X-Mans 13: Who’s Yo Daddy? Now We Know

by D D

When the Kings launch a desperate rescue mission for captives, Jeanetta’s secret power erupts, changing the battle and their lives forever.

Comic Book

comedy

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53 scenes

X-MansPart Thirteen The factory had been closed for eleven years, but somebody upstairs was still complaining about the hot water. “There ain't none,” Misty said. Magnetrick lay beneath a blanket in the former foreman's office, watching morning light struggle through a window coated with steel dust. “I heard you the first time.” “And yet the water still cold.” “Would you like me to threaten it?” “I'd like you to fix it.” She stood beside the sink in her natural blue skin, red hair loose around her shoulders, wearing his shirt with nothing underneath it. One sleeve hung past her hand. Across the room, her boots sat beside his. He lifted two fingers. The handle turned. Somewhere below them, a pipe knocked against a wall. Cold water ran into the basin. Misty looked at him. “I control metal,” he said. “That don't make me a water heater.” “Then tell Hothead to come heat this shit up.” From the factory floor, Hothead shouted, “I heard that!” “You was supposed to!” Magnetrick smiled before he could prevent it. Misty caught the expression in the spotted mirror. She crossed the office, sat beside him, and brushed a thumb along his temple. Without the helmet, he looked less like a man preparing to threaten a city and more like someone who had slept badly beside a woman he was afraid to lose again. “You stayed,” he said. “My shoes here.” “You know what I mean.” Her teasing softened. “Yeah. I stayed.” He rested his hand over hers. Then she leaned in and kissed him, slowly enough that the machinery below, the broken mansion, and the people hunting them seemed farther away. A tremendous crash came from downstairs. Misty closed her eyes against his forehead. “What Jugga-Knot break now?” “I heard that too!” Jugga-Knot called. * * * The old steelworks stood beyond the freight yards, fenced off behind weeds and faded warning signs. Its furnaces were dead, its roof leaked above the south loading bay, and there was enough metal inside for Magnetrick to make a small army regret approaching it. He had repaired the stairs, restored power to the offices, and reshaped the main doors so they closed without leaving a gap. Lady Longnails occupied the former payroll office. She had hung a curtain, found a standing mirror, and informed everyone that knocking was mandatory even if the door happened to be missing. Her injured shoulder still stiffened in the mornings. Hothead slept on a couch beneath the control booth. Three cigarette-shaped burns marked one cushion, though he insisted they had been there before him. Jugga-Knot had stacked four mattresses beside a cold rolling mill. He had already broken two office chairs. When Magnetrick and Misty came down, he stood beside a folding chair that had collapsed under him, its legs bent sideways and its seat flat on the floor. “The label said heavy duty,” he said. Lady Longnails looked over her coffee. “That's the third chair. Just sit on the floor.” Misty took a mug from the workbench. Magnetrick's hand brushed the small of her back as he passed. Hothead stared at them. Lady Longnails caught him grinning. “Drink your coffee,” she told him. “I ain't say shit.” “You sitting there grinning like you caught somebody.” Magnetrick stopped beside the long steel table in the center of the floor. Maps, patrol schedules, and photographs lay beneath machine bolts used as paperweights. One photograph showed a white van with the Purity Division's open eye crossed by a blade. The room quieted. Misty put down her mug. “They brought the last transport in before dawn,” she said. “Eastern gate. Same camp Rougie got those kids out of.” She had spent the previous night wearing the face of a delivery driver. Under that face she had counted guard posts, found the infirmary, and watched a teenage prisoner carry laundry past a room full of rifles. “Other facilities?” Magnetrick asked. “Emptied. They're calling this a consolidation. Surviving officers, command staff, equipment. Everybody left with a badge is there.” She slid a stolen roster toward him. He studied the signatures at the bottom, then the transfer destinations left blank beside the prisoners' numbers. “They're moving the captives again tonight,” she added. Magnetrick touched a photograph of the mansion before its collapse. Someone had printed it from a news report. A child's bicycle lay beneath a piece of chimney. “No,” he said. “They aren't.” Misty watched him reach for his helmet. “We go in, we open the cells,” she said. “Then we find whoever's sending people to Apocalypto.” “We find the officers first.” “Trick.” “They came while we were sleeping.” His voice stayed level. “They shot through bedrooms. There will not be another opportunity.” Jugga-Knot picked up his helmet. Hothead closed his lighter over a small flame. Misty wanted to ask exactly what Magnetrick intended to leave standing. Instead, she watched the helmet settle over his head, hiding the man who had held her hand upstairs. * * * At the ridge house, Ice Tray refused to let anyone describe the camp as a building with fences. “It's buildings,” he said, tapping Monsta's old tablet. “Plural. You get through one fence, you still ain't reached half the people.” Rougie stood beside him at the kitchen table. Together they marked the barracks, the processing rooms, and the underground holding wing she had not reached during her rescue. Scambit leaned against the counter with his crutch tucked beneath one arm. “How many buses we need?” “More than we got,” Ice Tray said. “That wasn't a number.” “Pretend somebody paying you. You'll figure it out.” Scambit gave him a thin smile. “Watch me work, Ice Mane.” Professor Z studied the transfer records Rougie had brought back. Apocalypto's name appeared nowhere. Human contractors supplied the equipment. Prisoners disappeared beneath codes. The people doing the paperwork had made cruelty look like inventory. “We free everyone we can,” he said. “We recover their records. Somewhere in those transfers is a route to the people taking them.” “And Frank?” Stormisha asked from the doorway. Reen sat beside the window, holding a mug nobody mistook for coffee. “If his lying purple ass there, we stay together.” “Devin needs isolation,” Z said. “We have seen what happens when someone interrupts him. Nobody searches a room alone.” Stormisha made a face at the name. She still couldn't get used to calling him Devin. She nodded, jaw tight. Since learning what Devin McTagg really was, she had begun remembering every pleasant thing Frank had said as if it were a stain she could scrub off by thinking hard enough. Jeanetta reached from her chair and caught her hand. “You ain't the one who should be embarrassed.” “I know.” Stormisha squeezed back. “Still would like five minutes with him.” “Together,” Reen said. She looked at him. He raised his mug. “Apparently that's important.” Cyrus crouched beside Jeanetta before they left. “Any more pressure?” “The same pressure I had when you asked before breakfast.” “Any dizziness?” “Cyrus.” “I'm checking.” “Ask me one more time and I'm charging you per question.” He looked embarrassed, and she softened enough to smooth the collar of his jacket. Reen saw it from the window. He took a drink and looked outside. Z, Reen, Cyrus, Rougie, Ice Tray, and Nightwalka left in the van. Stormisha, Jeanetta, and Scambit stayed to watch the children Rougie had rescued. Some of the little ones still cried when a door slammed. Others followed the adults from room to room, afraid of being left alone. They needed familiar faces around them. Jeanetta sat beside a girl struggling with her breakfast while Stormisha found clean clothes for two younger children. Scambit settled at the table with a deck of cards and soon had three boys arguing over how he kept finding the same one. * * * The Kings entered through the eastern gate behind a laundry truck. Misty wore a guard's face. She leaned into the checkpoint window and mentioned an inspection. The man inside turned toward his clipboard. She struck him once and caught him before his head hit the desk. For six seconds, the plan was quiet. Then Magnetrick saw the punishment posts in the yard. Three prisoners stood with their wrists fixed above their heads. One was a boy whose feet barely touched the concrete. A gray-armored officer walked past them with a cup of coffee, paying more attention to its lid than the people beside him. The gate tore out of the ground. It crossed the yard sideways, struck the armored transport parked beside the command building, and folded the vehicle around its occupants. The coffee cup burst against the pavement. Sirens began. Jugga-Knot hit the first barricade without slowing. Hothead drew fire from his lighter and sent it curling across the watchtower stairs. Lady Longnails cut the straps from a shield, slipped beneath it, and drove its owner into the guard behind him. Misty turned toward Magnetrick. “We had a route!” “We still do.” Bolts tore from the punishment posts. The prisoners fell forward into her arms. Across the yard, two officers dropped their rifles. One raised both hands. Magnetrick closed his fist. A steel door ripped free behind them. Misty turned the boy's face against her shoulder before it struck. The sirens kept going. * * * Z heard the frightened minds before the van reached the outer fence. “Stop.” Cyrus braked. Above the buildings, a watchtower sagged into orange flame. A sheet of corrugated metal spun through the air and disappeared behind the processing wing. Reen opened his door. “Well. Somebody early.” Nightwalka vanished and returned seconds later, smoke curling from his hoodie. “My mama in there. All the Kings.” Z's expression hardened. Rougie rose above the van and saw the yard. “Prisoners still inside!” They entered through the hole where the main gate had been. Beyond it, a guard crawled away from an overturned jeep, dragging one leg. Magnetrick stood over him with a length of steel hovering at shoulder height. “Trick.” The metal stopped. Z rolled into the yard with Nightwalka beside him. “Put it down.” “He gave the order to burn the eastern barracks if they lost control.” “Then he will answer for it.” “He is answering.” Behind Magnetrick, prisoners pounded on barred windows. A fresh tremor ran through the processing building as he drew another beam out of its frame. Z pointed toward it. “There are people beneath that building. Children. Your attacks are bringing the roof down on them.” “Then get them out.” “Back down. Do not kill anyone else.” For a moment, the two men looked at each other across the yard where captives had been counted like livestock. Magnetrick's helmet kept Z outside his thoughts. His face provided enough. “They don't leave here to do this again.” The steel moved. Cyrus's blast knocked it sideways before it reached the crawling officer. Reen dragged the man behind the jeep. Magnetrick slowly turned toward Cyrus. “You get one.” Z's voice broke across the yard. “Open the cells! Keep the structures standing!” Jugga-Knot stepped into the route to the command building. Lady Longnails raised her hands, blades extending. Hothead came off the watchtower stairs trailing fire. Reen looked at all three. “Man, we just lived together.” Jugga-Knot rolled his shoulders. “You drank my liquor.” “You left it in the fridge. I thought we was sharing.” Then Jugga-Knot charged. * * * Reen ducked the first swing and drove a shoulder into Jugga-Knot's ribs. It felt like hitting a truck. Jugga-Knot barely moved. Jugga-Knot caught his jacket and threw him through the security booth. Glass burst across the yard. Reen came out of the wreckage with a strip of blinds around his neck. “Aight.” He tore them off. His claws slid free. Across the courtyard, Hothead and Ice Tray ran toward each other, flame unwinding from one man's hand while cold gathered on the other's breath. They stopped almost chest to chest. Ice Tray looked him over. Hothead's eyes made the same slow trip. When their gazes met, the attraction was mutual and inconvenient enough to hold both of them still. A rifle cracked somewhere behind them. Hothead flicked his lighter. Ice Tray pursed his lips. Fire and freezing breath met between them, exploding into a cloud of steam. Both stumbled back, coughing. Hothead sent a low ribbon of flame across the concrete. Ice Tray jumped onto a bench and blew a white stream along its path, building a frozen ridge that hissed as it melted. He slid off the far side before the bench caught fire. Then a sonic emitter switched on above the barracks, and both men dropped. The sound drove through teeth and bone. Nightwalka's jump failed halfway across the yard. He hit the ground shoulder-first. Rougie landed beside the barracks with both hands clamped over her ears. Above them, a guard lifted a rifle with a transparent barrel. Misty shot him from the stairwell with a stolen weapon, then smashed its stock into the emitter until the sound broke into a dying squeal. Nightwalka looked up at her. “You with us or them?” She glanced across the yard at Magnetrick. “I don’t know. Get up.” They reached the holding wing together. Inside, the air smelled of bleach, damp clothing, and too many people kept frightened in one place. Hands reached between bars as soon as Nightwalka appeared. Misty took the keys from the guard she had impersonated and opened the first door. Outside, a beam crashed against the wall. Dust poured over her hair. “Trick!” she shouted through the doorway. “Stop pulling this building apart!” He did not look toward her. Cyrus was firing short, controlled bursts at the metal moving above the yard, breaking its path before it reached the command staff sheltering behind the infirmary. One fragment caught Cyrus across the thigh. His leg folded, but he kept his visor aimed upward. Magnetrick sent the jeep toward him. Rougie caught its front axle in midair. The weight forced her down until her boots carved two tracks through the concrete. She screamed and shoved it sideways into an empty wall. Lady Longnails reached her before she could straighten. Rougie caught one wrist. The other hand cut across her upper arm, opening her jacket and the skin beneath it. She kicked Longnails backward, then grabbed a fallen shield to keep the blades away from her throat. “People in cages!” Rougie shouted. “You forgot why we here?” Longnails slashed through the shield's edge. “You forgot who started shooting at us?” Behind them, Division officers advanced through the smoke, firing on both women. Rougie pulled Longnails down before the rounds reached them. A ceramic projectile buried itself in Longnails's already injured shoulder. She screamed. Rougie dragged her behind a concrete planter and tore open a packet of bandages from her belt. “Hold this.” Longnails stared at her. “You can cuss me out later. Hold the damn bandage.” * * * Something struck the northern fence from outside. At first, nobody noticed. There were too many impacts, too many alarms, too many people trying to decide which way to run. Then the fence folded inward, posts tearing out of the ground, and Monsta came through on all fours. His beard hung thick against his chest. Longer dreadlocks swung around a face half-hidden by dirt and dried blood. His torn pants clung to his hips. There was no shirt, no beanie, nothing tidy left about him. Reen saw him over Jugga-Knot's shoulder. “Aw, hell.” Monsta hit Jugga-Knot from the side. Both bodies crashed through a storage shed. Timber and roofing flew across the service lane. Jugga-Knot came out backward, boots digging furrows as Monsta drove him into a loading dock. For one hopeful second, Cyrus thought help had arrived. Then Reen approached. “Big man. It's us.” Monsta spun and struck him across the chest. Reen went through the open doors of a transport van and out the other side. His ribs broke loudly enough for Nightwalka to hear from the cellblock entrance. Monsta roared at the empty doorway. “Yeah,” Reen wheezed from somewhere inside the wreckage. “Good seeing you too.” Jugga-Knot got up behind him. Blood ran from a split above his eyebrow. “Blue motherfucker!” He charged. Monsta met him low, drove both hands beneath his arms, and lifted. For a moment, Jugga-Knot's feet hung off the ground. Then they fell together through the loading platform. The impact shook dust from every window in the yard. Z reached toward Monsta's mind and found noise, scraps of fear, a copper ring spinning in a room that no longer existed. Every shouted order became another threat. Every hand approaching him belonged to someone about to hurt him. Omari. You are outside. Nobody is taking you back. Monsta looked toward Z. Recognition flickered. A rifle fired behind the professor. Monsta flinched, and the recognition left his face. Monsta bounded toward the sound. Magnetrick ripped a steel cage from a transport trailer and dropped it over him before he reached Z's chair. “Stay down.” Monsta struck the bars. The whole cage jumped. Magnetrick tightened the metal. Monsta's eyes widened at the shrinking space. He threw himself against one side, then the other, roaring with a terror so raw that Misty stopped in the holding-wing doorway. “Don't lock him in!” she shouted. The cage burst outward. A bar struck Magnetrick beneath the ribs and hurled him against the command building. His helmet hit the wall with a sharp clang. He slid down, struggling to breathe. Monsta came after him. Reen intercepted him before he landed. His ribs had healed, but the impact still hurt like hell. They rolled across the yard, Monsta trying to pin him, Reen keeping his claws angled into the concrete instead of blue flesh. “Quit making me choose, man!” Reen shouted. Monsta answered by biting his shoulder. “Motherfucker!” Cyrus limped toward them. Rougie caught his arm. “No. Cells. We can't all fight him.” Behind her, a child was crying through a broken window. Cyrus looked at Reen, then at the window. He went with Rougie. * * * Back at the ridge house, Stormisha's phone rang while she was helping a child button his shirt. Z's voice was strained. “The Kings are already here. There are more prisoners than we can transport. We need help and buses. Arrange care for the children before you leave.” Stormisha called the neighbors who had been helping at the house. Scambit got on the phone to arrange two buses. They waited until the neighbors arrived, explained what each child needed, and made sure the little ones were settled with them. When the buses pulled up, Jeanetta came down the steps carrying blankets. “I can help with the kids you bring out,” she told Stormisha. “You stay on the bus. No coming into that camp.” Jeanetta handed her a blanket. “That's fine.” One driver asked whether this was church business. “Community outreach,” Scambit told him. The first bus reached the service road while the infirmary roof was still intact. Scambit stepped down, took in the smoke, the fallen tower, and Monsta throwing Reen against a parked truck. “Y'all started without us.” Stormisha was already moving. Wind swept through the outer yard, clearing smoke from the road and driving a line of Division soldiers away from the bus doors. Jeanetta stood on the steps behind Scambit. “Stay,” he told her. “I see them.” He followed her gaze to the children Nightwalka was bringing out. One little boy walked barefoot, carrying a shoe that belonged to somebody else. Jeanetta opened the blanket in her arms. “Bring him here.” Scambit hesitated, then pointed at the driver. “You keep this engine running. Anybody asks, we on a field trip.” The driver stared at a burning watchtower. “To where?” “Back home, soon as we get everybody on. You getting a tip. Quit asking questions.” Scambit hurried into the yard on his stiff leg. His first charged card broke the lock on a transport cage. His second burst beneath a rifle squad's feet, scattering them away from the prisoners. Stormisha lifted Z's chair over the wreckage blocking the service lane and set him beside the buses. “Jeanetta here?” he asked. “On the bus, helping with the kids. The ones at the house are safe with the neighbors.” His objection died beneath a shout from the holding wing. A stairwell had collapsed. Nightwalka appeared with two children, left them beside Z, and disappeared again. On his next return, blood ran down one sleeve. “Lower level still full,” he said. “They chained the back doors.” Stormisha rose above the yard. Clouds gathered over the compound as she drove a hard, narrow current through the corridor, clearing suppressant vapor from the stairs. Rougie went in beneath it. Cyrus followed, bracing against the wall. Scambit reached the command office and found the terminal still running. Transfers. Equipment orders. Passenger numbers without names. He plugged a drive into the port. A guard came through the side door with a rifle raised. Scambit threw a card into the weapon before it fired. The explosion broke the desk lamp and sent both men stumbling. Outside the window, Magnetrick rose painfully from the pavement. The guard saw him and ran toward the prisoners. Scambit caught the man's vest. “Wrong direction.” A steel cable came through the window and wrapped around the guard's torso. Scambit grabbed the cable with both hands. “Hold up! He knows the transfer codes!” Magnetrick pulled. Scambit slammed against the window frame. The guard disappeared into the smoke outside. A heavy impact followed. Scambit slid to the floor, one hand pressed to his side. Blood seeped between his fingers from a deep cut left by the shattered frame. He stared at the empty window. “You stubborn son of a bitch.” The computer beeped. The records had finished copying onto his drive. He took the drive and limped out. * * * By the infirmary, Hothead's left sleeve had frozen solid. Ice Tray had a burn along his forearm and was bleeding from the mouth where a piece of flying concrete had struck him. He spat red onto the pavement and inhaled carefully. Hothead melted the ice around his elbow. Behind him, two guards brought a portable emitter out through the infirmary doors. Ice Tray saw the clear rifle rise. “Move!” He blew a thick burst of frost past Hothead's ear. The weapon froze against the guard's hands. Hothead turned, swept fire over the emitter, and forced both men back inside. Neither had time to comment on helping the other. Jugga-Knot came through the smoke backward, hit the infirmary steps, and lay still for a frightening second. Monsta followed. Hothead threw a wall of flame between them. Monsta tore a water tank from its stand and hurled it through the fire. The blast of water and metal caught Hothead in the chest. He struck the stairs beside Jugga-Knot and did not get up. Ice Tray stumbled over to him. Hothead tried to breathe and made a small, awful sound. “Hey. Look at me.” A clawed hand closed around Ice Tray's jacket. Reen hauled him backward as Monsta charged past. “Watch out! You trying to get killed too?” Across the yard, Nightwalka appeared beside his mother, carrying a girl whose leg bent at an angle Misty would not look at twice. Misty took her. “Bus. Now.” A beam peeled away from the holding-wing roof. Magnetrick was using it to reach the officers behind the infirmary. Nightwalka stood directly beneath its path. Misty's voice cut through everything. “TRICK!” He stopped the beam inches above her son's head. She stared at him across the yard, holding the injured child. For the first time that morning, he looked at what was between him and his targets. “You see him?” she demanded. “You see any of us?” Magnetrick lowered his hand slightly. Before he could answer Misty, the ground began to shake. He looked up at the beam, thinking it had slipped. It hadn't. * * * On the bus, Jeanetta had just tucked a blanket around the barefoot boy when pain closed around her stomach. She stopped breathing until it passed. The boy watched her face. “You hurt?” “No, baby.” Another pain came before she finished saying it. She gripped the seat. Outside, Stormisha landed beside the door with dust in her hair and blood on her cheek. “Jeanetta?” Jeanetta stood, then froze. Warm fluid ran down her legs onto the bus steps. Both women looked at it. “Oh, hell no,” Jeanetta whispered. Stormisha climbed the steps and caught her elbow. “Okay. Come here. We gonna sit you down.” The bus windows rattled. Jeanetta looked at the children packed into the seats around her. “No. Get them away from me.” “Listen—” “Stormisha. Now.” A hairline crack traveled across the windshield. Stormisha helped her down the steps and shouted for Z. Jeanetta made it three paces before her knees buckled. Scambit caught her other arm, his own face gray with pain. “Jeanetta, you alright?” She shook her head. The pavement lifted beneath them. Scambit lost his grip. Stormisha caught herself in the air as the bus rocked violently on its wheels. Children screamed inside. Z's warning reached every mind he could touch. Stop fighting. Get the prisoners out. Now. Jeanetta pressed both hands over her stomach. Light showed beneath her fingers, thin and red at first, then bright enough to turn the skin between them translucent. “It's happening again.” Cyrus came limping from the holding wing. Reen left Monsta beside the ruined tank and ran toward her. Neither reached her before the next shock. The ground split across the yard. * * * This time, the earth did not simply crack. It rose in uneven slabs, lifting buildings from their foundations. The command office tilted. Windows burst outward and stopped in the air, thousands of fragments trembling as if waiting for permission to fall. Jeanetta's feet left the ground. Stormisha caught her wrist. For a moment, she rose with her. “Look at me!” Jeanetta tried. Her eyes were filling with red light. “I can't—” The force tore their hands apart. Stormisha spun backward into a fence, wind breaking enough of the impact to keep her alive. Pain shot through her shoulder. She forced herself upright and saw Jeanetta rising above the rooftops, back arched, arms hanging loose. Red light spread behind her in vast, wavering shapes. They opened like wings, broke apart, and gathered again. The heat carried no smoke. Every soldier in the yard looked up. Z reached toward her and recoiled, blood starting beneath his nose. Her mind was there, frightened and overwhelmed, buried beneath a pressure he had never encountered. “Prisoners first,” he said aloud, voice shaking. “Everyone. Prisoners first.” Magnetrick stood beneath the floating glass with one arm held against his side. An officer lay trapped beneath a fallen shield ten feet away. Beyond him, the holding-wing roof began to drop. Misty was still inside. Magnetrick turned both hands toward the building. The roof stopped. He cried out as the effort pulled against his injured ribs. Steel shrieked, gathering into braces beneath the broken concrete. “Get them out!” he shouted. Misty heard him. She did not stop to answer. Nightwalka made jump after jump until his landings became falls. Rougie carried four children at a time, blood running from her arm onto their numbered clothes. Cyrus broke the last cell doors and guided a line of prisoners through the corridor beneath Magnetrick's trembling supports. Lady Longnails used her good arm to cut restraints. Jugga-Knot dragged himself upright and wedged his shoulders beneath a sagging doorway. One knee shook so badly he could barely plant it. Hothead could not stand. Ice Tray hooked an arm beneath his shoulders and pulled him along the infirmary wall. “Damn, you heavy. Help me out a little,” Ice Tray gasped. Hothead's fingers closed weakly around his jacket. A guard stepped into their path. Before he could raise his rifle, the barrel softened into gray powder. He stared at his hands. Then his hands began to crumble. Ice Tray stopped moving. The man's armor fell inward around empty space. Dust drifted onto his boots. A breath earlier he had been alive, aiming at them. Now there was nothing left inside the uniform. Across the yard, another officer dissolved against the command-office steps. Then another. Those who ran got no farther than those who froze. The red light passed over the captives without touching them, found the gray-armored figures between them, and reduced those figures to dust. Reen watched a soldier disappear inches from a little girl. The child stayed standing, hands over her ears. He picked her up and ran. Nobody understood who was choosing. Above them, Jeanetta's mouth opened. No words reached the ground. * * * Scambit reached the buses with the stolen drive clenched between his teeth and an injured teenager leaning against his shoulder. He shoved the drive into his pocket, helped the teenager up, and nearly collapsed against the door. “Go,” he told the driver. “Far side of the drainage ditch. Don't stop till you there.” One bus pulled away. Then the second. Stormisha kept a corridor of clear air around them as dust swallowed the road. Her injured arm hung close to her body. Each breath hurt, but she kept the wind moving. The last prisoners came out beneath Magnetrick's roof. Misty counted them against the list she had stolen. Nightwalka returned for a man left behind in the washroom. Rougie flew over the broken yard and checked the cages one more time. Empty. “That's everyone!” she shouted. Magnetrick let go. The holding wing collapsed into itself. On the far side of the camp, the remaining command officers ran toward an armored escape vehicle. One reached its door. The door became powder under his fingers. So did he. The red light swept across the final watchtower. The men inside vanished. Their weapons broke apart after them, falling in thin gray streams through the open platform. There would be no next transport, no surviving commander to rebuild, no other facility waiting for an order. The Division had gathered what remained of itself in one place. Now that place was empty of them. Magnetrick looked up at Jeanetta. His hands lowered. For the first time since the gates fell, he looked afraid. * * * The light went out all at once. One moment Jeanetta hung above the camp with red radiance filling the sky behind her. The next, her head dropped forward. Her arms went limp. She fell. Stormisha tried to rise. Pain tore through her shoulder, and the wind beneath her scattered. Nightwalka reached for a jump and dropped to one knee, nothing left in him but a thin curl of smoke. Cyrus shouted Jeanetta's name. Monsta looked up. He had crouched beside the shattered water tank through the last violent pulses, shoulders raised, hands pressed against his head. Now he saw her falling. His hands hit the ground. He ran on all fours through the wreckage, dreadlocks streaming behind him. One leap carried him over the torn fence. Another took him across the fissure in the yard. Jeanetta fell past the broken watchtower. Monsta rose beneath her. He caught her against his chest and went down on one knee, turning with the impact so her head never struck the ground. For a second, nobody moved. The same hands that had torn apart the cage, thrown Reen through a van, and nearly killed Magnetrick now cupped the back of Jeanetta's head as if he was afraid his fingers might bruise her. Her hair fell over his wrist. She did not open her eyes. “Jeanetta?” Cyrus reached them, barely able to put weight on his injured leg. Monsta bared his teeth. Cyrus stopped. Reen came up beside him, claws withdrawn. “Easy, big man. We ain't taking her from you.” Z rolled over the broken pavement with Rougie helping guide his chair. He kept his voice low. “Monsta. Let us help her.” The large blue face turned toward him. Beneath the beard, beneath the fury, something seemed to be listening. Jeanetta's body tightened in his arms. Misty knelt beside them. “We need somewhere to lay her down.” Magnetrick looked toward the infirmary. Through its broken doors, a metal examination table lay on its side. He raised one shaking hand. The table slid free of the rubble, turned upright, and moved across the yard. He reshaped a bent leg without touching it, lowered it beneath Jeanetta, and held it steady. Monsta looked from the table to her face. “Gently,” Z said. He lowered her as if setting down something he had spent his whole life searching for. His hand stayed beneath her head until Stormisha folded a blanket under it. Misty stripped off her torn outer jacket and covered Jeanetta while Rougie brought sealed supplies from the infirmary. Reen and Jugga-Knot pulled a surviving privacy screen around the table. Scambit got through to emergency dispatch, gave the road twice, and shouted that they needed ambulances, not questions. Jeanetta's pulse raced beneath Misty's fingers. Her breathing was shallow. Her eyelids did not move. “Z.” “I know.” He took her hand. * * * Inside Jeanetta's mind, the camp had not stopped falling. There were rooms breaking apart, cries from people she could not find, a light so bright she could not see where to put her feet. Somewhere, a young voice called her Mom. She turned toward it and found only the sound of her own heart. Then another voice entered, familiar and patient. Jeanetta. Listen to me. Z did not force his way deeper. He held to the part of her that still knew his voice. You are on the ground. You're with us. At the table, her fingers twitched against his. Misty looked beneath the blanket and swallowed. “The baby's coming.” Cyrus made a helpless movement forward. Reen caught his elbow before his damaged leg folded. “Let her work.” Stormisha knelt by Jeanetta's head, wiping dust from her face with the corner of a clean cloth. “Girl, you better hear us.” Jeanetta remained unconscious. Her body tightened again. Z felt the panic surge, felt her trying to pull away from something happening both inside and beyond her control. Relax yourself, Jeanetta. You're safe here. Let it happen. He gave her mind a place to rest: a quiet room, a familiar voice, the knowledge that someone else was watching the door. Her racing heartbeat remained frighteningly fast beneath Misty's hand, but her breath stopped catching against itself. Misty glanced at Z. “Stay with her.” He nodded. When the next contraction came, his voice followed it. That's it. Push, Jeanetta. We're right here. She did not wake. She did not speak. Her body answered the labor already carrying her forward. Misty bent over her, all traces of disguise gone. Her blue hands were steady even while her mouth trembled. Months of threats, the silent approach to Jeanetta's bed, Nightwalka's hand turning the doorknob. She remembered every step she had taken toward ending this child's life. Now she waited for him with open hands. Another contraction passed through Jeanetta. Misty supported the baby as he emerged, catching his small, slippery weight against a clean cloth. For a moment, the whole ruined camp seemed to hold its breath. Then he cried. It was a furious, ordinary sound. Misty let out a breath that almost became a sob. “A boy.” Stormisha covered her mouth. Cyrus stared. Reen looked at the child, then at Jeanetta's face. Z bowed his head over the hand he still held. A son. Just as she had seen. Monsta stood at the foot of the table with both arms hanging loose. The cry reached him. His face changed slowly, confusion giving way to something more painful and much gentler. He lifted one huge hand, stopped before touching the child, and curled his fingers back toward his palm. Misty saw him. “He's here,” she whispered. A tear slipped into Monsta's beard. “Little…” His voice broke with disuse. He swallowed. “Little pickney.” Nobody corrected him. Nobody asked if he knew where he was. For that moment, he stayed. A sharp hiss broke the silence. A dart lodged in the thick muscle at the side of Monsta's neck. His huge hand rose to it. He turned, bewildered, and saw Cyrus lowering a compact tranquilizer launcher. Cyrus looked sick with what he had done. Monsta's gaze moved to Professor Z. The old man sat motionless in his wheelchair, unable to meet his friend's eyes. Monsta said nothing. His knees folded, and he fell heavily to the ground. “What the fuck did you just do?” Reen demanded, moving toward Cyrus. His claws slid out. “I ordered it,” Z said. Reen stopped. “You ordered it?” “He needs treatment. After what happened on that bridge and here today, they're coming for him whether we cooperate or not. I arranged a medical transfer.” “You arranged to hand him over,” Reen said. “That's what you did.” Z looked at Monsta lying still on the ground. “I know what I did.” The distant sound of approaching vehicles rose beyond the broken road. Two officers and a medical team came through the yard. Reen stood in their way until Z quietly asked him to move. They lifted Monsta onto a reinforced stretcher, secured him, and carried him away. He never regained consciousness, and he never spoke. Reen watched until they disappeared. He would not look at Z again. * * * The baby cried again. Jeanetta did not stir. Misty's expression changed as she looked back at her. Blood was spreading beneath the blanket, and her color was wrong. “Where are they?” Stormisha demanded. Scambit pressed the phone harder against his ear. “Sirens coming. They turning in.” Z kept speaking into the darkness around Jeanetta's mind, but the answers had become faint impressions, too fragile to hold. Stay with us. The first emergency crew reached them on foot because the road had broken apart. Others followed with equipment and stretchers. A paramedic knelt beside the table, looked once at Jeanetta, and began giving orders. People moved. A line went into her arm. Someone took the baby from Misty to examine him. Cyrus followed that movement with his whole body until another medic caught him before he fell. “Your leg needs attention.” “Her first.” “Somebody is with her." Stormisha went with Jeanetta. Cyrus rode in the ambulance with the baby. Around the camp, the cost of the morning became clear beneath clean bandages. Hothead needed help with every breath. Jugga-Knot could no longer stand on his injured knee. Lady Longnails's shoulder hung uselessly. Rougie's arm would not stop bleeding until the medics worked on it. Scambit kept insisting his side was a scratch until he nearly fainted halfway through the sentence. Magnetrick sat on an ambulance step while a medic examined his ribs. Misty stood beside him, blood drying blue-black against her skin. “I heard you,” he said quietly. She looked at him. “In the yard.” “You almost didn't.” He had no answer that would improve it. Her hand settled on his shoulder for a moment. Then she went to check on her son. Reen stood beyond the ambulances with his torn shirt hanging open. His wounds had closed. Other people's had not. He took a flask from his pocket, looked at it, and put it away until he had finished helping load the last stretchers. * * * The hospital made room because the alternative was leaving people in the hall. Freed children slept beneath blankets while staff called relatives, social workers, and anyone who could help put names back where numbers had been. Older prisoners answered questions in exhausted bursts. Some refused to let go of one another long enough to be examined. Scambit's stolen records went into Z's coat pocket. There would be time to follow the transfer routes, time to look for Apocalypto and Broteus, time to account for the prisoners who had disappeared before that morning. Not tonight. Tonight, Jeanetta was behind a door nobody let them through. Cyrus sat with his leg wrapped and braced, staring at the handle. Reen stood beside a vending machine without buying anything. Stormisha had one arm in a sling and dried tear tracks cutting through the dust on her cheeks. When a doctor finally came out, everyone stood except the people who physically couldn't. They had controlled the bleeding. Jeanetta was receiving close monitoring and treatment. She had survived the delivery and the trip there. She had not regained consciousness. “Can we see her?” Cyrus asked. “Briefly. A few at a time.” “And the baby?” The doctor looked toward the nursery corridor. “He's doing well.” Cyrus lowered his face into his hands. Relief came out of him in a breath that hurt to hear. Reen rested a hand on the back of his chair, then let it fall before anyone could make something of it. * * * Hours later, the room was dim except for the monitor beside Jeanetta's bed. She lay still beneath a clean blanket. Someone had washed the dust from her hairline. Without the red light, without the force that had lifted buildings, she looked terribly tired and much too quiet. Cyrus sat beside her, holding two of her fingers between his own. Reen stood at the foot of the bed. “He got lungs,” Reen said. Cyrus gave a shaky laugh. “I heard him from the hallway.” “Whole floor heard him.” For a while, they listened to the monitor. “I keep thinking she's going to open her eyes and tell us to stop looking at her,” Cyrus said. “Probably first thing she say.” Cyrus brushed his thumb over her knuckles. “I hope so.” Z waited near the window. He had been quiet since they entered, giving them what little privacy the room allowed. The nurse came in with the baby wrapped snugly against her chest. Three faces turned toward her. “He's ready for another visit,” she said. Then she looked between Cyrus and Reen. “Which one of you is Dad?” Cyrus opened his mouth. Nothing came out. He gave a small, helpless shrug. Reen nodded toward him. The nurse shifted closer to Cyrus. Cyrus looked up at Reen. “Wait.” Reen held his gaze. “That's you.” For several seconds, Cyrus seemed unable to understand the words in the order they had arrived. “Me?” Reen nodded again. The nurse settled the boy into Cyrus's arms and helped him support the small head. Cyrus looked down. The baby moved his mouth, frowned at something only he understood, and curled one hand against the blanket. Cyrus laughed once, breathlessly. Tears followed before he could hide them. “How long did you know?” Reen leaned against the footboard. “I did the math a while ago. Shit wasn't mathing.” Cyrus looked from him to the baby and back again. Reen's expression softened. “You're a lucky man.” Cyrus turned toward the window. “Professor, did you know?” Z wheeled closer. “I had an inkling or two. She confirmed it a few days ago.” Cyrus stared at him. “She knew?” “She figured it out. We spoke privately.” “Why didn't she tell me?” Z glanced at Jeanetta, and a tired smile touched his mouth. “She said you were already checking whether she'd eaten. If she told you, she was afraid you'd start scheduling her meals and sending reminder emails about her vitamins.” Reen looked away, shoulders moving. Cyrus frowned through his tears. “Well, consistency is actually—” He stopped. Reen couldn't hold his laugh in anymore. Even Z's smile widened. Cyrus looked down at the little face in his arms. “She could have told me.” “Yes,” Z said gently. “She could have.” Cyrus leaned toward the bed so Jeanetta would have been able to see them together if she opened her eyes. “You hear that?” he whispered to her. “I would've only sent one email.” Reen made a disbelieving sound. “A day,” Cyrus admitted. * * * The others crowded the doorway. The nurse looked at all of them and sighed. “Five minutes. And don't nobody else come in here.” Stormisha came in first, followed by Scambit with fresh stitches beneath his bandages. Rougie leaned against his good side. Nightwalka guided Misty around a chair, though she kept insisting she was fine. Magnetrick stood near the wall with his ribs bound beneath his clothes. Lady Longnails wore a sling. Jugga-Knot occupied a reinforced wheelchair somebody had spent twenty minutes locating. Hothead had been allowed out of his room long enough to visit, with strict instructions and oxygen still beneath his nose. Ice Tray pushed his chair, a dressing across his burned forearm. Ice Tray parked him beside the wall. Misty stepped close enough to see the baby's face. Magnetrick watched her touch one finger to the edge of the blanket. When she moved back, his hand found hers. She let him hold it. Nobody had forgotten the yard. The injured people in the room made forgetting impossible. But for a little while, nobody asked anyone to answer for it. Stormisha bent toward the baby. “Look at him. Caused all that trouble, now he wanna sleep.” “He get that from his daddy,” Reen said. Cyrus looked up. “I don't—” “Enjoy your moment, man.” The room settled around a tired laugh. The nurse checked Jeanetta's monitor, then glanced at the boy in Cyrus's arms. “Have you decided what we're calling him?” Everyone went quiet. Cyrus looked at Jeanetta. Her eyes stayed closed, her hand resting where he had left it on the blanket. He wished more than anything that she could roll those eyes at whatever he chose. He looked down at his son. The little fist opened against his finger. “Yes,” Cyrus said. Stormisha leaned closer. Reen lifted his head. Misty looked up from beside the bed. Cyrus smiled through the tears still drying on his face, took a breath, and began to say his son's name.

X-Mans 13: Who’s Yo Daddy? Now We Know

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