Ascension / Abandonment
the Twenty-Sixth Tale
Van Dyne Haven
Hope, Montana
The Room of Jean Grey
2012 / November
Jean Grey held a red crayon in her hand and stabbed it forward, as if she were a killer in a teen-slasher movie. Her victim, however, was only a piece of white paper, which she stabbed violently, her once long red hair cropped short and wild.
From behind a plate of glass, Janet Van Dyne, Dr. Leonard Samson and Dr. Michael Twoyoungmen watched Jean with sorrow on their faces. She stabbed and scribbled on the papers like a mad woman - which, in fact, is just what she was.
Janet asked Dr. Samson, “How did your interview with the patient go today, Len?”
“Her condition is deteriorating,” he answered somberly.
“The disk Charles Xavier presented us remains little help?” Michael Twoyoungmen asked, bringing up memories Janet Van Dyne would never forget. It was just over a year ago when Charles Xavier had visited Jean here, at the Van Dyne Haven, and been killed by Bullseye. Before entering Jean’s room, Xavier had handed Janet a disk that, he claimed, would answer all the questions about her condition they had.*
* As seen in AGC 3 & 4
As far as that went, they knew, the disk had delivered on Xavier’s promise.
Back in August of 2010, the Phoenix Force had once again come for Jean. Faced with a decision between taking on the mantle of Phoenix or allowing Madelyne Pryor to weild the awesome cosmic destructive force, Jean chose to become Phoenix and left the X-Men, flying deep into outer space.
Where she committed mental suicide.
Desperate to find a way to disable the Phoenix Force, Jean Grey killed her own mind. She played a dangerous game with the Phoenix, strengthening the bond between it and her. The Phoenix ate away at her mind and Jean allowed it in; she fed it all to the Phoenix, piece-by-piece, letting the Phoenix think it was slowly breaking her down. But it was the Phoenix that was being broken down, becoming addicted to Jean’s mind as the X-Man dealt out bits of her brain in one slow steady fix after another.
Drip … drip … drip … addictions can take anyone.
And when the Phoenix was addicted to her and her alone, Jean opened her mind and let the Phoenix in to gorge itself, then trapped it when there was no more to feed on. Jean killed her rational mind, and the Phoenix along with it, then went, in non-technical terms, completely bonkers.
Jan jumped back from the protective glass as Jean lunged towards them, slamming into the clear surface. “I know you’re there!” she shouted, drool running down her chin. “I know you’re watching me! I hope you’re writing all of this down because now-“ Jean slammed her scribbled crayon drawing onto the glass, “-now it all starts coming true!”
Samson punched the room’s intercom button, “What comes true, Jean?” Their eyes were transfixed on the crayoned paper that read, in disjointed red type, “pRoFecY 1.”
Jean backed slowly away from the glass, her eyes staring wildly, almost seductively, at the three people she couldn’t see. Her voice was low, sultry, “A man in armor will become king and the people will rejoice, but the people are fools, the people are tools in the new kingdom. King Arthur knew that might did not make right, but the American King will not know this.” She smiled, “The knights of the oblong table will be tall, handsome and the puppets of the Queen Bitch.”
Jan punched the button, “What are you saying, Jean? Who will be King? Tony? Is this about his run and Scott’s run for the Presidency?”
Jean smiled as she ran her hands down her hips, “Prophecy 2 will come at 2:16 AM tonight. See you then.”
Jean Grey fell unconscious to the ground.
MILWAUKEE, WISCONSIN
2013 / JULY
The Shocker stood on the hood of a limosine and shouted to all that could hear: “Today, everyone dies!” Energy rippled across his body, washing down, over the car and spreading out across the street.
The words were not new andnot unheard in Milwaukee - since the year 2005, when villainy spread it’s wings and began to nest throughout the United States, small cities like Milwaukee had come to intimately know what previously only New York knew on a day-to-day basis - the existence of super-powered beings.
So when a villain like the Shocker stood on the hood of a car in downtown Milwaukee threatening to kill everyone in sight, Milwaukeans knew what was coming next:
“Not today, Shocker! Not as long as Deathcry patrols the skies!” Shocker looked above to see the purple skinned Shi’ar warrior-turned-Avenger soaring down to him.
“You shall die last, woman! The Shocker-“
“Is old and ready for the retirement home!” Deathcry quipped pulling back on her Stark-engineered wings, sending a mass of hard-light arrows towards the villain below. “While Deathcry is in the prime of her life!”
“Yes, you are.”
“Huh?” Deathcry was startled as a man, sitting in a chair, appeared suddenly out of the sky beside her. “Immortus!”
“The one and the same,” Immortus nodded. “You are called.”
With a wave of his hand, Immortus and Deathcry disappeared.
“Wha-?!?” Shocker was stunned. “No!” he stomped his foot. “No! No! No!” Energy began bubbling out of the Shocker and coalescing around him. “It’s not fair! Today was the day! Apocalypse promised I could kill Deathcry today!”
The Shocker looked around him, the hate in his eyes visible through the outpouring of energy. Deathcry or not, it was time.
With a primal scream of rage, the energy that the Shocker had internalized came pouring out. People, cars, even buildings began to fall as the ripple of energy moved out from its center. The Shocker was unaware of the damage, though Apocalypse had told him, promised him, that the destruction would be great.
If only that slut Deathcry was here to die alongside her adpoted city, he thought as everything went white.
Five Hours Later
FROM THE STREAMED CONSCIOUSNESS JOURNALS OF ATU SUMMERS, the WITNESS
WASHINGTON, D.C.
RECORDED: 2013 / JULY
“This is a national travesty, Mr. President!”
Tony Stark’s voice was level, calm and seething with rage, “Tell me something that isn’t obvious, General Ross.”
General “Thunderbolt” Ross steeled his eyes at the images of Milwaukee, Wisconsin that played across the various screens inside the Oval Office. They had feeds up from all the major networks, though the sound was tuned in only to SCN. President Stark preferred to hear old friends and teammates of his, forced into retirement, offer their commentary on SCN rather than listen to soldiers like Ross.
There was only four of us in the Oval Office this eve - everyone else was running around, searching for answers, checking data, making net calls … it wasn’t quite a panic situation, though it would likely appear that way to anyone spending their first day in the White House.
President Tony Stark, Secretary of State General Ross, Special Assistant Dr. Karla Sofen and I were at the epicenter of the United States reaction to the Shocker’s destruction of Milwaukee. The words don’t do the facts justice.
Milwaukee is gone, levelled to a pile of rubble where life struggles to pull itself out from under the wreckage.
Numbers are thrown around to estimate the damage, both economical and social, but they wash over me like the ocean washes over a beach.
“Mr. President,” Dr. Sofen interjects in that patented style of hers. She has a way of entering a conversation - she comes on, almost like she’s apologizing for saying anything, and then five words in she has everyone in the room wrapped around her finger. “I have the latest poll figures. The Federal Super Prison Project, taken after the incident in Milwaukee, of course.”
“Damnit, Karla!” the President slammed a chair that he was holding onto the back of down into the carpet. “Don’t call it an ‘incident!’ People -“
“Of course, Mr. President,” Karla nods slightly, hiding a half-smile. Everything this woman does is to engineer whatever outcome she desires. “But the Speaker of the House phoned me just minutes ago pledging his support for tougher judicial and penal restrictions on the super-powered community. He thinks that with a final push for the program in your State of the Union address that-“
“I know you’re not actually thinking of using this tragedy in Milwaukee to push forward this draconian Federal Super Prison idea, Karla.” Like a blizzard in July, Vice President Scott Summers has entered the Oval Office.
This guy makes damp cloth look exciting.
“What we need is more money pumped into the rehabilitation programs,” he says with conviction, though he had a look about him like he knew his battle was now a lost one.
“And how are we supposed to rehabilitate power, Scott?” the President asks from across the room. “The Shocker has been amped to ungodly levels. Intelligence thinks that he’s in league with Apocalypse. Apocalypse, Scott,” the President repeates. “If Apocalypse is now mutating ordinary humans-“
“Then we’ll need a prison the size of Nebraska,” the Vice President retorts angrily. “You know damn well that the only way to stop criminals is to create a system where-“
“Save your lib’ral trash, Summers!” General Ross thunders, spit bursting from his mouth. General Ross is in his seventies now, though he’s just as powerful as ever. “These criminals are out of control and there’s plenty of would-be dictators and third-world countries who are more than willing to enchance power on these maggots to-“
“Yes, yes, General,” the President places a hand on Ross’ shoulder without turning to look at him. “Listen, Scott, you and I both know that rehabilitation is the best way to handle the criminal element, but the super-powered criminal element in this country is growing exponentially. Our rehabilitative efforts can only work so fast and we don’t have the kind of time it-“
“Not with the budget the way it is,” the Vice President counters, sighing deeply. “If we weren’t hamstrung with a slashed budget and a downturning economy…”
“But we are, Scott,” Dr. Sofen says gently. “The previous administration cut millions from the psychiatric programs and channelled that money over into penal programs in order to appear tough on the super powered community. A maneuver, I might add, that was in response to your and the President’s run for this office.”
“So now it’s my fault?” the Vice President asks, venom practically dripping from his lips every time he talks to Dr. Sofen.
“It’s nobody’s fault, Scott,” the President smooths his way back into the conversation, smiling with a face that I have to stop myself from shooting. But my mom - Rachel Summers, the Phoenix - has forbidden me from doing so. ‘Just because Tony Stark is responsible for the hellish future of my time does not mean it has to be that way.’
Sure, mom, whatever.
I have to stand here and play good spy for this Administration, watching a good man like the Vice President - my grand-father, right? The bad part about being a Summers is trying to figure out which version of which person in which timeline is related to you and which version isn’t - be pushed further and further out of the loop.
As the argument I’ve heard a thousand times just this month rages around me, I turn to the northwest and use my power to locate Liberty Tower, the newest high-rise structure in Philadelpha, to see my former teammates in the Liberty Squad. They’ve just moved to Philadelphia from Detroit after Detroit refused to build the Squad a new HQ. But Philly, loving both the “Liberty” connection, needed a super-powered team after the Thunderbolts relocated to Denver because Philadelphia wouldn’t put up the cash the Thunderbolts wanted for a new headquarters. So they refuse to pay one team, then end up paying the next one twice as much.
I look to see Sam and Theresa playing with their daughter, Canticle, who’s eight now. Smart kid; they’re playing Avengers Monopoly, it looks like. The more things change in this crazy world, as they say …
I leave them because I really want to know how Sam’s sister, Paige, is doing. Sam’s sister who just happens to be my ex-girlfriend. I scan up a few floors – it is, in fact, a very nice building - to where I know she spends most of her time and-
Huh.
Seems she’s on much more, uh, friendly terms with Kristoff Vernard now …
Two Months Later
2013 / September
Just Outside Milwaukee, Wisconsin
“Ladies and gentlemen, the President of the United States!”
The crowd roars in approval as President Stark saunters up to the microphone. “Good people of Wisconsin, I am a man of few words, as you well know.” The crowd laughs lightly, and the President smiles handsomely. Some cheese-ball magazine has just named him the Sexiest Man Alive for the Year 2013. The Meta-Inquisitor, some trashy gossip magazine about super-heroes, has been rife with rumors about Stark and midnight liasons with Hollywood starlets. As the crowd dies down. Stark turns serious, “Two long months ago, your fine city was destroyed by a fanatical super villain, a man who took pride in his accomplishments, a man who boasts from his prison cell about the destruction he caused. But America will not be held hostage by those among us who live with extra powers any longer!”
The crowd roars and the President steels his gaze.
“That is why today, on this spot of our latest tragedy, I am hear, in the fine state of Wisconsin, to dedicate a memorial to the lives lost in this act of terrorism. But more than that, I am here to dedicate this ground for the creation of Prison One, a maximum security facility that will hold those villains that the regular prison system can not handle. During the campaign, I pledged to you, America, that I would veto any and all attempts to send to me legislation that would lead to the registration of mutants and all so-called genetic profiling legislation, and though my plan for Prison One has been attacked by the liberal left as an attempt to oppress the mutant population of this fine land of ours, let me assure each and every one of you that this is not the case! Prison One exists to hold the prisoners that our great judicial system has deemed guilty of committing heinous crimes. And that, my fellow Americans, is not a government code word for mutant. That, my friends, is a government code word for criminal!”
The crowd erupts and the President lets their cheers wash over him.
“Prison One is not an attempt to control those with super-powers, but to hold the criminals that a normal jail can not. Just last week, a mutant woman in Oregon was convicted for the third time on robbery charges, but let me assure you that she would not be sent to Prison One. Her mutant power gives her the ability to discern the exact ingredients and measurements of said ingredients in any processed food item. This is not a woman who needs the be held with the full force of the United States government. This is a woman who needs rehabilitation, a woman who can be held by the jail system that exists for the majority of the population. She doesn’t need hard core jail time, but a helping hand from the government to make for herself and her two children a better life!” Pause. “I know I, for one, am dying to know the secret formula of our fine American soft drinks!”
The crowd laughs for their President and he smiles for them, before turning serious again.
“But our fine rehabilitative centers will not do any good for a man like the Shocker, a cold-blooded mass murderer with power enough to destory millions of lives and one of our greatest American cities. No, for people like the Shocker, Prison One will be the answer! It’s time these super-human criminals learned that the real power of America resides in the hearts of the average working man!”
Two Weeks Later
2013 / September
Orzech, Idaho
“Ladies and gentlemen, the President of the United States of America!”
The crowd roars in approval as President Stark saunters up to the microphone. It never fails to amaze me just how staged and repetitive these stops can be. Thank the Maker I can skip this one.
“What the hell is this?” I turn to see Vice President Summers burst into Dr. Sofen’s ofice. Dr. Sofen and I are in the process of spying on the British government. Rather, I am doing the spying and Dr. Sofen is listening to me recite what I see at the same time she watches President Stark’s speech on SCN.
“What is what, Scott?” Dr. Sofen asks. She never refers to him as Mr. Vice President unless other politicians are around.
“You know damn well what I’m upset about!” the Vice President slams his fist down on her desk. “Why wasn’t I told about this announcement?”
“Really, Scott, the President tried to tell you, on several occaissions that he wanted to make this announcement, but you were … otherwise preoccupied.”
“Damnit, Sofen, don’t play that card with me! Jean is a sick woman! She needs me!”
“Your country needs you, too, Scott,” Dr. Sofen scolds. “Your country, like your wife, is also sick and in need of your attention. If you cannot give it that attention, then perhaps you are not fit to be, as they say, a heartbeat away from the Presidency.”
The Vice President actually looks surprised for half a second before continuing, “What is that supposed to mean? Christ, we haven’t even been on the job a full year, yet and you’re already planning to run me out of office?”
“If Jean is really-“
“Don’t, Sofen,” the Vice President’s eyes harden, and turn to the television screen where the President is in the process of unveiling his newest program. “I can’t believe he’s about to do this.”
“My fellow Americans, what I present to you is the first in a new line of federal law enforcement officers! As our country moves forward and the world becomes more and more dangerous, we start to wonder if the government is doing all it can. And I am here to tell you that ever since I took office, it has!”
“The crowd loves him,” Dr. Sofen grins as the television feed picked up the cheers from the raucous crowd. The Vice President did not respond.
“I ran on a promise that you would get the most pro-active President in history, and that’s just what you are getting. I was asked, during the campaign, if I would use Iron Man as my bodyguard as President and I answered that no, the Secret Service would be enough. If they were enough to protect the Presidents before me, they could handle security for me. But you see, my fellow Americans, there is someone that needs the extra protection that only Iron Man can provide. And do you know who that special someone is?” Pause. “It is you, America. You need the protection of Iron Man. Behold!”
President Stark turns and points to the sky. At first, no one could see anything but blue skies and fluffly white clouds (Sofen made sure the setting was perfect), but then a spot in the sky could be seen. The spot grew as a buzz ran through the audience.
“What is it?”
“Is it … hey cool, it’s Iron Man!”
“No, it can’t be … that’s too far away and too big for it to be Iron Man.”
And beside me, I hear a groan escape from the Vice President’s lips, “God above, what have you done, Sofen? I thought … I had no idea … I thought he was going to announce Prison Two, but this … Jesus …”
On the screen, a vision causes both my grand-father’s and my heart to sink.
Landing next to the President is a forty foot high Iron Man.
When the Vice President spoke, his voice was that of a man who’d just woken up from a nightmare to realize that he hadn’t been sleeping, “My god, you’ve rebuilt the Sentinels in the image of Iron Man …”
“We have,” Dr. Sofen smiled. “The Iron Sentinels, America’s Federal Security Force. And if Canada and Mexico agree to share the costs, the North American Federal Security Force.”
“Do you have any idea the message this sends?”
“I do, Scott,” Sofen’s voice drops as her smile becomes louder, “It says, ‘Sleep well, America.’ Your government is in charge.”
“Is that how you take it?” the Vice President asks scornfully. “To me it’s a threat to never sleep well again.”
One Month Later
2013 / October
The White House
Things have been getting tense here. The President and Vice President are barely speaking to one another. Construction on Prison One and the Iron Sentinels continues to proceed without interuption.
Kristoff and Husk continue to get along swimmingly. I don’t care - I mean, she’s a grown woman, she can make her own choices. But Vernard?
I think Dr. Sofen is trying to psychoanalyze me, but maybe she’s just nosy. I can’t tell. She’s never the same woman to anyone twice in a row. The longer I stay here, the more convinced I am that she’s the one running the country and that does not make me sleep well at night.
Not that I need to sleep at all with my physiology, but well, you get the idea.
“Approval ratings for both the Iron Sentinels and Prison One are both above 80 percent, Mr. President,” Dr. Sofen says to President Stark in the other room. “Americans feel safe again.”
“Disaproval ratings among the mutant population for both the Iron Sentinels and Prison One program are above 60 percent, Senator,” Vice President Summers says to a Democratic Senator from the northwest in a separate room, trying to convince him to vote against a budget increase in the two programs. “We can’t afford to have this much discontent in the country’s most rapidly increasing demographic.”
I can barely stand listening to either side of this argument any longer. Stark and Summers came here to change Washington and instead they’ve become just another two cogs in this ungodly machine. I swear the lobbyists are the most powerful people in this whole country - besides Dr. Sofen, of course.
Forget them, I’ll look elsewhere. Let’s see, there’s eight Iron Sentinels in operation right now and according to the charts there’s one in Dallas. Might as well check in to see what it’s doing … I’ll include a recording of the following without commentary to preserve the historical moment.
Dallas, Texas
2013 / October
BOOM … BOOM … BOOM … BOOM!!!
“Cease resistance in the name of the United States Government, Designate-Hawkeye! You are wanted for-“
“Hey, Iron Fuzz! No one as ugly as you gets to take me home, even if you join the Fan Club! You can tell your boss - excuse me, Mr. President Stark - that I’m honored he sent you to arrest me for parking violations, but damn, it was his Quinjet!”
Hawkeye, the Avenging Archer, shot an acid tipped arrow stright up at the Iron Sentinel, but it did no good. Nothing slowed this machine down. Clint had to remind himself that as much fun as it was shooting arrow after arrow at a forty foot high Iron Man lookalike (especially one that was based off the butt-ugly red and silver shoulder pad model), that if he didn’t find a way out of this real quick, he was about to be a test case for the new judicial regulations Stark had moved through Congress.
“Section 4.7a of the Iron Sentinel Operations and Procedure Manual provides for the use of an Iron Sentinel to arrest any potentially dangerous suspect,” the Iron Sentinel intoned from on high. “Though Designate-Hawkeye does not possess a power enhanced body, his skill with weapons has marked him as a high security risk and thus falling under the jurisdiction of the Iron Sentinel program.”
“Man, your voice even sounds like Iron Man’s, which wouldn’t be all that bad,” Hawkeye retorted, “if you and he weren’t such smug ass-“
“Now, now, Clint, let’s not use language the kids shouldn’t hear,” came a familiar friendly voice.
Hawkeye looked to the sky to see a welcome sight: Dane Whitman, better known as the Black Knight, and the rest of the Dr. Strange-less Defenders: Psylocke, Valkyrie, Gargoyle, Lady Metal and Rogue.
The Iron Sentinel swivelled its head to take in the new combatants, “Designate-Rogue, I place you under arrest for the murder of Carol Danvers. Disgnate-Psylocke, I place you under arrest for terrorist activities against the United States. Designates-Gargoyle, Black Knight, Valkyrie and Lady Metal, you may be categorized as accessories to fugitives if you do not aid, or interfere, in the capture of Designate-Rogue and Designate-Psylocke.”
Rogue’s eyes flared with anger and she made a move to dive at the Sentinel, but Dane stopped her, “No, Rogue. Sentinel! If you are really interested in peace, look to the west. What do you see?”
The Iron Sentinel turned slowly to the west, “System override. Accessing new program. Designate-Hulk spotted. Accessing Federal Superhuman Commissions’ Top Ten Most Wanted Super Powered List. Priority one.”
As they watched the grotesque Iron Man fly away, Hawkeye watched as the Defenders landed near him. He nodded his thanks.
“Think nothing of it, old friend,” Dane nodded in return as the two former teammates shook hands. “What’s going on with Stark?”
“God knows,” Hawkeye sighed, his eyes trying desperately to not glance towards Rogue, whose eyes tried desperately to not glance towards his. “Ever since he’s gotten into office we’ve had less and less contact with him. Did you know he’s asking the Avengers over a certain power limit to voluntarily agree to have those powers dampened?”
“Madness,” Valkyrie shook her head in disgust.
“Thor almost went after him,” Hawkeye shook his head, smiling. “Can you imagine that? Thor going after the President of the United States? Almost would have liked to see it, myself.”
Dane wasn’t smiling. “I don’t understand what has happened to him. Why this change now that he’s President?”
“I don’t know if it is a change,” Clint shrugged. “People tend to think all heroes are the same, that we all believe in the same things because we all fight the bad guys, but that’s not the case. We’re Republicans, Democrats, Moderates … Christians, Muslims, Jews … people should look at us and see a unity of different people, with different individual beliefs working together, but all they see is good vs. evil.”
The Defenders stared at Hawkeye for a moment, then looked askiew at each other.
“What?” Hawkeye asked.
“Nothing,” Dane said, trying to hide a smile.
“Well said, Clint Barton!” Valkyrie broke the silence, trying herself not to smile, thinking that Hawkeye had come a long way from his early days.
“The question remains,” Psylocke still, Clint noted, incredibly young looking, added. Whatever demon she’d sold her soul to looked to be keeping his end of the bargain; the rest of them had gradually seen age start to make an impression, but not Betsy. “Is anyone going to do anything about Stark before he gets even further out of hand? I needn’t tell you that despite the acceptance of mutants in this country there are militant groups out there - on both sides - that are growing uneasy with the President’s actions.”
Hawkeye stared at her dumbly, “Hey, Bets, things are different now. He’s the President. It’s not like we can saunter up to him, have a chat and beat some sense into him. We can’t suspend him from the team or force him to take an extra shift at monitor duty. You want to fight with a politician, you’ve got to do it on his terms.”
Lady Metal sighed loudly, “Old timers. Every last one of you.” She chuckled under her suit of armor, “You want to get a rise out of Stark, you just watch what Lady Metal can do.”
And with that, she took to the air.
Six Weeks Later
2013 / November
THE META-INQUISITOR
Super-Gossip for the Super-Curious!!!
LADY METAL UNMASKED, DISROBED!
Wild Beauty Admits ‘I’m President Stark’s Love Child’; Will Pose Nude for Round Table!
In a shocking story that not even the Meta-Inquisitor could make up, Lady Metal, a hero with less than 18 months under her belt and most recently with the Defenders, will pose nude for the “super lifestyle” magazine Round Table! Even more shockingly, if that’s possible, she will reveal that she is the love-child daughter of President Tony Stark!
“Lady Metal, whose real name will be kept a secret, is set to reveal her body and soul in next month’s Round Table,” an official press release informed. “Round Table, a magazine that has quickly become the classy home to read about the new man’s lifestyle in this superhero world is honored to be able to present Lady Metal’s tragic and heroic story to the world.”
Not to mention all that skin, right?!?!
While reader’s will be left to wonder why Lady Metal would chose to reveal both her secret parentage and her body now - and do it, unfortunately, in one of the few magazines left that has any class, expect more artsy-fartsy fashion poses (the things we have to put up with to see some good nudity, huh?) - there will be no doubting that Round Table will see it’s biggest selling issue to date. Lady Metal, whose skin tight, liquid metal uniform has had men drooling since she appeared on the super-scene, is already fielding offers from H-Wood about staring in movies! So stunning is her reported beauty - Round Table refuses to release any photos of Lady Metal before it’s cover hits stands, the media savvy bastards! - that directors are actually offering her scripts that don’t involve taking her clothes off!
At press time, the White House has refused comment, which we all know means that President Stark is as guilty as sin!
Stay tuned, Super-Inquisitors, the Meta-Inquisitor will have updates at the site daily! Until then, remember, if no one denys a rumor, it’s true! And if they do deny it, it’s probably true anyway!
ASCENSION / ABANDONMENT to be continued …
“The one and the same,” Immortus nodded. “You are called.”
-- MBQ … 16 April 2001
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