CHAPTER SIX: WINGS OF DEATH
Can't move. I can't move. Somehow, my entire body is frozen, but not my mind. I can see the struggle going on perfectly well.
Pyro is trapped in his own mind, oblivious his own pyrokinetic creations. A bull the size of a man, entirely made of flames, stampedes towards Scott, Nightcrawler, and Beast, at least ten yards from where I am. No one seems to be powerful enough to stop it. Poor Nightcrawler -- trapped within his own mind, too -- cannot teleport them out of harm's way. Beast's physical powers are useless against fire. And Scott's optic force beam would only pass through the fiery bull, causing it no harm.
Mine is the freedom to watch them die... I shudder to think such things. My love will never die, ever! Scott will survive this, I know. So will the rest. They must.
"Cyclops!" Rogue, standing here besides me, springs into a run towards them. But unless she has super-speed, she won't get there in time. "Watch out!" Her voice gives out into an emotional croak.
Professor Xavier, in his wheelchair besides me, trapped too, watches in horror. Cyclops -- Scott, for me and me alone -- is the leader of the team. This must seem like a nightmare for him. He can't walk. He can't save them. Or us. His face contorts in concentration. Telepathic wave after wave break out from his powerful mind and wash over us all. What he's trying to do, I do not know. But I hope it works, soon.
There are words in the air. Something else rather than what I see now with my eyes. My sight shifts to Pyro. He's still standing there, unmoving. Staring wide-eyed at me. The words are his. Trying to communicate with me telepathically. Yet, how? No matter, that which I ignored up to now rushes into my mind. There's more than words. There are images, incoherent sounds... music? The image becomes clear at once. In his mind, Pyro is remembering his own tortured past.
A basement, dimly lit, like this. There is a table. He's on the table -- on his back -- a frightened child of barely twelve. Another person -- an older man -- stands over him. The man touches his bare legs, lets his hand slide down to Pyro's private area. The child -- the pyrokinetic mutant -- screams in horror, but the man does not move. He flinches at the high-pitched shrill. Frowns, smacks child Pyro across his face. Another terror-filled scream. But something else: the flames that were on the candles nearby, for need or macabre decor, flare up. They dance and swirl, grow. Finally they envelop the man, too consumed in molesting the poor boy to have noticed before. The man lets out a scream as the flames engulf him, consuming him. Pyro scrambles away, into a corner, and watches with horrified delight the workings of his own revenge. The memory fades. I still stand aghast.
It must have taken less than a minute. Seconds. As I take a panicked glance sideways, the bull still hasn't reached the others. Rogue is still running, too far away to get there in time...
"You see? You see why we must stay together?" My attention snaps back to Pyro, immobile as ever. A tear rolls down his cheek. A great pain swirls its way to me from him. Sympathy swells in my own heart. "P-Please, stay with me! Don't leave me! Stay. Stay. Stay..." The word echoes in his own mind. He repeats it so many times it becomes a blur.
Scott's optic beam flashes across the room. It hits Pyro on his back. The bull stops, vanishes in thin air. Pyro falls to the ground unconscious. I can move again. But stay looking at his fallen form in despair.
I realize what has transpired. Emotion over-floods its boundaries. Knees become weak, and I fall onto the floor. So nervous. Shaking. The brooding, masking dimness has returned, like fog. I look up. Scott's safe. So are the others. I let out a sigh. But it echoes forever.
Hastily, I look up. Strange. Rogue is still running towards the other three. Nightcrawler has vanished from sight, teleported off somewhere unknown. The others are standing around, but they are not moving. Or rather, they are. But it is all the same motions, over and over. Perpetually. Scott's looking at me with a worried face. He must have seen me collapse onto the floor. He's worried, or was he? What is he feeling now? They are trapped, like I was just a few minutes before. Can they see what is happening too?
Everything is quiet, except the sound of fighting above. Wolverine and Storm are being attacked. Thud, thud, bump! Growling. Swoosh! But in here they echo forever.
I stand up. I am free of the mesmerism. I look puzzled towards the Professor, on my right. His forehead is creased in concentration. Keeping himself and me out of the illusion. "Go." I hear him in my mind. I begin to walk, foot-steps loud, threatening to break the world into little shards of glass. At times it seems that I advance nothing, but perpetually walk, as if in a dream. Then I suddenly realize that I have walked farther than I wanted to. "Keep walking, he is around here. Keep looking."
"What are you doing? Stop. Stop! I order--" There's another mind struggling to breach the Professor's protection. Mesmero. He fails every time.
I turn sharply around. Nothing. I swear I heard something there before. I can feel it. A man, shrouded in mist, in illusions. A grin slashes across my face. Water seeps from beneath the concrete floor, gathering in a shallow pool. Ripples. A lethargic splash as he tries to carefully step away from it. To avoid being seen. The pool expands. He's trapped now. He panics, loses control. Flashes into view for a second. Yes, it is Mesmero, trying with all his might to keep himself unseen. And at the same time, to keep the others in that state of endlessness.
The ground shakes. Boiling waters being pressured out from deep within the earth. They rise. Concrete floor cracks, bulges up. Water explodes up from below Mesmero. A boiling column of liquid picks him up a few feet into the air. The source gives out, and he collapses back down with a nasty crack of fractured bones. The others are released from his hold as reality ripples back from illusion. He unceremoniously drags himself away from view again, to a shadowy corner.
Movement and life returns to the room, as well as voices, and sounds. The others run to where Magneto is still hanging upside down, trying to free him. Beast and the Professor casting anxious glances around. Keeping an eye out for Mesmero or any others. Scott walks over to me. He needn't talk. He worries. I can see it in his face.
I reach out a hand to him, which he takes and gently squeezes it for reassurance.
There's something else in the air. I can feel a sharp difference from a few moments ago. A presence. Someone. Closing my eyes, I sense my way to the disturbance. I release the tight grip on Cyclops's hand. My head tilts upwards to find it, eyes opened. There is something familiar about this. In sudden shock I find myself wondering if it is the other Horseman, the one the Professor could not identify. It is different though. When I sensed Pyro, now lying still unconscious on the ground, I sensed need and craving for companionship -- love. This one is cold, calculating. Airily cold.
A great creaking sound comes from above. The roof is being torn away. A corner detaches and flops up and down precariously. More and more is being peeled away. Powerful winds sweep over us, as the roof of the warehouse finally gives a mighty groan and it torn away.
Storm. She hovers in mid air not too high above us. Arms outstretched, she commands the winds to blow against her opponent. A winged man, effortlessly keeping his own balance in the air. Once more I am glued on the spot, but not for long. A fireball flies up against the wind and smacks against Storm's side. It engulfs her in flames and she crashes into the roofless warehouse. Wolverine jumps over the wall and catches her before she falls to her death. The hurricane winds subside and settle into a breeze.
The flying man beats his wings gently, allowing himself to descend near to where an awakened Pyro now stands. Suddenly I feel as if my heart has been gripped by a cold fist. It is an angel. No. A demon. Neither: the Horseman of Air. Accomplice of Pyro's demented plot. His face is drawn into a cruel smirk. Blue skin taught over bones and scanty flesh. A skin-tight suit, blue with purple streaks becomes an illusion of a second skin. From his back, metal wings are spread wide. One of them protectively embracing Pyro's fiery-looking form. Yet it doesn't touch him.
I hear Rogue give a loud gasp, not too far behind me. There's a general stirring, restlessness. Do they recognize this mutant?
"Angel! What happened to you?" The Professor croaks out.
The blue and winged man speaks, "Angel? I am no longer that fool! I am Death. Horseman of Apocalypse!"
He doesn't care what pain that name causes to me. So boldly spoken, it destroys all happiness within me. Evaporates my hopes. I shudder in fear of the memories. But they do not come. Instead, his cold, piercing gaze lands upon me.
"You have come. Will you join us? Or shall we force you?" No emotion in that, his mind is as cold as his voice. As dead as his heart. Pyro hears this too, in his own mind. He stirs uncomfortably.
I begin to shake my head. But his answer is quicker than I thought. My senses scream out in pain. Stabbing. Burning. Unbearable pressure. A screech beyond all human comprehension. Phlegm rises to my throat, stays, and burns. My mind is being jabbed by a thousand telepathic knives. I let out a scream. Desperate. Scott hurries over to my side. But his touch alone is magnified a thousand times into a pain beyond belief. I shove him away, and fall to the ground. Writhing. Hands clapped to my sides. Shaking. Crying.
I am vaguely aware of Death's voice, "Do not move, or we'll kill him!" The ground begins to shake again. Boiling water rising, rising.
The assault is not over, yet. That terrible cold and heartless soul proceeds to reawaken the most painful memories of my short life. The accidents. The Deaths. They all die over and over. Screaming horribly in pain. It all blends into a shrieking frenzy. Just as they die, I die, over and over. And then wake up again, only to feel more pain.
Professor X's mind is trying to reach me. As my desperation peaks, I feel his thoughts far away. I rush to them. But there is no relief. The torture continues.
"Professor! Help me! Make it go away!"
"Calm down, Sam. Calm down!" His voice is commanding, but gentle. Calming. Yet, the torturous pain is not deflected. "Learn to shut it down. Now! Listen to me! It doesn't exist. It cannot harm you! Shut it off. Away. Away!"
A cruel voice intercedes, "No! Stay away, foolish old man! Listen to ME! Join us now! Join us--"
"Concentrate, Sam, concentrate. Shut it off--"
"Join us, and the pain will stop! It will all go away! Join us--"
"Concentrate!"
Think. Focus. Concentrate. Calm down. Shut it off. Breathe. Again, repeat. Think. Focus. Concentrate--
It stops. The ground stops shaking. So suddenly, it is like falling into a void. Everything is so still. No one moves. No one speaks. I cry. Emptying my watery soul upon the cracked concrete floor. A huge effort. Stand up. I will every muscle in my body to cooperate. Shakily, I rise to my feet. Straighten up. Tall, defiant.
Nothing else in the universe seems to move. It is all fixed upon this very moment. I have triumphed. Overcome my own weakness. "I have walked through the valley of death--" A passage from Scripture surfaces to my mind, from those long ago days when Mother used to take me to church. I was blessed, then, with a gift. Not a curse.
"So, you have chosen death." The demonic angel states plainly, coldly. I wonder suddenly what dark past did he have. What twisted nightmares did Apocalypse use against him. I cannot help but to grin: the name no longer affects me. It has lost its fierceness. Its horridness and power. Smashed it lies along with the ruins of its foundations.
The earth shakes violently. This is not my doing. Someone else. I feel another presence. I have spoken too soon. The battle is not over yet. It quakes again, stronger. The X-Men are knocked off their feet.
Pyro struggles to maintain his footing. Not him, however. Death stands unmoved, hovering a few inches above the ground. A cold emotion on his face. Eyes narrowed. An indulgent smile?
"Ah," a word that chills to the bone, cuts deep within, "they have finally arrived!"
The earthquake intensifies. Now the walls crack, crumble. A visible wave travels across the ground, rippling and bulging up everything along its path. The remaining walls of the warehouse fall as the wave passes them. Nothing is left standing. Turning around, I see the rest of Magneto's forces assembled outside. The Acolytes with Sabertooth in the lead. The Brotherhood, led by Avalanche. A shiver runs down my spine. It is him! The fourth and last Horseman is here. All four are gathered in the same place at the same time.
I turn to the Professor, who nods. He understands too. Suddenly it is so plain. So simple it. This was their plan all along...
The scene breaks out into chaos.
Sabertooth and Wolverine, hated enemies, clash in mid-run; claws and jaws snapping at each other. Inflicting the most damage possible. Beast launches himself against the metal-covered man, Colossus; who catches him in the air and throws him backwards. Indulging his bullying needs the Blob, runs towards Nightcrawler, who seemingly reappeared during the torture, and disappears just in time to avoid being crushed. Only to reappear and be attacked by Toad, who spits his greenish goo on him and momentarily blinds him. Scott departs from my side in the heat of battle and goes to lend a hand to Nightcrawler, zapping himself from place to place to avoid both mutants. Storm rises into the winds and flies straight towards Death, shooting a flash of lightening; winged, Death beats his wings once and takes off unharmed; she pursues him in the air. The mutant called Gambit lights up a playing card of his and throws it at Rogue's feet; it explodes and throws her backwards. As she stands up Quicksilver flashes and hits Rogue savagely in her stomach, but before he can flee she grabs him by an exposed body part. Absorbing his powers, and leaving him unconscious on the ground, she hurries over to finish her score with Gambit.
Avalanche is oddly standing still, unmoving, as if listening to something we cannot hear. I know what must be going through his mind. I pity him. The Professor cautiously avoids all battle and makes his way to Avalanche's general direction.
But I hear something from besides him, a battle cry. I turn around and see Pyro running at me, ablaze. Raising my hands, I summon water from below and two powerful streams clash against him while still a few feet away.
"Stop this!" I yell at him from where I am at. "They'll tear each other to pieces!"
He laughs, "What gave you that idea?" A huge fiery bird of prey forms from his hands, fueled by that tank on his back. I run as fast as I can towards him, closing my eyes, hoping that he doesn't notice me. He doesn't. Too absorbed in his own creation that will supposedly decimate the battlefield. I charge and tackle him with all my strength. We fall and roll in the broken ground, still entangled in our limbs.
Somehow, he manages to get the upper hand, and lands on top of me, trying to pin me down. Struggling with all my strength, I free a hand. Command moisture to coalesce and coat my free arm. A crystal forms around it, I trust, strong as metal. I bring it down upon his back, and his gas tank, breaking it. Above me, he roars in frustration. Punches me in the face. I look at him, so identical to that man who molested him as a child. Seemingly reading my mind, his face twists into a desperate frown, and recoils off me.
I stand up as water seeps up from underground and begins to cover his entire body. Hardening almost immediately. Trapping him in a grip he cannot break, nor thaw off. There are no more flames, or fuel to keep his fire alive. Satisfied that he is securely restricted, I turn and look towards the rest of the battle.
The rest of the X-Men are being overcome. The Professor has given up on his attempts to rouse Avalanche from the trance, and is making his way to where Magneto now slumbers in the floor. It is all a misunderstanding. The Brotherhood and the Acolytes are fighting the X-Men because it is a habit now. They think that we have come to attack them. If Magneto can be awakened, the meaningless battle would stop. The Horsemen's plan would be thwarted. Just as the Professor reaches the crimson clad knight-in-slumber, a flash of silver streaks across what used to be a warehouse. Quicksilver knocks the Professor off his wheelchair. A flash of Scott's optic beam hits him and a throws him a few feet away.
Overhead, storm clouds have gathered and flash occasionally with lightning and claps of thunder. The white haired woman flies across the clouded skies after the illusive blue man with wings. His cold laughter echoes throughout the place.
Professor Xavier indignantly crawls his way to Magneto. Reaches a hand, and places it in his forehead. Immediately the magnetic fields of the place are felt. Magneto opens his eyes; they're blank, speaking volumes of his great power. He levitates himself off the ground, looks around. Stares back down at Xavier. No helmet to isolate his mind from the Professor's. Their eyes are locked in communication. Magneto looks away and in a booming voice orders his troops to stop at once. The battle is over.
Seeing this, Death stops his bemused laughter. He quickly glances at Pyro, still trapped by my very own creations. A deep frown. A lightning bolt strikes him from behind, and he begins to fall to the ground. It's a rouse; he quickly regains his balance and swoops low over the gathered mutants. In a swift maneuver he reaches for and grabs Avalanche, still entranced, and flies off with him, too fast for Storm to follow.
Moved with sudden inspiration, I attempt a new trick: command the ground to even out and propel me forward. It obeys, and I glide serenely towards the rest, Pyro sliding safely behind me. Once there, Magneto shoots me a disapproving glance, but it vanishes as the Professor speaks into his mind.
~*~*~
The X-Men are all aboard the Blackbird. We are ready to take off. Storm and the Professor are piloting the plane. Wolverine managed to inflict a number of serious injuries on himself while battling Sabertooth. He's resting in the back seat.
As we take to the air, I spot seven orbs floating alongside us. There goes the Brotherhood and the Acolytes, minus two. Avalanche has been taken by Death; I fear we have lost him forever now. I hope not. As odd as it seems, the Professor has offered them to come with us, now that their own base has been destroyed. I know this means more than a simple invitation. He proposes an alliance between us. To put aside differences and work together to stop Apocalypse and his mad Horsemen. Magneto did not say anything. But I take it as a good sign that he has accepted coming with us to the mansion.
I steal glances at Scott besides me. He is deep in thought. He catches me looking at me and smiles. This time more sincere than when we first came here. I reach over to where he is seating and take his hand in mind.
"I love you," I murmur to him, our little public secret.
"I love you, too."
A brief kiss. We're still working on public displays of affection. And we return to thinking, hand-in-hand.
There's only one thing in my mind now: Pyro is coming with us, too. As a prisoner, nothing more. But already, even though he is stowed away under heavy surveillance in another part of the Blackbird, he begins to worry me. I know things the others don't. I know of his tragic past. And, for once, I pity him. Poor, demented soul.
TO BE CONTINUED...