Wolverine melted into the darkness surrounding Magneto's camp. He was as close to his limit as he had ever been as he had taken major hits from both Exodus and Magneto. But it was not his wounds that were bothering him. I was that he couldn't clear the vision of a red-head from his mind. There had only been three women Wolverine had ever truly loved, and two of them were dead now. The third had just tried to assist one of his deadliest enemies in killing him.

She had been screaming, he could tell. The tent had stunk with her fear and pain. So what had Magneto done to her to pervert her like this? He cursed to himself silently. He had a chance to kill Magneto once and, while sorely tempted, he had refrained from finishing him (author's note: way back in X-Men #3). That was not a mistake Wolverine planned to repeat.

Behind him he could hear shouts. He recognised the voice as Barbarus, a savage land mutate he had fought before. He was in no shape to go toe to toe with him or anyone else. But he had an advantage that they didn't in that he knew where Nereel's pickets were. He smiled, as eager as they were they could easily be led into an ambush. Something had tainted them and driven their bloodlust to a fever pitch while blocking out their ability to think. Their tough luck!

Rogue woke slowly. She felt dizzy and disoriented from her encounter with Cyber. She was unsure how much time had passed but the poison that Cyber had dosed her with seemed to be slowly wearing off. She shakely stood in the close confines of the tent. The professor was still there, his face was a pallid mask as if in death. She heard a choking sound beside her. The Acolyte Scanner was there. The girl was coughing and choking up blood. It was silly to have even bothered to carry her here, but then what was the use of being an X-man if you didn't believe in hope less causes.

"Land sakes gal, better you had died back home so long ago than t' die like this so far from home," Rogue reflected. "Gosh darn it, ah'm in worse shape than ah thought ah'd be after that tussle." Rogue stepped to the entrance of the tent. In the distance she could hear the sounds of battle. Someone was fighting and people were dying out in the darkness. She steeled herself and listened. The fighting was staggered and sporadic from the sounds of it. She would be needed later. The smart choice was to wait. "Dang it all, ah can't just sit here!" she cursed. A moment later she was in the air and speeding towards the battle.

Scanner watched her go -- leaving her in her own blood and slime. The wound was in her gut and the pain was agonising but such wounds were rarely immediately fatal. Whomever had done this wanted her to suffer and suffer horribly. She would not give in. She had been betrayed by Scott, he had conspired with the professor to turn her and the rest of the acolytes in (Authors note: a biased but reasonably accurate assessment of X-Men #44) and now Rogue had left her here to die.

None of them understood the real danger. The dangers they were facing was physical. She was a telepath but a weak one and she lacked the strength to fight the rising tide of evil on her own. But Professor Charles Xavier was supposedto be the most powerful mutant telepath, and his power was sorely needed. But deep inside Scanner doubted even he could overcome that bloated mass of evil on the astral plane. Setting her doubts aside she stepped forth from her body and made the journey to Xavier's shrouded mind.

She was the Flagship of her class, the logical extension of the Shield Helecarrier into a floating warship. Using alien and advanced technology the US government had slowly accumulated over the past three decades (and using the scientific genius of Reed Richards in many of the details) she was three times the size of a waterborne carrier. Three antimatter reactors satisfied the immense power requirements of the anti-gravity generators. Carrying 3,000 soldiers and a 150 warplanes she was the most formidable assault craft ever developed by an Earth Based government. Behind her, her two sister ship flew, the US flags accompanied by UN flags.

On her bridge stood a man whose very life was the antithesis of her name. He stood still and straight -- staring the coming confrontation in the face. His green cloak swirled in the circulated air and his steel clad hands were

clenched behind him. He was the greatest genius of his time, a scientist, a leader, a ruler of men, a magician and a soldier. The foreboding that coursed through his veins was foreign to this man of steel. A lesser genius would have missed the signs and misunderstood what was going on. But he hadn't! Magneto had tapped into his latent psi- abilities and used them to establish a near invincible power base here where he was strongest. But he had seen the signs and known what has happening. Unchecked Magneto would rule the planet, and there would be no room for humans in his brave new world. But Doom had seen it coming and had read the signs correctly. Now, with a little assistance from some old enemies, he was going to murder the man. And if Doom was right then there was also a chance at great power, power that could make HIM the master of man's destiny. These UN fools missed the signs and didn't realise how close they were to granting such power to him. He was right about Magneto, he had to be. He was DOOM. And yet, there was something that didn't feel right.

Doom stared into the approaching darkness.

Wolverine smiled a feral grin. He had looped around and led his hunters directly into the United Tribes pickets. They had been taken completely by surprise. It seemed that something had driven them after him so that they had been too eager to catch him, and too careless. Their tough luck.

He stalked around, the camp was deathly quiet. Most of the people here had been coated in Wyrm's film and with the fall of their master were helpless in slime coatings. Most of the rest had followed him to the river or headed there when the fighting had started in earnest. Suddenly the night was transformed into day as a lone figure hovered above the river blasting forth energy into the battlefield. Exodus had joined the fight. The battle at the river wouldn't be waiting until morning after all. He stalked towards the tent that last contained Magneto, it was unlikely he was still there but it never hurt to be thorough.

As he came up to the ornate structure his hyper acute senses revealed the reason why Magneto was not involved in the battle that raged in the dark hours before dawn. This was uncharacteristic, Magneto never put personal pleasure before duty. The stroke to his neck should have killed him. Something more... sinister was going on. There was no replacement guard. Damn careless of the man. One way or the other Wolverine swore he would get the answers to what was going on. He steeled himself and stepped forward.

"Hello, Wolverine." Magneto said, caught in the midst of an unmentionable activity. "I was hoping you would show up although I must freely admit I didn't expect you back quite so soon." Wolverine tried to lunge but was suddenly unable to move. Jean Grey grinned a feral grin at him. "As you can see Mrs. Summers is quite capable of preventing you from either attacking or escaping." Magneto reached for a bottle filled with an amber liquid. "It's really too bad that you are indisposed as the locals make quite a delicious fruit wine. But then I suppose you lack the refined palate to appreciate this, too much hard liquor and... what's the word... ah! Brewskies!" He smiled a mocking smile while caressing Jean's head. "I don't think you will be as fortunate as Jean here. She proved to be quite the convert once I unleashed the dark side of her soul. Poor Dear, she kept it bottled up where nobody could see it, but then very little is secret from me. You look surprised, little man. Are you still thinking that the face makes the man. No Wolverine, I am not Magneto. I am the Shadow King. Yes, struggle harder. Magneto would probably not have harmed a helpless foe but, you see, I lack his scruples. I think you will make an excellent leader for my hounds. I will have to destroy your will and personality first, but then there has always been so little gap between the man and the beast anyway. I wonder if you will even know what you lost. Barbarian!" The Shadow King laughed while Jean merely smiled.

"I curse the cruel fates that made me what I am." the Dark figure intoned. "For I am one of the strong and I define strength, but my loins were made weak. So few children in so many ages and all them weak and helpless. Except two, but one was weak of mind and the other was feral. My son, I gave you a gift to make you strong and you lost it. But without it you proved to be still strong. And now you fall, a wolf before coyotes. Dare I intervene? Or should I let nature take it's course? And perhaps I should decide whether the Shadow King should be an enemy of mine. Too late will they find out the truth about Karma and it will kill one who doesn't even know he is dead yet. For Karma controls minds and Sinister's son shall not prosper if mine does not. So do I swear!"

Lt. Elizabeth Holden (Lizard to friends) listened intently as the speaker in the compartment blasted out the briefing. Who would ever have thought that an English lady could become an SAS officer. The speaker droned on, about a mutant madman named Magneto and the details they were letting the rank and file know. Her mind was elsewhere, on her oldest brother who had just received a position at Edinburgh University and her other brother, Maj. John Holden, who was elsewhere on the carrier.

Joining the service had been her way of rebelling against a family who had expected the men to be soldiers, the women to be housewives to older officers. She didn't want to sit home and change diapers while her brothers had all the fun. Her oldest brother, Kyle, had left the army after basic training to become an academic, as profound a disappointment as she was. She and John were natural born killers, they gloried in the fight. This was what she had always lived for -- this is what she dreamed off. She checked her jump harness for the umpteenth time. She would be ready whatever came.

Rogue swung again. She was desperate to halt the slow breaking of the line. Something was affecting them all, as if they had already been defeated. Morale was being sapped and tribesmen were simply giving up and letting the enemy kill them. The advantage of numbers they had was slowly being eroded. Rogue looked up into the sky above her Exodus fired beams of energy at the tribesman. Screams and the smell of burnt flesh rose from wherever he struck. They needed a victory of some sort and they needed it now! Perhaps this would restore the flagging morale of the tribesman. Forcing back bile and fighting dizziness, Rogue headed into battle with Exodus.

Scanner forced herself up against the professor's shields and easy pierced them. She had to be careful now, entering the mind of another put oneself at a grave dis- advantage. And she was nowhere near as strong as Charles Xavier. She looked around, she was in a hot desert climate of some kind. She was in a bar filled with patrons wearing western style clothing. At a nearby table sat two individuals. One was bald and wearing a Safari outfit with a Fedora at his elbow. He spoke with passion and conviction to the second individual, a silver haired man with a commanding gaze dressed in a white lab-coat. The bald man seemed quite agitated while the silver haired man was cold and implacable.

"Damn you, Magnus, why do you haunt me. I killed you... " the bald man was saying. He seemed to pause as a wave of emotion swept over him. "You were my best friend and I killed you."

"Technically my body survived your attack on it, Charles." the other individual said in a cold, lifeless voice.

"Why won't you leave me alone?" the bald individual begged. "Please! For the love of God don't you realise I can't bring you back!"

"You have to. This close I can sense a grave wrong being done in my name and using my image. You have to bring me back." the silver haired man said.

"So you can conquer the world? Use your power to destroy your enemies and slaughter your foes?"

"Were you any better? With Amelia Voght? With Magik (Author - New Mutants #51)? With Me? Once you chose to abuse your powers you became as wrong as I ever was. Give me the chance to set it all right!"

"NEVER"

"Excuse me," Scanner interjected. "But we don't have time for this."

"Imagine that." the bald man sobbed. "A figment of my imagination tells me that I don't have enough time. I have all the time in the blasted world!" The mental attack struck Scanner to the core. She rode it out in a wave of pain and agony until it subsided. "You're still here." the bald man observed.

"Yes." Scanner replied. "And Magnus is right. You are sorely needed and now is not the time for weakness."

"You are an Acolyte aren't you? An apparition to trick me! I will have my own psychosis!" Xavier cried.

"The girl is right." Magnus pointed out.

"You are having a trauma induced psychotic episode. I think I can break you out of it but I am going to need your help." Scanner explained.

"It seems I'm outnumbered. What do you want me to do?" Xavier asked, resigning himself to the images in his head.

"This..." Scanner replied.

Wolverine howled a feral scream torn from his very depth. Foaming and frothing he struggled against the slow mental torture. The Shadow King was undoing all of the mental surgery that had been done on him -- false memories were stripped away like old skin to be discarded. He could feel the Shadow King feeding on this. Every now and again he paused to send forth a pulse of the blackest despair at the opposing side in the battle that raged just beyond the confines of his tent. It was worse then because Jean, sweet innocent Jean, took over. His deep and abiding love for her made him terribly vulnerable to her probes as she entered, gentle as a lover, and then seized and tore at his mind. He was sliding deep into a pit and there was no escape from it.

Then it came; a pulse of mental energy like a burst from a bomb striking both the Shadow King and his consort. Their black bursts of darkness were disrupted as were their psi-talents. The Shadow King gaped at open air, Magneto's brows furrowing in concentration as he began to fight against some sort of unseen foe. Jean fell crying to the ground sobbing, "Forgive me... I wasn't strong enough... please help me..." Wolverine leapt at Magneto -- this was the chance he had been looking for. The Shadow King parried his leap with a magnetic shield, but the effort cost him dearly.

Wolverine was berserk now and he tore into Magneto. Only the armour coating Magneto's body and the fact that Wolverine's claws were bone saved his life. And then Sauron was there. That Reptile took a lot to kill. It must have fed off the helpless people in the front hall and used their life energy to replenish itself. Wolverine slashed low, he only had to get around Sauron to win, but he was too hurt and too worn out. Even his vaunted healing factor had a limit. He fell beneath Sauron's pummelling. The creature grabbed him and slowly began to feed... and then suffered a burst of confusion as Wolverine simply vanished in a blaze of light.

Rogue slammed into Exodus at top speed hoping to knock him off balance. She hammered a fist into him and continued hitting as quickly as she could. Suddenly the cloud of despair that had clung to the battle lifted and she felt three friendly presence's in her mind helping her in her fight. Exodus responded with outrage.

"You dare strike the appointed leader of the people of Magneto? I am set above. I will make you pay beyond price for each blow you have inflicted on me you harridan!" Exodus blasted Rogue with a combination of psionic and physical energy. She reeled, spinning away and fell downwards into the cold, wet earth. Not knowing about her friends, who even in the midst of their battle with the Shadow King had aided her, Exodus counted her as a dead woman. She simply didn't have the defences to resist that kind of hit.

Exodus returned to his holy and appointed task of slaying all who would stand against his master. And courageous or not, they all fell before his blistering onslaught. All save a trio of sad little people, one crippled, one mortally wounded and one dead, who resisted beyond all that he could do.