Professor Xavier's Blog

2009-08-22T13:58:00.007-04:00

For today's post I'd like to tell you about an online game that has completely taken over my life - Evony. One day I was innocently minding my own business, stopping by one of my regular entertainment news websites, when I saw an ad in a side column. The ad was impossible not to notice because of the ample amount of cleavage spilling out of the beautiful woman's loose, open top. My curiosity having been sparked, I clicked on the link, hoping perhaps to see more of the comely lass.

Here's the picture to show you what I mean. See if you can resist clicking on it.

The ad was for Evony, an online real time medieval strategy came where players build their cities and armies, earning prestige and gaining in rank. Though there was no more of the buxom lady in the ad to be seen, I decided to give the game a try and I am glad I did.

I have always been a big fan of strategy games. I love the Civilization series. Evony is like that, crossed with Simcity, Rome and other city building games. While the graphics aren't as cutting edge as the latest PC releases, Evony has the distinct advantage of being free.

The game concept is fairly straight forward - you amass resources with which you can build buildings and armies. You can also research technologies in the academy. Developments you make in the sciences at one academy are shared by all your cities, provided that city contains an academy of the appropriate level. You can attain medals, along with additional resources, by conquering nearby valleys or NPC cities scattered about. The medals allow your player to advance and build more cities. You can also join alliances and go to war with other players. By attacking other players, you can not only prestige and resources, but also honor. Provided you win, that is. ;-)

Evony is highly addictive. I play in the morning before I go to work and the evenings when I get home. I play all weekend. Since the game world is in real time, events continue even while you aren't logged on. Your armies, structures and defenses will continue to build. Your armies, if you've sent them out, will continue to march. Other players can attack you.

While I'm playing, I chat with my alliance mates about effective strategies for finding more medals and building city defenses. If you don't have the patience to farm for medals and resources, you can purchase for money items from Evony that will let you move up more quickly through the game. Special offers are regular posted to increase the value of any money that a player decides to invest in the game.

Evony has been a lot of fun to play. I just started my fourth city. With each city I get more efficient in terms of what structures I need to prioritize. In addition to the chat window where you can talk with your alliance mates, there is an e-mail system to communicate with neighbors who may not be in your alliance. Anyone can start an alliance in Evony and there are a lot to chose from. I recommend joining one that has members nearby to your city so that you can support each other, either with troops or gifts or resources, in times of war.

Evony is a great game and I highly recommend you try it out. If you do and want any tips, I'm on server 25, my lord name is Validus and I'm part of the Shannara alliance.

2008-12-02T20:16:00.003-05:00

“You wanted to see me, Professor?”

“Yes, Scott. Thank you for coming. Have a seat.”

“Uh, if this is about that giant ball of gold painted silly string in the pool, I can explain.”

“I seriously doubt that you can, Scott, but that’s not why I asked to see you.”

“Oh. Is it about Jean then?”

“Jean? She’s dead. Isn’t she?”

“I thought she was alive.”

“I forget actually. It’s very hard to keep track of her coming and goings.”

“So then . . what did you want to see my about, Professor?”

“In order to boast the public relations quotient for the X-Men, I’ve signed you up for a new reality show. It’s about henchmen apparently.”

“Henchmen? B-but Professor . . I’m team leader! I’m the alpha male! I’m not a . . a . . henchman.”

“. . . Scott, I want you to look at this as an opportunity for growth. To be a good leader, you have to be a good follower. I want you to go on that show and I want you to make me proud. That means no running around naked in the desert this time, alright?”

“Okay, Professor. If you say so. So who's running this game show?”

"The Henchman."

"The Henchman?? B-b-but he's a super-villain!"

"Suck it up, Scott. Here's the address - http://worldstoughesthenchmen.blogspot.com/

2008-11-01T11:56:00.005-04:00

Yesterday morning I was moping in my private study, or rather I was engaged in deep contemplation of the travails of my life recently . . no . . reflective . . yes, I was being reflective about the turns, or perhaps events that fate put into my path . . or . . let's just say I was half through a bottle of fine Cognac when there was a rather insistent knock on my door.

My telepathic powers aren't at their sharpest after a few shots of Cognac so I wasn't able to clearly tell who it was. With a reluctant assenting grunt, I signaled whoever to enter. Jon, the Intergalactic Gladiator burst in.

I like Jon so I tempered my hostile reaction to having my tranquility disturbed by merely scowling disapprovingly.

"Do you have a moment, Professor?" he asked.

"What is it?" I answered.

"I want to talk to you about my campaign."

"Campaign?" I asked, slightly confused.

"For President? You're my campaign manager!"

"Oh . . oh right. Sure. Campaign manager. Yes, well, what do you want to talk about?"

"Have you seen the latest poll numbers?" he asked with unmistakable dismay. "It's not looking too good and I wanted to see if you had any ideas?"

"Well I'm not just going to take over everyone's mind on election day and make them vote for you, if that's what your implying," I told him in no uncertain terms.

"Of course not," he replied defensively.

"I mean it's one thing to influence the occasional lady at a bar but I'm pretty sure fixing an election that way would be unethical."

"That's not what I'm asking!" Jon insisted. "Look, I had an idea. Dr. Zaius and his running mate Germaine Gregarious are having a costume party tonight. I figure we can go and -"

"Dr. Zaius?" I interrupted. "That monkey from Planet of the Apes?"

"Yes," Jon replied, with more than a hint of perturbance. "He's also in the election. He's the front runner."

"For President? A monkey? Are you sure?"

Jon let a long sigh. "Just trust me," he finally answered. "I want us to go to this costume party. There will be a lot of Zaius's people there. We might be able to get some dirt on him for an October surprise. The word is he can't hold his liquor. We might just be able to get some interesting YouTube video of him."

"Why would he be having a costume party?" I asked.

Jon stared at me for a long time. "It's Halloween."

"Oh."

"Didn't you notice all your students running around all dressed up today?"

"They always wear costumes here."

"Joker costumes? I counted like 10 of them."

"I figured Rogue was teaching some kind of cosmology class. Just between you and me, she uses so much make-up you'd think she was a French harlot."

"Whatever. I brought you a costume. Put it on and let's go."

" . . . fine."

2008-09-27T21:34:00.005-04:00

The Amazing Mutant Race is off to an incredible start! So far the contestants have raced from New York to Canada and then the North Pole, fighting savage monsters and exposing themselves to possibly fatal radiation along the way.

What perils will face the contestants in next week's challenge? Who will be eliminated? Who will win . . the Amazing Mutant Race?

Tune in to find out - http://amazingmutantrace4.blogspot.com/

2008-09-10T17:57:00.000-04:00

Okay, fine. So what? I can walk. There, I said it. Big deal. What a scandal! A man who once could not walk now can. Who cares if I still use a wheelchair from time to time? I find it comforting. Plus it has a drink holder, which is very convenient. And my surface to air missiles. Those can come in handy, let me tell you.

And just maybe it engenders sympathy from the pretty young ladies that I meet from time to time. Is that such a crime? Wouldn't it be a lot worse if I used my telepathic powers to control their minds and make them do whatever I wanted? Isn't, therefore, it so much better that I occasionally use my wheelchair? And if it's so much better, how can it be wrong?

Sigh.

The press didn't buy that argument. I'm on the cover of NewsTime this week with the label "Faker" plastered all over my face. Fortunately I have come up with solution. One that should make Wolverine very happy.

I am starting another Amazing Mutant Race! This is sure to distract those vermin in the media from their constant howling about this overblown non-story. The linkis here for any one interested in competing - http://amazingmutantrace4.blogspot.com/ Just leave me a message if you'd like an invitation.

I wonder if they would believe I had a miracle cure. Perhaps I should give Jimmy Swaggert a call.

2008-07-28T16:13:00.003-04:00

"Ahem. Thank you all . . excuse me please . . thank you. Yes, thank you all for coming to my . . just give me a minute . . I want to thank . . please save any questions for the end. Now then, thank you for . . please, just put your hands down until I'm done. I will take questions after my announcement.

"I first wanted to thank you for coming to my press conference. I just want to announce to everyone that I have returned from my previous scheduled appearance on Last Gladiator Standing 3. Planet Hacknor was indeed lovely at this time of year and even though I didn't win, it was certainly both fun and an honor to compete with such fine sports-persons.

"I also wanted to make it perfectly clear that Jon the Intergalactic Gladiator is still strongly opposed to Dr. Zaius's No Child's Behind Left policy. It is just wrong and, quite frankly as an educator myself I can say this, just gross.

"Now then, are there any questions? My that is a lot of hands. Well, let's start with you Loyd."

"Yes Professor Xavier. How do you think revelations that you have been faking your crippling injury and subsequent need for a wheelchair will effect Jon's campaign for the presidency?"

"Wha-?? B-but I'm not faking . . that is . . I really was crippled. This wheelchair is, well, it's my chair and . . and . ."

"Professor! Clive Teasdale of the Times. How do you respond to the recently leaked video tape being widely circulated on the Interweb of you admitting to only using the chair to pick up loose women?"

"I . . I never said that. It doesn't even make any sense. If the women are loose, why would I need a gimmick?"

"Professor! Brock Johnson of News 12. Isn't pretending to be handicapped the absolute lowest, most vile kind of prevarication a person can commit?"

"B-but I . . I . . I . ."

"That's it! No more questions!"

"But Cyclops wait! Come back! The people have a right to now! Cyclops! Cyclops!"

2008-05-30T06:21:00.007-04:00

"You will be dead in minutes without the life giving nutrient fluids back in your jar!" gloated Nemonok.

Just as I thought I would have to give up control of his ship and return my disembodied brain to the prison that was a glass jar, a giant Shi-Ar battle cruiser appeared off our starboard side. A moment later, Jon the Intergalactic Gladiator, Captain Koma, Wolverine, and an assortment of various current and former X-Men, followed by my lumbering robotically controlled brainless body, materialized on the deck of Nemonok's ship.

"You're dead meat, spud," growled Wolverine, his metal claws unsheathing as he rushed towards Nemonok.

"Allow me," said Koma with a smirk. He fired a ray at Nemonok's rain containment unit and I could sense the immediate transformation as the villain drifted off to la la land. With a grunt of disappointment, Wolverine retracted his claws.

Triumphantly, and with a bit of awe at the oddness of the situation, Jon lifted my brain from the neural interface control panel of the ship and started to carry me towards my zombie-like body. Unfortunately, despite countless hours developing hand-eye coordination playing computer games, Jon lost his grip and my helpless brain went sailing through the air.

The X-Men, that highly trained group of super-heroes that I personally molded into my own mutant army, stood by in stunned motionlessness, watching as my brain flew in a long 10 foot arc across the deck before splattering in a Rorschach like ink spot of disgusting formless goo on the cold metal floor.

All around me slipped into darkness, only to be slowly replaced by a bright light. As it faded, I realized I was standing, back in my body, on a small colorless beach. Lapping at the shore below a dull grey-reddish sky stretched an endless black ocean. Turning, I saw a high jagged rock face stretching down the beach as far as the eye could see. The only interruption in the flat rock wall was a tall ornate metal gate. Above, in twisted rot iron was spelled out the words - Abandon Hope All Ye Who Enter.

Oh, come on! I've been sent to Hell?? How could this possibly be? What about all the times I saved the damn planet? Doesn't that count for anything? And all those persecuted mutants I've rescued, isn't that enough to save my soul?

As if in answer, the metal gates creaked open invitingly. I looked up at the bleak sky.

"Is this because of the time I telepathically influenced that cute little cocktail waitress into sleeping with me?" I asked. I heard a rumbling thunder in the far distance that sounded vaguely like laughter.

Oh well, at least Hell is a gated community. With a sigh, I started to walk forward through the yawning entrance. Everything around me started to warble. Disoriented, I froze as the landscape shimmered and melted into a shapeless void. Slowly reality reformed.

I was back on the deck of Nemonok's ship, still a brain. Jon was lifting me out of the neural interface control panel. Just as he took his first step towards my zombie-like body, Koma shouted out - "Stop!!"

Jon jolted to a halt, my brain sloshing precariously in the pan in his hands. "What the hell is it?" he barked angrily at Koma. "Are you trying to make me drop the Professor?!"

Koma released the giant red button he had just pressed. "Ha! Just the opposite, actually. It's a good thing Nemonok has an Omega 13 installed."

"What's an Omega 13?" Jon asked.

"It's a device that sends everything back 13 seconds," Koma explained.

"13 seconds? That's not much."

"It's enough to redeem a single mistake," answered Koma with a smirk. "Such as splattering Xavier's brains all over the deck. Now let's go."

Koma fiddled with something on his belt and all of us teleported back to the Shi-Ar ship. Lillandra rushed over to me and lovingly stroked my brain. She then ordered me and my body to be taken to the infirmary where, thanks to advance Shi-Ar science, I was restored.

2008-05-21T20:06:00.003-04:00

"Xavier, my ship has been seriously damaged by that raging sociopath, Jon the Intergalactic Gladiator. Unfortunately for you, this means I must use your disembodied brain for spare parts. Your grey matter will have to replace the logic board that drives the ship. As I said, this is unfortunate for you because it means your consciousness will be destroyed."

This was Nemonok talking. He is definitely one of the most evil beings I have ever met. He has stolen my brain and kidnapped me. We are now stranded somewhere on the outer rim of our solar system.

"Nothing personal, you understand," Nemonok continued. "I rather enjoyed our little road trip. Ah well. Goodbye."

Telekenetically, I'm assuming, Nemonok flipped switches and a mechanical arm emerged from the control panel and grasped onto the top of the jar my brain was encased in. It removed the lid to the jar. Tossing it aside, the arm then reached into the bottle, it's long metal fingers stretching around my brain.

They say there are no nerve endings in the brain. They also say that you shouldn't drink and drive or hit on your hot female employees. They say a lot of stupid things.

I could feel the cold metal arms lifting my brain out of the jar. It swung me around and moved me towards the computer bank in the control board. A panel slid open and the arm lowered me inside. I could feel wires and pads press against my grey matter, attaching themselves to me. It was rather icky.

"Goodbye, Xavier," Nemonok said with an unmistakably gloating tone. "I wish you well on your journey to the after life."

I waited, expecting to feel my life force slip away as my consciousness dissolved into the ethereal nothingness.

It didn't happen. I felt just fine, for a disembodied head, anyway. I could also feel the entire ship around me, connected to me. All the controls and circuits and functions, all awaiting my instruction. Nemonok began to flip various switches, obviously trying to pilot the ship somewhere. I disconnected his controls.

"What is this?" he spat. Figuratively, of course. "Why isn't this damn thing working?!" He began to cause the switches to flip back and forth furiously. "It's that damn Xavier's weak brain! And here I had thought he was actually an intellect somewhat near to my own capacity. Blast it!"

"No need to call me names, Nemo," I thought at him. "My brain is working just fine and I am in harmony with the ship. Just relax."

Nemonok made the oddest sound I had ever heard. It sounded vaguely like he was gargling while ordering pizza. He then tried to direct the mechanical arm to remove me from the logic control module. I disabled that too.

"Fine!' he shouted. "But you have won nothing! This ship is still disabled and not going anywhere. Without your precious life-giving fluids in your brain jar, you will be a dead husk in minutes! Your only choice is to return to the jar and then I will once again be in total control!"

Suddenly the ship started shuddering. On the viewer, a giant green ship appeared. It was a Shi'Ar battle cruiser.

2008-05-14T19:27:00.002-04:00

Here I am, a brain floating in a jar. My brainless body has been animated by a super-villain. Now everyone knows my secret, that I can really walk and have just been using this wheelchair thing to get some easy sympathy from the ladies. And to top it all off, I just get hit be a Meme. From a killer robot that wants to destroy humanity, no less.

Fine. It's a Meme. Code of honor and all that. What are you going to do?

It's from Sky. Go wish her a happy a birthday or she'll probably terminate you.

The Blog-anniversary Me MeThe rules:

Must post the rule.
Must link back to the person who's blog-birthday it is.
Must post comment when you are done.

What to do:

Fill out the following:
01] I am just a little be frightened of Sky.
02]Sky is one hot piece of hardware.
03] If I were in a room with Sky, I would probably make a play.
04] I think Sky should give the human race a second chance.
05] Sky needs move on from Tony Stark. He's not a very good example of human virtue.
06] I want to try out page 203 of the Karma Sutra with Sky.
07] Someday Sky will need new batteries.
08] Sky reminds me of Miss January 2003.
09] Without Sky the world would be a less interesting place.
10] My memories of Sky are tinged with impending doom.
11] Sky can be anything she wants to be. Literally.
12] The worst thing about Sky is her genocidal tendencies.
13] The best thing about Sky is the face that she is clothing optional.
14] I am prepared to open a joint bank account with Sky.
15] One thing I would like to know about Sky is her phone number.
16] Sky should go and commit genocide on cockroaches. Now those things are a plight.
17] Sky wants me. I'm just sure of it.
18) What I like best about Sky's blog is the pictures.
19) What I dislike about Sky's blog is the allusions to her getting it on with Stark. He's probably so infected with STDs at this point there's something that could even effect a robot.
20) My favorite post from Sky is the one where she and Seven of Nine have a slumber party.

2008-05-08T21:16:00.005-04:00

As you might imagine, it was rather disconcerting to find that I had been reduced to merely a brain by the evil Dr. Nemonok. Of course my brain is my most important feature, but knew that before long I'd start to miss my other great features. Particularly my penis. Yes, I'd have to get my body back.

Fortunately my psionic abilities seemed to be undisturbed. Concentrating, I sent my astral projection out into the ether. Within minutes I was back at the school. I was mildly distressed to find that my body was not in the study where I left it. Doing a quick sweep through the school I found myself down in the med lab.

Captain Koma of all people was doing something near my head. Storm and a female robot stood nearby. Wolverine sat on a stool with an ice pack on his crotch for some reason. His cold stare was boring into the back of Koma's head like he was trying to vaporize it by the force of his will. Cyclops was standing off to the side.

"Scott," I thought to him.

"Huh?" he said outloud, his head whipping around frantically.

"Scott, it's me Professor Xavier."

"Professor?!" he shouted.

"Shut up, you idiot!" Storm yelled. "He can't hear you. He has no brain!"

Scott looked very confused.

"I am with you Scott," I told him. "You don't have to speak."

"Are . . are you a ghost?" he asked.

"Of course not! I'm not dead."

"But then how can I hear you?"

"I'm a telepath! I'm talking to you with my mind."

"Talking with your mind?"

"You are my first student! You've been with me for years! I'm a telepath! I communicate by thoughts! I can read your mind and put my words into your mind. You know this!"

"Wait a minute . . you can read my mind?"

Did Nemonok steal Cyclops' mind, too? "You can't possibly be this dense," I said. "Of course I can read your mind."

"Then, uh, you know about that thing with the donkey?"

Sigh. After a long pause, I resumed, "This isn't the time to discuss your deviant proclivities. What I need is for you to gather the X-Men and have them bring my body to my location. You will need Beast, Jean and Forge in order to-"

"I did!" Koma suddenly shouted.

Everyone turned their attention to my body. Slowly . . stiffly . . it rose off the table.

2008-04-30T18:03:00.003-04:00

Henchman.

During the drive back to my school I couldn't help but mull over in my mind what a thorn Henchman was in my life. His most grievous act against me to date was without a doubt his stealing of my girlfriend while I was off world with Jon, the Intergalactic Gladiator saving the universe for Queen Galacta. If he wasn't such a pitiful AIM-reject, I'd almost be tempted to think he was trying to be my arch-nemesis.

Wolverine pulled our van into the parking garage at the school and I left instructions that I was not to be disturbed. Once in my quarters, I set to the task of finding Henchman. Since he's just a stooge, I knew he must be in the employ of someone else. Obviously he wouldn't have set out to sabotage Jon's presidential campaign on his own. The first order of business though was locating him.

A knock at my door interrupted my thoughts. Before I could answer, my door flew open and in rushed two pre-pubescent males. One had flaming hair and the other was green.

"Professor X!" the flaming hair child yelled. "Wally hacked into my MySpace page and changed my picture to a donkey face!"

"But I was just trying to let everyone know the truth," the blue skinned boy protested. "You're a jackass!"

"Stop!" I bellowed. The two froze in their spots. I stared at them incredulously. Why on earth would they plague me with their petty problems? Did they really think I card? Don't they know I just started this school for the tax breaks? Do they really believe all that nonsense about brotherhood with the humans?

"Get the hell out of my office!" I yelled. The boys ran.

My mind was too frenetic to concentrate on the search for Henchman. I rolled over to my liquor cabinet to poor myself a warm, soothing glass of cognac. When I opened the door, I was horrified to see the cabinet was empty. There was a single playing card. A joker.

"Gambit!" That Cajun bastard.

Fuming, I headed downstairs to the liquor supply room. As I was passing the front door, Wolverine called out to me.

"Hey Chuck, there's some head case and a hot broad to see you," he shouted. "Says they're with the national brain institute or something."

A was about to tell him to blow them off. The last thing I wanted to deal with was some pain in the ass solicitors, when I changed my mind. Perhaps harassing door to door salesmen would be just what the doctor ordered. I could make them prance around like chickens or have them bark like dogs.

I went to the door and gasped. Standing there . . floating rather, was a disembodied brain in a jar. There was indeed a cute woman next to him, but she was rather hard to properly appreciate with that brain bobbing next to her.

Before I could recover from my surprise, the woman touched something to my head and I was unconscious. When my awareness returned, I was rather dismayed that I too was just a brain floating in jar.

2008-04-14T15:30:00.005-04:00

As Zartan and his Dreadnoks lay scattered about the pavement, groaning in pain, I rolled closer to Mystique. Wolverine kept popping his claws in and out.

"Tell me, Mystique, who hired you to set up Jon, the Intergalactic Gladiator?" I asked her.

"Suck my balls!" she screamed at me.

I must say, I was a little taken aback by her vulgarity. "First of all, Mystique, that kind of imagery and language is completely inappropriate here in a public setting where children might happen by. This isn't a Max comic, you know. Second, in case you haven't noticed, I don't think you have the right equipment to allow for that kind of activity."

With a sharp laugh that sounded more like a snarl, Mystique's body transformed into . . Fabio.

"I'm still not quite convinced that would satisfy the anatomically necessities to permit your directive," I told her. "I mean he is a male model."

Fabio scowled and slowly changed back to Mystique. "Get bent, Xavier. I'm not telling you anything!"

I couldn't help the smirk that crossed my lips. Rolling close to her, I reached behind her ear and pulled off the psi-blocker. Inspecting it, I saw that it had Magneto's mark on it. I crushed it between my fingers. The look of panic on her face gave me a warm, tingling feeling inside.

Telepathically I reached into her mind. She tried desperately to surpress the indetity of the person who hired her. What she didn't realize, and to be fair, most people don't, is that such action merely draws attention to what a person wants hidden. It makes mind reading much easier.

"Henchman hired you?" I said in surprise. "Of Local 432? The one who's always trying to negotiate for dental coverage? The one who stole Magdelina from me? Hmm, that could explain things. Maybe it's time to pay the Beekeeper a little visit."

2008-04-08T20:03:00.002-04:00

"Say goodbye, Xavier!" snarled Mystique. "Shoot him on three!" she barked to Zartan and his Dreadnoks. "One . . two . . "

"Wait a moment, Mystique," I interrupted. "Don't I get a last request?"

She stared at me hard and then let a long sigh. "What is it you want?" she finally asked.

"I'd like to say goodbye to my X-Men. I could just make a quick . ."

"No!" she shouted. "One . . two . ."

"Wait!" I yelped. "I . . I'd like to say goodbye to my step-brother, Juggernaut. We have a lot of unresolved issues and . ."

"Forget it, Xavier! One . . two . ."

"No! Mystique . . there's something I never told you!"

"Stop wasting my time."

"But it's really important!" I pleaded.

"Fine. What?"

"I . . I'm your father."

"What? No you're not. My father was Vlad Darkholme."

"Oh, right. Sorry. I was thinking of someone else."

"Damn you, Xavier! Now you die. Everyone shoot him! One, two, thr-"

*SNNIKKTT!!*

A sharp metal on metal sound split the night. A sound like blades being unsheathed. A sound I knew well.

In a blur of blue and yellow, Wolverine's claws crashed through the Dreadnok's weapons. Before they knew what had hit them, their instruments of death lay shattered on the ground, cleaved by adamantium blades. Zartan, seeing Wolverine as the bigger threat, fired his gun at him. Logan ducked the first two shots and leaped at his prey. A third shot blasted through his shoulder but Wolverine ignored it. He smashed hard into Zartan, sending him flying unconscious into a brick wall.

"Oh, that's just great!" Mystique spat. "I'm finally about to kill an X-Man and you have to show up."

She threw her gun down in disgust and surrendered without a fight. Obviously she had been through this too many times to bother wasting her time in battle. I rolled up to her, a big grin on my face.

"You see I was just stalling you until the reinforcements I had telepathically summoned could arrive," I gloated.

"Good for you," Mystique replied, with undisguised loathing.

"Now then, why don't you tell me who hired you to discredit Jon, the Intergalactic Gladiator?"

2008-03-29T19:10:00.006-04:00

Mystique and her partner, Zartan, along with his crew, the Drednoks, had me surrounded, their weapons pointed right at me. Unfortunately the psi-blockers they each wore prevented me from using my powers to attack them.

"Time to die Xavier!" she shouted.

"Wait!" I screamed. "Xavier? I'm not Xavier! I'm just an actor! My name is Patrick Stewart! I'm just researching a part!"

"Bull crap!" snarled Zartan.

"It's true! I am Patrick Stewart! Wait, watch this. 'Number One . . make it so.' See?"

"What the hell is that suppose to be?" asked Mystique.

"That's me as Captain Picard. You know, from Star Trek? It's my other big sci-fi acting role."

"Well I seen that show, mate," said the Drednok named Ripper. "An' you don't sound like 'im at all."

"Well I, er, that is they, um, mix my voice in the studio so it, um, sounds different. Yes, that's what it is."

"Okay, mate," said Torch. "So what was the name ah your character in Life Force?"

"Life Force?" I asked.

"Yeah, you know. The one with that hot naked alien vampire chick walkin' around."

"Oh, of course. Yes. Um, my name was, er, John Smith?"

The Drednoks looked at each and shrugged.

"Well I don't actually remember your name," said Torch, "but I doubt that was it."

Zartan snapped his fingers. "What Duke did you play in Excalibur??" he practically shouted.

"Er . . Cornwall?" I answered.

"Wrong!" he roared. "It was Leondegrance! Ha!"

"Oh, uh, that's what I meant. It's been awhile."

"If you are Stewart," started Mystique with an evil smirk, "then get up out of that chair and walk over to me."

"Um . . I'd like to but, um, well . . both my feet seem to have fallen asleep. Occupational hazard."

"Hey Charles!" Buzzer shouted from behind me.

"What?" I asked turning around. The whole group began laughing.

"Damn!"

"Alright everyone," Mystique announced, "fire on three! One . . . two . . ."

2008-03-14T20:39:00.005-04:00

While Jon the Intergalactic Gladiator and Agent Hanson were hot on the trail of the nefarious person behind his recent slanderous media scandal, I decided to follow my own lead. I knew Mystique hadn't told me all she knew. She's very sneaky that way.

When I went back to her store front business, I found it closed down and deserted. A dead end wasn't going to deter me though. I contacted Jean Grey, who fortunately had been recently resurrected again, and had her use Cerebro to pinpoint Mystique's location. Turns out she was still in Washington, but now at a seedy bar in the low rent district.

I hurried over to the bar. Scanning it telepathically, I found Mystique inside. She still had her psi-blocker on. I was barely able to pick up any of her thoughts. From what I did gather, she was trying to set up another politican by posing as pretty blond. Zartan was standing by, ready to catch pictures of the two canoodling in the corner.

No time for disguies. I rolled in. Mystique was at a back table. Sitting with her was . . Dick Cheneny? How pathetic. He was moving in for a kiss. Apparently Mystique was going to black mail him for access to the White House. I couldn't allow that. I reached into his mind and made him think he was about to experience explosive diarrhea. Just as their lips were about to touch, Chene's face went green. He bolted up from the table and, shoving an old lady out of the way, rushed into the bathroom.

"Damn!" shouted Zartan, sitting nearby at the bar. Mystique just shrugged at him. Then she noticed me.

In one fluid motion she pulled a gun out of nowhere. A moment later, a pistol appeared in Zartan's hand, too. I threw my chair in reverse and crashed out through the doors of the pub onto the street. I started quickly down the block but three large, scruffily dressed men jumped out of van and blocked me off. They all had odd weapons in their hands. A chainsaw, a blow torch and some kind of giant pliers. In an instant, Zartan and Mystique were behind me. All had psi-blockers and all of their weapons were pointed at me.

"Time to die, Xavier!" Mystique shouted.

Suddenly my X-Communicator started to beep.

"Just a moment," I said. Checking the caller-Id, I saw it was Jon. He was sending me a meme. Oh, good timing, Jon.

"Sorry," I told the collected bad guys. "It's a meme. This will just take a moment." They all groaned and complained but lowered their weapons. Everyone respects the meme.

I quickly looked over the intructions:

List seven random things about yourself that people may not know.Link the person who sent this to you, and leave a comment on their blog so that their readers can visit yours.Post the rules on your blog.Tag 7 random people at the end of your post, linking their blog. Let each person know that they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.

1. I'm an only child.

2. I'm an Aquarius.

3. I like racquet sports.

4. I subscribe to Newsweek, Entertainment Weekly and Vanity Fair.

5. I'm a terrible singer, but I love it doing.

6. The nerves in my knees are hyper-sensitive.

7. Frozen Fudge Sticks are probably my favorite desert.

Exciting, no? Now the tags - Vegeta, Black Widow, Henchman, Nepharia, Mr. Bennet, and Koma is going to have to do it twice when he gets back.

When I looked back up, Mystique was giving me a very impatient stare.

"Are you done yet?" she asked with barely concealed irritation.

"If I say yes, can we call it a draw and all go home?" I asked.

"No," she answered with cold steel in her voice. She raised her gun to my head.

2008-02-05T21:16:00.000-05:00

"That giant clock has to be what Zartan was talking about," Jon, the Intergalactic Gladiator told me. "I'm going to go check it out. I'll let you know if I find anything. Jon out."

Jon snapped off his wristcom and rushed over to the tall building. I decided to follow his progress telepathically. I don't know why he insists on using the wrist communcators. Gives him a sense of comfort, I guess.

Jon took the elevator to the top floor of the building. He then broke heroically into the access panel leading to the clock workings. I watched through his eyes as he moved towards the gears, seeking out any clues as to who was behind this plot against him.

Suddenly out of the shadows three figures leapt up at Jon. A fist smashed into his face, knocking him back. I tried to scan his assailments' minds but they also had psi-blockers on. Damn that Magneto! He must be making a fortune marketing those things.

Two of the goons stood back and laughed while one of them charged at Jon, throwing punch after punch. As he wailed on him, I tried to break through the psionic dampener, to no avail. Zartan had set a trap and Jon walked right into it.

2008-01-25T12:00:00.000-05:00

"Jon, are you alright? I heard some kind of loud explosion."

"Oh great, now I'm hearing voices."

"Well . . yes . . you are. This is Charles Xavier and I'm communicating to you telepathically. Excuse my sarcastic voice."

"Is this a real person I'm talking to or am I just hallucinating?"

"What on Earth are you talking about? Of course I'm real. We're on a mission together!"

"But I thought telepathy was just a scam. A cheap parlor trick."

"Jon, what game are you playing at?"

"Jon? Is that my name?"

"Wha- hang on a second. Let me scan your brain . . . hmmm . . . oh . . . this isn't good at all. Apparently you are suffering from amnesia. Let me just probe your thoughts . . ah. Zartan shot you. And he told you he had planted a booby-trap in my wheelchair that would zap me with 10,000 volts of electricity. That explains the angry message I just got on my cell phone from Disabled Services of Westchester. I had donated the booby-trapped chair to them a couple of days ago. You see I never use the same chair for more than a week. Wouldn't be fitting for a man in my position."

"This is fascinating but could we get back to me?"

"Your name is Jon and you are an Intergalactic Gladiator."

2008-01-14T20:20:00.000-05:00

"Humph! Well Jon, our undercover operation certainly didn't last very long."

"What do you want, Professor? Mystique saw through my clever disquise."

"Oh sure, really clever. A pair of glasses. Who's going to be fooled by that?"

"The entire DC Universe, apparently."

"Jon, that makes about as much sense as Liev Schreiber playing Sabertooth in Wolverine's upcoming movie."

"Never mind that, Professor! Zartan is about to zap you with 10,000 volts of electricity! Your chair is booby trapped!"

"It's a good thing, Hudson isn't here, otherwise I would have to listen to his inane giggling for the next hour after you said booby trap."

"Professor!"

"Don't worry, Jon. I'll just take control of Zartan's mind and . . . oh damn!"

"What?!"

"He's got one of Magneto's psionic blockers. Why is that everyone with a cowl - OW!!"

2007-12-27T16:36:00.000-05:00

"Me me me. What is it with you Jon?"

"No, Professor. It's a Meme," The Intergalactic Gladiator responded. "I tagged you so you are morally obligated to respond to the Meme. In this case it's the Splotchy continuing story Meme."

"Don't you think this might just be bad timing? I mean you and Hudson are about to sneak undercover into Mystique's mercenary store front operation to find out why she set you up with that faked photo of you and Emma Frost in bed together. Couldn't this have waited for later?"

"What you fail to realize Professor is that while Hudson and I are making like James Bond, you're going to be out here alone. This will keep you busy. I'm just trying to look out for you."

"But what you fail to realize is that I planned to monitor your progress telepathically and this will distract me."

"Okay then, I've got the perfect soultion. Finish the Meme quickly." Jon winked as he and Hudson hurried off to Dis Guy's Inc.

Fine. A Meme. Let's see, the story so far is here - http://joninterglad.blogspot.com/2007/12/splotchys-story-meme.html

Or the short versioon - it's something about a creepy eyeball granting wishes. Okay, here goes:

One more wish. What should I wish for? Hmmm. Oh I know.

"Okay geneye, how about this - cure all human diseases."

The eye ball stared at me. It stared for a long time. It never blinked. I mean of course it couldn't blink because it had no eyelids, but still, it was very disturbing.

"Cure all diseases? You don't think small, do you buddy? I don't know if I can do it but I'll give it a shot. For magic of this power though, I'll need to channel my power with some natural material. Do you have any leather on you, by any chance?"

"Well . . just my wallet," I told him.

"That'll do."

"You want me to give you my wallet?"

"Just for a few moments," he answered.

"I don't know . . ."

"To cure all diseases on the world you won't let me hold your wallet for a minute?"

"Well okay, I guess. Let me just take the cash out . ."

"You don't trust me? I'm a geneye for Pete's sake! What the heck am I going to do with your money?"

"Okay fine. Here's my wallet."

I handed my wallet over to the eye. He immediately began waving it about and started chanting wildly. That same positive feeling from a moment ago washed over me. I could actually feel my own body getting stronger and healthier. Somehow I just knew all over the world everyone was having the same reaction. My eyes closed as I felt a oness with all mankind.

My door slamming woke me from my reverie.

"Sucker!" I heard the geneye yell as it ran down my driveway, clutching my wallet.

That bastard!

Now I'm going to tag Henchman, Vegeta and Robin.

2007-12-10T16:34:00.001-05:00

"Oh man, this is so cool! It's like were doing James Bond stuff, you know?"

"Alright, Hudson," Jon said, "at least pretend you're an adult, okay?"

"Hudson. Private Hudson."

"Your name is Rod Hammer for this mission. Focus!"

"Okay you two," I said, interrupting Jon and Hudson. "I see Mystique's store front there on the next block. Dis Guy's, Inc."

"What the heck does that mean?" Hudson asked.

"Obviously it's a play on words," Jon told him.

"That's pretty feeble," responded Hudson. "It doesn't really mean anything, you know? My line about Tittsburg was a lot funnier."

"No, it wasn't," Jon answered back with anger in his voice.

Either against his better judgment or in complete ignorance, Hudson came over to me and nudged my shoulder. "Did you hear that line I came up with, Professor?"

Before I could answer, he went on. "When I saw that hot check in girl at the airport I asked for 2 pickets to Tittsburg. Get it? She had this low cut top on and . ."

"I got it," I answered. "Hilarious. Now let's concentrate on the mission. Your disguise is in place. Your name is Rod Hammer and you're going in first. Jon will 10 minutes so that you can establish yourself with Mystique and then he will enter the store."

"And what are you going to be doing again?" Hudson asked.

"I've told you a dozen times already! I'll be back here, coordinating telepathically. We don't want Mystique to sense my presence. Now then, are you ready?"

"Ready," they both answered.

"Then let's go."

2007-11-29T18:29:00.000-05:00

This afternoon as I sat in the back garden enjoying the brilliant colors of nature's seasonal firework display, I heard a high pitched whine coming from overhead. Looking up into the sky I saw a small object that was rapidly getting larger. I realized that something was coming straight towards me, very, very quickly. I also noticed that there was some dark smoke trailing from it.

Great. Just what I needed. Some power mad lunatic was launching an attack on the X-Men. Was it Apocalypse? The Brotherhood? Oprah?

I reached out with my mind to scan the object telepathically for any clues.

"Hey Professor," Jon the Intergalactic Gladiator responded to my mental command.

"Jon? What are you doing?"

"Coming to get you for our little undercover trip to Pittsburg, of course."

"Oh. You want me to come along?"

"Of course. You're the one who knows Mystique's MO. Plus you have those neato powers."

"Say Jon," I thought, "why is your ship smoking?"

"Oh, that's no big deal. We just had a little adventure getting here. Everything is under control now."

"Your ship is coming in awfully fast, isn't it?"

"Yeah, well the, er, retro boosters don't seem to be firing. They should come on any second. Yep, any second now."

The Danger Sled's speed was increasing dramatically as it hurtled directly towards me. My heart started to beat wildly. I heard Jon and Hudson start screaming in panic. Actually, it was more like Hudson was crying and Jon was telling him to shut the hell up. Either way, this was clearly the end. My life actually started to pass before my eyes. I recalled the time my step-brother, Cain Marko, gave me an atomic wedgie. I remembered the time Eric and I plotted the over-throw of the US government. I heard my ex-wife yelling at me to get the hell out of her house.

The roar from Jon's out of control ship drowned out all other sound. I was about to shut my eyes to try and pretend the impact wasn't about to happen when I saw the ship suddenly come to a complete stop. It hovered, hot and smoking, just a few feet over my head.

"Did I miss anything?" a female voice called from behind me. My head whipped around.

"Jean. Er, not much really. Glad to see you're back from California."

2007-11-12T18:42:00.000-05:00

"Oh Jon, one more thing," I said, calling the Intergalactic Gladiator back. He and Hudson were in the Danger Sled, having just left the Batcave. You know, with Batman?

"Did you get someone else to particpate in the presidential debate?" he asked hopefully.

"Ah no, I'm afraid it's still just the one chimp, Lancelot Link. I hear he's very big in Iowa."

"Great."

"Look, the reason why I called you back is because Cerebro finally managed to track down Mystique. We can confront her! Find out who set you up with that fake photo."

"Well that is good news. Where is she?"

"Pittsburg. She has set up a business there apparently."

"Sounds good. Are you going to send the X-Men to nab her?"

"No, that won't work with her. If she sees the team coming, she'll just slip away. If she senses me trying to probe her, same thing. She has excellent psychic defenses."

"So how do we get her?" Jon asked.

"Well, I was thinking that we could put you in disguise. She doesn't really know you so you could pose as a customer. Kind of an ironic twist there if you think about it. Heh heh."

"Twist?"

"Well, she's a shape changer and you would be sort of changing your shape so . ."

"Yeah, I got it. Do you want us to pick you up?"

"Definitely."

2007-10-29T14:51:00.000-04:00

"Wow," Jon said, "those yellow eyes are gross. She needs some serious Visine."

"Wait a minute!" I cried. "That's Mystique!"

"What, you think she needs something stronger than Visine?"

"What?" I asked.

"I wasn't trying to make a diagnosis or anything," Jon said. "I was just saying that those eyes look pretty nasty and she could probably use some treatment."

"I don't understand what you're talking about."

"I said she looked like she needed some Visine. You said I made a mistake. I'm just trying to explain that-"

"No, no! Not mistake. Mystique!"

"Miss Who?"

"Mystique! She's a mutant with the power to transform. She ran with Mangeto for a long time. When he was killed by that female terminator he was, um, dating . . she disappeared. Until now. Apparently that's her in this photo. Sometimes her eyes will revert to yellow when she changes."

"Wow. Okay, well that's something. So who's the guy? And who are they working for?"

"We can find those things out when we find her. To Cerebro!"

2007-10-23T20:13:00.000-04:00

"Jon, I'm glad you're here," I said to the Intergalactic Gladiator as he followed me into my office.

"So what's this big development? Did you find out who was behind that fake photograph?" he asked.

"Er, no. But I did confirm from Emma that it wasn't her in the photo. That means it was faked!"

"What? But of course it was faked!"

"Right, well, now I've confirmed that."

"But I already knew it wasn't real. I was never in bed with Emma!"

"Well of course you were going to say that to your wife and the press, but now it's confirmed. Emma wasn't even in town that night."

"I guess that's something," Jon said. "Do you have proof we can give to the media?"

"Proof? Not exactly. I probed her mind and found the truth. It's not really the kind of thing that would hold up in court or anything like that."

"Well that's just great. Do you at least have any ideas whose behind this?"

"Er, not really. One of your rivals? An old enemy maybe? Geraldo Rivera?"

"Professor, did you notice anything odd about Emma's eyes in the photo?"

"Her eyes? Let me get my magnifying glass."

2007-10-16T21:24:00.000-04:00

"You wanted to see me, Charles?" Emma Frost said as she stepped into the doorway of my room. Her voice was practically a purr.

"Yes, Emma. I think you know why I asked you here."

"It's that silly picture with Jon, the Intergalactic Gladiator?"

"Why yes it is," I answered. "You must have read my mind."

"Now Charles, you know I'd never read anyone's mind without their permission."

"Of course not, Emma. Neither would I. It's just not ethical."

We both looked at each, managing to keep our faces straight for about 20 seconds before we roared with laughter.

After we had composed ourselves, I continued. "Emma, I'm going to need to mind meld with you. I have to know what happened with Jon."

Shrugging, she started to slip off her bodice. "Er, no," I said hastily. "I just need to read your mind."

"Oh?" she said, shrugging again. She stopped disrobing.

As I stared at her half-exposed body, I wrestled with my conscious. Then the insistant, angry voice of Jon's wife intruded on my thoughts. Better keep this professional, at least for the moment.

After I had probed Emma twice, I realized whoever was behind this scandel was more devious than I had thought. Emma was summoned by someone she thought was me out of Chicago the night the picture was taken. The Emma in that picture was a fake!

2007-10-15T19:32:00.000-04:00

"No, I . . . of course not, Mrs. . . . now please, there's no call for that kind of . . . no . . . no . . . no . . . but that's not fair . . . I didn't . . . no . . . but . . . no . . . (sigh) . . . yes, I understand."

"Who was that?" Kitty asked, looking up from her place on the floor where she was polishing my shoes.

"Jon's wife. She's a bit put out by the pictures of her husband and Emma in the papers."

"I don't know what she's so suprised about," Kitty said as she rubbed my shoes with a cloth, "Emma sleeps with just about everybody."

"Yes well, not everyone is as broad minded as we are. And besides, Emma did not sleep with Jon."

Kitty looked up at me with an expression that said I was a total moron. I was about to chastize her when it occured to me . . could she be right? Did Emma actually sleep with Jon, either with or without his consent? It certainly would not be beyond her typical Hellfire antics.

"Get me Emma Frost!" I shouted. "I'm going to have to mind-meld with her."

2007-10-04T12:06:00.000-04:00

I awoke this morning to Kitty Pryde, dressed in her French maid's outfit, delivering my breakfast. The omelet smelled heavenly and the sausages look delicious. Taking a sip of the freshly squeezed orange juice, I picked up the morning paper.

Flipping to the political section, I checked to see if there was any news about Jon's campaign. On the front page of that section, I saw this . .

. .

Involuntarily, the orange juice sprayed out of my mouth in a wide arc. I immediately, after wiping my mouth off, of course, grabbed the phone and called Jon.

"What the hell have you been up to?!" I yelled into the receiver once he answered.

"Hunh? Professor? What time is it? I'm in the Central Zone, you know."

"Have you seen the morning papers?!" I demanded.

"You mean this morning? Hang on . . let me just . . the computer's warming up."

I waited, my impatience growing. How could this have happened? Damn that tramp Emma.

"Holy crap!" Jon yelled, loud enough to wake my whole school. "B-but this . . I never . . I'm married! I would never . . this is just some kind of, I don't know, photographic fakery or something. They must have Photoshopped it together! I couldn't do this!"

"Well it's in all the papers now," I told him. "Even if it is faked, the public is going to make assumptions."

"What are we going to do, Professor??" Jon asked, the desperation unmistakable in his voice.

"I'm thinking."

2007-09-26T07:05:00.000-04:00

I had the weirdest dream last night. Emma Frost and Storm were jello wrestling and I was the judge of the match. Halfway through the crashed into me and I fell into the jello. I was covered with the stuff.

What do you think it means?

2007-09-06T20:03:00.000-04:00

I woke up this morning to a loud stomping sound outside my door. Checking the door I saw Storm marching back and forth. She was carrying a sign that read "Clinton/Obama '08". Storm was having some form of protest/rally outside my door. There was no one else there.

"What are you doing, Ororo?" I asked, doing a very poor job of hiding the strain I was experiencing in maintaining a patient tone.

"I am expressing myself, as you have taught us to do. More specifically, I am expressing my contempt for the white, male establishment that you and your forefathers have created."

"But your sign doesn't make any sense. Clinton and Obama are rivals. They are running against each other for the Democratic Presidential nomination."

"That is because of the repressive, sexist fascist regime your white, male, land-owning European ancestors built to oppress women, minorities and the working people. Once they have gone through this archaic farce of the electoral process, then they will be able to come together and overthrow this bloated, failed bureaucracy your people crafted."

"Storm, I had nothing to do with the creation of our system so stop implying that I did. Secondly, if Clinton and or Obama are elected to anything, I can personally guarantee you that they will not overthrow anything. They are not revolutionaries, they are ambitious politicians."

"That is your narrow minded, repressive, white male mind talking. You shall see the truth in '08!"

"Fine. Good luck with that. Why don't you have your protest rally somewhere it will do some good? Like somewhere else. If you don't mind, I have this urgent MEME to respond to."

I closed the door rather more strongly than I meant to. Hopefully she got the message. I really had no interest in taking a trip into Storm's mind to find out. Checking my computer, I brought up the MEME. It was from that evil bastard Captain Koma. Figures he would be just the type to MEME me.

"1. You have to post these rules before you give the facts.

2. You must list one fact that is somehow relevant to your life for each letter of your middle name. If you don’t have a middle name, use the middle name you would have liked to have had.

3. At the end of your blog post, you need to choose one person for each letter of your middle name to tag. Don’t forget to leave them a comment telling them they’re tagged, and to read your blog."

My middle name is Francis. Don't laugh, I'm very proud of it.

F - Free thinking. My mind thinks freely. Those around me think what I want them to.

R - Rubbing my bald dome. The chicks dig that.

A - A real hit with the ladies.

N - Nancy boys. Not in my X-Men.

C - Chinese. My favorite kind of ethnic food, after Mexican.

I - Iced cognac, my favorite drink.

S - Sexy leather outfits. I like my X-Men looking good.

Now Koma wants me to tag 7 other people? How typically evil of him. Instead I will turn the tables on him and tag him right back. That will show him.

Koma's MEME:
1. List your five favorite things about me.
2. List the five ways in which Henchman is most evil.
3. Make a coherent argument as to why the USA is better than Australia.
4. Name the American actress you think is the hottest.
5. Write a sincere compliment about Gaia.
6. Apologize to Jon, the Intergalactic Gladiator for questioning his religious conviction.
7. Post a sexy picture of the Lin-bot.

2007-08-20T08:08:00.000-04:00

As I was working in my study, a faint knocking sound came from my door. I didn't need to be a telepath to identify that weak-wristed, pathetic rap.

"Come in, Scott," I called out.

Cyclops entered. "Oh, uh, I'm not, er, disturbing you . . am I, Professor?"

"No, Scott. I was just going over Jon, the Intergalactic Gladiator's campaign stops in Kansas. Apparently the humans are very excited about some large ball of twine in Cawker City. Seems like a mandatory visit on all the candidates itineraries."

"Oh, right . . the, uh, Presidential thing. That's, um, kind of what I, er, wanted to . . you know, talk to you about."

"Yes?"

"Well I was thinking, I mean I heard that he was, uh, kind of like having interviews or something for, you know, Vice President? And uh . ."

"You want to be his Vice President."

"Uh . . yeah. I have, like, leadership experience. And, uh, I can give, you know, speeches and stuff . . "

"See the thing is Scott, I think Jon is looking for someone more-"

Just then my door banged open.

"What is this nonsense?! You would actually consider this weasel to be Vice President?!"

"Hello, Storm," I said.

"It's just typical white male arrogance, perpetuating the racist, sexist hierarchy, suppressing all the voice that don't belong to your little elitist club."

"Storm, it's not like that. Jon intends-"

"Oh please! Like there's anything you could say that would convince me that he is anything but part of the misogynistic repressive machine created by European land owners to subjugate the free will of the rest of the world. You will fall, fascist!"

And with that, like the proverbial whirlwind, she stormed out, leaving Scott and I staring at each other. Finally, he spoke. "Chicks!"

2007-08-08T15:07:00.001-04:00

I returned to school today and to my great astonishment, the building was intact. That may well be the very first time I've come back from off-planet to not find the school in totally ruin. Even Cyclops seemed to be in fairly good shape. He managed to say hello without one stutter. No students were missing, no one was dead.

The only small wrinkle was Wolverine throwing a tantrum. Apparently he's been served with a civil law suit alleging that he contributed to the delinquency of a minor. It seemed a boy was caught by his mother doing things that boys shouldn't be caught doing with a copy of Wolverine's comic book in his hand. Logan is trying to blame me somehow since I had made the licensing agreement for the comic in the first place, but I told him he was being silly. I'll have to check with my attorneys to see if the X-Men's insurance plan covers such a claim. Somehow I doubt it.

Since my life is largley crisis free at the moment and the school session hasn't started yet, I am free to devote my full attention to Jon the Intergalactic Gladiator's Presidential campaign. Let the muck racking begin!

2007-08-01T15:48:00.000-04:00

Well, well. I'm back one Earth, safe and sound. Blink managed to get us of the Skrull Throne World at the last possible second, as required in Article 2, paragraph C of the Super-Hero Code Book. We even took up a collection for a new arm for Henchy. It may not be quite up to snuff with the old one, but what are you going to do?

Before we came back to Earth, our team stopped at Hacknor where I was unceremoniously dumped from Last Gladiator Standing. Frankly I never really expected to win. That whole "standing" thing, you know.

I stayed to see Dark Jedi Kriss crowned champion. I was sort of hoping she would wear the Slave Leia costume again but unfortunately she chose something more conservative. She still looked great though.

Once the show wrapped, we all took a ship back to Earth. During our journey, Jon the Intergalactic Gladiator approached me about a wild idea he had. Here in the United States, for those of you living off-planet, we about to launch into a long, drawn out and potentially very ugly election for President of the Free World. Jon has decided to throw his hat into the ring. He asked me to be his campaign manager.

I must say I was quite flattered. Though I don't have much experience with running for an elected office, I am rather talented at both manipulating minds and strategizing. This could be quite fun.

2007-07-23T15:11:00.000-04:00

The epic battle between Jon and the Super Skrull hadn't been going well, at least not from Jon's perspective. The the Skrull hadn't managed to actually hit Jon with one of his devastating blows, Jon was getting rather worn out from all the dodging. Henchman, ever the grand stander, jumped down to Jon's side in some misguided effort to save him. Several Skrull guardsmen, rifles drawn, rushed into the fray. Then the cavalry arrived. Sort of.

Vegeta and his Sayian warriors leaped over the fifty foot tall walls of the stadium and down onto the arena floor. Loud explosions, obviously the Sayian's handiwork, boomed through out the city.

Things got very confusing down on the floor. Through the melee and dust and bright flashes of light I could see bodies flying in all directions. At one point I saw a Sayian beating Henchman with his own robotic right arm. So much for the cavalry.

"Professor," said Dark Jedi Kriss, "don't you think we should do something?"

All around our box seat was chaos. People, mostly Skrulls, were screaming and either running towards the riot on the floor or towards the exit.

"Yeah man, we should definitely do something," Hudson said in a loud voice.

"I have to agree Hot Wheels," Mr. Bennet offered. "It's time to take a course of action and I suggest that course of action is to get out of here."

With that the entire stadium shook again. A deafening roar grew louder, filling the air around us. We could see buildings collapsing over the wall of the stadium. Something the Sayians were doing seemed to be making the very planet itself unstable.

"I'm with you," I said. "Let me call our ride."

I reached out telepathically for Blink but was having trouble making a connection. The rumbling quake around us was growing. The sheer panic from all the minds around us was creating a strong feedback disturbance that was interfering with my powers. The walls of the stadium started to crumble and fall over as a giant rift split the arena in two. Tall geysers of steaming molten lava exploded into the air all around us. Someone screamed. It was Hudson.

I reached Blink just as Jon and Henchman rushed up to us. Henchman's right arm was nowhere to be seen. With a terrifying blast, the floor of the arena burst into flames.

Blink looked around for a moment, stunned by the devastation.

"Get us out of here!" I shouted.

Just as waves of lava erupted through us, we were gone. I quickly patted out the small fire on my sleeve and then looked around. We were back on Hacknor. All of our party was accounted for and we were all in one piece. Well, except for Henchman's arm, of course.

2007-07-20T13:30:00.000-04:00

The epic battle between Jon, the Intergalactic Gladiator and the Super Skrull got off to a fast start. Jon, weaponless, knew he was out gunned so he tried to get an advantage by striking first. He did a forward roll, springing up and giving an over handed karate chop to the Skrull's neck. His hand bounced off without much seeming effect. The Skrull's torso had turned rocky orange.

"Pitiful human!" the Super Skrull bellowed. "You are a gnat I shall enjoy crushing!"

The Skrull's right hand turned into a heavy, orange rocky fist and as it stretched improbably out towards Jon, it became covered in flames. The fist hammered down straight at Jon's head. He managed to dive out of the way of the devastating blow, ripping his shirt in the process.

Jon rolled backwards across the dirt ground, trying desperately to avoid the Skrull's unyielding punches. His rocky fists smashed into the ground multiple times, narrowly missing Jon.

Dark Jedi Krill turned to me. "We have to stop this," she said urgently.

"I think it's probably going to stop shortly even if we don't do anything."

"Well I'm not just going to sit here and watch this anymore!" Henchman said, leaping to his feet.

Jon was on his feet, jumping back, trying to escape the flaming rock fists, when he suddenly came to a jarring halt. It was if he slammed into an invisible wall. With a maniacal laugh, the Super Skrull pulled back his powerful fist and threw a punch straight at Jon's head.

At the moment just before the blow impacted with Jon, Henchman landed on the Skrull's arm, knocking him back. With the super-human strength of his bionic implants, Henchman threw the ugly green alien over his back, far across the stadium.

The Empress sprang to her feet. "What trickery is this?" she shouted. "Kill that intruder!"

A small platoon of soldiers drew large looking rifles and charged down to the arena's floor.

Just then a loud explosion rang through the air. The whole stadium shook. Tendrils of smoke slowly streaked up into the air outside the walls. All eyes turned upwards as a lone figure shot down from the sky, landing between the Skrulls and Jon and Henchman. It was Prince Vegeta.

"I am King Vegeta!" his voice boomed. "Today the scourge of the Skrull empire will sully this galaxy no longer!"

2007-07-16T09:14:00.000-04:00

Our group filed into the off-worlder visitor's box at the Chi'dung Memorial Arena. I flagged down the concession vendor and bought some confection that looked like Milk Duds and hopefully wouldn't taste too far off.

"We aren't really going to let Jon fight, are we?" Henchman hissed anxiously at me.

"Why not?" I asked. "This is what he does, after all."

"Yeah, but the Super Skrull? That jerk has the combined powers of the Fantastic Four! He'll wipe the floor with Jon!"

"Really?" Bennet asked. "Excuse me a moment. I have to go change my bet."

"Hey man, this ain't cool," Hudson said as Bennet left. "Jon doesn't even have his wrist device. How is he suppose to take on the Fantastic Four?"

"Jon has the heart of a brave warrior," Kriss offered hopefully. "His skills don't rely just on weapons. He is very adept at hand to hand."

"Yeah but the Super Skrull has the strength of the Thing," Henchman replied snidely. "Karate choppin' that isn't going to do much good."

Loud trumpets rang through the arena and everyone jeered. Gates at opposite ends of the combat floor slid up.

"Oh man, I've got a bad feeling about this," whined Hudson.

2007-07-09T15:00:00.001-04:00

"Alright Blink," I said, "take us to the Skrull homeworld."

"Uh, wait a second, Professor," Hudson said, raising his hand. "Don't you think we might need re-enforcements?"

"What, you think the Skrulls are going to be tougher than the demon hoards of hell?" asked Henchman.

"Well we didn't have to fight them, did we?" he answered. "We just zipped right into the throne room."

"We can do the same here with the Skrulls," threw in Dark Jedi Kriss. "How many troopers are they really going to have in their throne room? Those kinds of soldiers are usually cerimonial, unless there's real fear of a revolt or attack."

"Um, yeah," added Noah Bennet. "I'm with Hudson on this. Let's go back to Earth and call the Avengers or Dick Cheney or someone. Or how about the X-Men? Isn't this your gig?"

"Greatness is not born by shuffling our challenges off on others," I told the group. I looked at Blink and nodded.

In an instance we were standing before the Skrull Empress. 10 of her elite troopers standing at her side immediately sprang into action, extremely large rifles suddenly appearing in their hands. Their guns were pointing at us.

"Vaporize them, your Majesty?" one growled to the Empress.

"Oh, game over man!!" wailed Hudson.

"We come in peace!" I shouted, raising my hands. "We're very sorry to interrupt you like this, your Highness. We're just looking for a friend of ours. Jon the Intergalactic Gladiator."

The Empress smiled. "Ah yes. Even now he prepares to battle my champion, the Super Skrull."

"What are you talking about?" Kriss asked.

"The Gladiator's prowess in personal combat is well known throughout the galaxy. We recently aquired him so that our people could be provided with entertaining sport. They have so little since Galactus ate our homeworld."

"You got Jon from Mephisto so that he have a boxing match with your boy?" asked Henchman in disbelief.

"Oh this is no little spar," the Empress purred. "This is a fight to the death."

2007-07-02T15:53:00.000-04:00

"This isn't what I signed on for," Henchman said, a brittle tone in his voice. Kriss glared at him.

"Jon is our gracious host," replied the Jedi. "He is a valient warrior and a brother in need. We must rescue him."

"Besides, Henchy," I said with a smile, "I thought you were trying to be a good guy now." He just glowered at me in response.

"Er," Mr. Bennet interrupted, "he does have a point though. Going to hell and fighting the devil aren't really my line. I'm thinking my particular skills might be more useful back here on Hacknor, sort of directing events from behind the scene."

"Forget it four eyes," Hudson said with his usual swagger. "Anybody can shoot one of these."
The private tossed the paper pusher a pulse rifle. "Just aim for the bad guys and squeeze."

"Alright then," I told the others, "into the breach!"

Blink, who doesn't seem to mind being used as an interdimensional taxi service, had answered my telepathic summons. Using her unique teleportation gifts, she brought us in a heart beat into the throne room of the dark lord, Mephisto.

It was hot. Sticky, sweaty, moldy and above all, hot. Mephisto was sitting on his skull throne, smirking at us. There was no sign of Jon.

"How dare you invade my realm?!" he bellowed suddenly.

"Again, you mean," I offered.

"Where's Jon you freaky red monster?!" Hudson yelled in his most agressive Colonial Marine voice. He raised his rifle and pointed straight at his chest.

"Ha!" Mephisto laughed. "You are too late. Far too late."

Dark Jedi Kriss's light saber hummed to life. "If you have hurt him beast, I shall cut you in two!"

"Save your strength," Mephisto replied with unmistakable gloat. "You'll need it. I don't have Jon anymore, you see."

"What? Why not?" I asked.

"Yeah, where is he?" Hudson yelled.

"I traded him," Mephisto said, his grin broadening.

"What? Why? For what?" we all called out at once.

Mephisto held up his hand. There was a small glowing cube in it. "This contains a part of the Kree Supreme Intelligence. With it, I can replicate an army of giant green super-intelligent floating heads. I will be unstoppable!"

Bennet looked at me and swirled a finger around his ear. "Cuckoo," he mouthed.

"Who did you trade Jon to?" I insisted.

"The Skrulls," the dark one answered. "He's on their home world. Not sure why they wanted him and I don't really care. This bit of the Supreme Intelligence is my ticket to universal domination! I told you Jon was valuable to me!"

"I think we're going to need a lot more guns," said Hudson.

2007-06-26T14:28:00.000-04:00

"Oh man, oh man, oh man!! What the hell was that? I thought you said it couldn't come back for a while?!"

"Getting excited won't help Jon, Hudson."

"Yeah, whatever man! You said El Diablo couldn't come back!"

"Okay, so maybe I was off a little in my calculations. Clearly Mephisto did come back and now he has Jon."

"Oh man, oh man, oh man!!"

I swear, Hudson is as big a whiner as Cyclops. "Get a hold of yourself!"

"But what are we going to do??"

"We are going to mount a rescue, of course."

"To where? Hell???"

"Yes. My X-Men and I just rescued Wolverine's clone/daughter/sister from there not too long ago. It's really not such a big deal."

"Are you freakin' kidding me?? Hell??"

"Snap to soldier! We have a man missing and we are going to rescue him!"

"But my commander isn't going to send troops to hell. You're X-Men are who knows where. You and I can't do this alone!"

"We won't be alone. We still have the contestants who are left from Last Gladiator Standing 2. Kriss, Henchman and Bennet."

"Bennet?? That guy's just some kind of dude in a suit! What the hell can he do??"

"Well . . he is very devious and manipulative. He might just do alright against Mephisto."

"I don't man, this plan sounds pretty weak."

"Yes well, just be sure you bring a lot of bullets."

2007-06-23T12:23:00.000-04:00

I watched as Jon helped Private Hudson to his feet. "It's a good thing you happened to have a dimensional portal closing hand grenade with you," I told him.

"Actually," Jon answered, "that was just a regular concussion grenade I had borrowed from Hudson as we were running in. I didn't know what we were going to find."

"Yeah, what the hell was that thing?" Hudson asked in that slightly whiny voice of his.

"That was Mephisto, the Dark Lord," I told them.

"So what, is he like the devil?" Hudson asked.

"He tries to be, I suppose. He's actually a kind of alien ruling his own dimension that he does pattern after hell. There are a few other beings similar to him and they all compete for human souls. Seems to bolster their power somehow."

"And what did he want with me, do you suppose?" Jon asked.

"He said your soul was particularly powerful. I wouldn't worry though, his ability to move between dimensions is limited. I doubt he'll be able to return here for -"

A sudden loud hum pierced the air, cutting off my words. With a searing flash, the misty portal re-opened and two long red arms reached out and grabbed the back of Jon's tunic.

"You cannot deny the will of Mephisto!" a dark voice shouted from the other side as Jon was pulled through the gap.

Hudson instantly leaped for the portal but it closed as soon as Jon was through. Hudson hit the floor hard.

"Oh great!" he wailed. "What the hell do we do now??"

2007-06-18T16:00:00.000-04:00

"Well mortal, do you surrender or do I get the pleasure of ripping the flesh off everyone in this complex?"

Jon glanced over his shoulder at my seemingly lifeless body still hanging in the air. Then he turned to the still form of Private Hudson, slumped in the corner. His eyes slowly wandered back to Mephisto.

Jon met his gaze, staring straight back at him. With raw determination, he titled his head back and thrust out his chin. The tension was so thick between them that neither even took a breath. After what seemed a lifetime, Jon spoke.

"Fine. I surrender. If you spare the others."

Mephisto threw back his head and roared with laughter. Jon's face did not waiver the whole while that the devil laughed.

When the final sounds died in his throat, Mephisto said, "Perhaps I over-estimated you, mortal. We shall see."

He raised up his red right hand and gestured causing a swirling portal to open up in front of them. Mephisto took a step towards it and motioned to Jon.

All at once Jon lunged himself forward, crashing hard into Mephisto's back. The dark one staggered into the portal. Jon kicked him hard in the mid-section and Mephisto doubled over.

Pulling a round grenade from the back of his belt, Jon threw it with all of his might, straight at the demon king. A ferocious explosion tore through the small room, sending Jon flying and collapsing the portal. Mephisto was on the other side.

My body collapsed in a heap and my astral self was pulled back into with tremendous speed. I quickly crawled into my chair and rushed over to Jon.

"Are you alright?" I asked frantically.

Jon struggled back up to his feet and patted the smoke off his tunic. "Considering the alternative, I'm doing just fine. Think we've seen the last of him?"

"When Mephisto wants something, he isn't stopped so easily. It take a lot of power for him to cross dimensional barriers though, so we have a little time."

"Then we better get to planning, Professor."

2007-06-13T15:50:00.001-04:00

I watched helplessly as Mephisto chocked the life out of Jon, the Intergalactic Gladiator. Hudson writhed in a most painful looking way on the floor. Jon, ever the hero, reached his trembling hand towards his wrist device. With a tremendous effort, he managed to press one of the buttons. Suddenly a loud screeching sound emminated from the device.

In a fit of shock, Mephisto released Jon and quickly covered his pointy red ears. Jon himself was doubled over from the horribly loud noise. Not pausing to try and catch his breath, Jon cut off the wail and gave a terrific roundhouse kick that landed right on Mephisto's chin.

The giant demon staggered back, more suprised than injured. Jon whirled around to give another furious kick, but Mephisto had recovered himself and easily blocked it. He grabbed Jon's leg and using his own momentum, sent him flying across the room.

By this time, Hudson had staggered to his feet. With a ferocious space marine howl, he lunged at the demon, smashing head first into his stomach. Unmoved, Mephisto hissed as he smashed down with double fists into Hudson's back. One enemy collapsed at his feet, he turned back to Jon was struggling to stand.

Jon fumbled for his wrist device again but Mephisto, in a blur of red motion, was upon him. He wrapped his large hairy hands around the device and squeezed. The metal creaked and electric flashes danced from it. The device was destroyed.

Mephisto put his hand on Jon's neck again.

"Listen to me, hero," he rasped in his dark and evil voice. "Surrender to me or I will kill all of them. Give me your soul or I will take Xavier and Hudson and all the rest of the people you lured here to play your little game. And then I will kill you. What say you?"

2007-06-06T16:46:00.000-04:00

As I spun limply in the air, I realized that I was watching myself from a distance. Mephisto was there in all of his red-skinned, loin cloth wearing glory laughing like the demonic maniac that he is, enjoying using my body like a telekinetic top while I floated in a corner, watching helplessly. Somehow his attack had forced me to astrally project.

With a gesture, Mephisto stopped my spinning. My limbs suddenly stretched straight out, rigid except for my neck which lolled in a most unpleasant way. The demon lord brought his hands together and started to crush my body. Panic flooded my non-corporeal essence. I tried to blast him psionically but my powers are very limited when I'm dis-embodied.

Blood started to leak in trails from my ears and nose. I could see my body folding in on itself. The creaking of my bones warned they were all about to pop.

Just then the door to my room slid open. In rushed Jon, the Intergalactic Gladiator, followed closely at his heel by Private Hudson. They both had weapons drawn and opened fire at Mephisto. The demon recoiled for a moment in surprise. Then he whirled on Jon and Hudson.

"Pitiful mortals!" he bellowed. "You're pathetic toys can't hurt me!"

To prove his point he raised his arm quickly and both men went flying back against the wall. As they crumpled to the floor, weird webbing suddenly filled the empty doorway, blocking off any further hope for help.

"Oh man, you're game is so over!" Hudson shouted, springing to his feet.

He pulled out a vibro-blade and lunged at Mephisto. The giant demon easily grabbed Hudson's wrist, twisting it until the blade dropped. Smoke started to billow from his palm and Hudson howled in agony. Mephisto tossed him across the room just as Jon landed a devastating flying kick right in Mephisto's chest.

At least it would have been devastating against anyone but Mephisto. The demon laughed and grabbed Jon by the throat. His mighty fingers wrapped around his neck and started to choke the life from him.

This rescue wasn't going very well at all.

2007-05-31T21:40:00.000-04:00

This competiton is brutal. I just spent the last two hours trying to scrub Monkeyboy fur off my body. That stuff just gets everywhere. Perhaps I should have seen if Dark Jedi Kriss could help me with some Force power. Ah well.

Finally feeling human again, I was about to settle in for the night when a crack of electricity had filled the room followed very closely by dread filling my heart. I had been trying to ignore Mephisto's threats to destroy me and the X-Men if I didn't deliver him Jon's soul, that maybe he would just give up if he saw I wasn't going to play his game, but apparently it was not meant to be.

The Dark Lord stood before me. "You have failed me for the last time, Professor," he snarled.

"I will never do your dirty work, Evil One. Why don't you just go back to whatever hole you crawled out of and leave me alone."

"Bah! None my defy my will and live! Now you die!!"

And with that he raised his arms at me. Searing fire flew from his fingertips.

I dove out of my chair, crashing to the floor just under the jets of flame. I fired back a psionic force bolt, hoping to stun him, but his otherworldly shielding was strong. He resisted my attack and with a strange gesture of his hand, lifted me off the floor without actually touching me.

Floating helplessly in the air, I could do nothing as he started spinning me around. Faster and faster I went, getting dizzy to the point that I thought I was going to pass out. And then I did.

2007-05-22T20:30:00.000-04:00

Oh my aching joints. This Last Gladiator stuff is more physical than I remember. Perhaps next year I'll send Colossus to represent the school. The boy may not be too bright, dumb as a post really, but taking care of giant robots is kind of his specialty.

I was just starting to relax in the hot tub that I had Private Hudson install in my room, wiping his memory afterwards, of course, when a loud crackle broke the silence. Weird reddish smoke filled the room. This was followed quickly by a deep booming voice.

"Xavier!" Mephisto thundered.

I sunk down in the hot tub until the bubbling water was under my chin. I prefer taking my tubs au natural, if you know what I mean, and didn't appreciate showing the family treasures to the Dark Lord.

"Why have you not fulfilled your obligation to me?"

His question was more of a command than a question. I looked him in the eye and tried to reach into his mind. His psionic shielding is strong. "Forget it, Mephisto. I'm not going to get Jon's soul for you."

"Have you not heard how I've tormented your precious X-Men?" he taunted. "Let me show you."

Suddenly images of my various students struggling with a host of crises filled the room. Cylcops curled into a ball on the floor of his room weeping, Nightcrawler appearing in handcuffs before some judge, Angel locked in the bathroom (his bird-like digestive system can't handle Big Macs very well but he won't stop eating them) and the such.

"Looks like a pretty typical day to me," I sniffed in disinterest.

"BAH!!!" he bellowed. "You have 24 hours Xavier! Bring me Jon, the Intergalactic Gladiator or you and your precious mutants are damned for all time!"

And with that, he vanished.

2007-05-15T11:28:00.000-04:00

As I sat in my assigned room at the Hacknor Visitors Resdential Compound, lovingly referred to as "The Swamp," I slowly applied some strange orange goo that Dark Jedi Kriss had given me to my elbow. She insisted that it was "ancient Jedi wisdom" and would heal my bruises quickly. I had bruised my arm during the "beat the giant monster" challenge on Last Gladiator Standing.

Just as the pain started to ebb, my two-way intergalactic sub-space radio set started to buzz. I flicked the "receive" switch.

"Professor!" I heard Cyclops yell anxiously. I could tell it was an axious tone due to the high-pitched girly quality of his voice.

"How are things at the school, Scott?" I asked calmly, immediately regretting leaving him in charge.

"Terrbile! Angel's gone missing! Kitty, Jubilee and X-23 have gone off on some kind of secret mission! And Nightcrawler got arrested for peeping into the girl's locker room at Westchester High!"

"Well actually Scott, that all seems pretty much par for the course at our school."

"Yeah, maybe, but that's not all! During breakfast this morning the table suddenly burst into flames! A large booming laugh filled the dinning room and said we were all doomed!"

Now that is bad. "Perhaps Hank was just playing a trick on you with the audio-visual equipment. You know what a great sense of humor he has."

"No way! He was as shocked as anyone. He peed his blue shorts!"

"Could be Master Mind. What's his status?"

"He's still locked up in the Vault! What are we going to do, Professor?? We're all doomed!!!"

"Now get ahold of yourself boy. It will all be alright. Let me know if there are any other problems."

I switched off the radio and went back to applying my salve. Could this be a warning from Mephisto? Nah.

2007-05-10T09:19:00.000-04:00

Oh, who am I kidding. Of course Jon isn't a bad guy. I know that. Mephisto wouldn't care about getting his soul if he wasn't of sterling moral fiber. If he really wants to try and claim the X-Men, then the X-Men will just have to face that battle when it comes.

As for right now, I have to focus on the current challenge on Last Gladiator Standing. Jon has made us get into these horrible metallic exo-skeletons in order to fight some kind of rampaging robotci monster that's in the process of destroying Hacknor City. At the moment I am getting my butt kicked by ones if its smaller drones. You'd think Jon would have given us a bit of training with these things before turning us loose on the downtown.

Say! Maybe Jon is really evil after all! Callous indifference to human like. That's certainly . . no. No, I won't try and justify taking the easy path.

OUCH! Damn those robots pack a wallop. I better focus.

2007-05-07T19:06:00.000-04:00

Pokemybootie.

Pokemybootie? This is the name that Jon the Intergalactic Gladiator came up with? What is wrong with that man?

While I admit that Evil Eye Candy my not exemplify the virtues that I have extolled to my students over the years, I must say it is a far sight less offensive than Pokemybootie.

For those of you who don't know, this is the name that Jon randomly assigned to my team on Last Gladiator Standing 2. Obviously there is something very, very wrong that man.

Hmm. Interesting. Maybe Jon is actually evil. Perhaps turning him over to Mephisto in order to spare the X-Men from his diabolic clutches really isn't so terrible. Yes. This could work out just fine.

2007-05-02T20:54:00.000-04:00

As the interstellar shuttle flew me to Hacknor, I tried not to think about Mephisto. Was he really extorting me? If I didn't somehow deliver him Jon's soul, would he really kill the X-Men? He is well known to be a liar, among other things.

Maybe I should have warned Scott when I left him in charge. No, he would just worry. The poor boy can't really handle pressure. I wonder why I torture him by leaving him in charge all the time?

The correct answer, of course, is that I have great confidence he will rise to the challenge and be the best Cyclops he can be. The truth is that it's just fun to see him squirm. Not that I would ever tell anyone that.

As soon as the shuttle had landed I exited, only to find that the first challenge of Last Gladiator Standing 2 had just begun. Better late than never, I suppose. Hopefully I'll figure out something to catch up.

2007-04-26T17:59:00.000-04:00

"Now look Mephisto, the X-Men beat you fair and square." I cocked an eyebrow and hoped the Dark One could not see my nervousness.

"HA!" he thundered. "Do you really think your pitiful band of misfits could beat me, the ruler of Hell, in my own domain? Please, don't insult my intelligence. I let you leave."

"Well that's not how I remember it. We beat your demons and we beat you. We rescued Laura from your clutches." That last bit didn't quite come out like I intended. I wanted to sound authoritative. Instead it sounded more like a question.

"You are naive, mortal. I let you leave with your little girl. And that pompous old Master of Magnetism."

"Oh. I didn't realize you had noticed that bit."

"There is nothing that happens in my realm of which I am not aware."

"Well . . you can't have Laura back," I said in my most commanding voice. "She is under our protection."

"As if that would mean anything to me. You obviously do not know with whom you deal, mortal. I am Mephisto, Lord of Hell."

"Actually, I did know that."

"The girl's soul was mine. You attempted to steal her from me. You took her from Hell without my permission. Therefore, you owe me a soul."

"What? Is that your game? Well forget it. I'm not giving you anyone."

"You have no choice Xavier. You and your team have created an imbalance in the natural order. The only way to correct it is to fill the vacancy. There shall be no peace in your world until a soul is provided."

"I'm not going to help you. I mean if you want take Magneto back, I think he's down in the kitchen now. You're welcome to him."

"Forget it. He's one of the Masters of Evil. He's already mine. It's only a matter of time. I need a hero."

"Well . . you can't have an X-Men. They are my children. Even Wolverine-"

"Ha! Now you're just being stupid. With his body count? He's already mine. It's only a matter of time."

Ouch. "Be that as it may. They are all heroes. Why Nightcrawler just-"

"Come on. He's a Peeping Tom. A pervert. He's already damned."

"Well if you want me, forget it. I-"

"Ha ha! You are an egotistical, condescending, power mad lush who's convenient moral code is quickly pushed aside whenever it suits your will. You are already mine, too."

My heart sank at that bit of information. Was he just toying with me? Lying to me? After all, I'm not a lush.

After an uncomfortably long silence, I finally asked, "So what is it you do want?"

"Jon, the Intergalactic Gladiator."

"W-what?"

"I know that you are about to leave for the planet Hacknor for his little contest. You will go there, corrupt his soul and bring him to me."

"That's insane! Forget it!"

"You have no choice, Xavier. You and your X-Men are mine. If you do not bring me the Gladiator, then I will claim all of you now."

"B-but . . Jon isn't a mutant. Why me?"

"Because you are the most convenient tool. His is a pure soul. A true hero. He fights for righteousness. His soul is worth more to me than all of you X-Men combined. Bring me his soul and you are all free."

"Never!" I shouted, but Mephisto was already gone in a cloud of smoke. A loud horn sounded from outside on the front lawn. It was the space shuttle to Hacknor.

2007-04-25T21:29:00.000-04:00

As I packed my suitcase in anticipation of my trip to Hacknor for Last Gladiator Standing 2, I couldn't help but pause to chuckle about the howls of horror coming from the ballroom downstairs. My students were "enjoying" the unique musical stylings of Sanjaya. Their screams and tears made all the stress and tension being the headmaster of this school worth it.

Petty, I know, but what are you going to do?

I was just double checking my inventory of heat seeking mini-Sidewinder missiles for my combat hover chair when an eerie screeching sound erupted from behind me. Spinning around, I saw a thick cloud of black smoke filling my room.

Suppressing a cough, I stared in astonishment as a figure emerged from the smoke. A tall red man with wild hair and the most evil smile that any creature has ever worn. Mephisto.

"W-what *hack* do y-you want?" I asked, trying to catch my breath.

"Heh, heh, heh. I think you know, Xavier. We have unfinished business."

His voice was a twisted cackle that sent cold shivers down my spine.

"I, er, have no idea what you're talking about. Absolutely none."

His smile grew even broader, stretching inhumanly up into his cheeks. "Then you, my friend, shall die! AHA! HA! HA!"

Crap.

2007-04-23T19:10:00.000-04:00

I must say, of all the victory celebrations the X-Men have had, this one tonight was by far the most interesting. There were quite a few faces at the party I hadn't seen before. Traveling to Hell and battling Mephisto and his hoards will do that I suppose.

Damien, the Son of Satan was there, as was the Ghost Rider and Hellboy. They were both laughing at Damien for not having gotten a movie deal yet. If I didn't know better, I'd swear I saw a tear in his eye as they waved their checks for the sequels to their movies in front of his face.

The musical act I had booked went over about as well as they usually do. This time I managed to get Sanjaya. I normally try to get American Idol rejects to perform. The kids think I'm out of touch and square. Subjecting them to these horrible realty star reject singers is my little revenge against the buggers.

As well as reveling in our victory in Hell, this gala was also a bit of a farewell. I'm taking off to Hacknor after the party for the Last Gladiator Standing Two competition. I made certain arraignments to ensure Tak won't be playing this year. With he and Jean-Luc out of the way, I should have a clear shot at victory this time.

2007-04-20T18:06:00.000-04:00

As I relaxed in my study with a cup of Earl Gray tea - excuse me, I mean glass of Cognac - where did that tea thing come from? I'm strictly a coffee man.

Anyway, I was planning out our victory celebration when - oh, you see we X-Men like to have a grand fete after we've completed some monumental triumph. Defeating Mephisto on his home turf certainly qualifies.

Anyway, while I was in the amidst of securing the entertainment, a received a package by special courier. Though the envelope had no return address, it was post-marked from Hacknor. I knew immediately what it must be. Eagerly I ripped the it open and out fell my own personal invitation to -

Last Gladiator Standing. Truth be told, I had been looking forward to this for awhile. I hadn't had much interest in attending last year's competition - that sort of thing really isn't my sort of thing - but to my surprise I really had a lot of fun.

Of course my life was quite different back then. The Magdelina and I were involved in a rather serious relationship. We got to spend a lot of quality time together. Then of course I rushed off the save the galaxy and she hooked up with a want-a-be super-villain. Ah well.

I also met some rather interesting people at last year's games. I think it's open to anyone, by the way. If you're interested in playing, just let Jon the Intergalactic Gladiator know.

The other great advantage is getting to be free of the X-Men for awhile. I think I may just travel to Hacknor early.

2007-04-18T17:56:00.000-04:00

The X-Men's battle against Mephisto and his demonic hoards was something to see. I wish you could have been there. There was all sorts of fire and energy blasts and punches and claws and things. All hell broke loose really.

Get it? All hell broke loose. We were in Hell. Okay fine. Now you know why I never tried my hand at stand up comedy. Well that and the chair.

Anyway, I won't bore you with all the details of our tremendous battle. Suffice it to say, the right side won. ;-) Laura is safe back at the school. Wolverine is off with whatever team he's on this week. Iceman says going to Hell was actually a great experience. He lost 20 pounds.

The only real surprise, I suppose, was that somehow Magneto slipped back with us when we teleported out. Oh well, hopefully he's learned the error of his ways and will use his powers and talents towards the cause of world peace.

It could happen.

2007-04-11T20:52:00.000-04:00

There were several low level demons at various points around the entrance to Mephisto's citadel, but Emma and I managed to cloud their minds so that they could not see us. Our large group managed to sneak in to the central chamber.

Wolverine was locked into a cage of ashy bones while the Dark Lord played with his mind, forcing him to relieve painful memories from his past.

"Typical," Cyclops whispered. "It figures Logan couldn't wait for us before attacking. What a showoff."

"Just blast him," I instructed.

"Wolverine?"

"No you idiot, Mephisto!" I hissed.

Cyclops shrugged. With a disappointed look on his face, he unleashed a ferocious blast straight at Mephisto, sending him flying. Wolverine recovered his senses and smashed out of his cage. Laura, his daughter/sister/clone, was already freeing herself.

Mephisto got to his feet and let out a terrible howl. With a wave of his hand he summoned hoards of rather creepy looking demons. Obviously this wasn't going to be as easy as I hoped.

2007-04-09T19:44:00.000-04:00

"It's a demon!" Cyclops shouted.

"In Hell? Are zhoo zure?" Gambit asked incredulously.

"Blast him!" yelled back Cyclops, planting his feet a yard apart. A truly heroic stance. He reached up for the controls on his visor. Why, I don't know. The controls have been attuned to his brainwaves so he doesn't actually need to touch anything. None-the-less, he reached for the control button but just before he fired, Emma Frost stepped in front of the large scary demon.

"Don't be such a baby," she scolded Scott and the others. "This is a friend, isn't that right Hellboy?"

Emma turned around to face the large red man-like creature with the shaved horns. Her arms folded around his back of the neck as she leaned in for a long, undoubtedly wet kiss. I looked at Magneto and he just shrugged.

"That's right, baby," the giant with the large stone hand growled back with what could only be called a smile on his face. "Who's your friends?"

"Oh just some people I know. We're about to launch an assault on Mephisto. Do you want in?"

"I'd love to, doll. But I'm trackin' Rasputin at the moment. He's plannin' something big down here."

"Too bad. Well, call me."

And with that Hellboy left us. Our team regathered and we charged towards Mephisto's citadel.

special thanks to Jon, the Intergalactic Gladiator for the pic

2007-04-05T21:07:00.000-04:00

Magneto led us confidently around the Fire Lake of Eternal Devastation. There was a small inlet on the far side, right at the base of Mount Chaotic. There stood the summer palace of Mephisto.

"His Throne is in the main chamber," Magneto told us.

"Perv," someone whispered.

"Freak," came another muffled voice.

I wasn't sure if Eric heard or not, but I did see his left eyebrow twitch. His voice betrayed nothing. "Alright, Charles. I have led you to the master of this realm."

"Oh, like I couldn't have done that," muttered Ghost Rider. "I would have found this place. Eventually."

"Zo vhat now, Profezzor?" Nightcrawler asked.

"Now we storm the palace. I have made contact with Wolverine and he is about to make his move. We arrived without a moment to spare."

The X-Men moved as one towards the palace. "Boy," Iceman said, "I hope they have air-conditi0ning in there."

I was going to tell him to focus on the mission, but before I could speak, a giant red demon with a large stone right hand jumped down in front of us. I had no idea where he came from.

"Hold on," he growled in a dark gravely voice as he pulled the cigar stub from his mouth. "You ain't goin' nowhere."

Great. And here I thought storming Hell would be easy.

2007-04-03T21:02:00.000-04:00

"Vhew! Zis is von hot place!" Nightcrawler groaned.

"Hell?" Cyclops asked. "You think Hell is hot? Imagine that."

"Hey man!" Iceman shouted. "I'm dripping! Water is dripping off me! I'm melting!"

"Zoot alors!" responded Gambit. "But perhaps you are jus' sweating, no?"

"Alright team," I said, "let's focus. We have to find Wolverine. He's going to confront Mephisto to save Laura."

All eyes turned to Ghost Rider for direction. He was turning around scanning the smoldering rocky horizon as he rubbed at his flaming chin bone.

"Uh . . the Throne of Mephisto is, uh, over past the Mindless Pits of Despair. That's er, between Mount Insanity and . . oh, wait a second. The Throne is at the foot of the Miasmic Dessert. Or . . uh . . maybe it was the Forlorn Canals of . . "

"Come on!" Cyclops yelled. "Just admit it! You have no idea where we are!"

"Hey! I am fused with the demonic Spirit of Vengeance!" Ghost Rider protested. "I know Hell like I know the back of mind!"

To prove his point, he held up his right hand and pulled off the glove revealing his bony skeleton. We all turned away in embarrassment.

"Well, well . . this is a surprise." Everyone turned at the sound of the deep commanding voice approaching us. The tall man in the red suit and flowing cape had an impressive mane of flowing white hair.

"Magneto?!" we all exclaimed as one.

"Hello Charles," he said as he stepped up next to me.

"What are you doing here, Eric?" I asked in confusion.

"Where else was I going to go? Detroit?"

"But . . I didn't know you died."

He looked around at the others sheepishly and then leaned down to whisper in my ear. "I was dating this killer robot from the future. Don't look at me like that. It's not what it sounds like, she was gorgeous. Anyway, she was pretty kinky and, well, we experimented with asphyxiation to enhance our-"

"That's fine, Eric. I really don't want to know. I'm sorry for your loss."

"Thank you, Charles," he said straightening up. "You always were a gentlemen."

"Say . . do you know where the Throne of Mephisto is?"

"But of course," he said with an unmistakably wicked smile.

2007-03-28T20:13:00.000-04:00

"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.

2007-03-26T21:07:00.000-04:00

"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!"

2007-03-23T15:56:00.000-04:00

"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!"

2007-03-15T21:21:00.000-04:00

"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!"

2007-03-13T20:20:00.000-04:00

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.

2007-03-10T09:34:00.000-05:00

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.

2007-03-08T20:53:00.000-05:00

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.

2007-03-05T19:14:00.000-05:00

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.

2007-02-26T19:20:00.000-05:00

Oprah cackled away like the evil Wicked Witch of the West while her audience attacked us. Her dark mutant powers had transformed the former soccer moms into feral were-beasts bent on rending the flesh from our bones, judging by the way the long strands of salvia dripped from their 6 inch longs fangs.

I tried taking control of their minds but they had devolved too far into animals for me to reach them.

"Shall I start blasting, Professor?" Cyclops asked.

"Remember, Scott, these are innocent victims. It is out sworn obligation to protect them."

One of the she-were-beasts leapt at me, trying to sink her fangs into my neck.

"Blast her, Scott! Blaster her!" I started screaming.

A brilliant light flared from Cyclops' visor sending the savage audience member flying back into the pack. Colossus lifted up the couch from the stage and tossed it between us and them as a barricade.

"Enough games!" Oprah bellowed. We turned to face her. Weird yellowish energy waves emanated from around her head. "Now you die!"

2007-02-20T18:13:00.000-05:00

I ignored the messages on my answering machine for two weeks now, but I could duck the network executive no longer. He said I was scheduled to appear on Oprah's show this afternoon. If I didn't show, it would be a major blow to my credibility. With a sigh, I gave in to the inevitable.

Cyclops and Colossus flew me in the X-Jet to Chicago. Setting the plane in automatic, stealth-hover mode, they then took me to her studio. Since I was going to be facing one of the most powerful and evil of mutants, I thought it wise to bring along some muscle. You know, just in case.

The audience politely applauded and Oprah herself stood to greet me. I could see the evil fire burning in her eyes as she introduced me. "Professor Charles Frances Xavier," she said with an unmistakably menacing tone. "Founder of the Xavier School for Gifted Children and activist for mutant rights. Welcome to my show."

I ignored my anxiety and put on a fake, warm grin as I waved to the audience. Wheeling over to her, I kept my finger on the trigger switch of my heat-seeking mini-sidewinder missiles.

"Thank you so much for having me, Oprah. It's a real treat to be here," I lied.

"Of course it is," she replied coolly. "But this isn't the first time we met, is it?"

I immediately flashed back on the battle the X-Men had against Apocalypse and his Horseman. Oprah was his Death. We almost didn't win that one. Only Gaia had managed to save the day, and she wasn't here now.

"Er, I'm not sure what you're referring to, Oprah," I answered.

"Then let me remind you."

Suddenly the lights in her studio all changed to an evil red. A wild cackle erupted from her lips and her outfit changed to that of the slutty Red Queen's. Looking at her fat body in skimpy lingerie made me gag a bit.

Energy waves flew from her fingers tips over the audience and they were all transformed into bizarre half-man, half-animal monsters. I should say 'half-woman' really, because Oprah's audience was all female for some reason. The woman-animals growled in furry as they all rushed towards me. To my horror, their minds had devolved to the point where my psionic powers had no effect on them.

This wasn't looking good.

2007-02-16T15:02:00.000-05:00

Man . . I lost the Amazing Mutant Race. Warbird and I were doing so great. We were kicking ass! I know that damn Wolverine set us up. He's going to be holding this over my head for a long time.

We were doing so good. Carol was wearing her tight outfit that really shows off her legs. How on Earth could we have lost? I know how. It was that damn Simon. Yeah. Randy was loving us. That freak Paula was off on her own planet but she seemed to like us too. It was that damn Simon. And he's just a mere Homo Sapien. Who the heck is he to judge us? Logan is right. It is the Amazing Mutant Race. There should be a mutant judge. Yeah. I think I'll make a big stink and have them do the whole race all over again! I like this plan! It's a good . . what?

Oh great, the Professor wants me to take him to the Oprah show. Like I don't have anything better to do. Like I'm just sitting around and . . . okay fine. I have nothing better to do. I'll go pre-heat the car for the Professor.

2007-02-04T19:33:00.000-05:00

As the limo arrived to take me to Oprah's, I couldn't help but think what a terrible mistake this was. My sworn enemy . . a powerful evil mutant . . and here I was heading straight into her layer. The car drove down the highway and I looked to the Heavens for some sign that this would be alright. All I saw was this horrible and familiar scene . .

Then a few miles down the road I saw this . .

And then this . .

Then this . .

Followed by this . .

Then this . .

This one I could have been spared . .

Doesn't Logan own any shirts?

Obviously these were not the signs I was looking for.

I would like to give an X-tra special thanks to NOVY for alerting me to all of these billboards. She really went above and beyond the call of duty. She may not be a mutant, but she'll always be an X-Man.

2007-01-31T21:38:00.000-05:00

As you may have heard by now, I was arrested yesterday. Fortunately Storm came and bailed me out of jail. The whole incident was rather embarrassing. Looking back, I wish I could do it the last day over again.

It began when I saw the horrid advertisement for the Amazing Mutant Race 3. You know the one. That billboard with Wolverine pushing me down the stairs. I was already feeling rather put out, to say the least, with all the impositions the network had made on me by forcing me to go to these deplorable interview shows. It was just one insult and humiliation after another.

I had Iceman drive me to the CBS headquarters in Manhattan, fully intending to give the executive that had been sending me out to those . . those . . shows, a piece of my mind. Normally Cyclops provides chauffeur services for me, but as he is on the race he was unavailable.

When I got to the executive's office, Sam Slimeball is his name, his secretary told me that I couldn't see him as I didn't have an appointment. I became incensed. Then I took over her mind and made her buzz me into the executive's office.

After he got over his initial start at seeing me, his face brightened up. "Charlie, baby! You should call first next time."

"Save it, Slimeball," I said.

"Er, that's Sinval actually," he offered.

"Whatever. I am outraged at these terrible shows you have been sending me on. I won't have it!"

"Hey, I totally agree Charlie, baby! And I have some great news for you. The Amazing Race is doing so great I have been able to score you the grand-daddy of all interview shows. The absolute hottest ticket in town. The coup de grace, baby!"

"There is not a chance that I will do any more of those things!" I insisted.

"Oh, you'll do this baby! Oprah!"

My mouth fell open in shock. Oprah. Former Horseman of Apocalypse. An Omega level mutant of tremendous power. My sworn enemy.

All the rage and frustration I had been feeling exploded. I flipped open the heat seeking mini-sidewinder missiles launch button on my chair and pressed it. Normally I wouldn't respond with violence. I would just take over Slimeball's mind and make him do whatever I wanted. Such as canceling the Oprah appearance. For some reason that didn't even occur to me. I just wanted to hurt him.

Slimeball's office was vaporized in the explosion. Fortunately Iceman created a quick ice coccoon around the scared executive. Did I just say fortunately? Either way, Slimeball survived.

The police came and arrested me. The network agreed to drop the charges provided I paid for the repairs and went on the Oprah show.

Sigh.

2007-01-29T21:11:00.000-05:00

I don't know why the Xavier insists on doing that inane Mutant Race 3. It is just an insult to Homo Spaiens everywhere. Those stupid shows have brought us nothing but embarassment and shame to us. And now I have to go an bail Xavier out of jail.

To make it worse, as I drove Cyclops's new Corvette to the jail, I saw this billboard.

I should just let him rot.

2007-01-24T20:20:00.000-05:00

I have been sitting here in my hotel suite outside of Raccon City for the last three hours fuming mad. Sitting right outside my window is this giant billboard.

In between my tapings on the Amazing Mutant Race 3, I have had to promote the damn show which has lead me to be called terrible things bysome rather marginal people. Homo-phobe. Anti-Semite. Racist. Or Speciesist, at least. All terrible unfair.

Why didn't I just erase their minds or turn them into babbling idiots or make them think they were Cocker Spaniels or something? Here I am with all these ethics about only using my powers to influence other's minds in cases of emergency and what thanks do I get for it? None. These people all take advantage of my kindness and morality.

Well that's it. No more Mr. Nice Guy. I dare that damn network executive to send me on anymore of these moronic shows. I'll show them what the most powerful mutant telepath on the planet can do.

2007-01-22T19:22:00.000-05:00

"We have here Professor Charles Xavier," Jon Stewart said as I rolled out to his desk. The audience applauded politely. "The show is the Amazing Mutant Race 3. So tell me Professor, who's winning the race so far?"

"Well, the current leader is A Army of (Cl)One and Angel."

"Army of Clone? He's one of the Empire's Stormtrooper, right?"

"Er, I believe that's one of his job titles, yes. But I could be -"

"You have stormtroopers on your show? Very interesting. So you're admiting your show features Aanti-Semites, then?

"What? No, of course not. AOC has absolutely no connection what-so-ever to . ."

"And this is the 'mutant' race, right? There are X-Men that are participating?"

"Yes, but-"

"You do know the X-Men are incredibly Anti-Semitic, right?"

"What are talking about? Of course they are not-"

"Who's the number one bad guy? The mutant terrorist that has threatened to destroy the planet on hundreds of occasions? Mangeto. A Jew."

"That's ridiculous. It's . . it's just a coincidence."

"Oh sure. Just like Haliburton getting the reconstruction contracts for Iraq, right?"

"Excuse me? Look, the X-Men happens to have a Jewish person on the team."

"Oh yeah right, Kitty Pryde. What's her power? Disappearing? I bet plenty of people wish all the Jews had that power."

"This is preposterious. I don't-"

"And that's all the time we have. The man - Professor X. The show - The Amazing Mutant Race 3. The issue - Anti-Semitism. Stay tuned."

2007-01-17T20:38:00.000-05:00

As I slowly sipped my Cognac and admired the bright morning scene outside my office window, I couldn't help but smile in smug satisfaction. My little verbal assault on the ladies of the View yesterday would surely have generated sufficient complaints that I would not be required to do anymore of these annoying press shows. I wasn't particularly surprised when the phone rang.

"Hello," I said, in a warm friendly voice.

"Charlie baby! What the hell did you do on the View?!" the familiar voice of the CBS network executive boomed. He sounded incredibly agitated. I chuckled silently.

"That's just who I am," I told him. "I was just being myself. Can't help it. Sorry."

"Sorry? What are you talking about? You were perfect! What you did is all over the media! Everybody's talking about it!"

"What?"

"Last week I had to twist arms to get you any air time. Now every show in the country is clammoring to have you on!"

"You're kidding." I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

"You're doin' the Daily Show with Jon Stewart this afternoon. The car will be by in a few minutes."

Damn.

2007-01-15T19:14:00.000-05:00

"Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome our next guest, Professor Charles Xavier of the Xavier Institute for Gifted Children."

I stiffened my shoulders and forced a smile on my face. I was getting quite tired of having to do press for the Amazing Mutant Race 3. Oh well, at least I didn't have to fight Apocalypse.

As I rolled out onto the stage, the audience politely applauded. "Good morning, ladies," I said, turning and smiling to each of the four women seated around the coffee table.

"Now Charlie, let me find out something here," the short stout woman with black hair said. Her voice was most abrasive. I think her name was Rosie O'Donnell. "When you say your kids are 'special', do you mean that they're gay?"

"What? No, of course not."

"Oh what, there's something wrong with being gay?" She sounded rather insulted.

"No. Not at all. It's just . . they aren't."

"None of them? That seems a little against the odds, you know what I mean? You don't let gay kids in? That's discriminatory!"

"Please. We do not discriminate. Trust me."

"Well if you don't have any gay kids," she insisted, "you must discriminate."

"Actually, we do have one of them."

"Them? Them?! Oh well thank you very much Mister Homophobe! Girls, I think I feel a boycott coming on." The others started nodding and the audience burst out in applause.

"Now wait just a minute," I said as firmly as I could. "My school does not discriminate. Not against homosexuals anyway. But I'm hear to talk about the Amazing Mutant Race."

"And that's another thing," Barbara Walters interjected. "Don't you think it's rather superior of you to call mutants 'amazing'? What about mutant terrorists like Magneto or Apocalypse? Wouldn't 'nefarious' or 'dangerous' be more appropriate?"

"Yeah," the pudgy woman on my left chimmed in. "And what about those mutants whose powers aren't amazing? There are some mutants out there who are just plain dopey. Like the Blob. His power is just to be really fat. Or Toad can eat flies with his tongue. Whoop-de-doo!"

The audience started laughing at this.

"I don't know," the ditzy blonde on the end said. "Toad's power doesn't sound so bad."

We all just stared at her for a moment. Then a plan occured to me. If I played my cards right, CBS wouldn't try to get me to do any more of these press events.

"I'll be sure to give him your number the next time I see him," I said to the blonde. "And as for the rest of you . . . yes, I do think mutants are pretty amazing. They put up with abuse, fear and discrimination and yet still they try to reach out in friendship to mankind. That's what this race is about. You see, each team is composed of two members, one mutant and one human.

"Or, um, one humanoid," I corrected after a moment. "There's actually a couple of aliens playing. So far the teams are working quite well together. Mutants and other species getting along in harmony. That's what the race is about."

"Oh come on," Behar snorted. "The race is about winning!"

"The racers are competing hard," I admitted. "The race is very physically demanding."I glanced around the couch. "You ladies wouldn't have made it half way through the first leg."

They all gasped. "I don't think I've ever seen a group of flabbier, more out of shape women in desperate need of a regular exercise regieme."

There mouths all hung open in shock. I had them right where I wanted them. "All I can say is, you're lucky your job requires you to sit down."

The women were stunned into speechlessness. An impressive feat for this crew. I nodded to the camera pointing at me. "Stay tuned for this word from out sponsors," I said with a smile.

Hopefully that will teach the CBS executives a lesson and they won't send me on any more of these things.

2007-01-10T21:05:00.000-05:00

I sat at my desk staring at the ringing phone. It just kept going and going. It was at that point that I regreted never getting an answering machine. I knew who it was on the other line, you see. That oily TV exec from CBS. I knew he would want me to go on some other horrid show to promote the Amazing Mutant Race 3.

The phone had actually been ringing all morning. All the papers wanted to know about why Spider-Man had dropped out of the race. They all suspected some serious scandel. Was it drugs? Was he caught in delicto flagrante with Emma Frost?

'No comment' was all that I would offer as to why he flaked out. That just seemed to fuel their suspicions that there was something far more juicy behind it. As a telepath I of course knew the truth, but I figured all the gossip mongering who do more to boost media attention on the show, so let the sharks feed.

And now the CBS exec was calling. The phone was still ringing after four minutes. I could not believe this man's tenacity. A part of me was curious as to how long he could keep it up. But another part of me couldn't stand the ringing any more. It was driving me crazy. I yanked the phone off the cradle.

"What?!" I shouted into the receiver.

"Charlie baby! Glad I caught you. Were you in the dumper or somethin'?"

"Excuse me?"

"Never mind that. Great news. I scored a real coup for you! The biggest of the big. Tomorrow at 10am."

The biggest of the big? Who could he mean? Oh no. Oprah! She was one of Apocalypse's four horsemen. She's a very powerful mutant who holds a grudge.

"It's The View. Biggest show on TV. It'll double our ratings!"

"The View? Couldn't I do Oprah?" I asked.

"Forget Oprah. She's had it. Totally out of touch. The View is where it's at. The limo will be at your school tomorrow."

Great.

2007-01-08T20:15:00.000-05:00

"Hey, Charlie baby! We've got another press gig lined up for you!"

I couldn't take anymore of that oily CBS network representative. I reached out with my thoughts through the telephone line and entered his mind. To my astonishment it was totally vacant. There wasn't even enough brain power to keep this man breathing. How on Earth could he function?

A blaring sound from outside my window disturbed my thoughts. "Good. The car is already there," the network man said. "You're doing the David Letterman show. There was a cancellation and they need a last minute filler. Now get going!"

Letterman? Uggh. That man hasn't been funny in years. Sigh. Oh well.

I arrived at his studio in Manhattan and after having a woman smack me in the face a few times with a large powder puff, I was ushered straight out onto the stage. As I rolled out, I was a little shocked at what I found myself face to face with.

"Alright!" the loud-mouthed young man in the bozo wig shouted. "Welcome back to the Late Show! I'm your guest host Carrot Top and I'd just like to say, take your time in Boca, Dave!"

Then he turned to me. "Now who do we have here? Some bald guy in a mobile iron lung? I love it!"

I looked around in disbelief. Was this some kind of joke. I glanced out at the audience and saw them all laughing. What on Earth for? Oh well, I suppose I might as well try and make the best of it.

"Hello. My name is Charles Xav-"

"Look at this!" the obnoxious one shouted. He reached behind his desk and pulled out a black high heeled show with little wheels on it. "Training wheels for young girls!" The audience roared.

He knocked the shoe off the desk and slammed down a rubber duck with an electrical cord. "Dr. Kevorkian's bath toy!" More raucous laughter.

"I even have some self-esteem for Tom Cruise!" At that Carrot Top then dropped a shoe on the desk and pressed a button on the side. Expanding air cause the shoe to lift four inches higher. "And something for the cowboys when their drunk!" He then dropped a boot next to it. The boot had a kickstand.

He knocked them all off the desk and threw down a toy car with antlers mounted on the front. "Brittany Spears baby seat!" he shouted. More laughter. What was wrong with these people?

Then the truth occured to me. Obviously Carrot Top was a mutant with powers of mind control. He was tricking the crowd into thinking he was funny. I thought about altering everyone in the audience's mind, making them ignore him, but then I realized it would be easier to just take over Carrot Top's brain.

He dropped the microphone in the shape of a bong labeled 'Whitney Houston's' and turned to face me. "I am honored to have you here, Professor Xavier," he said in a level tone. "Please tell us about your new show, the Amazing Mutant Race 3."

I couldn't but help smile to myself. I must say, what followed was the best interview of my life.

2007-01-04T19:57:00.000-05:00

I sat there staring at phone, dreading that it might ring. As if the cosmos had somehow heard my dark fears and decided to give them life, it started ringing. It was the CBS representative.

"Look," I told him, "I appreciate your network letting us proceed with the Amazing Mutant Race, but I'm really not interested in doing any more of these promotions. That one this morning was really-"

"Forget it Xavier!" he barked. "You made an agreement. You signed the contract. We've got you by the short hairs!"

"Excuse me?" I said in disbelief.

"You heard me! Now you've got an appointment to do some radio. The limo should already be at your school. Get going!"

I sat there stunned by the brazeness of this TV executive. Did he have any idea who he was talking to? Didn't he realize what I could do to him? I started to think of all the things I could do to him when a loud blaring horn began honking outside my window.

Ah well. The racers have already started. I suppose I can put up with these ordeals for a bit longer. The driver took me to a tall high rise in midtown New York. I was lead up to a well lit studio. A nasally, gravely voice filled the studio's sound system.

"Okay, now we've got this guy named, um, let me see . . Professor X. Sounds pretty creepy."

"Oh Howard, you are so crazy, ha, ha, ha!" said a plump black woman sitting in the corner.

"Thank you, Robin. Now then, 'Professor', how are you doin' today?"

"Just fine thank you, Howard. And how-"

"Now let me ask you somethin'. You run a school right? And there are all sorts of young chicks there? Like, hot young chicks, right? Do you ever let them give you 'extra credit' to boost their grades?"

"Well of course students can do extra credit work. Both the girls and the boys."

"Woah!" he shouted. "Both the boys and the girls?! Thank you Congressman Foley! So that's how things are at your school, huh? Am I right Robin?"

"Ha ha! You are so right, Howard!" the woman agreed.

"Now then, let me ask you somethin' else," the man with the long scraggly black hair and protruding nose said. "These girls. You make 'em wear uniforms?"

"Well yes," I answered, a bit confused. "They wear spandex suits that-"

"OOH! Spandex! Are they skin tight?"

I found the eagerness in his voice to be more than a bit disturbing. "Well yes, but that's because they have to-"

"Oh man, that is so hot! I can just see it. And when the girls do their 'extra credit' . . . do they take off their skin tight spandex suits?"

"I don't . . I mean they do take them off to-"

"Oh man! You are one sleazy old guy! I love it!"

"What are talking about?" I demanded. "I am not sleazy. I run a-"

"You have got the best job ever!" Howard boomed. "You can get these hot little girls to do anything you want. You lucky bastard."

"Howard, I am here to talk about the Amazing Mutant Race show. We are airing-"

"So you're a mutant right?" he interrupted. "Do you ever use your powers to get people to do whatever you want?"

"It's not like that at all. There are many ethical considerations to be taken into-"

"Do you ever use your powers on women? Get them to go out on dates and sleep with you and stuff?"

"Of course not! I am rather offended that-"

"Oh come on! Any guy with that kind of power is totally going to use it to make women sleep with them. Am I right Robin?"

"Ha ha! You are so right, Howard!"

"I mean you can get chicks to do anything you want," Howard continued. "Fourth point of contact and everything! You lucky, lucky bastard."

"Now look here, Howard," I said as sternly as I could. "I hardly ever use my . . I mean, I absolutely would never under any circumstances use my powers in that fashion."

"Oh come on, Xavier!" he insisted. "You're a guy, right?"

"Of course I am."

"Well that chair you're in . . I mean your not dead below the waist are you? The equipment still works and everything?"

"Well of course it does. But I really don't see what-"

"Then there is no way you aren't using your powers to get women. I don't care what you say. Ladies and gentlemen, my new hero . . Professor X. Catch the Amazing Mutant Race 3 results show this Sunday at 8pm on CBS! Up next . . Carrot Top!"

Uggh. I need a shower.

2007-01-03T20:16:00.001-05:00

A press tour. How dreadful. I didn't even want to do this silly Race. But Wolverine probably would have gone on strike if I hadn't. The last thing I need is for him to be sitting around the school all day and doing nothing. He gets in quite a bit of trouble when he's bored.

The CBS Press Liason sent me out on my first stop. Live With Regis and Somebody Or Other.

"We're here to today with Professor X, headmaster of the Xavier School for Gifted Students right here in New York. Let me just say Professor, you have got one GREAT name!"

"Thank you Regis. But my name isn't actually . ."

"So does that mean you're a member of the Nation of Islam?" the ditzy blond next to Regis asked. "You all change your names to 'X', right?"

"What? No, I'm not a Muslim. That isn't . ."

"And that chair!" Regis yelled. "WOW! That thing is great! It's HUGE! And it doesn't seem to have any wheels! Gelman, are you seeing this?"

A rotund man standing near the camera nodded.

"My chair isn't really that . ."

"And can I just say that I think it's wonderful that you work with disabled children," the blond interrupted. "That really is a special calling."

"What? My children aren't disabled. They're special because . ."

"Now let's talk about this new SHOW!" Regis shouted. "The Amazing Mutant Race 3. THREE! Now that's amazing! It's on CBS, right? It sounds like a great show! Tell us how it works!"

"Well there are 11 teams of two that are racing . ."

"And can I just say that it's really wonderful you're letting mutants play?" the blond asked. "I mean they're people too, right? They deserve to be able to play our games. I think that's just really special. Let's have a round of applause."

At that the drones in the studio audience all began clapping their hands.

"Thank your Professor X!" Regis shouted. He turned to the cameras and continued. "After the break we're going to have a very special guest - Carrot Top! Be there!"

That was something I did not want to wait around for.

2007-01-02T18:49:00.000-05:00

Well, I've gone from the frying pan into the fire. This whole Amazing Mutant Race thing might just have been a bad idea. I just got off the phone with my lawyer.

"Well," I asked, "how did court go today? Any luck lifting that CBS injunction against the show?"

"I wouldn't call it luck, Professor. I'd call it excellent layering."

"I'm not sure that's a word."

"Yes, well, if it's not, then it soon will be. The sharks from the CBS legal department were determined to play hardball, but after some very intense negotiations, I finally got them to make an offer you couldn't refuse."

"What offer?" I asked skeptically.

"Technically I know I should have called first to run it by you, but I know you're up against a deadline what with the Race about to start."

"It already started! The Race began yesterday! I went ahead with it, telling everyone it was taken care of. You better have gotten the injunction lifted!"

"Well then you will be glad to hear that I accepted their offer and injunction has been lifted."

Whew. I let out a sigh of relief. At least I wouldn't be facing jail for contempt of court. "So what are the terms of this offer then?"

"Er, nothing to onerous. You agreed to have the Amazing Mutant Race 3 broadcast on CBS."

"Really? Well I suppose that's not too . . "

"And you agreed to do a press blitz to promote the show."

"What! Absolutely not! I'm not going to parade myself around on-"

"Professor. We had no choice. The only way-"

"I did not agree to do that. I am not some kind of media . . media . . whore. I have to maintain a professional and respectable profile due to my status as a leader-"

"It was the only way to get them to let you do the race. I had to agree to their terms. It's no big deal. You just have to go on a few of the chat shows and do some magazine interviews and things. It will be over before you know it."

Great. Just great. I'm going to be the laughingstock of the other Illuminati.

2006-12-30T09:44:00.000-05:00

I sat there at my desk stunned. CBS was blocking me from doing the Amazing Mutant Race. Wolverine was not going to be taking this well. I was going to have to think of something. Maybe - I've got it! I quickly dialed my lawyer.

"Harold Pinter," came the weasely voice on the other end of the line.

"I have a plan, Pinter," I told him. "I'm going to take over the minds of the network executives and make them let me do the show."

"That won't work, Professor. They're network executives. They don't have minds."

"Well this is just ridiculous. Don't they know how many times the X-Men have saved the planet?"

"That doesn't make any difference to them. These people are vultures. All they care about is money. Art and altruism are irrelevant."

"So what are we going to do?" I asked.

"Well . . if you really want we can fight them in court. I think it's a losing battle though and I have to tell you . . it's going to be expensive. CBS has deep pockets."

"Alright. Try to get the injunction lifted. We are scheduled to start tomorrow. Keep me posted."

2006-12-28T21:28:00.000-05:00

As Wolverine walked past my office door I heard him make the most unpleasant sniggering sound.

"We were about to die!" I shouted at him.

"Whatever, girly-man," he shot back with a chuckle as he walked away.

"Don't think this is going to help you in the Race," I muttered under my breath.

Fine. I told Cyclops I loved him. But I didn't really mean it! The world was about to end. In fact, it did end. It was just some alternate Earth so it doesn't really count.

Speaking of the Race, I still had some phone calls to make. For those of you who don't know, that's the Amazing Mutant Race 3 that I'm talking about. It's a bit daunting how complex this thing has become. There's just so much to arrange.

I was just reaching for the phone to call Nick Fury at SHIELD when it started ringing. A bit startled, I picked it up.

"Hello," came a nasally voice I recognized immediately. It was my lawyer. Undoubtably he was calling to tell me that shrew of an ex-wife of mine wanted an upward modification of her support order. "This is Harold P. Pinter here," he continued.

"I know Harold. This isn't about Moira, is it?" I asked.

"Worse. I received an injunction today. Your Amazing Race show has been cancelled by the courts."

"What? That's preposterous!"

"No, it's quite legal."

"But they can't do that!" I protested.

"Of course they can."

"But why on Earth would they?!"

"Because the Central Broadcasting System filed to stop you from proceeding with the Race. They have also filed a multi-million dollar lawsuit against you for copyright infringement, dilution and unlawful competition."

"B-but why?"

"They claim your show is a direct rip-off of their Amazing Race show."

"But that's ridiculous! Our show has mutants!"

"Yes, but they say that otherwise it is identical. I'm afraid you can't do the show."

This is a disaster!

2006-12-26T07:17:00.000-05:00

As Scott and I sat in our "borrowed" van, we could feel the ripples of energy swirling all around us, being sucked from the core of the planet and rushing towards Galactus and his nefarious planet-energy sucking device. Cyclops shivered next to me.

"I-is this it, P-professor?" he asked, having to shout to be heard about the roar of the wind.

Not wanting to yell, I just nodded. With the Fantastic Four and the Watcher dead, it looked like our usual stuff wasn't working. We'd have to try something else.

I knew our powers, as impressive as they are by Earth standards, would be fairly puny against Galactus, but what choice did we have? Going down swinging is in the hero's contract. In the fine print at the end. Damn those lawyers.

I had Scott drive us around the rubble towards Galactus. The wild streams of energy rushing past us almost blew our van away. We got as close as we could and then exited. Cyclops assumed an heroic pose, his feet no less than three feet apart. Very impressive. He opened his visor all the way and let out a furious optic blast at the energy converter. The shield around the device easily absorbed his blast.

Reaching out with my mind, I tried to penetrate Galactus's thoughts. First I would plead for what was left of our planet, and then if that failed, I would attack. He was prepared. A powerful psionic dampener blocked my powers.

Buildings started to collapse around us. A massive Earthquake shook the ground all around us, causing the sidewalk to rise and fall in waves like a tumultuous ocean storm.

Scott looked at me, tears streaming down his face. "P-professor," he said, "I . . I l-love you!"

Fortunately I couldn't hear him over the defeaning roar of destruction. I suppose at the end of the world this is the kind of thing one person said to another. He was obviously waiting for me to give him some kind of similar platitude. Oh why not. It's not like anyone will ever know.

"Scott," I shouted over the tumolt, "I love you too."

An unmistakable clapping could be heard from behind me. I whirled around and saw Wolverine standing tall in the midst of the chaos. Tall for him anyway.

"Very touchin', Chuck, but can we get outta here before this planet goes?"

I looked at him for a moment, my vision obscured by all the clouds of dust and smoke, wondering if this was some kind of hallucination. Then I saw figures standing next to him. Colossus. Beast. And Blink.

Blink! As the city collapsed beneath us, Blink teleported us all through the dimensional veil back to the school in Westchester on our own Earth.

Storm walked up to us, a superior smile on her full lips. "When we received Captain Picard's message about the transporter mishap, I sent a rescue team." Her arms were crossed and she had a rather smug look on her face.

"Well . . thank you Storm," I answered.

"And that's why I should be the leader of the X-Men," she finished.

I could only smile. "Well after Scott's falling to pieces, I think he's going to need another round of Fade's man-camp. Perhaps Deadpool can help. He seemed to work wonders for Wolverine."

Logan just snorted at that.

"But enough of this. We have a Christmas party to get to. Merry X-Mas everyone!"

2006-12-25T09:13:00.000-05:00

"Oh man, why did it have to be Galactus?!" Scott wailed as he drove us towards the Baxter Building with all the speed and direction of a boulder falling off the side of cliff. Reed Richards was probably already most of the way through with his plan on how to get rid of Galactus again.

Of course, I have been wrong before. Did I ever tell you about my ex-wife?

Drat! Looks like Galactus isn't taking any chance this time.

"Holy crap! He destroyed the whole building! He killed the Fantastic Four! What are we going to do now?! We're doomed!!"

All I could do was shake my head in pity as I watched all of Fade's training evaporate in Scott's girlish display. Oh well. There was still the Watcher. I turned my gaze towards the moon, planning to establish telepathic contact with Uatu. That crafty bugger usually has something up his sleeves.

That's just great. He destroyed the moon. That means the Inhumans are out, too.

"Oh man!" Scott cried. "Doesn't he know it's Christmas?!"

That's what we need. A Christmas miracle.

2006-12-20T21:18:00.000-05:00

At the sight of Galactus, Scott screamed like a girl. His high-pitched wail was incredibly irritating. It felt likes nails were being driven into parts of my body they weren't suppose to be driven into. I finally had to slap him across the face.

Unfortunately that just seemed to highten his fear. I would have put him to sleep telepathically but I needed him sane. So instead I placed into his conscious mind a picture of Emma Frost in her sluttiest White Queen garb. He immediately started to relax. A little too much in fact. He started to take off his pants.

"Scott!" I yelled, removing Emma's image from his thoughts.

"Oh, uh, sorry, Professor."

"Now look, I need you to stay focused. We have a bit of a crisis here and I don't want you to panic."

"Crisis?" he asked in that simplistic, confused voice of his.

"Yes. Galactus. Remeber?"

I could see the raw panic start to creep across his face again.

"Scott! Stay with me, damnit! I need you to drive this van."

"W-what? But why?? What's the point?? There's no where we can go! No way to escape! He's going to destroy the whole planet! We're doomed! There's no where we can run!"

"We aren't running, Scott. We have to get to the Baxter building. Reed Richards practically beats Galactus every morning before breakfast. I'm sure he has a plan. Get us there now!"

"B-baxter building?"

"Drive damnit!"

2006-12-19T20:28:00.000-05:00

Through all the chaos and panic I couldn't make out the nature of the threat against New York City, but I knew it was serious. I tried to telepathically contact my students at the school but everything was silent. I looked around the mall parking lot for a way to get into the city and I found it. A converted Ford Econoline parked in a handicap spot.

"But Professor, we can't just take a handicapped persons car," Cyclops whined.

"Now Scott, how many times do I have to give you the means/ends/justification lecture? Besides, the van's owner's handicap is probably just partial deafness in one ear. It's horrible what people get away with these days."

"But then why does he have a retractable wheelchair ramp installed?" Scott asked, peering in the window.

"Just being precautious, I'd imagine. Now stop asking so many questions and get that door open."

With a shrug, Scott fired a thin, short optic burst at the lock of the door and opened it. Once I was onboard, he required the ignition and we headed into the city.

We made excellent time as there was literally no other cars going to the city. There was quite a long backlog leaving though. The columns of smoke got thicker as we approached Manhattan. The minds of the people running and screaming on the street were actually harder to read, so paralyzed with fear were they.

When we finally rounded the corner into Times Square, we learned why.

2006-12-18T20:06:00.000-05:00

The Christmas party onboard the Enterprise was without a doubt a tremendous success. As with all things though, there came a time to say goodbye.

With no small trepitdation I rolled onto the transporter pad, awaiting beam out. After last year's malfunction, I was more than a bit apprehensive about using this unlikely future technology again. However, Captain Picard assured me that the problem had been fixed and the trip home would be smooth this time around. That did comfort me somewhat. There's just something about that man's face that I trust.

Scott and I watched as the engineer's hand pulled the slide down. Strange glowing lights danced all around us. My body felt lighter and lighter, rather similar to when I detach my consciousness and travel the astral plane.

The interior of the transporter room became lost in the twinkling lights. For a brief moment, there was just a bright nothingness around us. Then the teleportation chamber of the Federation Time Portal shimmered into view, only to start fading again as then sent our atoms back to our own time.

We finally materialized outside the designated arrival spot in the parking lot of the Galleria Shopping Mall. Unfortunately the X-Van wasn't where we had left it.

"There's no way anybody could have stolen it!" Cyclops cried. "Hank put in a fool proof lock!"

"That's the least of our problems," I answered cooly, pointing towards New York City. Great pillars of smoke were rising up from the distant sky scrapers. "I'm sensing wide spread panic. Their thoughts are too jumbled though. I can't make out what's causing it."

"I'm not getting a thing on the X-Communicator!" Scott wailed, as he frantically pushed the buttons on his cel phone.

"We're going to have to go in to the city somehow and find out what's going on."

2006-12-17T19:53:00.000-05:00

With my gift firmly in hand, I had Scott drive us to the location Captain Picard had designated. As he had told us would happen, a Federation Time Portal opened and we were whisked to the 24th Century. From there a teleportation beam transported us up to the Enterprise. Upon arriving we joined the line of party guests being greeted by the command crew of the ship. They were decked out in their formal uniforms and their faces were full of smiles.

That is, everyone was smiling except for the Klingon, of course. From the look on his face, I would have thought he had just lost his life savings on a hand of poker or something, except that he wore the exact same scowl at last year's Christmas party.

“Professor Xavier, I am so glad you decided to come,” Captain Picard said, holding out his hand.

“I wouldn’t have missed it, Captain.”

“I was sorry to hear about your difficulties in getting home from the party last year.”

“To be honest, after being with the X-Men for so long, I would have worried if something unusual hadn’t happened. And here’s a little something for the ship.”

I waved a finger at Scott and he handed over the gift-wrapped bundle containing the Arrested Development DVD collection.

After we had gotten through the reception line, we headed to the party in the open lounge area. 10 Forward, I think it was called. I saw a lot of familiar faces there – Jon and Hudson, Oneida and Typho, Spider-Man and Vegeta . . the place was actually rather crowded. Scott headed over to say hello to Hudson while I went over to the bar to see what new and interesting drinks had been invented by the 24th Century.

The friendly looking woman with the rather large and dangerous looking cranial accessory, I think she would probably call it a hat, was named Guinan.

“Nice to see you again, Charles,” she said with a broad smile. The murky green liquid in the glass she slid me was bubbling slightly. I looked dubiously at it. “Trust me,” she said.

I raised the glass in a toast to her. “Merry X-Mas,” I offered as I tossed the drink back. Wow! “Well if that doesn’t put hair on my head, nothing will,” I said with a wink. “And suddenly I have the strongest urge to find a restroom.”

“Down the hall, third door on the right.”

I nodded my thanks and left 10 Forward. Whatever that green concoction was that Guinan had given me, I was definitely having trouble navigating a straight line. It didn’t take long before I had lost count of the doors. As the corridor was deserted, I figured my best bet at this point was to just start opening doors.

I rolled up to one promising panel and it obligingly slid open. The interior was dark but I entered anyway. As the door behind me slid silently shut, the lights came on. The rather large room was mostly empty except for 10 rather large menacing looking cyborgs.

“We are the Borg,” the one nearest me said in a cold voice. “Resistance is futile.”

“Actually,” I replied, “I was just looking for the restroom. If one of you would be so kind as to point . .”

The closest one raised its clenched fist towards me. He looked like he was about to shoot me with some kind of wrist device.

“Come now,” I continued, “it is Christmas, you know. In the spirit of friendship and brotherhood, let’s just . .”

Two small darts flew from the end of his fist and struck my neck. I could feel small nanites enter into my blood stream and begin to replicate. Amazingly, they seemed to be connected to, and were receiving commands from, a central intelligence. The nanites were attacking my DNA, attempting to transform my body into something else, presumably more of these cyborgs.

Fortunately it was a rather simply matter for me to use my psionic powers to break the nanites connection and render them inert. The Borg had turned away from me, assuming me neutralized, and were conversing.

“The crew of this ship is distracted by their party,” a part Klingon cyborg said. “They shall offer us no resistance as we assimilate them.”

The Borg headed toward the door. While my powers have limited effect on robotic forms of life, these cyborgs had vital organic components, leaving them easy prey for my talents. I put them all to sleep and then headed back to the party.

Cyclops and Hudson were busy chatting up a couple of half-naked green ladies. Maybe “ladies” is the wrong term. Regardless, I headed over to Worf, the Security Officer, and let him know about his guests and their attempted invasion plan. He actually seemed rather relieved to be able to leave the party.

The rest of the night was fortunately free of any further life threatening incidents. I danced, I sang and I had a wonderful time. Merry Christmas, Jean-Luc!

2006-12-14T20:17:00.000-05:00

Cyclops pulled the X-Van into the handicap spot in front of the Wal-Mart on 275 Main St. I pressed the button and the rear door slid up and the long black ramp extended out. I rolled down it and headed in to the store to find an appropriate gift for Captain Picard. In case you don't know, he's a starship captain in the 24th century who throws the most amazing Christmas parties.

The very first section of the store was men's ties.

"Perfect!" I told Scott. "What gentleman wouldn't like a sharp tie?"

"Er, I don't thing they wear ties in the future, Professor. Remember those, uh, jumpsuits they wore? No place for a tie."

"Right, right. Okay then, how about those over there?"

I rolled up to the cooking appliances. "The George Foreman Grill. A perfect present for any man."

"Yeah, but don't they have those food replicator things? I don't think they cook anymore in the future."

"Sounds like a Zager and Evans song."

We continued on throughout the store and Scott poo-pooed most of my suggestions. He said they had no room on the Enterprise for a wading pool or trampoline. No need for a set of decorative hand towels or recliner chairs. No interest in any one of a dozen other things I mentioned.

Finally in utter exasperation I came to a complete stop. "This is madness!" I yelled at Scott. "It's just a Christmas present! It doesn't really matter what I get him. There's no such thing as a perfect gift. I might as well just get him anything! Even this," I said as I reached out and grabbed the thing nearest me. I turned the box slowly around in my hand.

"Arrested Development?" Scott asked. "But they might not have DVD players in the -"

"I don't care!" I shouted. "He's getting this! Let's go!"

2006-12-12T21:11:00.000-05:00

Modern social conventions, which presumably are still in full force in the 23rd century, require that a guest attending a Christmas party give their host a gift. Picking the right gift for someone is of course an art form.

If the gift is not expensive enough, then you are seen as a cheap-skate or perhaps as being rude. If the gift is too expensive though, you can create an awkward moment where the recipient feels inadequate for not giving something equivalent or as now being beholden to the gifter.

Then of course there is the question of the gift itself. If it's something the recipient has no interest in, then he or she will perceive you as being thoughtless or inconsiderate. If it's something they already have, then all you will get back is that awkward smile of feigned gratitude.

The principle question then before me was therefore what would Captain Jean-Luc Pica rd want for a Christmas gift?

There is only one solution. To Wal-Mart!

2006-12-10T12:00:00.000-05:00

"What is with that large smile on your face, Scott?"

"Carol is going to be my partner on the Amazing Mutant Race, Professor. I think we're going to have a good time, if you know what I mean."

I could only roll my eyes at that. "Well just try and contain your enthusiasm for Captain Picard's Christmas party abord the Enterprise. Remember, you're an X-Men."

Cyclops's smile dropped. "What is it?" I asked.

"Well . . getting home last year was just such life or death thing, you know? Do you think they've fixed their transporters?"

"The Captain assures me everything is working perfectly. I'm sure we will have a wonderful time and absolutely no problems what-so-ever in getting home. After all, what could possibly go wrong?"

2006-12-04T19:10:00.000-05:00

The door to my office slammed open with a loud bang.

"What the hell is this crap!?" Wolverine roared.

"I have no idea what you are talking about," I responded cooly.

"Don't give me that crap! You stuck me with vegitable head?!"

"First of all, I didn't stick you with anyone. Second-"

"And what the hell are all these non-mutants doin' in the race?! It's the Mutant Race, damn it!"

"Now Logan, you know the race is open to anyone who wants to play. We had this same discussion last year."

"But it's the Mutant Race! Like it's not bad enough you got humans playin', you got robots and aliens too!"

"Look here Logan, you're the one making me do this whole thing. It's open to anyone who wants to play. Just like last year."

"But it's the Mutant Race!!"

"I know. And this year I've made sure there is a mutant on every team. Each player is paired with a mutant. That's why you are teamed with Vegeta."

At that Wolverine just did that gutteral growl thing he does when he's really mad. I looked at him warily, wondering if I would have to make him think he was a little girl again, when he abruptly turned on his heel and left. He was muttering 'salad head' as he walked away.

2006-11-30T05:46:00.000-05:00

Alright, so, I've decided to give in to Wolverine's blackmail and stage another Amazing Mutant Race. Yes, I could have simply altered his thoughts but I'm a little concerned all my prior meddling may have resulted in his odd fascination with Strawberry Shortcake dolls.

The Race will be run at this new blog - http://amazingmutantrace3.blogspot.com/

Anyone can play. If you'd like to participate, visit the blog. There is a link there to an e-mail address you can send an invite request to.

Each player will select an X-Men for their partner. Detailed instructions will be at the Race site.

Once you've accepted the invite and joined that blog, post a comment claiming the X-Men you will be using for your partner. So far I don't see any conflicts in anyone's choices, but the first to call a particular mutant has priority.

Good luck!

2006-11-26T20:26:00.000-05:00

"What's up, Chuck?"

groan "Hello Logan," I said with a sigh as I closed my laptop. No reason for Wolverine to see what I was working on. It would take too long to explain why I host a Vampirella fan site.

"You got a minute?"

"For my star player? Of course. What can I do for you?"

"Now that Wade's little game is over, you got to do the Amazing Mutant Race again."

"What?" I said with a start. "I'm not doing that again."

"You got to. You said once Deadpool did his thing, you would do another Race."

"No Wolverine. What I said was that I wouldn't do it while Deadpool was doing his game. Just to clarify, I also won't do it when he's not doing a game."

"Oh sure! You get to go off and do that cool Last Gladiator show, leavin' me an' Storm in charge a this school."

"Belive me Logan, if I had any idea you wanted to go, I would -"

"And last year you let non-mutants play! That little green fortune cookie an' the hot soldier chick won! They ain't even mutants! The title says Amazing Mutant Race! You owe me!"

"Logan, do you have any idea how much work putting on one of those things is? I really don't-"

"Damnit, Chuck, I'm the back-bone of this team! All these teams! If you don't do it, I'm gonna join the Avengers full time!"

"You wouldn't dare!"

"Try me."

The evil snarl on his face left me little doubt as to his resolve. " . . fine. I'll do another Race. But after the holidays."

"Fine. An' no non-mutants."

"No. The Race will be open to anyone who wants to play, mutant, human, alien or whatever."

"But it's the Amazing Mutant Race!"

"I'll have to think about that."

2006-11-20T20:18:00.000-05:00

As I absently watched Illyana and Canonball put on the finishing touches on my office's repairs, Colossus walked through the new door. I had sent him to collect the money for damages from Henchman. The total repair bill from the Destroyer's visit came to $4,735.

"How did it go, Peter?" I asked brightly.

The giant Russian hesitated, his eyes cast downward.

"Did you find him?" I asked with a trace of concern in my voice.

". . da," he finally answered.

"Well what happened?"

"I be finding him in his union hall. Da Rhino was dere and tried to be making problem, but I be tossing him out window and no more problem."

"Well done. And Henchman? Did you get the money?"

"I told him it be in his best interest to be paying monies. He said there being larger issues beyond the money."

"Larger issues? Nonsense. He owes me money. That's the only issue."

"He went on to explain. He be talking for quite a while."

"Yes? And?"

"Professor, do the X-Men have dental insurance?"

"Excuse me?"

"Well . . we be risking our lives on da missions you send us on. Gambit broke dat tooth in da fight against Dr. Doom last month and now he be talking funny."

"Gambit always talks funny! Oh forget it. Just get out of here."

This is just great.

2006-11-16T21:08:00.000-05:00

I sat transfixed, staring at the mysterious picture that was sent to me yesterday. What could it possible mean? The school was deserted. Several of the students had gone home for the upcoming Thanksgiving holiday. The rest had been taken to some local museum by Storm and Cyclops.

As I continued to gaze at the image, I could feel my consciousness slowly slipping away. Through the fog that enveloped my mind, I was vaguely aware of some kind of horn blaring. A black van crashed through the remains of my office wall.

As if in a dream, I lifted my eyes up and saw a weird looking man in a green jump suit somehow standing in the van.

"Do nah be lookin' into tha' picture, Professor! It be a trap!!"

My eyes could barely focus, but it looked like this odd stranger had a gun. I couldn't focus my mind enough to call for help.

2006-11-14T20:46:00.000-05:00

After leaving the Civil War wrap party, I headed back to the school. I immediately went to my chambers and looked around for my wallet. Where on Earth had I put it?

During the course of my hunt I found a rather mysterious message. It was attached to an eerie picture. The message said - "Can you figure out the secret to this image? Does it move or does it not? Your life may depend on the answer."

How odd. Here's the picture. Any help is appreciated.

2006-11-13T20:54:00.000-05:00

At Spider-Man and Fade's party celebrating the end of the Civil War, I decided now was the perfect time to have a little chat with the Henchman, a would-be super-villain who stole my girlfriend, Maggie, while I was off-planet performing an heroic mission with Jon the Intergalactic Gladiatior at the request of the Queen of the Galaxy.

"Listen, gramps," he started as I approached him, "if I even think I feel you trying to get in my head, I'll show all the fun Maggie and me have had."

I supressed my laugh. As if he could ever detect my use of telepathy on him. "Now look here, Henchman. There's no need to take that tact."

"Oh yeah? Well I'll take whatever tact I want, Baldy. If you don't watch your step, I'm going to fry you up and have you for breakfast, lunch and dinner."

"Er . . I'm not quite sure what the means."

"It means whatever I want it to!"

"Okay, look Henchman, just calm down a moment. All I want to-"

"You don't tell me to be calm! I'll be whatever the hell I want to be!"

"This is obviously going nowhere," I said. "Perhaps I'll try again when you're feeling a little more relaxed."

I turned my chair around and rolled away. I heard a loud squeel behind me. Apparently I had rolled over his foot by accident. In a furious blur, Henchman jumped in front of me and grabbed my jacket collar.

"That does it!" he roared.

Everyone at the party stopped to look at us. Most of them were allies of mine. Several heroes moved closer to help me. Not that I needed it. Henchman has no real defenses to a psionic attack.

"Ok, Cue Ball. You're a friend of Maggie so I'll forget it this time. But - Do - Not - Piss - Me - Off." He released my jacket and I fell back into the chair. "Jerk," he muttered.

He and Maggie left the party shortly after that. I know it was petty of me, but I placed a mental block in his subconscious. For the next few days, he's going to have a very hard time . . well . . let's just say, having any more fun with Maggie.

2006-11-08T21:30:00.000-05:00

"You left Kodiak in the void dimension that you teleport through?" I asked Nightcrawler.

He looked rather sheepish. With his eyes cast down, he answered, "I am very zorry, Profezzor. I tried to bring him back vith me, but I could not."

"We are going to have to rescue him," Iceman answered.

Cyclops held up a hand. "He's pretty mad. I think we ought to let him cool off for a while."

"I'm not quite sure how we are going to get into the void and then how we can bring him back. I want Beast and Forge to get to work on this problem. In the mean time, I have some important business to attend to. Iceman, you worked in that accounting office. I want you to draw up an assessment of the repair bills for the damage done by the Destroyer and have that served on Henchman."

Once the team had dispersed, I went to my rooms and changed for Spider-Man and Fade's party. When I was ready, Cyclops drove me to the gathering.

Entering the ballroom he had rented, I was rather surpised to see the odd collection of super heroes and villains assembled. I knew the fete was suppose to celebrate the end of the Civil War, but I hadn't expected them to take the idea of reconciliation so seriously. The biggest surprise was to see Henchman and Maggie there.

I quickly checked my psyche to see if there was any sign of a re-emergence of Onslaught. I could detect nothing. Perhaps I really am finally free of that beast.

I glanced over at Henchman and saw that he was staring at me. This was going to be the perfect opportunity to give him a piece of my mind. And perhaps take a piece of his. Heh heh.

2006-11-07T21:20:00.000-05:00

Kodiak loomed over me, his might fists curled into sledgehammers ready to deliver their death blow down onto me. "Xavier's is dead!" he roared into my face.

But he hesitated. I could feel the conflict within him. While he had been battling the X-Men I had been able to pinpoint the mental interference that I had sensed in his mind. While being careful to not expose him to my power so that he would not develop an immunity to it, I was able to discover that energy pulses from a microchip embedded in Kodiak's neck were influencing his sub-conscious thoughts.

While he paused in his attack, I seized the opportunity. First I had Colossus rush him from behind. I had hoped Peter could hold him in an unbreakable grip but in his feral mode, Kodiak was able to strike first, sending Colossus soaring across the yard.

Then I had Nightcrawler teleport directly in front of him. He then quickly teleported back out again. The noxious fumes from the thick black smoke that are an unavoidable byproduct for Kurt's mutant power left Kodiak momentarily dazed and his heightened senses overwhelmed.

Seizing the advantage of surprise, Psylocke leapt in from behind him, sinking her energy blade into Kodiak's neck, precisely at the point where the microchip lay buried. With that now destroyed, Kodiak was free!

Unfortunately being stabbed in the neck also had the effect of triggering his beserker rage. It didn't take much of a probe of his mind to see that he was now hellbent on slaying all the X-Men. He whirled on Psylocke and swung his mighty arm at her. She would have been instantly smashed to death but Nightcrawler responded to my mental command and teleported onto his back. Then he teleported Kodiak far across the school grounds.

Or at least that was the plan. Nightcrawler did not reappear. Normally his teleporting is instantaneous. I quickly scanned the grounds and could find no sign of him. Several minutes later, he finally teleported back. Without Kodiak.

He collapsed, gasping on the ground.

"I am zorry, Profezzor," he said. "Kodiak became immune to my powerz. I could not bring him back. He iz ztuck in zee empty dimension I teleport zru."