memory, that.

He moved to another plaque and brushed away some of the grime that had settled there. Quite attentively, he cleaned the plaque until the name "Petal" shone brightly. His foster sister, her only crime against the world had been she had been able to exude various scents. How he had loved to call her "stinky" just to get that affronted expression on her face. He'd loved that about her. They'd talked of marriage once, a lifetime ago.

Caliban had been through much since the awful slaughter in the Alley. He had made some very bad choices and done some things Auntie Annalee would not have approved of. But that was all in the past now. He was back to the man he should be, the one Petal had loved so. She had even told him she admired who he was. No one had ever admired Caliban for anything.

More than anywhere in all the world, these tunnels would always be his home. He could play the hero and do the good deeds Auntie would want him to do, but when the quiet times stole upon him, he was drawn back here. To be with his friends and loved ones.

He frowned and looked around. Ah, there he is, he thought with relief, going over to another grimy plaque. Grandpa Storyteller. How he and all the other children had enjoyed sitting around a warm fire while he spun tales for them, illustrating them with his powers of illusion. An Iroquois, no one had been certain how the Native American had come to be in the Alley.

"Well, look, it seems we missed one," a low voice murmured.

Caliban knew that voice. He turned and stared at eight sickeningly familiar silhouettes. They were grinning down at him. "It...can't be... You can't be here... Not again..." Caliban was desperate to deny it. Desperate to believe the nightmare could not happen again.

They laughed at him. Caliban trembled, forgetting his augmented strength and all he had learned in the face of his greatest fears. "I told you, Arclight. They're like cockroaches. You can never get them all."

The phone settled in the cradle. He turned, ashen- faced. His eyes locked on Scott and after a moment he found his voice. "It appears you were correct in your earlier guess, Scott. There is an assassination agenda afoot." Bishop let out a shuddering breath. "Charles is dead. It happened just a few hours ago."

"Those damn government creeps! I'll tear--" Logan snarled, drool hanging from his mouth.

"No, the director of the facility is furious," Bishop cut in. "Someone else...got into the facility...and shot him six times. Three in the head." His words at the end were a whisper.

Scott began to shake all over. Jean nestled into his arm and they held each other as the storm of grief swept over them. The room went eerily silent save for a few muffled sobs. The X-Men huddled together, taking what comfort they could, stunned beyond belief. Charles Xavier was their mentor, the shining example of what they all believed in. Without him...

Scott shook himself and started moving. "Storm, contact X-Factor and inform them. Tell them there's a hunt of some kind going on. Advise them to stay together. Sam, you call the Massachussetts Academy and do the same. Piotr, you call Excalibur, and Jean, find X-Force. Advise them all to not let anyone stray. They're picking us off alone -- we have to stay together."

"That ain't the way the game is played," Logan drooled, eyes burning. "We don't roll over and play it safe."

"We do until we know exactly what's happening!"

"Scott..." Jean quavered.

"No, people, we have to act now. No time for grief. Charles would not want us to wallow in our misery while our friends get picked off. Move. And get in costume. I want a meeting in a half hour, got it?"

The X-Men scurried off, even Logan, though with a glare. Soon thereafter, they were assembled once more, accoutered for war. Storm told him there was no response at X-Factor HQ. There was a worried stir at that report, but they pressed onward. Sam reported that the Massachussetts students were aware and were going to stay put in their school until further notice. Piotr told him that Excalibur would keep in close touch.

Jean looked at him, still pale. "X-Force is ready to tear someone apart for what happened to Siryn. They're willing to wait, though." She looked around at her friends. "Caliban is missing. They have not been able to contact him."

Scott winced. "Gambit, get on the radio. See if you can find him."

The Cajun nodded and went over to a nearby panel. The X-Men waited tensely for several minutes as he tried frequency after frequency. Scott could hardly believe this was really happening. Charles Xavier, the rock he had founded his life on... I should never have let him go... No, can't think that way. Got to go on. Can't let this cripple me. No doubt that's what whoever did this is expecting.

"...me!" came the piercing shriek that ripped to his very soul.

All heads turned to the radio. "{{squawk}} Please!! If anyone can {{bzzz}} hear me, help me!" It was Caliban. Scott heard an agonized scream and shuddered. "<> Alley...help... <>..."

"I've lost it," Gambit said quietly, removing the headset.

"Scott, they're torturing him," Jean said, new tears on her pale face.

Cyclops nodded, feeling sick. "I don't know who's responsible, but they will pay. I need everyone. I don't want to risk underestimating our enemy." He turned to his wife. "Can you touch his mind?" Her eyes filled with horror. "I know, love, I know, but we need to know who's doing this."

Jean nodded slowly and closed her eyes. He watched in helpless worry as her face tightened and then she looked back at him. "He's...he's gone, Scott."

And so there was that awful silence for the third time that morning. Scott nodded slowly, not knowing why. "Colossus, I need you on this, okay?"

"Da, my friend," he said softly.

"And you, Quicksilver," Cyclops told the silver-haired man.

Who snorted derisively. "I'm not on your team, remember?"

"Damn it man!" Scott snapped, slamming his fist on the table. "Don't you see? Someone is killing mutants!"

"I am aware."

"Doesn't that matter to you?" he snarled.

"Of course it does. But I have other concerns."

Scott shook his head. "What other concerns?"

"My daughter Luna," Quicksilver said softly. "If I get killed, who will raise her? Who will tell her of her mother or her Aunt Wanda? Who will love and protect my daughter?"

Scott had no answer for that.

"Quicksilver, we need you," Hank interjected.

"I can't see for what," Logan argued.

"Pietro," Jean said softly, going over to him. "I have a feeling we are going to need all the resources we have for this." Her eyes locked with his. "Please? Will you please help us?"

It hung in the air a long moment, and finally he hung his head. "For you, Jean," he said in a low voice. "Because you asked."

"Thank you," she said, reaching out to him, but he was gone in a blur and a rush of air.

Cyclops looked around at his X-Men. "All right, everyone, let's get moving."

Cyclops had them fan out, warning them, however, to stay close. It was not very long before Colossus came back to him, carrying the body. Caliban's corpse gave evidence to the cruelties he had suffered, and despite his veteran experience Scott almost felt sick.

"All right, we need to know who did this," he said hoarsely. "Phoenix, Psylocke, see if you can pick up any--"

"It ain't that hard, you know," Wolverine growled. Cyclops looked over at him. "I can smell the Marauders on him."

Cyclops nodded in understanding. The Marauders and therefore Mr. Sinister. It still made no sense, though. Why Caliban? And was this all tied to Charles and Siryn and Banshee?

"Can you tell which way they went, Wolverine?" he asked.

Logan sniffed at the air. "Yeah, everywhere." He shook his head. "They've been all through these tunnels."

Scott frowned. This was all too odd. "All right, people, let's see if we can find them. We'll split into two teams. Phoenix, Beast, Angel, Iceman, Rogue and Joseph, you're with me. Storm, you take the others west. Keep in touch. If you find anything, let us know. We'll do likewise."

"All right," Storm said with a nod and lead her team down a passage to the west.

Cyclops lead his team into another tunnel, which sloped gently downward. He could feel the tension in his teammates and shared it. But if the Marauders want to pick a fight, then they're going to get one.

"Scott?" Jean whispered.

"Yes?"

"There is so much...death down here. It's giving me a lot of...of psychic echoes. I...I'm having trouble sensing things, but..." He looked at her. "The Marauders are up ahead, waiting for us."

Cyclops smiled triumphantly. "Good, well, they're in for the beating of their lives. Jean, extend your shield over the group. We'll walk into their trap, but they won't be able to get at us. Once we've ascertained their locations, I'll give you all your orders."

"Storm?"

"Yes, Cyclops."

"Rendezvous at our position. We've found them."

The passage ended in a circular cavern, where a ring of broken-down, abandoned houses greeted them. A ghost town for sure. Scott ordered everyone into a "V" formation and proceeded cautiously forward. The nagging worry in the back of his mind was getting worse. This whole situation was too deliberate. Too well planned. Maybe we should wait for the others...

A high-pitched whine interrupted his thoughts. From somewhere above a laser bolt had blasted down at them, causing part of a building to explode. Prism, he thought with a tightening of his jaw. And from the other side of the gallery a rain of bullets descended on them. Crossfire! So that's their plan. For all the good it will do them.

Jean's telekinetic shield was up and holding. Scott looked but could not see his enemies. They've got really good cover. They did plan this out. He fired off a blast in the direction of the bullets. A piece of building exploded, but the firing did not cease. Stalemate, for now. They've got the superior position, but we've got the better defense.

Phoenix was reaching her limits under the heavy barrage and still coping with the dark, troubled emanations of these caverns. Still, she had been an X-Man all her life and pushing the boundaries was what she was trained to do. With a small grunt of strain, she began seeking out the minds of their attackers, trying to isolate their locations. Then they could take the Marauders out of commission.

So intense was her concentration that she did not notice the trapdoor slide away or Scrambler come up behind her.

Jean screamed as his touch tied all of her powers into knots. Powers she had been using that suddenly went haywire.

Quickly, Scrambler darted out of the line of fire, dashing down the only hallway that led to this room. Their cameras told them Quicksilver was here, and they had a special surprise to set up for the speed demon...

Even as he moved to go to her, a bullet took him in the back of the leg, causing his kneecap to explode outward. He cried out and fell. That's when he saw a chillingly familiar blond figure prowl out of one of the buildings.

Sabretooth.

"Remember me, Red?" he asked, slashing lazily at her. "Me and the Marauders are back together one last time. And you're all mine."

"No!" Scott cried, clutching his bleeding leg. Then a rock or something hit him very hard and he crumpled into a dazed heap.

With the shield gone, the team was left to their own devices. Joseph and Rogue were back to back. He had his own shield, which was enough for the both of them. Angel and Beast sprung to the attack. If only I could see my enemy! Joseph thought bitterly. Maybe if I was Magneto and knew how to really use these powers, I could be useful...

"Hank!" Rogue called.

The simian hero had been leaping for the rooftops, intent on taking the battle to the Marauders. A hollow-tipped bullet broke open his skull in mid-leap. A harpoon to the chest made certain of the job. Joseph stared in disbelief as their blue-furred friend collapsed in a pool of blood. That's when he heard Jean and Scott screaming in a chorus of agony. "Rogue, we've got to get out of here! We're too vulnerable."

"No! I won't leave them!" Rogue cried.

Iceman was on his feet, but the icy layer he wore over his skin was shot through with red. With a hateful cry, he iced over the alcoves the shots were coming from. That gave them a second, but only that. Blockbuster exploded from one of the houses, charging like a raging bull.

Rogue took off, heading for him, but a chain wrapped around her leg and she was pulled from the air. She rose to see Arclight grinning at her. The chain suddenly animated and wrapped around the dark-haired woman. "Thanks, Joseph."

The moment was all Blockbuster needed to close with the wounded Bobby Drake. He avoided one lethal swing and then pushed the huge man away with a barrage of ice. Angel zoomed down and kicked the giant hard in the head.

That's when they all started to feel dizzy and sick.

Angel smashed into a wall and fell to the ground. Rogue buckled to her knees, as did Joseph. Arclight freed herself of the chain and wrapped it around Rogue's neck, strangling her. The ice walls exploded and gunfire and light beams rang out. Iceman screamed hoarsely as his arm was blown almost completely off.

Jean ducked under a wicked slash and then rolled out of the way of his lightning-quick follow-up strike. She kicked him ineffectually in the side, for which she got a thunderous backhand in response. Wounded and unsteady, she continued to face her enemy, knowing there was no help coming from her friends. Just have to hold him until I get my powers--

He was too quick. She dodged a lunging pounce, only to find it was a ruse so he could get behind her. His claws raked across the tendons in the back of her knees. Jean shrieked and fell, helpless, to the cold stone floor. "What was it you called me?" he snarled bitterly, kicking her in the side. "Huh?"

"Garbage," she gasped, glaring right back at him.

Sabretooth snarled and picked her up by the hair, laughing as she cried out. "You oughta show more respect when you go tearing through someone's skull."

Oh no...

Sabretooth tore her throat out with his teeth, roaring in triumph as her blood ran down his chin and over his chest. He dropped her body and that was the last mistake he made that day. For there was a deep source of power Cyclops had and rarely used. Only when he was riding the edge. When his emotions were running full tilt. From his heart whom Sabretooth had just torn out, from his soul which lay dying at her killer's feet, and from a hate he had never before known came a blast of pure killing force. It smashed into the startled Sabretooth and sent him flying. His body crashed into a wall and collapsed in a smoking heap.

**Scott...** Her powers were back, faintly. Just enough to speak to him through her link.

"Jean!" he cried.

**I went...through this with...Annie...won't do that...to you...**

Around him, his friends, his team, were dying. "Jean, stay with me!"

**Love you...always... Goodbye..."

And with that, Jean Summers, the Phoenix, cut off their mental link. Scott watched her body shudder and writhe in its death throes. He trembled all over, unable to think and barely able to breathe. Is this the end? Is this the way we all die? No, I can't let it happen! Have to get up, give orders, lead them... But, Jean...

Angel saw the glint of a sword. He tried to turn to throw the man off, but it was too late. The long blade plunged through his back and out his stomach. He screamed and fell from the air.

Iceman saw it and snapped. With a rage he had never known, he shaped his ice into pointed shards and fired them at Arclight, who screamed and fell away. Bobby turned on Scalphunter as the man rolled away from the dying Angel. "Now you die," Bobby snarled.

And that was when he felt the huge paws of Blockbuster on him. The massive Marauder lifted the young hero up and then broke him over his knee like a piece of dry wood. Bobby gurgled and choked, his whole body afire with agony. Blockbuster laughed and hurled him into a wall with a sickening crunch. He did not move any more after that.

Warren's eyes widened in horror. His eyes turned to Harpoon, who was already moving into position. "No!"

The first harpoon went into his right wing. Terrible, soul-searing agony consumed him. The Marauders laughed. The second harpoon went into his left wing, and left him there, pinned. Just like before. He writhed and sobbed, hoping that this time he would be lucky enough to die.