A certain Dr. Nathaniel Essex was about to prove this point. Once again.

A cold, decidedly unpleasant smile twitched at the corners of his mouth, (As opposed to the corners of his ears), as he gazed lovingly upon his newest plotting aid, the Super-Special-Flashy-High-Tech-Chock-Full-Of-Dials-Buttons-Bells-And-Whistles-
Groovy-Interdimensional-Teleportation-Thingy, affectionately referred to as "The Thingy".

It was his latest means of destroying those pesky X people, his most clever device so far, (Or so he thought), his darling that he favored above all else. It was.. His Thingy.

And it would succeed in what it was created for, (Unlike all the others). It would, it would, it would, I tell you!.. Er, sorry.

Just as The Plan would..

He barely refrained from cackling maniacally. It, (The Plan), was so ingenious, he was amazed he hadn�t thought of it before.

But now he had, and, well, it was really, really nifty.

"Hey, uh, Boss?" An all too familiar voice piped up suddenly.

Sinister paused in his fawning over the machine. "Yes, Scalphunter?" He sighed, irritated at the interruption.

He could almost hear the unofficial leader of his Marauders scratch his head, (An idiotic habit cultivated from being cloned one too many times..). "What exactly is.. Um.. That?"

Jaw tightening ever-so-slightly, he shifted his gaze to the inquirer. "This, is the downfall of the X-Men."

A blank, uncomprehending stare was his only reply.

After briefly considering performing an experiment on the Marauder that involved trained rats and a cattle prod, Essex forcibly calmed himself enough to speak rationally, (After all, he could always bring the man back as a gerbil, next time he died). "I, am going to use this apparatus, to finally rid myself of the X-Men." He explained slowly, as though talking to a small child or, well, Marauder.

Scalphunter "ah"ed, and nodded in understanding.. Then stopped. "How?"

Oh, yes.. He was definitely going to be a gerbil next time.. "By bisecting the periphery of an alternate macrocosm by means of interdimensional transportation, I contrive to obtain a well-nigh superlatively puissant conscious agent that I have detected in existence there."

Silence.

The geneticist narrowed his eyes. Worse than a gerbil.. He�d have to think of something worse than a gerbil.. "As I have all but run out of capable individuals here, I�ve looked to other dimensions for persons who might actually be able to exterminate Xavier�s students." He translated brusquely, pointed digs not even escaping the attention of the clone-of-a-clone-of-a-clone-of-a-clone-etc.-and-so-on. "I�ve succeeding in locating such a being, and will thus need to bring her to this universe. And that, is what the Thingy is for."

While the Marauder visibly brightened at the mention of a "her", he otherwise didn�t seem quite as impressed with The Plan as his employer was.

Hm.. Perhaps a chihuahua.. Or a vole.. Yes, a vole would be nice.. Scalphunter would make a good vole..

Even as his employer was contemplating what small animal he would spend some quality time as, something rare and wondrous happened; One of those strange Intelligent Thoughts, (Foreign in the world of X), somehow managed to worm it�s way into the gray Jello that passed for the head of the Marauders� brain.

Somewhere, a snowball emerged from the Inferno unscathed.

He looked over at Sinister, an odd spark showing brightly in his wide eyes, (Sentience?), and asked The Question. "But how do you know if she�ll want to attack the X-Men?"

Essex stopped plotting for a moment, and stared at his minion, mouth hanging open. It was incomprehensible! How could anyone not want to eradicate those X people? It was.. It was just a given! Because if they didn�t want to demolish the X-Men, that would mean they were on their side! And if they were on their side, they would be.. They would be.. A Good Guy!

Wait a minute.. Good Guys always fought against Bad Guys. Mr. Sinister was a Bad Guy. So that meant this all powerful being would attack him-

His mind couldn�t take anymore of these thoughts, and shut down in self-defense, leaving in working order only the part of his cerebrum that handled basic functions, such as breathing, pumping blood, rattling off nonsensical techno jargon, and manufacturing nearly delusional overconfidence.

Suddenly remembering his lackey�s presence and unanswered, Dr. Essex desperately wracked his brain for a response that would put all doubts to rest. "Uh.. Er.. I.. I.. Just.. Do..?"

With pathetically little to feed it, the flame of intelligence winked out in Scalphunter�s mind, as swiftly as it had started to burn. Instantly, his boss�s explanation seemed a heck of a lot more sensible. He smiled faintly, and nodded, satisfied for the moment.

Having recovered from his, er, crisis, the geneticist waved his employee away. "Go.. Walk Janos, or something."

The Marauder obediently disappeared, (As defiance does require some measure of intellect).

Nathaniel Essex sighed in relief, easing himself into the comfy recliner he kept hidden behind a few boxes labeled "Disposed Specimen Cups", (Ensuring that even his little "team" would stay away). He had some masterminding to do.