August 19, 1992

"They're really not much to look at right now," Sinister said, snapping a collar around Magneto's neck, "They walked right into that last one."

He looked over at Polaris and Archangel. The two of them stood impassively, watching their former comrades get locked up. It was really amusing, and it made him giggle to think about the control they had over them now.

"It was quite an obvious trap really, but I think the sight of their friends made them a little antsy," Sinister said, "They put far too much stock in that: both teams. I don't know why you thought they were such a threat."

"Alone, they might not be much," Apocalypse said, "But think of all the damage that the X-men did by themselves. When the two teams came together, they threw you into prison for two decades."

Sinister nodded, finishing up with the collar.

"You know, Trask did have some lovely ideas," Sinister said, "Funny. He thought he was developing everything to prevent mutants from becoming dominant, when it was really the other way around."

"Human arrogance knows no bounds," Apocalypse said.

Sinister stepped out of the cell and sealed it up behind him. He looked up at the rest of the hanger.

"I wish I could've gotten my hands on McCoy," he said, "These are truly brilliant designs."

"You'll have your chance," Apocalypse said, "But I've found the last horseman."

"Really?" Sinister asked.

He couldn't help but be interested. He knew that Apocalypse tended to pick people that, at first, seemed random. It was only when Sinister had peeled back the first layer, often literally, that he saw why his master did what he did. It was brilliant.

"I want you to get to work on him right away," Apocalypse said.

Sinister gestured around him.

"But what about the little Summers?" Sinister said, "I wanted to do some preliminary tests."

"Luna Summers can wait a few minutes, as can the Neyaphem," Apocalypse said.

Sinister pointed behind him at the cells that the X-men and Brotherhood were sealed in.

"But what about them?" he asked.

"I have an offer to make," Apocalypse said, "As I said, they are fine warriors."

He scratched his chin.

"Then again, there is one matter that I would like to take care of as soon as possible," he said.

"Speak, and I'll get my tools out," Sinister said.

"So eager," Apocalypse said.

"When have I not been?" Sinister asked.

"True enough," Apocalypse said.

He began walking. Sinister hurried to catch up with him.

"So?" he asked, "What is it that you want me to do?"

Apocalypse smiled.

"I think that it's time that we give our dear Charles Xavier a little visit," he said.

Sinister broke out into a grin. He'd been looking forward to this. It was like he was getting ready to see a long-lost child again.


Moira was just beginning to stir from her sleep when the door opened. Charles looked up as Sinister walked in, followed closely by the man that Charles had fought in the school. Two soldiers flanked them.

"Take the woman, leave him," the man said.

Charles held onto Moira, glaring at the two men. He knew that he wasn't going to be strong enough, but he held onto her anyway. She was yanked from his arms. The soldiers dragged her out of the room. Her eyes were fixed on him, struggling to focus as she was taken from him.

"What are you doing?" Charles said.

Sinister laughed and the man merely inclined his head. He stepped behind the glass door. It shut immediately. The soldiers dragging Moira out left, shutting and locking a different door. The man gestured to her.

"I'm moving her next door," he said.

Sinister knelt by Moira and began fishing things out of his pocket.

"Don't you dare touch her!" Charles shouted.

Sinister laughed again. He pulled out a syringe and tapped it. The man moved forwards.

"I like to think of myself as a forgiving man," the man said, "For a long time none of this was personal. It was simply a quest to discover whether or not I was necessary to the world, or if I should go back to waiting."

He looked at the syringe that Sinister held before turning back to Charles.

"My faithful servant was simply trying to figure out if the time was right," the man said.

Charles thought of the man with the gray skin and the blue tattoos. Sinister laughed again, and it unnerved him.

"Charles Xavier. Son of a British mother and a father who was a member of New York's elite," the man said, "Graduated from Cambridge. You were talked about for a long time in many academic circles. The young man with such strange but brilliant ideas. Your teachers expected great things from you. In a way, they were right."

Charles narrowed his eyes.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"The name Apocalypse is as good as any," Apocalypse said.

He crossed his arms.

"If it helps, know that I think of you as a worthy opponent," he said, "You have a warrior's spirit, trapped inside a broken body. I am impressed with the effort you put into fighting me, even though you didn't know it was me that you were fighting. No doubt you thought that you were fighting intolerance or hate, or some generalized idea like that. Just like a philosopher."

Behind Apocalypse Sinister put the syringe down. Moira was starting to stir, but Charles could see that she was still drugged heavily.

"Years ago I deemed the world ready, and was marshaling my forces in South America," Apocalypse said, "But you, a group of children led by a woman and a cripple, destroyed all of that. Then, when I hired Black Tom to get your team out of the way, you survived again. It's an annoying thing you do."

He waved his hand.

"Then you had my chief scientist locked up for twenty years," Apocalypse said, "That was vexing to say the least."

His eyes narrowed.

"Because of you, my plans were thwarted, and I'm just starting out when I should have ruled for several years," he said, "Because of you, I had to watch everything crumble time and time again. Your pets were responsible for the destruction of several of Sinister's hosts. Do you know just how difficult it is to transfer him to a different host? It's very painful to push his consciousness into another one. They have to be groomed for years."

He shook his head.

"You have come so close to ruining me," Apocalypse said, "All for a helpless dream of coexistence. I'm older than you Xavier, and I have seen the world fear and hate what it does not understand. Your hopes are woefully misplaced. I resent that forced naivety in a mind that's as brilliant as yours."

He put his hands behind his back.

"Do you know why you're here Xavier? Why you're really here?"

Sinister found a mask from his pocket and began putting it on. Apocalypse did the same.

"You need to be contained, that's true enough," Apocalypse said, "I'm of two minds as to whether or not you'll be killed. I might have a use for you. However, the only person I really needed was your wife. Her and your...son."

Charles felt cold.

"What have you done?" he asked.

"I've had this Kurt taken from the camp where the rest of your rats are staying," Apocalypse said, "You see, I know who his father really is. Sinister is something of an expert on the x-gene. You can pretend that he's your son as much as you want, but he carries the DNA of one of the last Neyaphems. And your Archangel, of course, is one of the last Cheyarafims. See, he has healing blood because that's one of their traits. It's one of the reasons why I chose him as my herald of death. That and his impressive desire to die honorably in Boston."

Sinister smiled in the back. Apocalypse inclined his head towards him.

"Perhaps you would like to explain the next part," Apocalypse said.

"Neyaphems have poisonous blood," Sinister said, his voice gleeful, "Or, in the right dose, they have blood that can cause strong hallucinogenic visions, weaken minds. It's very difficult to dominate your pets, and I need to find a way solidify control over them. He's selected Polaris and Archangel to be two of the heralds of his new age. What's an apocalypse without horsemen?"

He smiled.

"Of course, I'm one in a way," he said, "I suppose I'm famine, going throughout the land and harvesting those worthy of it."

Sinister finished putting his mask on.

"After your son's been bled like a stuck pig, I'm going to dissect him," Sinister said, "As for your other son, the crazy one, he'll be doused with his brother's blood and end up as one of Apocalypse's pets."

Charles glared at him, his nails digging into the floor.

"You're too strong to control," Apocalypse said, "But I believe that your son might be a little easier to influence."

"You underestimate him," Charles said, "You underestimate both of them."

"I'm sure," Apocalypse said, "But the question you should be asking is this: just what are we doing with your wife?"

Sinister plunged the needle into her arm. Moira jerked in a spasm.

"Moira!" Charles cried.

"You don't credit me with very much intelligence," Sinister said, "If you did, you would have wondered why I'd waste my virus on a human. The answer is that I was incubating it, letting it get to its full strength."

He tilted his head. Charles kept breathing, feeling the panic start to well up in him.

"The true brilliance of the Legacy virus is that it's harvested from the DNA of the original mutants," Sinister said, "Even my master believes that the Summers might have preceded him. Like the machine I gave Magneto, the virus is meant to change humans to mutants."

His eyes became dreamy.

"Of course, most humans won't survive this process. Even most mutants won't survive coming into contact with it," Sinister said, "But the surviving population will be desperate for a savior."

"Something like that," Apocalypse said, amused.

"The original plan was, of course, to harvest it from her corpse," Sinister said, "You stopped that, but even when cured my virus was designed to exist within the DNA. You neutralized it, but you didn't make it go away."

He pulled the syringe out. It was filled with black fluid. Next to him Moira began to breath harshly. She was fully awake now, but she started coughing. Charles wanted to scream. Not again.

"Moira," Charles said.

Charles grabbed at the floor, pulling himself so he was up against the glass. To his horror he saw black webbing around Moira's eyes.

"As a side affect, it will become active in her again," Sinister said, "Although, this time I imagine that it will take longer to make its way through her system."

Sinister got up. Apocalypse inclined his head.

"That's my retribution," he said, "Nothing happens to you. Not until you see your wife and sons die or become enslaved. After that, you get to watch everything you've worked for fall apart. Then, and only then, do I decide what to do with you."

Apocalypse tapped the glass.

"This will become soundproof in a few minutes," he said, "And, with the band neutralizing your powers, you're going to have to watch her die in silence. I did say that the dalliances between gods and mortals were foolish. I think I forgot to mention that they often end in tragedy."

Sinister got up. He left along with Sinister. A second later Moira's coughs and struggling breaths were silenced. Charles reached out in anguish for his wife. All that met his hand was the cold glass.