A mile beneath Manhattan's streets, in the shadowed, secret tunnels wherein the Morlocks dwell, it begins . . .

A group of six stood at the entrance to one room inside the tunnels.

"Hi there!" an albino figure said. "I'm Random. We're the Marauders. We kill mutants. Who's next?"

Morlocks are outcasts from society, as they feel their being mutants brands them as outcasts from the human race. They live deep underground, because they believe that here they're safe. In this one room stood six Morlocks, all shocked by these new arrivals.

A large one spoke. "Wha'chu talkin', man . . . this some kinda ha-ha, hey?"

"Nope," Random said, his arm slowly shifting into a hulking weapon of some sort. "I'm a serious man engaged in a serious business. And I never joke with people who're about to die!"

A huge blast came out of Random's arm, blowing up the table that the Morlocks had just moments ago sat around. Shards of wood went everywhere.

"Please allow me to introduce myself," another Marauder stepped forward. His body was almost impossible to see as he was constantly spinning around in a circle at high speeds. "I'm a man of skills and grace . . . Riptide, by name."

He spun so fast that he became a blur, and laughingly released razor-keen stars and spikes from outstretched hands to deadly effect. Blood sprayed the room. Screams filled the air.

"Toys can't hurt me none," the large Morlock said, as the stars bounced off him. He walked towards Riptide. "I grab you, I break you! You got powers, like us . . . maybe you mutants . . . why you do this?"

"It's our job," another Marauder said, approaching the big guy. He was very small and skinny, especially in comparison. "And we take pride in doing very well."

Scrambler's touch instantly disrupted the Morlock's power, and without that invulnerability to protect him, Riptide's spikes chunked into his chest. But amidst the slaughter, a young woman dives for the wall, biting back tears at the pain of a wounded arm and back, the greater pain of loss . . . as acid, exuding like sweat from her pores, sears a path through solid stone.

"Help!" the woman yelled as she broke through tunnel walls. "Callisto, help!! Everyone, come quickly! Murder! Strangers in our tunnels! Hurry, please hurry or they'll kill us all!!"

"They know we're here, Random," a large Inuit man said. His name was Harpoon, and he carried a quiver filled with harpoons over his left shoulder.

"Good," Random said. "That means we won't have to hunt 'em down. Arclight - you handle the wall?"

A woman with purple hair wearing silver body armor turned to it. "No problem." She turned to the wall and slammed it with both fists. A bright burst of white light came forth, exploding the wall outward, smashing bricks on top of the young woman trying to escape.

"Harpoon, the girl's yours," Random said.

Harpoon drew his trademark weapon. "She shall not escape." The Harpoon is metal in the Inuit's hand, transmuted to raw energy the instant he throws it. The impact sends a jolt through her nervous system, one so intense that the girl literally melts away. The young Morlock's life ends before her scream.

"Cybelle!" Callisto, leader of the Morlocks called out. "Dunno who you chumps are - don't care, either - but you're going to die for this!" A small army of Morlocks gathered behind her.

"Do tell?" Random asked. "You're Callisto, huh? Head honcho of this tribe of losers. Babe, you're mine. As for the rest . . . Vertigo, twist 'em inside out!"

"Dope, Random!" a lady with green and white hair said. She also wore a costume of the same color. "Totally straight!" She sends out waves of energy of the same color. Suddenly, for the Morlocks, it's as if the ground has become fluid as water, wild as the ultimate roller-coaster ride.

Then, Arclight made things worse. She slammed her fists down onto the tunnel floor, unleashing another burst of white light that sent a shockwave through the floor. The Morlocks all toppled over.

However, beyond a bend, beyond the reach of Vertigo's influence, Piper played a wicked tune, drawing his pets from their hidey-holes. A team of alligators and bats come forward, and the Piper sent them hurling into the fray.

End Prologue.

JAN 2002 - #13

The burden of leadership . . . Part II: Fires of the Night by Paul Hahn and Chip Caroon with excerpts from the original Mutant Massacre by Chris Claremont

It's here we find a rather large mansion estate, one nearly completed. Construction started this past summer when Warren Worthington III decided he wanted a new home away from home. Plans changed, and the mansion became the home to the world's latest super-heroes, the X-Men. The designed was changed in order to better suit the team. While the structure has been finished, it'll still be a few weeks before all the trimmings can be completed.

Jean Grey woke early this morning. Something had troubled her. Her dreams horrified her. They showed death . . . destruction . . . unspeakable acts and deeds. She woke in a cold sweat and headed immediately to the kitchen, making herself some hot tea.

Her nerves wouldn't calm. The images wouldn't leave her mind. It wasn't until near dawn that she began to fear something worse.

"Jean?" Clark asked, the lights in his bedroom suddenly flicked on. "What . . . ?"

She stood in the doorway, almost shaking. "I had a dream . . . a nightmare . . . a series of nightmares . . . I woke up, I can't shake them . . . and what's worse, I'm beginning to think they might be, I don't know, precognitive . . . "

"What are you talking about?" Clark asked, slowly sitting up.

"There's something terribly wrong in the Morlock Tunnels," Jean said. "Something horribly wrong . . . I can just feel it, I know it. We're needed. The X-Men are needed."

"Alright," Clark said. He had come to trust Jean's intuition over the years. "Wake the others . . . we'll leave immediately."

Clark Kent/Superman, Jean Grey, Morph, Bobby Drake/Iceman, Hank McCoy/Beast, Warren Worthington/Angel, Logan/Wolverine.

They entered the Alley, a giant tunnel running the length of Manhattan Island, the heart of the Morlock's domain.

"I'm getting a lot o' nearby scents," Wolverine said, sniffing the air. "Better brace yourselves, though. It won't be pretty."

"Callisto!" Jean called out, as she saw a body lying on the floor ahead. Not one body . . . many bodies. Dozens of Morlocks lying there, bloody and beaten. "She's wounded . . . but alive!"

"My cousin Kenny works in a slaughter-house," Iceman said. "He took me on a tour once . . . it smelled like this . . . "

"How could this have happened?" Superman asked. "So much death . . . "

"Watch it everyone!" Wolverine exclaimed. "Trouble!"

But even as the X-Men moved, Vertigo struck.

"All yours, Rip!" she exclaimed. "Cut 'em loose from life!"

Riptide began to spin, unleashing his spikes and blades at incredible speeds.

"Behind me!" Clark said, his invulnerability protecting them. Wolverine popped his claws and began deflecting the blades.

"Enough of this," Angel said. He flew above the attack and planted a kick into Riptide's chin. He maneuvered quickly, also kicking Vertigo against the wall. A telekinetic bolt added by Jean slammed Vertigo even harder into the bricks.

Riptide responded with a lightning fast punch to Angel, knocking him down. Riptide picked up Vertigo and sped off, deeper into the tunnels.

"You okay?" Beast asked Angel.

"I'll live . . . unlike too many of these Morlocks," he frowned.

"I've got the creep's scent," Wolverine said. "He can run, but never hide!"

"Amen to that, chum," Morph added.

"We've gotta attend to the wounded," Clark frowned. "I wouldn't normally do it, but Jean, head back to the jet . . . see if you can't get in contact with Sarah. We need an extra hand out here."

Jean nodded. "Be careful." She turned and headed back the way they came.

"There's a greater risk, but we can cover more territory if we separate," Clark said as Callisto slowly stood. "Our primary mission is to save Morlock lives. Afterwards . . . we'll deal with these Marauders."

"Howdy, folks," Random said as he stood in a doorway. "You're Annalee, ain't'cha - projecting Empath? If you're using your power to frighten me off, wasted effort, rag-bag. I don't scare easy."

"Please, do what you like to me," the elderly Morlock said as she shielded two small kids, "but spare these children. They've done nothing."

"They were born, and that's enough," Random said, his arm forming into a gun again. "Wrong plea, old lady. To the wrong man. Didn't work months ago . . . when I nailed a quartet of Morlock brats on the surface. Won't work now."

"Everywhere we look, we find nothing but bodies!" Iceman exclaimed. "Isn't anyone done here alive?"

"I hope so," Angel frowned. The two had partnered off, exploring on their own. "I pray so . . . Are you alright?"

"I don't think I'll ever be all right again," he frowned. "But I won't quit - What's that? A gun shot?"

"I thought this'd be a rougher assignment," she replied.

"Be patient, Arclight. Our day's still young."

"Watch out!" she yelled, responding instinctively. She shattered a huge chunk of rock-solid ice that had been hurled at her.

"Your fists won't save you from my ice!" Iceman yelled, building up the mass of his arms and then punching her.

"Yes they will," she replied, delivering a punch that sent him flying. "That's Iceman! We're up against the X-Men! About time, some real competition!"

"Butchers!" Angel exclaimed, kicking Arclight upside the head.

"You've got guts, Wings," Random said. "Now's the time to spill 'em."

He fired an energy blast that sent Warren into another wall. He fell unconscious.

The young woman with purple hair rushed out of her room, screaming.

"What is it, Psylocke?" an older woman asked her.

"It's horrible, Clea," Psylocke replied, panicking. "We have to get down to the tunnels under Manhattan!"

"What?!" Clea asked.

"Something's wrong. I feel death."

"Then we should get together. See a vision."

"There's no time for a damn vision! People need help now!"

"How can you know?"

"Believe me, the psychic outcry is too loud for any telepath in a reasonable vicinity to ignore!"

The young man know as Rift walked over. "I can help. We can be there in seconds."

"No," Clea said. "We can wait a few minutes to get everyone together."

"What?!" Psylocke shouted.

"I have made my decision. Obey it," Clea commanded, walking away.

"We're movin' too slowly," Wolverine said.

"All the Morlocks are wounded, Wolverine," Clark said. "Some can't travel any faster." He quickly scanned ahead, using his x-ray vision. "The way seems to be clear."

"So many of my people, slaughtered," Callisto said, anger in her words.

"And more to come!" a voice exclaimed. Riptide, Scrambler and Harpoon charged the crowd.

"The one with the claws looks the deadliest," Scrambler said. "Harpoon, send him to join his ancestors!"

"Been tried before, chump!" Wolverine exclaimed, leaping into the fray. "Ain't that easy." Even as Harpoon's slayspear struck, Wolverine's claws drew blood. Both men fell, only one screamed. Neither one died, but that could quickly change.

"My touch'll neutralize your powers," Scrambler said, grabbing hold of Superman's arm.

Maybe if I was an ordinary mutant, Clark thought, slamming a punch into Scrambler's rib cage. He heard bones crack.

"Think you're tough, eh fella?" Callisto asked, leaping at the injured Scrambler. She began striking him with punches. "A real hot number? King of the mountain? Prove it!" Callisto broke his jaw, and Scrambler spat teeth and blood.

"Poor boy needs a rescue," Riptide said as he started spinning. "Comin' right up, sweetheart!"

Another volley of spike tore through the air, followed by screams. Many Morlocks were hit. Too many died. Riptide laughed.

They don't care! Beast thought to himself as he traded punches with Harpoon. This is a sport to them, a game!

"Hang on, big guy!" Morph said. He extended an arm, grabbing Scrambler in an attempt to toss him. Unfortunately, the skin-to-skin contact neutralized Morph's powers, turning him back into his human form.

Harpoon took immediate advantage of the incident, hurtling a spear at the downed Morph. The hit connects, and Morph yells out in pain.

"Noo!" Beast exclaimed, slamming both fists across Harpoon's chin, sending him sprawling back.

The sound of a snikt was barely heard, as Wolverine had managed to sneak up behind Riptide while Clark blocked his assault. The claws popped in, then out. Riptide was dead.

"Morph's really hurting," Clark said. "I can barely feel a pulse."

"Where's Harpoon?" Wolverine asked.

"Gone, and Scrambler with him," Beast frowned. "Is the fight over?"

"Angel and Iceman are still in here somewhere," Superman frowned.

"Morph . . . he might die, trying to save me . . . " Beast said.

"If we X-Men have to fall, Beast, let it be from saving lives," Superman frowned.

"I'm through taking lumps, Clark," Henry McCoy's fancy words failed him. "I want to dish out some vengeance!"

"Vengeance can wait," Clark frowned. "Look around you. If we pursue these guys, most of our own wounded will die. Is that what you want?"

Beast turned around, and picked up Morph, carrying him towards the team's jet.

"Right thing to say . . . too bad that don't help," Wolverine said, standing next to Clark.

"I understand his pain," Clark frowned.

"Price o' leadership is doin' what's necessary, not what you want."

"Looks like my leadership's led us to a bitter defeat . . . "

"Happens. Even to the best."

"I don't like to lose."

"Me neither," Wolverine said. "But one thing I've learned, is that it's the war that counts . . . not the battle."

"Cold comfort," Clark said. "I want you to stay behind. You're our best tracker, and the most likely to survive down here. I want you to find a Marauder . . . Jean's gonna interrogate him."

"No problem. What about the rest?"

"One prisoner'll do. Find Bobby and Warren. Then bring me a prisoner . . . and the rest are yours."

Logan nodded. He turned back around and headed into the darkness of the tunnels.