Age Of Onslaught 
	Part 1/37
	

        "I was under the impression I would be meeting directly
with Mr Wilson himself," said Robert Haversham, his clipped English
accent already grating on Wade's nerves.
        "Mr Wilson prefers not to come out in such a public place,"
said Weasel,"You see he's terrified of... uhhh, bacteria and doesn't
go out without a containment sui...OUCH!"
        Haversham raised an eyebrow, had Mr Weese's companion
just shunted him in the arm with his elbow?
        "Sorry, tennis elbow," said Weasel, grinning weakly.
        "Our employer," said Mr Weese's companiion, his accent matching
Haversham's perfectly.  In fact, if the man wasn't so obviously a refined,
cultured Englishman one might suspect he was taking the mickey,"Is, to
put it frankly, concerned about the veracity of your offer of employment,
as you can imagine he does not usually get phonecalls from Head's of
Multinational Corporations."
        "Let's cut to the chase," said Haversham,"Mr Weese, Mr...?"
        "Willis, Warren Willis," said Weasel's companion..
        "Mr Weese, Mr Willis, I want your employer to kill someone for
me, and I am willing to pay a very, very significant increase on his
usual fee."
        Weasel looked uncomfortable, his gear indicated there were no
bugs, no wires in the room but just coming straight out and saying you
wanted a guy whacked.... you'd think an English Lord would have more
class... then again the guy wasn't actually an English Lord, but he sure
had the money to be one if he wanted.
        "How significant?" asked Willis, obviously unperturbed.
        "Wipe this man out and I'm willing to pay you one billion
dollars."
        "Guh," said Mr Willis.
        "Yes," replied Haversham, throwing a small electronic notepad
to Weasel, who caught it,"All the relevant information is in there, once
I have irrefutable evidence he is dead I'll wire the money into any
account of your choosing."
        "Guh," said Mr Willis.
        "Come on... Warren," said Weasel,"Let's go, I'm sure our
employer will be interested to hear these terms."
        "Guh," said Mr Willis, allowing himself to be led out of
the room.
        Haversham remained seated at his desk, looking straight ahead
until he was sure they were gone.  Then he collapsed forward, unconscious.
        - Fools - boomed a voice, seemingly from the shadows in the
corner of the huge office, anyone looking closely might have seen a
hulking shadow within the shadows, and crimson slits which might have
been eyes.

        Once outside the Head Office, Weasel let out a huge whoop of
breath.
        "Man, can you believe that?" he asked Mr Willis.
        "A billion smackeroonies," said Wade Wilson, Deadpool, disguised
with an electronic image inducer to appear normal.  He'd dropped the
English accent.
        "I mean, why is he willing to pay a billion dollars to wipe out
some schmoe?"
        He looked at the electronic notepad.
        "Oh," he said.
        "Oh?" asked Deadpool,"What oh?"
        Weasel showed him the subject.
        "Oh," said Deadpool.

        -

        Jean Grey was one of the most powerful psi's on the planet, next
to Charles Xavier and The Shadow King she was probably the most skilled
and experienced telepath alive.
        But skill and experience didn't count when you lost access to
your tools.
        For the past several weeks, beginning the same day as the final
confrontation with Magnus, it had become increasingly difficult to use
her telepathy.  At the insistance of Reed Richards (Mr Fantastic of The
Fantastic Four) she had created an astral form and travelled to the astral
plane, discovering that the limitless energy made up of all the mental
energy coming from every living being was in a state of flux, severely
damaged in a way that could only be deliberate.
        "So who has the power to do that kind of thing?" Reed had asked
once she returned to her physical body.
        "No one," she had replied,"Not even The X-Man, whom as far as we
can tell is a living psionic battery, could tear and rip at the astral
plane like that."
        "Then we may have to consider that the problem is cumulative," he
had replied immediately,"Certainly the number of psi potentials has
increased a million fold in the last century.  A hundred years ago there
would have been only a handful of people capable of travelling to the
astral plane, now there are thousands, maybe millions and the strain may
be telling."
        The problem with the astral plane was that the only way to get
there was via telepathy or magic, and as it was in a state of flux no
one could travel there for more than a few moments by themselves, let
alone bring someone along for the ride.  Hence, Reed could not study
the phenomena firsthand.
        Now weeks later, Jean found she could only just manage to sense
her husband's thoughts, Scott Summers - Cyclops - via thier mindlink.  She
no longer needed to maintain her mental guards to keep the stray thoughts
of people around her crowding in on her.  She was losing her telepathy.
        Some would have seen it as a blessing in disguise, no longer having
to shield away the thoughts of every person nearby.  But for Jean it was
like losing a sense, losing your taste, your smell, your hearing was what
it was like.  Worst of all it was happening gradually, and there was
nothing she could do about it.

        -

        Dr. Henry McCoy, known as The Beast as an X-Man and as Hank to
his friends, was not a happy camper.
        "And the term, in this case at least, proves to be literal rather
that figurative," he muttered.
        "What's the matter Hank?" asked Bobby Drake, Iceman for his ability
to take the moisture from the air and freeze it in place.
        "The problem? The problem my frigid associate, is that these
environmental factors are entirely unsuitable for my research, in actuality,
not just unsuitable but unacceptable."
        As he spoke he gestured behind him, indicating the series of
tents sitting in front of the blackened stumps of foundation that were
all that remained of The Mansion.
        "So we're roughing it for a bit," started Bobby,"But.."
        "Do not interject just yet," Beast interupted,"Whilst I am fully
capable of,'roughing it,' as it were, I am not capable of continuing
my research into the particularly virulent species of influenza that
the Atlanta Centre For Bacteria and Virus Research has commisioned."
        "The flu?" asked Bobby, a small smile crossing his face,"Dr
Henry McCoy, the man who cured The Legacy Virus, AIDS and Cancer in one
fell swoop, not to mention ending Graydon Creed's racist Presidential
Campaign... with a little help from me might I add.... is now working
on a cure for the flu?"
        "Influenza has never been cured," Henry replied, looking slightly
annoyed,"Whenever one strain is defeated, a new one appears, it... excuse
the terminology, mutates.  Some strains, including the one I'm working
on, have the potential to kill thousands."
        "Forget all that," said Bobby,"What I want to know is what this
is all leading up to, are you leaving the X-Men."
        Beast hesitated,"Yes, yes Bobby, I think I am."
        He turned around and walked away, heading back for the little
tent he'd been living in for weeks now.
        "Don't mind the Doc," said a voice behind Bobby, who twisted
about to find himself facing Logan - Wolverine - leaning against the
small well they'd been getting water from (thanks to Storm the well
never ran dry) and lighting a cigarette,"Big brain like that
needs stimulation to keep occupied, not much brain challenge living in
a tent in a field, and since Apocalypse and Sinister kicked the bucket,
and Magneto burnt himself out trying to become one with the Earth's
electro-magnetic field there hasn't been much work for us," he paused
to take a puff of his cigarette.  And since we can't go winging around
the world any more like we useta, and what with there being about twenty
X-Groups nowadays...." he left the sentence unspoken, taking another
puff of his cigarette.
        "Don't mean I gotta like it," Bobby said.

        -

        Jean opened her eyes and sighed, staring at the green canvas of
the tent only four feet above her.
        - Bit of a change from the boathouse, isn't it? - she thought to
herself.  Suddenly a smiling face filled her vision, that of her
husband, Scott Summers.
        She smiled, despite her telepathy rapidly diminishing she could
at least still speak to her husband in her mind, and she knew he had heard
the thought.
        - I don't mind that so much, - she told him via their
mindlink, - Although I'd have preferred it if the boathouse hadn't been
rigged to blow with the Mansion. -
        - What bothers me is that we still don't know why The Professor
set it off, or where he is.  Even when we contacted Moira on Muir Isle
and asked her to use Cerebro to scan for him we came up with nothing,
it's like he disappeared off the face of the earth, - Scott replied.  
        "Possible," Jean said, out loud now, not even realising,"Maybe
the Shi'ar picked him up? Who knows, except there aren't really any
villains left who knew who he was."
        Scott sighed, not knowing where the Professor was had been eating
him up ever since they'd arrived at the Mansion to discover that he
was gone, the Mansion gone as well.  Wolverine had gone around the whole
property, then reported back he could get no scent of Xavier or anyone
else.
        "No use worrying about it," she said, wishing for the millionth
time that she could see into his eyes.  As a child he'd received a head
injury which later affected his ability to control his optic blasts, and
now he was forced to constantly wear a visor of ruby quartz, the only
substance his beams couldn't penetrate.
        He smiled and leaned forward, kissing her lightly.  It was meant
to be a quick kiss, but as was usual between them it lasted much longer
than was intended.  She raised her own head as their lips brushed against
each other, parting them slightly she kissed him back.  He smiled slightly
and then they were lightly probing into each other mouths with their
tongues.  The kiss lasted just over a minute,  husband and wife enjoying
the taste of each other, the sense of closeness, oneness that they always
felt when they were together.
        When the kiss finally broke, Jean took a long breath groaned
happily, feeling his hand slide beneath the sleeping bag and cupping one
of her large, firm breasts.
        Scott loved Jean, it was as simple as that.  Almost from the
moment he'd set eyes on her he'd been infatuated, then he had lost her (or
at least he had seemed to) and he'd been completely shattered.  He'd been
with two women during that time, a sea captain and then Madelyne Pryor,
a woman he'd thought he'd loved.  In the end she had turned out to be
his way of replacing Jean, she looked just like Jean, talked and walked
like Jean.  He'd been shocked to discover her secret, that she was nothing
more than a clone, a genetic duplicate of Jean created by Mr. Sinister
to fit in with his plans of a genetically perfect mutant... a plan that
had been realized in their child Nathan, then warped by Sinister's nemesis
Apocalypse.
        Now that he had her back, every moment apart made him fell hollow,
like he'd lost a limb.  These moments together were incredible, beautiful,
beyond description.
        As his hand massaged and kneaded the firm, round globe of her breast,
her hand slid down between his boxer shorts and encircled the base of his
cockshaft.  They kissed again, pressing harder,  his fingers rubbing at her
erect nipples as her hand slid up and down his aroused organ.
        With more force than usual, Scott could feel Jean's tongue sliding
into his mouth as the pressure against his lips increased.  He quickly
straddled her, she unconsciously used her telekinetics (which remained
as strong as ever, the flux in the astral plane affect her telepathy
only) to support his weight on her stomach.
        Scott knew that the extra passion, the added pressure was because
she wanted to relieve her tension.  This thing with the astral plane was
sorely affecting her and lately he'd sensed something akin to desperation
in their frenetic love making.  He was surprised when she rolled to the
side, making him drop to the ground.  She rolled over and came up, now she
was on top of him, the sleeping bag left behind.  She was naked, and even
after over 12 years of marriage (*) her firm, toned body made his heart
skip a beat.
        Scott was only too happy to lay back, preparing to enjoy this
ride.  Staring up at her beautiful face framed by shoulder-length red
hair, her slender neck sloping down to full, firm breasts with small,
erect nipples.  Her narrow waist widening out at the hips and moving down
to long, luscious legs.  Between her thighs rested the greatest treasure
of all, her magnificent vagina, pink lips shaven free of hair with only
a small rectangle of red pubic hair above it.  He only wished he could
get a look at her magnificent ass, the smooth white globes never failed
to get a rise out of him, literally.
        Jean smiled slyly at Scott, then ran her fingernails up her,
over the underside of her breasts and lightly flicked her nipples.  She
shuddered in delight and Scott's grin got wider.
        She began to play with her nipples, making small circles against
the hard, pink nubs.  With that same sly grin on her face her hand cupped
the underside of her breast and lifted it, by bringing her head down
and pushing out her tongue, she was able to lightly lick her nipples,
making them glisten with a combination of sweat from the heated confines
of the tent and her own saliva.
        Scott let out a little moan and Jean knew that if she leant
back even a little bit she would feel his hard cock press against her,
no sooner did the thought cross her mind then she did so, loving the
heat of the head of his dick against her flesh.
        He had been content to lie back and watch, but now that his cock
had been stimulated, however briefly, he wanted desperately to get inside
of her.  Still, she was in charge of this particular event, so he was
willing to let her take control.
        Jean, always thinking of him, leaned forward so that her
breasts hung just within his reach.
        "Hey," she said,"They taste nice, try them."
        Scott reached up and closed his hands around her round, firm
globes of tit-flesh, despite their apparent firmness they were still
kneadable, something he certainly enjoyed doing.  Lifting his head he
took one erect nipple in his mouth and lightly sucked on it, his tongue
making small circles of saliva around her nipples.  Jean moaned
happily and slid a finger down between her thighs, where her vagina
was coating his stomach with her juices.  She lifted her ass slightly
and slid her fingers between her pink pussylips, fingering herself as
her husband sucked on her tits.
        He lifted himself into a sitting position and wrapped his arms
around his beautiful wife, still playing with her nipples with his tongue,
alternating between each one, leaving the nipples and a small circle of
flesh around each one glistening with saliva.
        "Okay," she said,"Time for the main event."
        She slid her fingers back from out of her pussy, but kept them
down there, parting her lips.  Then she raised her ass and slid back
slightly, Scott's arms loosening so that she could do so.  Then with
a practiced ease from their years together, she lowered herself down onto
his cock.
        They both moaned happily, him at the feel of her velvety pussy
parting around his dick and also the friction of her fingers as inch
after inch of his cock sunk into her tight cunt.  She at the glorious
feeling as he filled her completely, making them one together.
        She gripped his shoulders and leaned forward, kissing him again,
not so long this time but with as much passion.  Their tongues twined
against each other, then they broke apart.  She smiled at him, able to
look into his eyes through the visor, but not in their natural color,
for them his eyes and the bridge of his nose would always be
red, especially since it was her telepathy which she had used in the
past to hold his optic blasts back, a telepathy that was now all but
gone.  Holding his shoulders, she slid up and down, gently rising and
falling, her cunt sliding up and down his now lubricated cock, which
glistened with her juices.  Her tits rose and fell, up and down, dropping
sweat off her erect nipples as she slid up and down, her cunt slapping
against the base of his dick with each downswing.
        She gyrated her hips, making little circles which made
the sensations running through each their laps even more intense.  Her
moans seemed timed to his, which was only natural, considering that
they had never grown tired of each other in bed and had had a long time
to know each other's bodies inside out.
        "Oh Jean," he moaned,"So good, so good!"
        "I know....huhhh yes... I know what you like," she cried, pounding
up and down faster and faster, her ass pounding against his thighs, her
cunt against his cock and they both knew they were on the brink.
        He looked deep into her eyes, and he knew she wanted to do the
same, but his visor prevented anything but the most superficial look.
He wanted to tell her how good it felt, how the pleasure racing through
his nerves turned him on, the sight of her tits bouncing up down,
the feel of her pussy around his cock, the look of lust on her face, even
the way her hair got sweat and plastered against her face.  He wanted to
but the pleasure was too intense for mere words to describe.  But due
to their mindlink he knew that she could feel it, just as he could feel
her pleasure, feel the steadily building intensity of her oncoming orgasm,
feel the same feelings she felt, it made their sex more incredible than
normal and it was perhaps the secret to their not having tired of each
other at all.
        He wouldn't be able to hold much longer, and he didn't have
to, all he had to do was hold off cumming (which in fact felt almost as
good as the moment of orgasm itself) until she did, and he knew she was
going to blow soon.  He held her loosely in his arms, staring into her
eyes as she bounced up and down, her cunt clasping his cock tightly,
waiting.
        Jean knew he was holding it off, and she knew that her own orgasm
was fast coming, she didn't try to hold it back, the steadily building
pleasure was already more than she could handle.  The tenseness was just
brilliant.  She lifted her ass up higher than before and then dropped
back down, buffering the impact with her telekinesis so she felt only
the pleasure, none of the pain.
        She did this several times, each time grinding her cunt against
the base of his cock before lifting back up, her cuntlips pulling out
as if they didn't want to release the fat cock inside of her.
        "I can feel it, I can feel it coming!" she cried, her eyes half
closed,"I'm going to cum Scott, can you feel it."
        Scott nodded, his own eyes closing behind the visor, feeling the
intensity of their coupling, the feel of her pussy around his cock and
the sensations of the clasping cuntlips everytime she rose and fell was
driving him to the limits.
        "THIS IS IT!" they screamed together.
        Juices exploded from within Jean, a small spray managing to
free itself past her tightly clasping cunt, the rest held in by the
effecting plug of Scott's cock.  At the same time as this, as her cuntlips
squeezed down even tighter than before, Scott was grunting and firing his
sperm deep into her vagina.  Jean's cunt ground hard down as he pushed
his own hips up and they stayed that way for a long time, trying to
keep the pleasure going as long as possible.
        Finally their sweaty bodies relaxed and Scott fell backwards,
pulling Jean with him.  Her tits pressed against his muscular chest and
she smiled at him, still feeling his cock hard inside her, although soon
it would soften and come free, along with her contained pussyjuices.
        "Wow," she said.
        "Wow," he replied.
        They both giggled.
        "Jean, Cyke," said a rough voice they both recognized, it came
from outside the tent.
        Jean smiled lightly, despite losing most of her telepathy she
knew the man well enough to read his mind anyway.  He would have known
they were having sex due to his hyper-senses, and hadn't lifted the flap
of their tent, which would have caused some embarrassment.
        She couldn't help but feel sad, she knew Logan loved her, and she
loved him too, but not like she loved Scott, and he knew that too.
        "Logan?" asked Scott, he sensed Jean's thoughts but still didn't
seem pleased about the interruption.
        "Yeah, listen, we got us a problem."

	-

 	Scott and Jean emerged dressed, not in costume but in ordinary
clothes.  Once they saw the source of the problem, Scott was glad that
none of the others was in costume either.
        Coming down Greymalkin Lane was a long line of police cars, they
drove slowly, seemingly in no hurry to arrive at the site of the once
beautiful (now gone) Mansion.
        "What's this about?" asked Bobby, approaching.
        "We do not know, Robert," replied Ororo Munroe - Storm - dressed
in tight denim shorts and an even tighter white halter top,"But I would
warrant it does not bode well."
        At the head of the cars was an open Hum-Vee, and sitting in the
passenger seat was a very large man.
        "Is that...?" started Storm.
        "Yep," replied Wolverine,"It's Cain Marko, The Juggernaut, sans
costume."

        -

        Nathan Charles Dayspring Askani'Son Summers (Cable to most, Nate
to his lover and his friends) wasn't in a very good mood.
        First of all he hadn't slept a wink, his son had been crying all
night and Domino had refused to get up alone.  So Cable had to get up
each time the crying started and help her.
        Which was fair enough.
        Except, once up Domino wouldn't let him help, claiming he had
no clue.  And then once the baby was quieted she complained that he
hadn't helped at all.
        Next it had been raining all day, meaning he couldn't get out
and dig his vegetable garden like he'd planned.
        All in all family life had changed Nate, usually he thought for
the better.  Since the death of Apocalypse and Sinister, then when Magneto's
mad plan had resulted in his death, Cable had finally felt at peace, the
future looked bright.  His Mission was complete, now he meant to enjoy
his life.
        He settled down in his favorite easychair, since he'd stopped
being active he'd stopped pushing himself so hard and lost a little muscle
tone, but it wasn't something that concerned him.  His steadily diminishing
telepathy also didn't concern him too much.
        "If I can't enjoy the day, I'll watch the game," he said,"Be nice
to just veg out for the day."
        The doorbell rang.
        "Shock," he muttered, using an ancient curse-word in his time
that wouldn't become popular for a few decades yet in this.
        He got up and opened the door.
        "Better not be Mormons," he muttered.
        "Hello, Cable," said Forge, leader of X-Factor, who stood behind
him,"We need to talk."

        -

        Scott couldn't believe it.
        The Juggernaut had come for them many times, always trying to
smash his way through them to get to Xavier.  The last time he'd showed
up he'd smashed half the Mansion and put Jean in a coma before being
put in one himself by Magneto.  When The X-Men had arrived back at the
smoldering remains of The Mansion Juggernaut and Xavier were gone, and
Cable had told them that he'd helped Juggernaut out of his coma, the
huge unstoppable wrecking machine walking away and not being seen again
until now. (**)
        One thing had remained constant throughout those many visits,
it was always a spur of the moment, destructive rampage which they'd
been able to throw off.
        This time he brought the law with him.
        "You read the papers," Juggernaut said with a grin, looking
ridiculously huge in his suit, standing next to a short, quivering young
lawyer with a bowtie and thick, black-rimmed glasses,"It says that all of
Chuck's property is mine."
        "It also says," said Storm,"That this is only the case when Charles
is dead."
        "He is dead," said the lawyer, his voice thin and quavering,"At
least, legally."
        "Chuck died during Magneto's trial before the World Court in
Paris," Juggernaut said with a grin.
        "He did not!" cried Bobby.
        "There were several witnesses," said the lawyer, sounding a little
more confidant now,"Making it legal."
        "Charles has made public appearances, written an update on his
work on genetics, appeared on television and was in a very high-profile
assassination attempt at a Lila Cheney concert in Central Park," said
Storm angrily.
        "Yes, but no witnesses came forward during that time to refute
the Parisian Court's ruling that Professor Charles Xavier was
dead, therefore he is still legally dead."
        "And the property is mine," grinned Juggernaut.
        The Sheriff stepped forward, he had another document.
        "This paper says you gotta be off my property by sunset," said
The Juggernaut, he laughed,"I love this law thing!"
        Storm read the paper, then handed it over to Scott, who was
seething with rage.
        "And I mean it," said Juggernaut,"I warned the police about the
dangerous stuff you get up to out here, and they agree, they got a folder
nearly a foot thick on weird stuff happening up here.  The neighbors
will be glad to see you gone, even if the nearest one is a few miles away."
        "You haven't heard the last of this, Marko," growled Wolverine.
        "Got a better lawyer than me? I doubt it," laughed Juggernaut,"So
go ahead and pop those claws runt, let's see you take a hundred shotgun
blasts and get up."
        "Calm yourself, Logan," said Storm, Cyclops nodded his agreement,"We
shall go, there is nothing left here for us in any case."
        Under the watchful eye of the police, and with The Juggernauts
laughter echoing in their heads, they began packing up their tents and
preparing to leave their home.