All the problems of being a Multiple Man weren't obvious to the casual onlooker.

Say you had the mutant power of duplicating yourself about as many times you wished, as in the case of Jamie Madrox, who really had said power. Think it would make your life easier? That one of you could attend classes or go to work, while another you went shopping, and a third you lazed on the couch at home? Well, sure, you could do that.

But when you had to remerge, you'd be faced with three different sets of sensory input and thought and memories that you had to integrate into a whole. Every scent, taste, sound, sight, feeling, emotion, insight, triumph, tragedy, all of it. And the human mind picks up an incredible amount of data in any given second.

Given that, it was no wonder that Jamie Madrox had a hell of a time dealing with it all when his many selves became one.

Moira MacTaggart, who worked with him (and vice versa) at her island, had encouraged Jamie to try meditation. So he tried sitting cross-legged in his room, zenning out and trying to put all the inputs in the proper mental drawers, and it helped. It was just a matter of taking time and getting ones stuff together. One brain could make sense of it all, given the proper interval. But the process was sometimes hellacious.

Even the act of sending a dupe off to wander in Moira's garden could give you the whim-whams when you had to take it all back into a mind that hadn't experienced that.

"I don't know how to deal with it all, Moira," he'd confessed, leaning in the doorway of her lab in his green containment suit. "I'm afraid I might go crazy nuts again, like I did with the Fantastic Four."

Moira, not looking up from her examination of the cells containing some of the deadliest mutants on Earth, said, "Jaime, ya canna be in any danger of that just yet. We've given ya enough examinations to assure me, for one, that ya ain't goin' off the deep end of the pier just yet. Haven'a the meditation techniques been helpin' ya now?"

"Well, yeah, but..."

"Well, yeah, period. Want to trade sob stories sometime, Jamie? Have I ever told you about what my dearie Joe did to me before I said my fond farewells to him? Everybody goes thru a certain percentage of hell in their lifetime. It's just gettin' through it that determines what kind of person y'are." She turned, clipboard and hand, and gave him a serious look. "And not quittin'."

"I'm not thinking about quitting yet."

"That's good. Be not thinkin' about it at all."

"I'm just kinda scared. Nobody else on Earth can do the thing I do. Nobody else knows what it's like."

"Nobody else is like anybody else on Earth, Jamie. Take away that power and ye'd still be Jamie Madrox. 'Taint a curse, it's a blessing. It's all in the way you use it."

"Or it uses me."

"Problem is your mind, Jamie. Problem is your attitude."

"All right, dammit!" He bashed the side of the wall with his fist. "Can't you give me any more than that? Can't you..."

Moira was in his face immediately, rapping his forehead with her metal pen. "That will be enough, Mr. Madrox! I'll not have ye throwin' a tantrum within my lab walls, or anywhere else. Just because ye're a mutant, or an adolescent, gets ya no special privelages here. Want to have to leave here?"

"No."

"Want to see what Professor X could do for you, if you don't work out with me?"

"Well, no. I mean, I like it here, and..."

"That's the first positive statement I've heard ya make so far. How's about a follow-up?"

"Well, I like you, Moira. As a friend, I mean." She beamed. He continued. "And I like living here, as cliched as it sounds, and..."

"Cliches aren't necessarily bad, now, are they Jamie? Keep goin'."

"If being a mutant has gotten me here, to a place I never thought I'd ever see in my life...Scotland, I mean...and getting me the kind of training you're giving, there must be something to it. On the positive side, I mean."

"Och, just now he's gettin' to the positive side. Isn't that a wonder and miracle? Keep going, Jamie."

"I'd just...like it to be easier, somehow. Like I didn't have all the brain-strain I do when I merge my bodies."

"Just part of the plan, Mr. Madrox. How'd ya like to be Cyclops, and not be able to even look at anything except through ruby quartz glasses?"

"Not what I'd really call a plus," he admitted.

"So all right, then. Ya finished with your tantrum?"

"I guess," said Jamie.

Moira appraised him. "Ye're a stronger lad than ya think, Jamie. A lesser mind might not be able to take the strain. Ye're also a better lad than ya know. Take it from me. You want a cliche, Jamie? I wanna help ya. But I canna do it if'n ya don't help yourself. And more than you know, you've been doin' that."

"Uh," he said. "Thank you. I mean, thanks very much."

"S'true, Jamie. Now, unless you wanna help, I've got work to do."

"Oh, I'll be glad to help. Give me that clipboard and I'll take down the readings, if you'll call them out."

"I've seen your handwriting, Jamie Madrox. I'll keep the clipboard. You call the readings out."

-X-

The very hairy man with the artificial arm turned from the terrified little being to his other associates. "We have to do it, you know. It's either that or see him die."

"It's not like we haven't seen so many others die," said a costumed woman with frizzy hair and rather wild eyes. "We've seen a lot of that, you know."

"True, but this is one of our own," said the hairy man. "And we have a chance to save him. Unlike all the others."

"The ones who perished by the Fury," the man in the black skintight suit reminded him. "The same cybiote that killed him."

The hairy man slammed his hand down on a metal surface. "I tell you we have a way to save him! If we can salvage one of our own from this wreckage, we have an obligation to do so. And I say we will."

"It's time travel, and parallel world travel," said a very tall woman with sparkles all over her suit. "Risky business. But we've done it before. I say we do it."

"As if this was a democracy," the hairy man said, a trifle sarcastically. Then he went to the little being, took his hand gently, and stared into his eyes with as much warmth as he could muster. The little being was still jittery, but his commander could feel a bit of calm.

"Well, now, little one," he said, "we may have found somebody who can help you. Or not. But it's damned well worth a try, isn't it?"

The little being nodded.

"It all depends on whether we can find a way to make it work," he continued.

"Or whether they'll consent to work with us," said the man in black.

The hairy man looked back at him, unkindly. "In this matter, Zeitgeist, we try persuasion first. But consent, really, isn't going to have a thing to do with it. We're going to have this Multiple Man idiot help Legion, even if I have to break all of his necks but one to do it."

-M-

Even though Muir Isle was relatively calm and peaceful, Moira never let herself forget that she was sitting on top of an Alcatraz of dangerous mutants. Magneto, the Blob, Unus, the Vanisher, and Aurora had all been reduced to infancy in a battle with a mutant called Alpha, or so Professor X had told her. She wondered if they would age normally in time, or snap back to their former maturity all at once. Till then, she kept them in separate cells, in separate bassinettes, and changed and fed them herself, taking good care to do it in a protective suit. And, yes, she did give them as much TLC as she dared, hoping that some of it would enable them to respond in a constructive way when they began to re-age.

But she was always careful.

There were others she did not dare come in contact with, such as Mutant X. She tried to keep him from her thoughts, except when she had to deal with him. Jamie was never to attend to his needs. She barely entrusted the risks to herself. After all, Mutant X was her own son and she knew all too well what he could do.

Others there were, including the variety of Ani-Men who had tried to crack NATO's mountain fortress before the X-Men stopped them. She had no doubt that others would turn up, as long as the second generation of X-Men kept operating. They had a way of attracting their opposite numbers, and Xavier wanted as many as could be housed at this facility.

There was the possibility that news of the place had leaked out. Information had a way of spreading when you least wanted it to.

So, when a bright nimbus of light appeared on the laboratory floor, faded, and revealed a collection of odd beings, Moira was astonished, alerted, made a little fearful, and sent rushing for a stun-ray weapon. But, to be truthful, she wasn't as surprised as she thought she would be.

A klaxon alarm went off in the compound, keyed to the Intruder Alert mode. "Jamie!" she hollered into a wrist communicator. "We've been breached! Come to the lab!"

Then she pointed the stunner at the man in the middle, who seemed to be a werewolf in a futuristic suit, and pulled the trigger. He was fast enough to dodge. The ones around him, except for a short, muscular, odd-looking bugger, scattered. The little one was small enough for the beam to go over his head.

"Really, madame, there's no need for measures like that," said the hairy man as he went to all fours, galloped towards her, and knocked the stunner out of her arms with a metallic arm. Moira fell back, grabbed a knife she had secreted in her tunic, and prepared to defend herself.

It turned out not to be necessary. A second later, four green hands took hold of Wardog's collar from behind and flung him backwards, off of her. Moira was never so glad to see two Jamie Madroxes in her life.

The entire room was filling with an array of multiple Madroxes. As Moira dove for her stun-gun, she thought wildly that he was many times as fast as your average Xerox copier. Humor. Good response, she told herself. She took some dirt on her jumpsuit as she rolled on the floor to get a better defensive position, and told herself to tell Jamie to be better with the mop and bucket hereafter.

"Stand and freeze," ordered one Jamie, trying to sound like a movie hero. "Or I'll...uh!"

The exclamation had been forced by a black-suited, tall, thin man walking right through Jamie's particular body, passing through him osmotically and chilling him in a paralyzing manner. He took down another duplicate before the Jamies began backing away.

A woman with frizzy hair said, "It'll take at least ten more going down before they agree to reason. Proceed."

From behind a Jamie, a tall woman with sparkly aspect took hold of his head with both of her hands and exerted her power. The captive Jamie-self's eyes focused on something either ten parsecs away or totally nonexistent, and he turned slack in her grasp. As he sunk to the floor, she grasped two other Jamies and similarly put them under.

A second after that, Moira's stun-blast hit her in the back. It didn't kayo the woman, but it sent her to her hands and knees. Moira was at least grateful for that.

The Multiple Man was disgusted at his own progress. The man in black had walked through three more of his selves and put them on the floor. When a fourth Jamie-self took a punch at him out of frustration, his self's fist, arm, and mind froze up on him. A fifth one grabbed a bound notebook and flung it at the enemy, but it passed through him without damage. The other Jamies continued to back away, in a state of anger and embarrassment.

"What the hell good am I doing?" he muttered to himself.

"Absolutely nothing," said Wardog, coming up behind him and bonking his head into another Jamie's noggin. Both went down. "Nine," Wardog called out.

"One more should do it," remarked Frizzy Hair. Moira almost dropped her with a blast, but the woman seemed to know where it would hit, and stepped away just as the Scotswoman's finger tightened on the trigger.

The tenth Jamie was simply grasped by the little man with the odd looks and restrained. Several other Jamies gathered round and started beating on their small foe, glad to have somebody they could touch for a change. The blows had little effect. The small man spoke.

"We. Need. Your. Help. We. Mean. No. Harm. I. Am. Dying. Only. You. May. Save. Me."

One Jamie stopped, blinked, and waved off the rest of his battling selves. When one intemperate didn't get the message fast enough, the control-Jamie slammed him in the chest with an open palm. "I said stop it!"

Moira paused. Wardog looked towards her, but made no move. "If we can count the one in Legion's grasp as number ten," he said, "I think we're ready to talk."

"What makes you think I want to talk to you?" snapped Moira, not lowering her weapon.

Jamie said, "Moira, wait. I don't know much about the kind of people the X-Men and other of those stupid groups fight. But I do know when we're outclassed, and I think we are right now. Could we give them a chance to talk?"

"We've got some dangerous characters under wraps here," warned Moira.

"You have five dangerous characters running free in your lab," responded Wardog. "And we're willing to make a deal to save our partner's life."

Moira hesitated. "If this is on the level-"

"We know about your son," said Miss Frizzy Hair. "I've probed enough out of your mind. In a moment, you'll be asking us what we intend to do about him."

"Och," said Moira. "What do you-"

"Absolutely nothing," she said. "I was just demonstrating my power, to show you what we could do if we wanted."

Jamie began to draw some of his dupes within himself, but used others to help revive the stricken nine which remained. "All right, let's assume you've got us by the short hairs for the moment. Maybe you could start by telling us who you are, and what you really want from us."

"Delighted," said their leader. "My name is Wardog. The precog who just predicted what the madame would say is called Cobweb. The lady whom you just put down goes by the cognomen of Fascination. My insubstantial colleague in the black uniform calls himself Zeitgeist. And this gentleman here-" He went to the small man, pried one of his hands away from the Jamie he was holding, and held it himself. "-is Legion. He's the one who needs your help."

"In what way?" asked Moira, evenly.

Zeitgeist answered her. "He was killed two weeks ago and unless we can find a cure for him in a week, he will surely die."

"What?" said Jamie, dropping several of his jaws in unison.

"That's a simple explanation," Wardog allowed. "A simpler answer: we need you, Mr. Madrox, to help us find a way to let him create duplicates of himself. The way you do. If he doesn't, he dies.

"As you can see, we're rather fond of him."

-M-

As it was, Moira felt she had no better choice than to seat the crew about her dinner table, offer them coffee, and have them tell their story. She kept the stunner close by her side, though.

"There is much we simply can't tell you," said Cobweb. "It would be dangerous to reveal the information to your timeline. The situation hasn't quite happened yet, even in the one we came from."

"The last timeline we came from was in danger of great catastrophe," added Zeitgeist. "But let's forget about that for right now. Needn't concern you."

"Hell's bells," muttered Moira. "And what in heaven's name should, then? Please, sirs an' ladies, start makin' sense."

"Can say that again," muttered two of the five Jamies on guard.

Fascination, who seemed always to be silent, shot him a blank look. Legion, who hadn't said a word since his brief exchange with Jamie, stayed silent with his hands interlinked on the table before him.

Wardog scratched behind his ear. "Please, madame, let me do the explanations. If you interrupt, it'll only take that much longer. If you do, I promise to make it much more complex and lengthy. Neither one of us need that, do we? Good. Now, let me begin.

"To begin, we call ourselves the Special Executive. We are mercenaries of a sort, from different, well, planets. We come from a timeline and a universe different from your own. We last left our own a bit up the pike from yours...um, sometime in the near future, a couple or three revolutions about your sun. Roughly speaking, of course."

Jamie was thinking things had gotten even more Star Trekky than before, but held his peace with difficulty. Cobweb gave him a sardonic smile.

"We were engaged in a battle on the timeline we just left, against an adversary called the Fury," said Wardog. "That name must remain in confidence here, and I hope we've judged you both well."

"The Fury?" asked Jamie, despite himself. "Like Nick Fury, the SHIELD agent?"

Zeitgeist looked at him in disgust. "Hardly that."

"The Fury beat us utterly," admitted Wardog. "Tore off my former artificial arm. Killed one of our associates, an insectoid named Oxo. I still miss him, God knows. And Legion here...well...he killed one of Legion's duplicate selves. The one who's still a week in the future."

"Now, wait," said Moira. "I hate to interrupt, sir, but ye're tellin' me that this little man can duplicate himself just like Jaime?"

"Well, not quite in the same way, madame," said Wardog. "From what we have learned, your Mr. Madrox has the power of atomic duplication. He can clone multiple bodies of himself physically, at will, and then put them back into one again. Legion here has, or I should say had, the power to summon versions of himself from the past or future to join him in a team of multiple selves. Similar effect, but quite different methodology. Your Mr. Madrox creates many separate bodies. Legion has only one body, but time-jumped many, many times. Am I being clear?"

"No," said Jamie.

"I think I can grasp it," said Moira. "Please continue."

"To continue," said Wardog, "the fight had gone absolutely to hell, we were not getting paid to continue it, and we had two members down. We left the matter in the hands of the heroes we encountered there, and returned to our ship to consider a plan of action. Poor Oxo was and is still irreparably dead. But, since Legion was still with us for three weeks, we set about trying to find a method of preserving his life."

"We could have frozen him in suspended animation," allowed Zeitgeist. "But when he awoke, he'd still only have days to live."

"Don't. Like. Being. Cold. Anyway," put in Legion.

Wardog said, "Aboard our ship, we put through a search query through the timelines we had available to us. Multiple googleplexes of them. The results indicated that this Earth, this time, and this locale would be the most profitable to us. The reason is obvious. If we can isolate the mutant factor that allows Mr. Madrox to duplicate himself, and if that ability can be, well, duplicated in Legion, it will allow him to clone a new body, one that will not have to die when the original does."

"Highly hypothetical," pointed out Moira.

Soberly, Wardog nodded. "But at this point, madame, it is all we have got."

After a pause, Moira said, "But what about the danger to Jamie? Are your procedures tested and safe?"

"As safe as they can be made, madame," Cobweb answered. "We mean you no harm. Under normal circumstances, of course."

Jamie angrily duplicated two more selves, but the Executive didn't seem to pay him much attention. "That's not really reassuring, Ms. Cobweb," Moira remarked. "Still an' all, if'n we do wish to help your Mr. Legion, what do you propose to offer us?"

"The knowledge that you have saved a fellow being from death," said Wardog. "Scientific knowledge that we will bequeath to you, about the matter of mutation. And the knowledge-" He brought his face level to Moira's as he spoke. "-that I chose not to rip your throat out for refusing."

Jamie made for him. Without a motion, Moira said, "Jamie. Stand fast."

"Get away from her," ordered Jamie.

Wardog pulled away a bit. "I am sorry," he said. "But sometimes, one must be emphatic about these matters."

"I don't know how many of me it'd take to bring you down, Mr. Dog, even with that metal arm of yours," said Jamie. "But if you make a move on her again, I promise you: I'll find out."

Zeitgeist said, "Our apologies, madame, for Wardog's statement. But we do need your help. If we can, we will exchange benefits. We really don't give a damn about the prisoners you have incarcerated here. We just wish to find a cure for Legion, apply it, and then go home. That is all."

"I see," said Moira. "And if we don't, you kill us."

"Not at all," said Wardog. "If you try fairly, even if you fail, we will pay you with information. If you simply refuse, then-"

"Watch out, Lon Chaney," Jamie remarked. "We've been through this before."

"Apologies, once again."

The Multiple Man's selves surveyed the entire crew from all sides of the table. The control-self spoke. "Do you realize how stupid this entire thing is? Five of you weirdos warp in, start a fight with us, take nine of me down, later threaten us with bodily harm, and then you say you're just folks and you want our help? Especially when it concerns something in my body? My power to dupe? And I don't have any idea what kind of tests you want to run on me, or what you want to do to me, or..."

A hand, strong but gentle, settled on his arm. It was Legion's. Jamie looked at the little man, and saw an honest sorrow in his eyes. More than that, a plea.

"Help. Me," said Legion, in sincerity. "Help. Me. Please."

Jamie said nothing, but stared back into Legion's eyes with a bit of empathy.

Moira MacTaggart spoke up. "Well, Jamie, I believe it's in your hands. If you feel you wish to trust these people, I leave it up to you. But if any harm is threatened to myself or to Jamie, Mr. Wardog, or if I feel any procedure will be harmful to him, forget it entirely. Am I understood?"

"Perfectly, madame," said Wardog.

"So make your decision," said Moira. And yes, she told herself, I do feel a bit like Pontius Pilate.

Jamie Madrox looked into Legion's eyes once again and then turned to the others. "All right. I'm probably nuts for saying it, but...yeah, I'll help."

Legion jumped up and gave Madrox a big, rib-bruising hug and a peck on the cheek. "Urgh," remarked Jamie. "Um, he's very...muscular...for his size."

"He likes you," said Zeitgeist. Legion nonetheless relaxed his grip.

Wardog offered his natural hand to Moira, and then to Jamie, shaking each of their hands. "A bargain, then, and I'm glad to have made it. I hope we can get to work straightaway. Thank both of you for your cooperation, and we'll be certain to hold up our end of the deal."

"Well, you can start with this," said Moira. "We were told that the lady here is a precog. Is that right?"

"She is," said Wardog, indicating Cobweb.

"Then what has she to say about the outcome of our little project?"

Cobweb paused only a moment. Then she said, nonchalantly, "Great danger."

A long pause.

"Let us get started," announced Wardog.

******************************

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