"Wait a minute," came a sultry voice from around the corner. "Don't you think your team is a little testosterone heavy, Charles?"

"Why Emma, I didn't realize that you were back from England. But you don't really want to go to Hell with us, do you?"

"It's bound to happen to me eventually. I might as well scope out the territory now."

"Enough small talk," boomed the ethereal growl of Ghost Rider. "I can't keep this portal open much longer."

Nodding to Emma, I signaled to the team and everyone started jumping through the flaming oval. When it was Iceman's turn, he hesitated. You didn't have to be a telepath to see his fear.

"Professor," he said meekly, "do I really have to do this?"

"Come now, Bobby. Would you ever heard of Hercules if he hadn't performed his 12 mighty labors? No. He'd just be Herc the goat herder and would have passed into obscurity. It's only through facing great challenges that we grow. Adversity gives us strength and skills and allows us to become heroes. Learning is-"

"Alright, alright!" Iceman said, jumping through the flames. I steered my hoverchair after him and entered the Infernal Realm.

"Well Hank, is your dimensional travel thingie working yet?"

"Actually Professor, the correct designation is interspatial transduction coordinator. And no, it's not fully operational, I'm sorry to say."

"And what seems to be the problem?"

"The device's primary function is to allow transit to the Negative Zone. It isn't calibrated to open a portal to Hell. Lacking the basic parameters, I wouldn't know how to synchronize the dappler settings."

"It's fortunate for us that I anticipated and planned for this eventuality." The rest of the assembled X-Men looked at me in confusion. I allowed myself a brief gloating smile. Sending a telepathic signal, the rear door banged open. In walked a man, sort of, clad in black leather. Fingers of flame leapt from his barren skull.

"Ghost Rider?!" the team shouted in unison. "What's he doing here?"

"We are going to Hell," I reminded them. "We'll need a way to travel there and a guide to Mephisto once we arrive. Mr. Rider here just seemed like a natural fit."

I nodded to Ghost Rider and he started swinging his blazing chain around in a circle. A strange whistling noise filled the room as a swirling eddy of light started to form. Intense heat emanated from the portal.

"Aw crap," Iceman said.

"X-Men!" I shouted. "Tonight we dine in Hell!"

"Hell?" I replied cooly, doing my best to mask my distress. I don't know if you've ever been there, but it's not much of a vacation spot.

"Wolverine's going after Mephisto to get his sister/daughter/clone thing back!" Bobby shouted needlessly.

"Laura has a name you know."

"Uh . . yeah . .I know . . it's just . ."

"Meet me down in Beast's lab in fifteen minutes. Bring Cyclops, Colossus, Angel and Nightcrawler with you. Oh, and Gambit too. We might need someone to trade for Laura."

"M-me?" he gulped.

"Yes, you."

"B-but I'm made out of ice! It's my name - Iceman!"

"I know."

"I don't know if you heard, but hell is hot! I'll melt!"

"You won't melt. Your body isn't actually ice. It's a hybrid organic compund. Beast has explained that to you a thousand times."

"Yeah but-"

"No buts. Move!"

"Professor! Professor!"

Groan. Blackbolt had somehow gotten into my private chambers and was screaming my name. I lifted my throbbing head and managed to pry open my bloodshot eyes. Turns out it wasn't Blackbolt at all. Just as well, I suppose.

"What is it Bobby?" I asked Iceman, who was standing in my doorway with a rather anxious look on his face.

"It's Wolverine! He just sent a coded message to Beast! He needs our help."

"Well he's going to have to wait until the room stops spinning," I said. "Come back tomorrow."

I tried to tune out what Iceman was saying and focus my thoughts. Vague images of a wild party flitted into my mind. Jon, the Intergalactic Gladiator swinging from a chandelier. Warbird doing a risque dance on the table. Koma getting an atomic wedgie from Vegeta.

Of course! The Amazing Mutant Race wrap party. I do seem to recall having one or two drinks.

"But Professor! Wolverine has gone to Hell!"

"We all knew that was coming, Bobby."

"No! I mean he went down to Hell with Mephisto! He needs our help!"

Last night we had the end of the Amazing Mutant Race 3 celebration at the school. Just about all the racers were there and the winners of the Race, Army of (Cl)One and Angel, were the guests of honor. I must say, this party was much tamer than fests at the school usually are. As far as I know, no one woke up next to someone whose name they didn't know.

AOC posing with Cable

The only serious incident was when Wolverine attacked AOC and Angel. Everyone had their glass raised in our umpteenth toast to the winners of the Race when Wolverine, who had been drinking copious amounts of alcohol, jumped up on the banquet table in front of AOC.

"You wobbed us!" he wailed, foamy spit spraying everywhere.

"Excuse me?" Tak replied calmly.

Wolverine lifted his right hand and two claws slid out, the middle one stopping halfway. He looked at them in drunken confusion for a moment before turning his attention back to AOC.

"I was suppose to wins dat damn race!" Logan wobbled for a moment like he was going to fall over.

"Well, you didn't," the AOC answered.

"Dat whole thing was my ideas! I made Chuck do the damn race!"

"Imagine that," AOC said, "you set yourself up for failure. That's kind of funny."

"Dat's it! You're dead you inbred clown!"

"That's clone," AOC replied.

Wolverine swung his semi-clawed fist at the trooper's head. AOC easily side-stepped the sloppy attack. In an instant, Nightcrawler teleported next to Logan and grabbed his arm. Colossus was there and grabbed his other arm while Beast bounced off the ceiling and put himself between Wolverine and AOC. I quickly hurried over.

"Logan!' I said in my most authoritative voice. "You are drunk!"

"No I ain't!" he shouted in the wrong direction. After blinking his eyes a few times, he whirled around. "I can't get drunk! Healin' factor, remember?"

"So I've heard you say," I told him. "None-the-less, you are drunk. You are going to go upstairs and go to sleep."

"No I ain't!" he bellowed. I had to wipe the spray off my face. "I was robbed! I was suppose to win that damn Race! This ain't fair! I'm gonna . ."

At that point I had had enough. Reaching into his mind, I put him to sleep. Giving the nod to Nightcrawler, he teleported Logan up to his room. The disturbance resolved, everyone's glasses were refilled and the party resumed.

Well this is it, race fans. The remaining contestants have finished their final challenges and are speeding to the finish line. Do you know what this means? I don't have to do any more horrible press shows!

But the three remaining teams - Jon, the Intergalactic Gladiator and Nightcrawler, Army of (Cl)One and Angel, and Vegeta and Wolverine - are all reaching the finish line at the same time. It's going to be a photo finish! It's going to be hard for me to make out who crossed the line first since Oprah-zilla broke my damn glasses. I'll need your help.

Please review the final posts at Amazing Mutant Race 3 blog, and then go to the Heroes United Forum and vote for who you think finished first. As in US elections, you have to be registerred to vote. The deadline for voting is Sunday, March 11 at 9pm, Eastern Standard time.

I glanced over at the unmoving bodies of Cyclops and Colossus. They weren't moving. Her audience snarled wildly as the moved as one slow, lumbering mass towards the stage. Oprah-zilla was stomping rapidly towards me. I threw my combat hover chair into reverse and popped open the heat-seeking mini-stinger missles covers and pressed down on the trigger.

Oprah zapped my chair with lazer beams from her eyes. Suddenly nothing was happening as I frantically pressed the missile launch button. The chair stopped moving. All the electronic components went dead. Oprah-zilla was now on top of me. Her giant foot hovered over my head. I had only one chance.

I projected the image of a giant Twinkie before her eyes. Her stomach made the most horrible rumbling sound and large strands of drool began dripping from her mouth. A huge drop splashed on top of my head. As truly revolted as I was, I kept all my concentration on continuing the projection of the Twinkie.










Oprah-zilla swung out her stubby claw for it. I pulled the image back. She let out a ferocious roar and charged towards it, swinging wildly. I kept the phantom Twinkie just out of her reach. Leading her like a sheep, I manuevered Oprah-zilla out into the midst of the Soccormom-werewolves. Loud rending creaks filled the large studio. With a huge crash, the floor under the seats collapsed. Oprah-zilla's massive body fell down the hole, smashing through the floor below and the floor below that. Her audience followed her down like a herd of brainless lemmings.

Seeing my opportunity, I kicked in the back up power supply and threw Cyclops and Colossus over the back of my chair. We moved at top speed back to the car and got the hell out of Chicago.

As one, Cyclops, Colossus and I turned to face Oprah. We watched in stunned fascination as the yellowish aura shimmering around her body seemed to litterally grip her and pull her body wider. Before our eyes she grew in size and her skin changed into a hard armor substance. Oprah threw back her head and let out a terrible roar.

"Cyclops," I said. "Blast her."

Scott did nothing. I quickly turned to look at him and saw that he was frozen in fear at the sight of Oprah-zilla. "Damn it! Colossus - charge her!" Peter just looked at me for a moment. Then he turned back to the giantess. Gulping hard, he charged her. Oprah-zilla's tail lashed out and sent him flying across the studio into the midst of the wild pack of soccer-moms/were-beasts. His shriek of terror was quickly drowned out by savage snarling.

A cackle of lightening shot out from Oprah's mouth and zapped Cyclops in the chest. He went hurtling backwards, smokey tendrils rising from his still body.

"And now you die, Xavier!" she roared.