Deathless
 
By 
 
Jeremy Harper
 
Note – The Astonishing X-Men are the property of Marvel Comics 
and are  used without permission.
 
 
 
Chapter 1 – Raiders
 
No one noticed the fire at first. For that, they can be excused;  it 
started small, just a wisp of gray smoke rising from the sidewalk, and  
Fifth Avenue was bustling with traffic. Over in Central Park people 
were  taking advantage of the fine weather. Across from the park the 
Metropolitan  Museum of Art prepared to shut down for the day. A 
steady flow of tourists  and professionals streamed down the stone 
steps, heading out for home or  dinner. One of them, an attractive 
middle-aged blonde woman with two  children in tow, finally noticed 
something was amiss. On the bottom landing  she stopped and stared at 
the small tongue of white flame, little less than  a half-foot high, 
issuing from the concrete without any source of fuel. As  she watched it 
grew by a foot and widened. Others now saw it and gawked. It  burned 
with a strange metallic gold color, its core a lambent, bloody  crimson. 
They stared at it in wonder, when suddenly it shot high into the  air, 
becoming a massive pillar of flame ten feet high. People screamed and  
fled. Car breaks shrieked; collisions reverberated up and down the  
avenue. The pillar grew higher, then from its apex split and spread  
open, forming an arch. The space under the arch shimmered and 
turned  stark white, like pane of opaque, frosted glass. From this glass 
stepped a  man.
 
 He was fairly tall, svelte of build, dressed in archaic crimson  
clothes trimmed with gold and leather boots that reached up to his  
knees. A saber hung from the golden sash wound around his slim 
waist.  His complexion was fair and his shock of golden hair was an 
artfully tangled  mess. His eyes were twin stones of glittering onyx, and 
his wide grin was  that of a shark who smelled fresh blood. 
 
 Two more beings stepped from the flaming portal, and at the 
sight  of them the New Yorkers who hadn't yet fled screamed in terror. 
The first  was a bear, walking on its hind legs as well as any man. It 
towered twelve  feet tall, its muscles sliding tectonic plates beneath its 
filthy brown fur.  It flexed massive paws and sniffed the air, savoring 
the scent of fear. A  crown of horns jutted from the top of its flat skull. 
The other was an  abomination. Its torso was that of a muscular man 
and its limbs were overly  long and sinewy. Giant, raptor-like paws 
padded against the ground and the  palms of its crimson hands were 
twice the width of a man's skull. Wicked  metal talons curved from 
each digit. Massive, opulent wings were folded  against its back. Its 
neck was serpentine, three yards long, arching above  its body and 
undulating in slow ripples. Its head was a raptor's, with a  large 
hooking beak stained with red patches, and faceted topazes for eyes.  
Strange, multi-colored slime drooled from its mouth. The slime fell  
heavily in long drops, changing from red to pink to black and back  
again, pattering against the concrete, where it hissed and bubbled. The  
creature surveyed its surroundings, head darting swiftly left and right,  
then nodded to itself in anticipation, a forked, purple tongue darting  
out to lick the razor sharp ridges of its beak. 
 
 A fourth being stepped through and man, bear and monster 
made way  for him, sketching slight bows of respect. It was the 
sorcerer's son,  resplendent in his raiment, his golden mask glinting as 
he looked at the  museum. In front of the doors museum patrons and 
employees stared at the  burning portal and the creatures lined before it. 
 
 "Such wondrous things these mortals make," said the crimson-
clad  man, gazing at Metropolitan Museum with sardonic admiration. 
 
 "Yes," agreed the sorcerer's son. "And soon it will all be 
ours…"  A clattering cacophony rose up behind him as the first of the 
_zalozhniy_  came through the portal, their bones rattling as they walked, 
thumbing back  the hammers of their muskets, gripping tighter axes 
and sabers. The  sorcerer's son gestured towards the museum doors. 
"Take twenty hostages.  Evict everyone else from my property. Kill no 
one." The _zalozhniy_ threw  back their heads, screamed and charged, a 
wave of rotting bone flowing  around their master and his henchman. 
Fifty in all surged from the portal,  which then collapsed in on itself, 
vanishing, leaving the sidewalk  un-scorched. 
 
 The abomination thrust its head towards the sorcerer's son and  
hissed. "No killing?" it demanded, its voice like a chorus of chiming  
bells. "Your father promised me blood and souls, Prince of the Earth." 
 
"You will have them in time, Chaos Demon, and in such 
quantities that  even a glutton like you will be sated." The sorcerer's 
son marched up the  steps, his followers close on his heels, the 
abomination muttering  imprecations beneath its breath. At the top they 
halted. Ten _zalozhniy_  awaited them. They bowed in obeisance. The 
sorcerer's son looked through the  shattered glass doors and nodded in 
satisfaction. More _zalozhniy_ lurked in  the lobby, surrounding cowering 
men and women. He could sense the rest of  them rampaging through 
the museum's halls, clearing it so he would be  undisturbed. "Solovey, 
Myedvyed Tsar, with me. Vultariax, stay with these  _zalozhniy_ and deal 
with the initial incursion of constabulary. Join us  when you're 
through." His golden eyes flashed. "This shouldn't take too  long." The 
abomination bobbed its head. The sorcerer's son entered, followed  by 
the crimson clad man and the bear, which smashed down the 
doorframes  with his passing. Vultariax turned to watch the street, 
while his  _zalozhniy_, all musketeers, arrayed themselves along the 
steps. Sirens  wailed in the distance. 
 
A minute later a multitude of police cars and vans roared to a 
stop in  front of the Met Museum. Policemen in vests took positions 
behind their  cruisers while Special Weapons and Tactics operatives 
deployed, forming a  perimeter around the building. Vultariax watched 
them with contemptuous  serenity. He opened his right hand, closed it 
tight. The _zalozhniy_ took  aim and fired, narrow beams of crimson 
energy lancing from their muskets.  They sliced through the cruisers as 
if they were paper, dropping two  officers. The police returned fire. 
Their shots had little effect on the  _zalozhniy_, merely chipping their 
hard bones. Another policeman fell, shot  through the eye. Finally one 
of the _zalozhniy_ dropped, his ribcage and  spine shattered by a 
concentrated burst of automatic fire. Its remaining  bones disunited and 
its head rolled down the steps. Another's skull  exploded, a lucky 
shotgun blast blowing it apart. Vultariax hissed in  annoyance. He 
clenched his fist again and two _zalozhniy_ left their post in  the lobby to 
replace their fallen brothers. 
 
The firefight raged on for a full minute before Vultariax ended 
it. He  had been shot several times, the bullets flattening against his 
body, unable  to penetrate the extra-terrene matter of his flesh. They 
stung though, like  hard falling hail, annoying him. He let loose a 
piercing metallic shriek.  The _zalozhniy_ ceased fire and retreated up the 
steps, lining up in good  order in front of the doors while Vultariax 
stalked towards the assembled  police. Their fire hesitated momentarily 
before concentrating on the Chaos  Demon. He plowed ahead, ignoring 
the volley of bullets striking him until he  reached the landing halfway 
down the steps. He reared back on his crooked  legs and unfurled his 
wings. They spanned out, twenty feet on either side.  The police's 
gunfire stuttered and fell silent as they lowered their weapons  and just 
stared. The wings gleamed brilliantly, an opalescent mosaic of  ever-
shifting colors. Dancing ruby sigils entranced them; sapphire light  
lulled them; burning flashes of diamond flame caused their blood to  
surge euphorically. Vultariax watched as their defenses dropped. He  
reared back his head. A snoring sound rumbled in his long throat. His  
wings snapped shut; his head shot forward and from his open mouth  
blasted a cone of multi-colored slime. It slammed into and over the  
nearest cruiser, washing over the officers positioned behind it,  
knocking them down. They lay on the asphalt, stunned, then started to  
writhe and scream as the Chaos slime seeped through their clothes and  
into their flesh. Their muscles cramped and spasmed while razors ran  
through their veins, horrific visions playing out before their bulging  
eyes. The remaining officers shook out of their stupor and opened fire.  
Vultariax screamed and vomited a second Technicolor yawn, 
befouling  another cruiser and incapacitating four more officers. 
 
"Hold your fire! Fall back!" the captain in charge bellowed out 
through  his bullhorn. The line of officers retreated towards Central 
Park. Vultariax  watched them go with savage satisfaction. He spread 
his wings, threw his  head up and screamed triumphantly. He turned 
and climbed up the stairs.  "Kill anyone who tries to enter." He ordered 
the _zalozhniy_ in passing. The  unhallowed dead saluted him as he 
stalked into the museum. 
 
 
 
*****



"They look like refugees from the Army of Darkness,"  
Shadowcat quipped as she watched the visuals the Blackbird was  
receiving. The X-Men were flying in a holding pattern over 5th 
Avenue,  scouting out the situation with thermal scanners and high-
powered cameras.  They had arrived scant seconds after the police 
pulled back to regroup.  Below EMTs worked frantically to remove 
wounded and befouled officers from  the scene. The skeletal riflemen 
watched, but made no move to stop them. 
 
 "Nevertheless, Kitty, they were quite effective in repelling the  
police," Beast replied.
 
 "Yeah, and that psychedelic Big Bird didn't seem to be a 
slouch,  either."
 
 "Any idea on their identity?" Emma Frost asked.
 
 "The rank and file remind me a bit of the zuvembies Eric 
Williams  has used on occasion," Beast suggested. "But their 
commander is not one of  the Grim Reaper's known associates." 

"Let me check the  computer for a visual match." Shadowcat 
typed away for a moment. "Nada. None  of the X-Teams have ever run 
into these guys before. Ditto for the Avengers  and the Fantastic Four."
 
 "Wonderful, new playmates," growled Wolverine. 
 
 "Part of the job description, Logan," said Cyclops. "Making 
new  friends, beating the hell out of new villains." He frowned at the 
thermal  displays. "Those skeletons aren't showing up. We've got no 
idea on their  numbers or positions."
 
 "Eyewitnesses report at least thirty of them, probably more."  
Frost supplied. 
 
 "Twenty hostages in the front lobby, and no one else in the  
museum save the metal bird and these three." Cyclops tapped the 
display. 
 
 "They're moving through the museum rather methodically,"  
commented Beast. "They're either looting the place or searching for  
something."
 
 "The latter, I'm bettin'," said Wolverine. "Anyone using dead 
men  for muscle ain't gonna be pullin' something as mundane as a 
robbery." 
 
 "We'll try to figure out their motivation later," said Cyclops.  
"Our top priority is freeing the hostages. We'll insert in Central Park.  
Shadowcat, you and Wolverine circle around to the north. Phase into 
the  lobby and let us know when you're in position. When the 
opportunity comes  take out any guards, hard and fast.  Beast, Emma 
and I will deal with  the ones on watch by the doors. Once we get the 
hostages out we'll have to  play it by ear. If there are too many of those 
things for you to handle  quickly let us know and we'll come up with 
something  else."

"Risky, Summers," Wolverine growled.
 
 "I know, but it's best we can do with the limited information  
we're operating with, and we are good enough to pull it off."
 
 Wolverine grinned. "And we're the best at what we do." 
 
Cyclops smiled back, then tapped the display again. "We'll try 
to hit  it so that we make our move when those four are as far away as 
possible,  giving us more time to take down their henchmen and get the 
hostages out.  Questions or suggestions?" No one answered. "Get ready 
people, I'm taking  her down." 
 

*****
 

Like silent wraiths, Shadowcat and Wolverine slipped into the  
lobby and took cover behind a pillar. Twenty hostages, men, women 
and  children, were clustered together on their knees towards the back 
of the  lobby. Eight skeletons encircled them, one at each compass 
point. Two had  muskets, the rest sabers or axes. Save for the occasion 
child's whimper or a  soft, choked sob, all was silent. 
 
 Shadowcat looked at Wolverine. He ran a crooked thumb 
across his  throat. She nodded, pressed a stud on her belt to signal the 
rest of the  team, took a deep breath and sunk into the floor. Wolverine 
crouched on his  haunches, closed his eyes and counted silently. When 
he reached ten a pair  of slim hands rose out of the ground behind the 
skeleton on the far side  from Wolverine. They encircled its ankles and 
yanked downwards. The skeleton  vanished, swallowed by the polished 
floor. Wolverine jumped out from behind  the pillar. In an eye blink he 
was on top of the nearest skeleton, his  adamantium claws cutting its 
musket in half and reducing it to a pile of  rotting cloth and splintered 
bones. Shadowcat phased out of the floor,  grabbed another skeleton by 
the arm and disarmed it of its saber. She threw  the skeleton, phasing it 
as she did. It merged with one of its brothers and  she released it. A 
tangled mass of fused bone shattered as it hit the  ground. Outside 
Cyclops' optic blasts shrieked. Musket fire answered. 
 
 The surviving five skeletons reacted and fought back 
ferociously,  but in less than ten seconds they were destroyed. A second 
later Beast,  Cyclops and Frost stormed into the lobby, their opposition 
defeated. "Out!  Everyone out! Now!" Cyclops ordered.
 
 "You heard the man, move your asses!" barked Wolverine. En 
mass  the hostages rushed for the doors, Cyclops and Beast ushering 
them out.  Frost moved up to join Wolverine and Shadowcat. Just as 
the last of the  civilians had gotten to the steps the doors at the back of 
the lobby burst  open and skeletons entered. Two dropped to their 
knees, aimed their muskets  and fired. Frost transformed into her 
organic diamond form and intercepted  the shots, reflecting the energy 
back towards the skeletons. Cyclops  returned fire, cutting the two 
musketeers down. Wolverine roared and  charged. The battle began in 
earnest.
 

***** 
 
 "Here it is," whispered the sorcerer's son. He was in the  
northeast wing of the Met, in the midst of an exhibition of Russian  
religious icons. He was looking at a particular one, depicting Saul  
consulting the Witch of Endor. Almost reverently he took it from its  
multi-tiered, black iron iconstasis, holding it between his gauntleted  
hands as he examined it closely. 
 
 "Are you certain, my _knyaz_?" questioned Solovey.
 
 "Yes. It is concealed within the icon, and shrouded by a 
cunning  obfuscation to prevent precise divination of its location, but it 
stands  naked before close examination." 
 
 "Do we depart?" rumbled Myedvyed Tsar, his voice guttural 
and  nearly indecipherable. Before the sorcerer's son could answer, all 
four  beings turned west, towards the lobby. Musket fire echoed 
through the  museum.  

"The mortals again," hissed Vultariax. "I  shall deal with them. 
No mercy this time. I hunger for blood and souls." He  took a step, but 
the sorcerer's son raised his hand to check him.
 
 "Something is different." The sorcerer's son's golden eyes  
flashed. He now peered through the murky eyes of one of the 
_zalozhniy_.  It was in the lobby, fighting desperately to repulse the 
intruders. There  were five of them and were obviously far more than 
mere police. He saw a  tall, svelte man in black leather, his head 
cowled and his eyes covered by a  gold and red visor. He touched a 
stud on the side of the visor and a red  beam of force lashed out to 
pulverize whatever it struck. Another masked  man, short, squat, clad in 
yellow and black, whirled amongst the unhallowed  dead. Metal claws 
jutted from his fists, cleaving through steel and bone  effortlessly. 
Fighting near him was a hairy blue being, his head leonine,  leaping 
through the fray and displaying great strength and agility, dodging  
sword, axe and musket blast all without effort. Two women fought by 
the  men's side. One was a tall, regal beauty, her body, intriguingly 
enough,  seemingly made of diamond. No force the _zalozhniy_ could 
exert harmed her,  and she smashed through them with haughty disdain. 
The second woman was  short, slender and delicate of build. She 
fought with a dancer's grace, her  movement like the flow of water. A 
_zalozhniy_ saber licked out at her, but  she did not dodge. The blade 
passed through her, as if she were a ghost. She  lashed back with a 
palm thrust that knocked her attacker's head off of its  shoulders.  
 
 Fascinated, the sorcerer's son watched the lopsided fight until  
the man wearing the visor looked towards him and destroyed the 
vessel of  his clairvoyance with a glance. He blinked and shook his 
head. 
 
 "Who attacks?" asked Myedvyed Tsar. 
 
 "Heroes… Intriguing…" The sorcerer's son mused for a 
moment, set  the icon on the iconstasis then rolled up the right sleeve of 
his great  coat. His arm was pale. Around his wrist was a tattooed 
bracelet of thorns,  from which four gently waving thorn vines ran 
down the muscular curves of  his arm. The sorcerer's son held his arm 
out and cut its underside with his  great knife. Golden blood welled 
from the cut and started to smolder. He  clenched his fist, and the blood 
darkened, turning black. It dripped from  the wound, pooling on the 
floor, where it bubbled and writhed. His spilt  blood solidified, sculpted 
itself, transforming into a great raven the size  of an eagle. The 
sorcerer's son unclenched his hand and the blood in his cut  turned 
back to gold, ignited and evaporated in a burst of flame. All that  
remained of his self-inflicted wound was a thin red scratch, which  
quickly faded.
 
 The sorcerer's son rolled up his sleeve, tucking it back into his  
gauntlet, took Saul's icon and tossed it at the raven, which it caught  
with a snap of its beak. "Vultariax, accompany this messenger back to 
my  father. Make sure it arrives intact." 
 
 The Chaos Demon hissed. "I am no errand boy, Prince of the 
Earth.  I want to kill."
 
 "You will do as I say. I stand in my father's place. My words 
are  his words. Do you disobey us, demon?" Vultariax hissed again, but 
bowed his  head in submission. His wings unfurled and he took flight, 
smashing through  the roof, the raven following after in his wake. 
Wood, plaster and stone  crashed to the floor, wrecking exhibits, 
shattering the tiling. The  sorcerer's son watched them fly off, 
sheathing his knife. He turned to his  remaining followers. "Come, let 
us greet our guests." 
 

*****
 
   
"That's the last of them," declared Cyclops, as his  optic blast 
smashed apart the last skeletal rifleman. 
 
 The Beast held a skull in his right hand, looking at it with an  
amused smirk. "Disposing of Yorick and his brethren was not as 
difficult  as I feared." He tossed the skull over his shoulder.
 
 "Agreed, the hard part is coming up. Time to find the ones  
pulling these things strings. Emma, can you pick up their thoughts?"
 
 "No need to track 'em, Cyke," said Wolverine. He had settled 
into  his ready stance, crouched, claws out and arms held wide. 
"They're comin' to  us." He sniffed the air and his lips curled in 
disgust. "One o' them needs a  bath." 
 
 "Form up, people. Get ready." The X-Men formed a defensive 
line  near the front doors, Wolverine anchoring the left, Shadowcat the 
right.  Frost stood next to Cyclops in her unarmored form. They formed 
the center of  the line, with Beast to their left and slightly ahead. 
 
 The back lobby doors swung open and a tall man clad in deep 
blue  and gold, his face covered by a golden mask of a beautiful, 
sinister youth,  strode into the hall. With him were a man clad in gold 
and scarlet, and one  of the largest bears most of the X-Men had ever 
seen. The masked man walked  forward five paces and stopped, settling 
his left hand on the pommel of his  sword. The bear flanked his right, 
rising up on its hind legs, its muzzle  peeling back to reveal yellow 
fangs the length of daggers. The man in  scarlet stood to the left and 
flashed the X-Men a shark's grin.
 
 The two groups watched each other in wary silence. Tense 
seconds  passed. The gold-masked man glanced at the destroyed 
remnants of his undead  followers scattered across the lobby. 
 
 "Impressive," he commented. He spoke softly, but his deep,  
resonant voice carried to the X-Men with ease, like a rumble of distant  
thunder. His English was accented, making his voice sound like a 
tiger's  purr. "You disposed of my _zalozhniy_ with ease." 
 
 Cyclops ignored the compliment. "Stand down and surrender 
now. We  have no wish to hurt you, but if you force this you'll leave us 
no choice  but to take you down hard."
 
 "I think not, little man. You are too late – we've found what  
we're looking for and it is long gone from here. I offer a  counter-
proposal: you turn around and leave, and then we will depart. We go  
our separate ways and none of us are inconvenienced."
 
 Wolverine shifted slightly. The rank musk of the bear was 
nearly  overpowering, but there was another scent underneath it that 
was making him  uneasy. It seemed familiar, but the musk masked it, 
making it difficult to  identify. He narrowed his eyes and concentrated, 
his instincts on guard for  the first hint of violence on either side. 

"That isn't an  option." Cyclops answered.
 
 "Of course not, for you are heroes – another name for fools." 
 
 _Scott, I can't read the leader_, Frost projected to Cyclops.
 
 _He has a mental shield_?
 
 _No, it's like he isn't even there_. 
 
 Cyclops raised a hand to the side of his visor. "Fools or not,  
you're not leaving."
 
 The golden, pupiless eyes peering out behind the mask flared. 
"I  beg to differ." 
 
 "Wait!" Wolverine shouted. Attention shifted to him. His eyes  
were wide and his expression incredulous. He audibly sniffed the air.  
"No… No way…"
 
 "Wolverine, what's wrong?" Cyclops demanded. 
 
 "I know this guy. We know this guy." 
 
 Shadowcat glanced at Wolverine then back at the masked man. 
A  feeling of unease had swept over her the moment he had entered the 
lobby,  and had grown stronger with each passing moment. Something 
about his voice,  the way he moved, tickled a recognition in the back of 
her mind. It was  something she couldn't place, but it disturbed her, 
causing the fine hairs  on the back of her neck to stir. Wolverine's 
declaration reinforced the  sense of recognition, but she still couldn't 
place it… no, she knew it, but  didn't want to acknowledge it. For the 
first time in a long while, she felt  scared. Scared she was right. Scared 
that she was wrong. Scared of not  knowing what she hoped the answer 
to be. Her hand crept up to her mouth. She  found it hard to breathe.
 
 The masked man's gaze raked over the X-Men. "You know 
me? Strange  that you say that." He spoke slowly, as if picking his 
words with care.  "From the moment I laid eyes on you all, I have been 
plagued by a sense of…  familiarity… as if I have seen you before, but 
cannot remember where. It  lies just beyond the grasp of my 
memory…" He reached up, removed his steel  skullcap, and dropped it. 
It vanished in a blast of flame before touching  the floor. "Ah, well… It 
matters not, since I'm going to kill you all." He  pulled back his hood 
and removed his mask. 
 
 A tremor ran through the X-Men. Wolverine snarled. Beast and  
Frost's eyes widened and they dropped back a pace. Cyclops' lowered 
his  hand from his visor. Shadowcat gasped, covering her mouth with 
both hands. 
 
 His complexion was now pale, almost an albino hue. Black 
tattoos  ran down the side of his face and his eyes were a metallic, 
burning gold  without whites or pupils, but the X-Men still recognized 
him. His jet-black  hair was the same, though it fell unbound to his 
shoulders now, as were the  strong, sharp lines of his face and chin. 
 
 "Colossus…" said Cyclops.
 
 "Piotr…" Shadowcat whispered.
 
 "Colossus? Piotr? I do not know those names. I am Nikolai 
Black  Sun." 


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