I'M BACK! Ya miss me? Whaddya mean, no?

The saga of my computer woes would take up pages, so suffice to say I'm now on my third computer this year (me and electronics do NOT mix!) and it seems to be going OK…for now. My apologies for the delays with this story, I devoutly hope that this is the end of the problems and hope to post more frequently now – like a chapter a week. Hit the review button and let me know what you think of this chapter! I wrote most of it on E-mail and pasted it from there this time – last time I wrote it, I saved it to my second computer which promptly crashed. Introducing a new character (canon) and some old faves I hadn't looked in on for a while. Thanks to everyone for their patience! Thanks for the reviews at the end of the fic, so as not to take up a ton of space up top.

On a related note; let me know if my characters swear too much (mentioned by one reviewer). PB has a potty mouth and I have a fixed idea about which characters curse a lot (Logan, Lance, Betsy), which curse a little (Wanda, Pietro, Sam, Todd) and which never do (Jean, X-23). If you agree or disagree with me, let me know.

WARNING: This chapter contains at least one scene which some readers may find disturbing in the maximum. Please don't flame me for it. The idea does not come from me; the character actually did the same thing in the comic book. I'm writing the idea into the story because the character wasn't introduced in Evo.

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When the virus first hit Las Vegas, no one had taken much notice of a few people down with the flu. However, as the infected began to die and TV reports suggested that the situation was grave not only in Vegas but across the country, possibly the world, martial law had been declared. Those in the military who were still able to work had been drafted in from local military facilities and recalled from leave to guard the streets and ensure that no one entered the barricades erected to keep the sick out - too little and far too late.

Sergeant William Stryker had been on leave, expecting the birth of his first child any day. The news of an illness had worried him, considering his wife's condition, but his sense of duty had made him say his goodbyes and promise to call her. His only consolation was that the posting wouldn't take him out of Vegas, where they shared a modest home. He had already decorated a room for the baby.

It was less than twenty four hours before he deserted his post. Watching what was going on, any fool could tell that the military were fighting a losing battle to keep order. There were people running riot, shooting at the soldiers and forcing them to return fire, looting shops, falling over too sick to move, dying while blood spilled from their mouths or being kicked and trampled by panicked citizens too mindlessly terrified to avoid the fallen or even notice they were there. There was no way he could leave his wife alone a moment longer, not while she was so close to having the baby, not when maniacs were roaming free. She could be attacked in their home by some one who realised that the law could never again touch them for it. Worse, she could become ill. The infected were everywhere, begging for help, some of them weeping openly, others furious that such a thing could happen to them. The sick would try to make contact with those not showing symptoms, grabbing at them and beseeching for help. Most were shoved away hurriedly and Stryker had seen two people attacked by the person they had touched. There was a terror that amongst the sick, not knowing if there would be a cure in time for them to be saved, but there was an equal terror amongst those who seemed well, that they would become infected through sharing touch with the sick, the same water, the same air. Every barricade was surrounded by terrified, screaming mobs demanding sanctuary, a cure, shelter, that some one help them.

There was only one person that Stryker knew for sure he could save. As time wore on the barricades became less well defended as more soldiers succumbed to the effects of the virus or slipped away to be with their families. The ones who remained were becoming ever more strung out, using bullets in a futile attempt to keep the mobs back. Further down the barricade, Stryker saw a young soldier who was a part of his Rangers squad put a hand to his face and examine the substance on his hand. He was too far away to make it out but he guessed it was blood because the kid screamed hysterically and began firing into the crowd, causing a stampede away from that part of the barricade, people falling and being trampled in the rush.

Stryker made up his mind at that moment. Vegas was a hotbed of sin and depravity and the hookers and the gamblers and the people who lived in luxury on the weaknesses of others could all die together, choking on their own blood. He was going to go home and get his wife. He knew where the barricade was unmanned, where he could slip through in his unassuming family car and hide out in the desert until the epidemic was over.

"Gonna sort him out," he told the soldier beside him, indicating to the kid who was still spraying bullets into the crowd, screaming that they had killed him. In no hurry, Stryker went over to the young man, shot him through the heads and deserted; the screams of the people witnessed his final act as an Army Ranger still ringing in his ears.

But when he got home, his wife was sick anyway.

Not knowing what to do for the best, Stryker stuck to his original plan, grabbing food and water and throwing what he could in a cool bag before heading out into the unforgiving Nevada desert. He wasn't stopped, the situation in Vegas having gone beyond the control of the depleted armed forces. There was more to worry about than a lone car heading for the desert.

They had barely left the city limits when his wife let out a groan and informed him she was in labour.

"Oh shit!" Stryker couldn't remember the last time he swore out loud but this seemed to be the perfect time. Stepping on the accelerator he tried to think; where could he take her? Forget the Vegas hospitals; they were full of the diseased and dying. According to the news and his informants in the Army Rangers, things were no different anywhere else in the state. And he didn't know how long he would be able to drive before he was forced to stop and help his wife.

There was little traffic on the roads, the declaration of martial law meaning that few had been able to escape the town. What little there was appeared to have been incoming, most of the cars abandoned, a few containing bodies. Several of the cars were filled with the possessions of a lifetimes worth of stuff; TVs, fancy computer systems, expensive electronics. He wondered why these people had felt the need to remove their possessions when they were trying to outrun something that could kill them. It wasn't like they could watch soap operas in the next life.

It was midday when he swerved off the road and into the desert, seeking out the shade of a huge boulder and stopping the car there. His wife's breathing was erratic and she had taken to muttering to herself. This compounded by the occasional groan or scream, which he assumed to be contractions. he had tried to time them by his watch and was alarmed to find them less than four minutes apart. The baby was coming soon, no matter what he did. Surely it would be better to stop and help her.

By five it had become clear that his wife was going to die. She was spitting up blood, as he'd seen the infected in Vegas do shortly before they expired. She seemed to be struggling with the baby too, although how much was down to the normal trauma of childbirth and how much due to the illness he couldn't say - this was to be their first. He had never seen a baby born before. One thing he did know, if his wife were to die before she birthed the child, it was highly possible that the child would die too. He would have lost everything.

He offered up a quick prayer to God and went over to the car, where he kept a switchblade in case he was attacked. It wasn't a scalpel but it was sharp and would have to do. Kneeling beside his wife, he wiped the hair back from her forehead and slit her throat, asking for forgiveness as he did so. Tears came to his eyes but he blinked them back, aware that his time was short. He had to get the child out of his dead wife at once. Knowing that she was beyond pain now, he sliced open her stomach and performed a clumsy but effective caesarean, ripping his first born from her womb.

The child was an abomination.

Unable to believe his eyes at first, Stryker gazed in repulsion at the thing. Covered in amniotic fluid and dark fur it's face was almost feline, ears pointed and too large for its head, legs and arms out of proportion to it's torso. . .

It opened its eyes and looked at him.

He snapped its neck with one blow.

With a cry of disgust, he dropped the corpse and backed away as if it might suddenly come alive and scutter after him. In death it looked even more sinister, as if it were still sentient and able to read his fear.

What IS that thing?

The strength ran from his legs and he sat down heavily beside the body of his wife, unable to take his eyes from the child. This wasn't human fuckery. This was Armageddon, judgement day. Divine intervention. The human race had finally become to corrupt and God was striking them down.

But his wife…she hadn't been an evil woman. She had been an angel, a truly good person. And if she hadn't been to church as often as he did, that was because she believed God had meant them to enjoy the beauty of the world rather than mouth prayers inside a stuffy building. Why would God take her? Why her and not him?

Because she was too good. If this was judgement, just as had happened to Noah, the human race needed some one who would not shy away from the tasks ahead. His wife would not have destroyed the…monster…she had birthed. She would have treated it like a normal child, although it was clearly some form of demon. In times of strife, humans needed a forceful leader, not a gentle shepherd. That was why he had lived and she had not.

And the child was a sign from God. There was evil loose in the new world. He'd always had problems dealing with the concept of a cartoon devil with horns and a tail, but clearly something sentient and evil was out there, using the opportunity of the depleted and confused population to overrun the planet with more of its kind. Why else would this demon have happened to them? And what better kind of person to use as its vessel than a good, God-fearing woman who would never have destroyed it. It was the kind of perverse obscenity that evil loved.

Well, he had proven himself able to take care of the demon and be up to the task. And maybe the demon had been sent as part of Gods plan. Otherwise he might not have found out that they were out there. He had no doubt that there were others. So maybe God had picked Stryker as a representative to remove this evil. That was the only thing that made any kind of sense. If this wasn't Gods plan then the flu was just an epidemic, his wife was dead by a twist of fate and he had just killed his only child because it was some biological accident – and that just didn't make any sense.

Pulling himself to his feet, Stryker gingerly picked up the corpse of the child and flung it as far into the desert as he could. Then he knelt beside his wife and kissed her forehead, wishing he could bury her but knowing it was futile in the soil of the desert without tools, settling instead for a few prayers and a lot of tears. The moon was up by the time he got up and went back to the car. Without the relentless Nevada sun, it was cold. He started the car and left, not sure where he was going but knowing he had to explain to the other survivors that this was a test. This was their chance to return the human race to the glory of God. And that they had to be careful, because there were monsters out there.

About his child, he spared no thoughts, no prayers and no tears.

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Wanda leaned back, enjoying the light feeling of her head. She had chopped off her hair earlier that day and although she suspected it was psychosomatic – how much could hair weigh after all? – she felt different. Not just like her head weighed less, but also empowered. As if she was finally taking charge of her life again.

She, Pietro and Jamie had found an out of the way restaurant, closed up tightly and totally abandoned. A hex bolt took care of the shutters and there was food in the kitchen, although the fresh products had gone off and were starting to smell. The freezers though hadn't been opened since before the power went off and were still pretty cold. They had sat outside and toasted hamburgers over a campfire; washed down with a beer (and a cola for Jamie) they had cooled in a bucket filled with ice they had scraped from the freezers. Now Wanda and Pietro sat outside, enjoying the twilight and a second beer while Jamie messed about on the small play area. He was really too old for it, but Wanda figured the last few weeks had forced the boy to grow up too quickly and he deserved the time to be a child for a little while.

Weirdly, she was content. A combination of being in control of her destiny again, being with her brother and having a two-beer buzz on. She'd never drank before and was feeling the effects. It was a nice night and for once, she had no worries, no plans for the future other than survival. The restaurant was far enough away from the nearest houses that they couldn't even smell any bodies. She'd even managed to forget her plans for revenge for a while. It was nice.

Then Pietro opened his mouth and ruined everything.

"Do you think he's out there somewhere?"

Wanda glared over at her brother, good mood shattered. She didn't have to ask who he was talking about. "I know he is."

Pietro leaned back, looking up at the sky. "Maybe he's looking for us. Maybe he's worried."

"If he's looking for us, then he must want something. He's a monster. Monsters don't worry about their kids."

"He's not a monster. He's just…look, you were so outta control, I guess he thought he had to do something…"

"Pietro. You came to get me and I'm grateful. Even if it took you a long time…"

"I didn't know where you were!"

"I know. But he put me there, he left me there and that makes him a monster!"

"But…"

Wanda clenched her fists. At the same time, a long-dead electric lamp above the door of the restaurant exploded, belching glass across the floor. Pietro wisely decided to drop the subject.

Jamie heard the noise and ran over. "Why did you do that Wanda? Pietro annoying you?"

Forcing herself to calm down, Wanda unclenched her fists and tried to smile. "You know Pietro. He's always annoying me."

"Hey!" Pietro put on a look of hurt, but secretly was relieved. He didn't like the idea of Wanda losing her temper. There hadn't been anything too bad yet – he'd been careful to watch what he said to her and not rile her. He knew he was pushing her limits every time he mentioned their father, but he had to try. He was in no doubt that Magneto was still alive and could only imagine what would happen if Wanda lost her temper and her control when the family finally met up. Magneto wouldn't go down without a fight. One of them was bound to get hurt.

Jamie kicked at a shard of glass that had landed nearby. "We staying here tonight?"

"Might as well," said Wanda. "Warm, under cover and there's food."

"What about tomorrow?"

"Sure. We could camp out here for a few days."

"Good idea," said Pietro. "But maybe we should think about what to do after that."

"What is there to do?" Wanda gestured around her, the movement indicating the rest of the world. "There's no people. No need for cash. All we have to consider is staying alive and this is as good a place as any to do it."

Jamie frowned. "Shouldn't we look for other people? Not that you guys aren't cool – well, you are Wanda…"

"Creep," muttered Pietro.

"But there might be other people left alive and they won't find us here."

"Yeah," said Pietro, rolling his eyes. "A colony of gorgeous girls all waiting for a studly hunk to help them repopulate the world." He paused, contemplating the idea. "Actually, the brat might have a point. I'm a studly hunk after all…"

"Shut up." Wanda rubbed her forehead, beginning to get a headache. "Maybe there are other people, but it's a big world out there. We could wander around for years and not run into anyone."

"But if we went to the city, there might be – I dunno, signs or soldiers or police or something," said Jamie hopefully. "They'd know what to do!"

"Any city would stink," growled Wanda. "Millions of people rotting in the sun. Delightful."

Jamie looked queasy and Wanda immediately regretted her words. She knew that Jamie had lost his family and she shouldn't be reminding him of it in such a cruel way.

"Look, I'm sorry." She grabbed her beer and took a long swallow. "But I think we ought to stay here for a little while at least. We can always think of something in the next few days. And what's the hurry? Not like we're gonna be late for anything."

"I guess not." Jamie still looked downhearted. "It'd just be nice to see some other people is all."

Wanda allowed herself a slight smile. She supposed she and Pietro weren't much fun for a twelve year old, what with her psychosis and his posturing. But for the time being, they were all the company he was going to get.

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"What's your name?"

X-23 regarded the girl coldly. With her brown pigtails, pink T-shirt and dungarees, she looked happy and secure. X-23 hated her immediately.

"Don't you have a name or something?" The girl hugged her doll closer to her. "I'm Katie. This is Carolina April-May. I got her for my birthday. When's your birthday?"

X-23 didn't have a clue what the kid was talking about. Birthday?

Katie was getting impatient. "What's your name?"

Dr Risman was watching them closely and X-23 knew she was going to have to say something. She was supposed to be blending after all and Madame Hydra would be mad if she blew it. "My name's, uh, Deborah," she said, using the doctors name on impulse.

"That's a dumb name."

"No it isn't," said X-23.

"Yes it is." Katie smirked and X-23 quelled the urge to hurt the kid. That would certainly blow her cover. "Don't you have a dolly?"

"No."

"Are you poor or something? My dolly's the best. Look, she really cries. I'm going to get a boy-dolly next and they can be brother and sister. I'm going to be their mommy. Aren't you playing on the swings?"

X-23 shook her head. She was supposed to be blending and observing. That meant she couldn't play even if she was allowed to.

"You're dumb." Katie laughed and ran off, hauling herself up the ladder to the slide with practiced ease. X-23 glared, rage welling up inside her. She was supposed to be a weapon, not have any emotions, but this feeling inside her was to dark to deny.

Some time later, Katie was led from the park in floods of tears by her concerned parents. The doll, its arms and legs twisted off, dangled from her hand. Her mother carried the missing appendages, wondering aloud to her husband how such a thing could have happened. No child could be so malicious, surely. Some distance away, Dr Risman sighed and decided to take X-23 back to Hydra. There was no use in denying it. The destructive tendencies the girl had were getting more and more out of control. This wasn't the first time she had destroyed something of the other children's. Once again she would have to sit down and explain to X-23 why she couldn't draw attention to herself in this way and once again the child would look at her through those unfathomable green eyes and not understand why she was taught to maim and dismember but couldn't do so to make her feel better…

X-23 forced the memories from her mind as she looked out over the play area. Earlier in the day she had changed her clothes, going into a shop and choosing a pair of jeans and T-shirt rather than her uniform. If she was going to be separate from Hydra, then she was going to celebrate it. Hence she had changed and tied her hair out of her face. There was no point in dressing for concealment and fighting when she wasn't going to be doing either.

Shoes had proved to be more of a problem, the boutique managing to have only a small selection of impractical options. Instead, she had kept her old ones. Just because she didn't think she would have to fight didn't mean that she was taking any chances.

She sniffed the air and detected no living people around. Satisfied, she sprinted over to the slide and climbed up. Blending and observing meant that she knew what to do and that it was supposed to be fun, but the slide was a bit anticlimactic. Ditto the monkey bars – no challenge at all. She went on a few other things but half-heartedly. All this time she had wanted to do the same things as the other kids and now she finally had the chance and had broken the taboo, it turned out to be a big let-down. Maybe she was just too old.

Dispirited, she sat on the swing and opened her rucksack, pulling out a bar of chocolate. She'd become addicted since her first bite and now everyone was dead, there were bars lying about all over the place. There was soda too, her personal favourite being cherry cola. The sugar rush hit her enhanced senses and she sighed, idly kicking her legs and making the swing move. There was so much she had wanted to do when she finally got free from Hydra and although most of those things involved revenge and bloodshed, there were the simple things as well. Things she had seen other people do and thought she would never be allowed to do. Entertainment was a distraction from her training. But she wasn't enjoying the park at all.

Stuffing the chocolate wrapper into the empty can and putting it on the floor next to her, she kicked her legs more viciously. This was hard. It took her a while to work out how to get the damn thing to go where it was supposed to. And suddenly she had it. Working her legs, she managed to get the swing higher. She laughed, suddenly feeling pleased in a way she never had before. The breeze whipped her hair out of her inexpertly tied pony tail and she grabbed for the band as it fell, missed. It didn't matter. Instead she leaned backward and let her hair blow into tangles and laughed again, for the first time in her life feeling totally carefree.

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So weak. How long has it been? How long have I been down here?

She drifted, not knowing how much time passed. The cavern was cold and damp, but she felt it only in an abstract way. The cavern had always been cold and damp and she had been down here a long time. Her body rested, in a self-induced suspended animation. She didn't know how long she could keep it up, but it had kept her alive this long.

How long?

Occasionally she could sense the minds of others but had never been able to get in contact with them. She wasn't a psychic in the accepted sense, although her powers were psychic in nature, and couldn't just force her voice into the minds of others. She was too weak now to use her powers to make them realise she was there. In the right circumstances, maybe…but it had been a long time and the right circumstances had never happened. Sometimes she thought they never would. She would lie in the dark until her powers could no longer keep her alive and then she would die, cold and alone, trapped down here. Despair drained her spirit even more but she had been here for to long to feel much else.

Something roused her from her torpor. There was a mind there, in the cavern with her. But how? It hadn't been there a moment ago.

Opening her eyes took a frightening amount of strength. At first she could see nothing and for a moment she thought she was imagining it – maybe her time to die was now and this was a last-ditch effort to stave of insanity. Then she made out a shadow darker than the others. Had she had the energy, she would have gaped. It looked like a black hole had appeared in the centre of one of the rocks, a perfect circle of total darkness. Instead, she merely stared dully, trying to focus her eyes The cavern wasn't in total blackness but there was little light and for a moment she couldn't understand what she was seeing.

"Bloody hell, it's dark in here!"

The cavern filled with sudden light, tinged purple. A girl stood in the centre of the now-shrinking black hole, the light coming from what looked like a blade of light in her right hand. The light reflected back off her curious face, attractive in spite of the mark covering her eye.

"You Danielle?"

"Yes…" She managed to move her head to follow the girl's movements as she approached. "Who…are you?"

"Name's Betsy."

Betsy put an arm under Danielle's head and got her into a sitting position. "I don't know how that bastard knew you were here. Couldn't see a thing wrong from above. Not used to this whole teleporting thing, thought I'd done it wrong or something. How long have you been here?"

"Long time."

"Yeah, you look like shit." Betsy helped Danielle to her feet. "Let's get you back to the dungeon and get you better. Get you something to eat and a bath. Essex is a tosser but he knows what he's doing with medicine at least. And you look like you need a doctor."

Danielle gave Betsy a questioning look and the girl laughed bitterly. "I know, why am I taking you there if I hate him so much. Like to say it's for you but it's not. My brother's there and a kid I was supposed to be protecting. Word of advice? Don't piss him off and keep your head down. Maybe you'll get off easier than us. Now let's go, before he gets mad."

On cue, another black portal opened and Betsy guided Danielle toward it. Still weak, Dani couldn't help the tremor of fear that ran through her. Her strange rescuer was implying she might have been better off left here, in the cavern, than rescued. But that was impossible. Nothing could be worse than dying in the dark. No matter what kind of a guy this mysterious Essex was.

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TheDreamerLady – I finally updated, go me! Sam shutting himself off ain't a good sign, but he is gonna get some more attention in later chapters (I put him in the story to pay more attention to him and he's getting shut out with Lance/Jean affection and Logan/Mystique arguments). Remy knows something about Sinister but I'm not saying yet! Hope you like this chapter!

Ishandahalf – Hope you enjoyed the sinister foreshadowing in this chapter (bad pun alert!) and yeah, I'm gonna keep Rogue and Remy together, coz I don't do a lot of Romy. They'll be back in the next chapter!

Rogue14 – Hate laptop! Shouldn't say that, the PC I got wouldn't stop crashing and now I've got a nice new laptop to write on (and no money). I'll be getting to the new chapters of 'R' shortly, I have so much to catch up on! Juggy's fate is in the next chapter and the thought of lots of little LeBeau's made me giggle.

Lady Evils – I don't have Scott to torment any more so I guess Rogue got the job of PB's new target of abuse, lol. No, I'm gonna start to be nicer to her. Juggy's showing up in the next chapter and Lance and Jean goodness too!

Sangofanatic – Uh, sorry 'bout the late update! Remy will get attached to Rogue, but his sense of self-preservation is still gonna be stronger…will it make a difference? I'm not saying!

Todd Fan – Glad you like! New chapter brought to you by brand new, hopefully non-evil computer.

Minnaloushe – I thought I was the only person electronics exploded around! Juggy back in the next chapter. Oh no, I never thought what would happen if Pyro got involved and I thought of a storyline he could be involved in – oh boy. I love writing slimy Remy! He's gonna be causing no end of distraction for Rogue and you know they have to get involved with some of the other characters sooner or later. I'm looking forward to writing some stuff about her and Mystique…but it's gonna be a while before I get that far.

Furygrrl – Stupid computers! Can you believe I'm on my third this year? But I'm back now, planning to get involved in fanfiction again…I've been so bored without writing! I'm planning to deal with Juggy in the next chapter, I might even write it tonight, if I get the chance. I could just envision Logan and Lance sniping at each other and I want to put plenty more in there. And Toad as 'irritating baby bro' was too good an opportunity to pass up! He was good with the Brotherhood but being with a changed X-Men gives me more chance to explore the character. The Rogue scene just came to me at work one day, almost whole except for the parts where she considered what she'd never have. I tried to think what we take for granted that can't be done without skin contact…everyone uses making out (and so did I, ha ha) but there's other stuff too. I thought about Remy making the save but decided to leave him home sneaking around instead – more like him! And the idea of a Cajun Punisher made me grin too (and head for a cold shower, lol). Jean was kinda a den mother in the series too, but she might have to work a bit harder here. You were right with a lot of the guesses as to the contents of the diaries but, what with the PB evil streak you'll have to wait to see how they fit in! Hope the wait for this chapter wasn't too long!

Jabari – Glad you like the story! The little groups scattered around the country will begin to meet up very soon – as in, next chapter soon…

Jack – Rogue will be anything but a pansy! She's a bit shocked at the moment, but she'll be scoring points off Remy before ya know it!

Panther Pendragon – Mystique has four kids according to the comics, all the ones mentioned in the last chapter. Kurt and Rogue get the most attention, followed by Graydon. Gloria is adopted with no powers, she lives with her father (a Senator, married to Mallory Brickman, one of Mystique's alter-egos) in Washington. She rarely appears in the comics though. Glad you're enjoying the story!

Alexis in Wonderland – Glad you're liking the story! There was a slight hiatus due to computer woes, but I intend to write a lot more chapters before I get to the end!

STIG – Favourite stories list, thanks! Glad you're enjoying it! In spite of the five-month gap, I still have many big plans for this fic and it'll be running for at least the rest of the year, so plenty to look forward to!