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but notice his teammate's sullenness. Nor could he blame him. Though all the X-Men had cause to fear Magneto's actions, to fear the deployment of the Sentinels—even though they were being used against humans rather than mutants, as was their original intent—none had more cause than Bishop.
    Though the most recent additional to the team, in a way Bishop had been an X-Man his entire life. For, in truth, his life had not yet begun. He was a man of the future, born in a time when the X-Men were the stuff of legend and the Sentinels had first destroyed the modern society that the X-Men knew, and then ruled what was left of the world. When Magneto had fled the Colorado site of Project: Wideawake with the Sentinels earlier that day, Bishop had begun living a waking nightmare. His face had the haunted look of a holocaust survivor, for in many ways, that was the truth of it.
    Wolverine wanted to reach out to Bishop, to offer support. But, except in very extreme circumstances, it was not in his nature, just as it was not in Bishop's natured to request, or accept, such support.
    They walked in silenced to the ready room, where the others had already gathered. Fully half the team was away, on a mission to save Cyclops's father, Corsair, from execution, but the others remained. not much of a force to contend with what Magneto had put together, but it would have to do.
    "Logan, Bishop, please be seated," Storm said. "The Professor ought to be with us momentarily."
    Wolverine nodded and slid into a chair. They all seemed preoccupied, even Storm, who shared field leadership duties with Cyclops, and was therefore the current leader of the team.
    "I'm getting a little tired of waiting around," Iceman said, unusually somber. "If we had stopped Magneto in Colorado, none of this would be happening now."
    "There it is, then," Professor Xavier said as he glided into the room in his hoverchair. Though he was forced to use a wheelchair in public, Wolverine had observed that he spent more and more time in the hoverchair while at the Institute. And who could blame him? For a man who couldn't walk, floating was far easier than manipulating a wheelchair.
    "I'm sorry, Professor," Storm responded, eyebrows raised, "but where is what?"
    "What Bobby said, about stopping Magneto in Colorado," the Professor explained. "It's been haunting all of you. I may be the most powerful telepath in the world, but you don't need to read minds to see how it has affected you."
    The Professor hovered at the head of the table. Wolverine felt Xavier's gaze fall on him, then move on, to each of the gathered X-Men. Storm was to Xavier's left, and the usually verbose Hank McCoy, a.k.a. the Beast, to his right. Wolverine sat opposite him, with Iceman to one side, and Bishop to the other. That was it. The six of them against Magneto, the Acolytes and an army of Sentinels. Or five, really, since the Professor was not likely to take part in the actual battle unless absolutely necessary. The world still did not know that he was a mutant, and it had always served the team's purposes for things to remain that way.
    But Bobby was right. If they had stopped Magneto in Colorado ...
    "Stop it," Xavier said curtly. "You cannot blame yourself. Not only because you are not responsible, but because it will affect your performance in the battle to come. I have yet to receive any communication from Cyclops's team. It's up to you."
    "Charles," the Beast spoke up. "In light of the odds stacked to precipitously against us, I trust you will permit me a trifling inquiry as to our strategy. That is, do we have one?"
    Xavier grimaced, looked around the table slowly, then at the Beast.
    "I'm working on it, Hank," he said finally. "I'm working on it."

Chapter 2

    "J esus, Trish," Kevin hissed at her side, "he's seen us!"
    "Just keep rolling tape, Kev," she responded in a whisper. "Don't let me down."
    Less than fifty yards from where Trish Tilby stood, the Acolytes had just murdered two people. Their