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1744X-Men: Special Services #3 of 4

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  • altmarvel-release-owner@yahoogroups.com
    Apr 20, 2010
      X-Men: Special Services #3

      April 2010

      Writer: John Flint
      Webmaster: Liam Gibbs

      "Your hands should be fine," Dr. Cecelia Reyes declared, as Bobby Drake looked down at his bandaged mitts. They'd been cut up thoroughly by glass exploding inward when Bavelier attacked the X Academy's latest new recruit, William Stevens.

      "Just rest them for awhile, right?" Bobby said. "If I were still a mutant, they'd heal within a day or two, but now it'll take a couple of weeks, yeah?"

      "Something like that," Dr. Reyes nodded, then looked into his eyes, "I realize this must be difficult for you…"

      "You have no idea," Bobby shot back, "you still have your power."

      There was silence.

      "I'm sorry, that was uncalled for," Bobby said, head down. "I'm just angry. I used to be the Iceman. Now it doesn't seem like I'm much good for anything."

      "You'll find your calling," Dr. Reyes assured him. "It might take some time and blood loss, but you'll get there. You just have to have faith in yourself."

      "Yeah, maybe," Bobby said. "At least I can help the new guy with his powers. Well, more than anyone else, anyway. It isn't exactly like mine used to be, since he can apparently only shoot his freezing rays from his eyes, but—"

      Bobby realized Dr. Reyes needed to get back to work and excused himself.

      As he left the medical lab beneath the mansion, he slipped out his cell phone and sifted through his address book until he found the number he wanted to call.

      "Forge? I was wondering if you could help me out with something…"

      [The campus of Empire State University.]

      Roger Colburn walked between buildings, discussing political theory with his assistants. He was a professor here, where he had met Will Stevens in passing. They had wound up going for coffee and spending the night.

      Now, as Roger laughed uproariously at a suggestion of one of his teaching assistants, Bavelier, on one of the rooftops, steadied the aim of his spear-gun. He could have used a rifle, but this was more distinctive; a professor at ESU being killed by a spear-gun was the mark of a particular professional. It was his calling card.

      The previous day had been a bust; the mutie kid had knocked him out of a window and he knew it was time to flee. It was a shame he didn't still have all his tricks from when he was employed by the White Wolf. Still, the vibranium-soled boots were enough to keep anyone from hearing his approach, and the skills he'd learned in the Black Panther's adopted white brother's service had been enough to keep him alive and in business as an assassin for some years now.

      He pulled the trigger and a jet of gas shot the spear out of its place. He watched it sail majestically through the air and puncture Professor Colburn's throat. A spray of bright red blood painted his assistants as Bavelier fled the scene, packing up as he ran across the rooftops, silently.

      This would put the fear of God into William Stevens. That much was for sure.

      [An hour later, the X-Mansion.]

      "It only took me a few minutes to develop these," Forge said as William Stevens inserted the contacts into his eyes. "Test them out."

      William turned towards the target on the far wall and activated his mutant power, a freezing eye-ray, which struck the target and covered it in a thick sheet of ice. The contacts were unharmed. "Hey, it worked! I can still see perfectly, 20/20!"

      "The contacts are immune to freezing cold," Forge said, "a variation on the data-contacts I made for the X-Men. Oh, and I found the old project you were interested in, Bobby."

      "Thanks," Bobby said, embarrassedly, as Forge opened his pack to reveal a pair of blue and black gloves.

      "Try them on," Forge suggested, "I didn't know what size you would need so I just brought the ones I made a few years ago."

      "They fit fine," Bobby said as he slipped them on. "How do they work?"

      "Point, aim, and click," Forge said, and Bobby turned towards the frozen target and aimed his left fist at it. Forge took the gloved hand in his own and depressed Bobby's thumb on the hidden trigger within the glove.

      A beam shot out and another thick coating of ice covered the target.

      "I'm glad it still works," Forge laughed, "I was pretty sure it would have a decent shelf life, but you never really know until you test it out."

      "Thanks," Bobby said, "is there any chance… I mean, the gloves are great and all, but…"

      "I can make you a costume that incorporates the technology," Forge nodded, "certainly. I assume you'll want it bullet-proof, since you can't ice up anymore."


      "Shouldn't take me to the end of the day, I think I have the stuff for it in the mansion, in fact," Forge said, "just let me stop by Storm's room, I think I left the odds and ends I'll need in there."

      Forge exited as William's phone rang. He excused himself to take the call, as Bobby looked at the frozen target. Was this what he was reduced to now? Artificial means? Hey, why not? It worked for Iron Man, didn't it?

      "But I'm not Iron Man," Bobby muttered, "I'm the Blizzard."


      Bobby spun to see the terror on William's face. Terror and rage. His eye beams activated and froze the surface of the wall before him.

      "Will, calm down!" Bobby rushed over, "whatever it is, we can—"

      "He's dead! He's dead!" William turned towards Bobby and Bobby ducked beneath the table to avoid the icy death-ray. The table turned frozen and began to creak, about to smash into a million pieces after the sudden burst of cold.

      "Who's dead? What's happened?"

      "Roger," William said, continuing to freeze everything in sight as he lashed out, "they did! They did!"

      "Okay," Bobby said, "I'll assemble the X-Men and we'll—"

      "He's dead," William said, "and he's never coming back."

      He closed his eyes and icy tears stuck to the sides of his face. Bobby slipped out from under the frozen table and put a comforting arm around his shoulder.

      "Come on, William, we'll bring Matt. He'll figure it out; that's his mutant power. And when he does…"

      "When he does," William sniffled, "I'll kill the bastards."

      "Uh, one step at a time," Bobby said, "Let's just take this one step at a time, okay?"

      He led the young, outraged mutant out of the flash-frozen room.

      [To be continued…]
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