In association with the X-Men Comics group on Facebook, we are proud to present… XvX Round 12, in which we find out – who is the fastest man alive?
It was like nothing he’d ever seen. The running track stretched into the distance, and at either side were towering marble walls. Seated atop these walls – which looked to stretch easily forty feet into the sky – Quicksilver could see a crowd of… well, the only word he could use was beings. Some were pink, some were blue; some were humanoid, some were octopoid; some were normal-sized, some were enormous. All were creatures he’d never seen before, and for a guy who hung around with the X-Men and had been a long-running Avenger, that was saying something.
Pietro Maximoff looked around himself, curious, trying to work out just what was going on. It seemed obvious he’d been brought to some sort of alien world to show off his speed, he reckoned; why else put him on a running track? Two emotions warred within him; irritation at the idea that he was nothing more than a performing monkey, and pride that his speed had evidently captured extraterrestrial attention.
“Lay-deez and not-so-gentle-beings,” boomed a voice that he recognised from somewhere. He looked around at super-speed, immediately working out that there was a creature looking like some kind of giant slug hovering over the track. “Pree-zenting the one, the only, QUICKSILVER!”
To Pietro’s gratification, the crowd went wild. He was less pleased, though, when he placed the voice and face; “Mojo,” he grumbled. He didn’t feel so proud now, more angry; he considered Mojo the equivalent of those lame reality TV show presenters, whose shows were frequented by Z-list celebrities in the hope of a comeback. Mojo had another thing coming if he thought Quicksilver would perform on demand…
“Daddy,” screamed a girl’s voice, and Pietro’s heart broke as he saw that Mojo was holding a young girl by his side.
“What do you want, Mojo?” Quicksilver yelled as he raced to a point nearer to the alien. “What is it this time? Mutant Idol? The Third-Rate Olympics?”
Mojo laughed. “XvX,” he boomed back. “X-Man against X-Man!”
“Oh, great,” Pietro grumbled, trying to work out a way to get to his daughter. “I’m not an X-Man,” he bellowed.
He’d rather hoped the declaration would at least shock the crowd, but Mojo simply laughed. “You’ll do,” the lump of lard replied, and then gestured. “We simply want to know who’s fastest…”
Another mutant was stood on the track now, Pietro saw. Male, clad in black-and-white; Northstar, a fairly decent guy if Quicksilver remembered rightly. Also a super-speedster, and Quicksilver shrugged. “So it’s a race?”
Mojo, of course, was addressing the crowd again: “Aaaaand in the black-and-white corner – NORTHSTAR!”
The other mutant was at Quicksilver’s side in an instant. “Sorry,” Northstar said over the crowd’s cheers, “He’s got my husband.”
“And it’s a race?”
Quicksilver sighed. “Then my condolences for your loss.”