CHAPTER TWO -- "UNITED WE STAND..."
"So...what do we do now?"
Frowning thoughtfully, Cyclops gazed across the alien landscape, keeping his eyes on the distant horizon. "I'm not sure," he murmured in response to Jubilee's question, consciously forcing himself not to look at her expectant youthful features. "To be perfectly honest, I don't really understand what that Dungeon Master person expects from us... but I *do* know that whatever it is, we *shouldn't* try to challenge it. Anyone with the power to drag all of us into this 'Realm', breaking through the Blackbird's defences like they didn't even exist, is not the kind of person we want to argue with or try and go up against."
"Agreed," said Storm, nodding slightly. "I believe the most appropriate plan of action to take at the moment would be to find the 'pupils' that the man spoke of. Perhaps they will be able to elaborate on his vague request for assistance."
Scott clenched a fist, but did not allow his frustration to show through in his voice, grateful not for the first time that his eyes were not visible to the others. "That's what I'd suggest as well, *if* I knew where to begin looking. We don't even know what these pupils look like, let alone where they're likely to be found. We're not even sure how big this damned Realm is!" He sighed and struggled to maintain his clear-headed sense of leadership; the abstract nature of this situation was setting him on edge, in spite of the calm voice of reason that continually whispered into his mind, reminding him that he and his friends had all been through far more bizarre adventures than this.
"Hey!" cried Wolverine suddenly, the crude sharpness of his voice cutting bitterly into Scott's thoughts. "Did you hear that?" He cocked his head slightly to the side.
Cyclops followed the other mutant's shrouded eyes as he stared vacantly at some distant point, struggling to hear whatever it was that Logan was hearing; it took a few moments, but eventually he became aware of the faintest sound of screaming, emanating from some distant point to the west. "Yes," he said softly as he struggled to pinpoint the sound's exact origin. "It sounds like somebody needs our help. Let's check it out...they might be able to tell us where these 'pupils' are."
Wolverine was already running in the approximate direction from which the screams seemed to originate; the other X-Men were quick to follow him. Where Rogue immediately began flying above and ahead of the others, scouting the desolate landscape as she carved her way gracefully through the air, Storm preferred to remain on the ground, chasing Gambit and Jubilee as they fought to keep pace with Wolverine. Scott brought up the rear, and as he squinted at the others' backs, he found himself wondering what exactly he was leading them into. Such a rash decision was extremely dangerous--a fact that he had learned the hard way from painful experience--but somehow, even as he searched within himself, he could not find even the faintest glimmer of doubt. He *knew*, beyond all question, that this was right, and this breathtaking certainty set him on edge; it was not normal for him to feel so confident, and nor was it safe.
It did not take long to locate the origins of the screaming; five oddly-dressed teenagers and an equally strange-looking little boy were engaged in an obviously hopeless battle against something that looked remarkably like a gigantic armadillo. Scott blinked, staring in awestruck silence at the creature, shocked into a momentary state of static dumbness.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Wolverine was muttering with his characteristic harsh sarcasm. "Welcome to the Twilight Zone."
The tallest of the six children, a strapping blond young man dressed in green, was the closest to the creature, eyes blazing defiantly as he stood in front of the little boy, who wore some kind of primitive Barbarian's clothing; the two of them appeared almost completely fearless as the howling creature slashed at them with its claws, and, in spite of the obvious gravity of the situation, Cyclops took a moment to admire their courage. A short distance away, a dark-haired boy in chain-mail armour was cowering behind a gleaming orange shield, apparently oblivious to the fact that the creature was nowhere near him; he was being yelled at--undoubtedly in a way that was far from polite--by an athletic-looking dark-skinned girl wearing an elaborately-jewelled Amazonian outfit, who was simultaneously trying to draw the creature's attention away from the other two. Behind the wailing armour-clad one, a skinny boy in glasses and baggy green Wizard's robes stood quivering beside a shrieking red-haired girl clad in a short pink dress.
"Woah," cried Gambit, blinking in disbelief at the impossible scene that lay before them. "That be the biggest rat Gambit ever saw. Where'd it come from?"
Growling, Wolverine extended his claws. "Who cares?" he yelled, moving forwards with familiar bloodlust in his eyes. "I say it's just beggin' for a lesson in good manners...and I'm just the guy to teach it." Before Cyclops could summon the breath to call out a warning, the wild-eyed mutant was rushing headfirst into the danger zone, once again taking it upon himself to play the heroic role without pausing to consider the consequences of his actions.
"Sounds good ta me!" cried Rogue, swooping down to follow Logan's trail. "Didn't nobody ever teach that ol' fella that it ain't polite to be attackin' folks who ain't done nothin' to them?"
Cyclops felt a weary groan clenching in his throat, and struggled to suppress it. He was not surprised by the irresponsible vigilante attitude that seemed to overpower the two headstrong X-Men--as it did every time they found themselves confronted by a perceived threat--and nor was he particularly impressed by it. There was no denying the fact that the determination pasted across Wolverine's face as he extended his claws and leaped readily into battle without pausing to consider the wisdom of the action was admirable, as was the fierce dedication in Rogue's eyes as she flew fearlessly between the creature and its victims with complete disregard for her own safety. Still, Scott couldn't help wishing that they had the patience to wait until they knew exactly what manner of creature they were up against.
The sight of the green-and-yellow flash flickering across its field of vision sent the creature reeling in surprise, and as its glowing eyes struggled to focus on Rogue's darting form, Wolverine took the opportunity to strike from behind, driving his claws right through the heavy armour plates of the armadillo's back as if they were nothing but paper tissues, grinning sadistically all the while.
Roaring in pain, the creature spun to face its newest attacker, bringing its razor-like claws down towards Logan's head. As Wolverine raised his own claws to parry the blow, an ear-splitting metallic clash exploded through the air, and Cyclops winced in pain. "Nice try, Sparky," growled Logan, pushing the creature back with obvious effort, "but I ain't gonna be that easy to beat." Drawing his fist back to his side, he paused for a moment, before thrusting forwards with his other arm, a primal snarl erupting from his lips as he slashed at the creature's chest, his entire body visibly pulsing with the primitive thrill of combat.
The armadillo reared back, emitting a sharp whimper of pain as lines of dark blood welled up, sinking to the ground in obvious pain. Seeing the weakness in his opponent, Wolverine lunged forwards once again, fist raised to deliver one more crushing blow upon the helpless creature's head. Scott tried to call out, to demand that Logan retreat and leave the wounded creature to escape, but he found himself unable to speak; in spite of the armadillo's size, it seemed no match for Wolverine's adamantium claws and powerful strength, and, judging by the possessed look in Logan's eyes, he was not about to quit.
"That's enough, sugar," said Rogue, moving to land gracefully beside the panting Wolverine, and placing a restraining hand on his arm. "You got him. Now let the poor fella go. He ain't no threat ta no-one now, so there ain't no point in tryin' ta take him out. We stopped him from hurtin' them kids, an' that's enough."
Wolverine snarled at her and wrenched his arm away from her gentle restraint; still, he retracted his claws and made no attempt to stop the creature as it stumbled to its feet and limped away, the dripping blood from its wounds accentuated by the readily apparent bruises to its ego--or the armadillo equivalent of an ego. Cyclops smiled, unable to keep the relief from his face, and moved, followed closely by Storm and the others, to congratulate Logan on a job well done--in terms of both neutralising the threat and controlling his infamous temper; however, the bright-eyed pride on Jubilee's face as she rushed to embrace the scowling Wolverine was more than enough to turn a simple 'well done' into a small--but equally loud and disordered--victory celebration.
"Hate to break up this little party here, but who do you guys think you're trying to be? Are you on your way to some fancy-dress thing or what? Jeez, talk about lame costumes!"
Whirling around in surprise, Cyclops recognised one of the six kids that Wolverine and Rogue had rescued from the armadillo; it was the one dressed in chain-mail, the one who had sat behind his shield and done absolutely nothing for the entire duration of the battle. "Excuse me?" he asked with a raised eyebrow, speaking as politely as he could to a boy for whom he was already beginning to develop an acute dislike.
"I *said*, are you on your way to some fancy-dress thing or what?" the kid repeated with a smirk. "I've never seen such dopey costumes in my whole life!"
Scott glanced over his shoulder at the others; it was obvious from the bewilderment on their faces--and the obvious anger rising on Logan's--that they were just as confused as he was. Before he had the chance to ask the boy to explain himself a little more clearly, one of the other children pushed his way into the conversation; it was the tall blond one in the Robin-Hood outfit. "Eric, shut up!" he snapped, pushing the other boy out of the way. "I'm sorry. He doesn't have very well-developed people skills." Turning his attention to Wolverine and Rogue, he grinned, then cleared his throat nervously. "Uhm, thanks for rescuing us back there. I don't know how you managed to get through that thing's armour, but I'm glad you did!"
Wolverine ignored him, scowling at the one called Eric with furious rage on his face. "You've got a big mouth on you, kid," he growled. "Ya might wanna learn ta keep it shut b'fore *someone* decides ta remove it!"
Rolling his eyes, Eric nudged the other boy. "I'm so sure," he snorted with a smug grin. "Like I'm gonna listen to anything that some costume-party reject says to me."
"In case you've forgotten, Mister Diplomat, he just saved our lives," said the blond boy, sighing with obviously long-suffering patience. "Show him a little respect." Turning back to Cyclops and the other X-Men, he gave an apologetic shrug and smiled shyly. "Well, anyway, thanks again for your help. It was much appreciated, even if *some* of us don't have the manners to say so."
"Weren't no big deal, sugar," said Rogue with a warm grin.
Ever the rational and focused member of the group, Storm took a step towards the boy. "While we are here, perhaps you will be able to assist us," she said, and Scott nodded as he remembered their purpose. "We were directed by a short gentleman known as--" she paused for a moment, recalling "--DungeonMaster, to seek his 'pupils'. Do you know where we can find these individuals?" She gazed expectantly at the young man, eyes gleaming with hopeful anticipation.
"You bet we do!" cried the smallest of the children.
The older boy smiled gently at his young charge. "All right, Bobby," he said gently, then turned back to Storm. "I think he was referring to us," he explained, suddenly looking rather uneasy. "He always tells us that we're his pupils... but I don't see why he'd tell anyone to look for us." Suddenly, his crystal blue eyes brightened. "Unless you know of a way for us to get home...?" As Scott looked at him, he saw, for the first time since laying eyes on the young man, not a courageous hero or the brave Robin Hood of his attire, but a hopeful child.
"I don't think so," he said softly. "We were told we're supposed to help you fight a great evil... but he didn't say very much more than that. We were hoping you could explain what he meant."
The boy shook his head, and his eyes brimmed with quickly concealed tears. At that moment, Scott felt a deep sense of empathy swelling within him; it was fairly obvious that this boy was the leader of the strangely-dressed group, just as Cyclops led the X-Men, and, judging by his pained expression--the expression that he fought so hard to mask--it was a role that he simply was not ready to play.
"A great evil?" one of the other children, the young girl in the pink dress said, sighing very softly. "Not again!"
The loud-mouthed one released an exaggerated groan. "When is that drip gonna learn that we're sick of doing his dirty work for him? I say we just sit here and refuse to even try and figure out this latest riddle of his! Ha! That'll show him!"
Hank clenched his fists, then turned to glare at the other boy, silencing him, before once again returning his attention the X-Men. "All right," he said after a brief moment. "I suppose we should start by introducing ourselves... and then we can try and figure out what's going on." At Scott's agreeable nod, he extended a hand. "I'm Hank, and I guess you'd call me the leader of this little group." The slight anxiety that pervaded his otherwise-friendly expression was more than enough to confirm Scott's suspicions of the boy's insecurities.
The dark-haired boy grunted. "Yeah, well, that can always change."
"And this is Eric," said Hank, tilting his head towards his obnoxious companion. "Also known as 'the one who doesn't know when to shut his mouth'." He then moved to introduce each of his friends in turn, beginning with the enthusiastic little boy in the Barbarian's outfit. "This is Bobby, and his sister Sheila." This last was spoken with a gesture towards the girl in the pink dress. "That's Diana--" motioning to the one in the elaborate jewellery "--and Presto," patting the shoulder of the nervous-looking one in baggy Wizard's robes. "We've been stuck in this Realm for...well, a long time now...and we're searching for a way home. I'm not really sure why DungeonMaster told you to look for us, but--"
Cyclops smiled. "That's okay. My name is Scott Summers, also known as Cyclops, and my friends are Storm, Gambit, Jubilee, Rogue--" gesturing towards them just as Hank had done "--and Wolverine. We're still not entirely sure why we were brought here, but, from what we could understand from your friend DungeonMaster, it involves disposing of a great evil power...of some sort, which has come into the possession of one named--" he paused, struggling to remember.
"Venger," said Storm.
Hank and his comrades sighed heavily, sharing momentary looks of resigned disappointment. Scott found himself briefly surprised by their recognition of the name, but dismissed the shock immediately; after all the surrealism that he and the other X-Men had encountered thus far, he was willing to be a little indulgent towards the strangers. "Yes," he continued, forcing himself to avoid making contact with Hank's piercing blue eyes. "Venger. He told us that this..." he frowned, "uhh, person... has obtained some sort of incredible power, and that *we* are supposed to help *you* to destroy it." He looked to his fellow X-Men, then shrugged thoughtfully, looking to the boy for an explanation.
"Yeah, right!" cried the one called Eric, crossing his arms impatiently. "Forget these jokers, Hank. I say we keep searching for the way home. There's no way I'm going to trust a bunch of comic-book hero wannabes."
Wolverine raised a threatening fist, stepping towards the smirking boy with obvious intent; had Gambit not placed a restraining hand on his arm, he would have undoubtedly attacked the kid. Thankfully, Eric's companions seemed equally irritated by his unwarranted aggression, and were far less hesitant than the X-Men to express it.
"Will you just shut up, Eric!" yelled the little one, Bobby, raising a primitive-looking club that was almost as tall as he was. "They're totally cool! I wish DungeonMaster had let *us* dress up like comic-book super-heroes!"
Jubilee snorted and shook her head. "Comic-book super-heroes?" she repeated, blinking in disbelief, reaching out to poke the kid in the chest. "What are you talking about, Short Stuff?"
"Aw, come on!" cried Eric, pushing Bobby out of the way; Cyclops watched with suppressed amusement as the poor Barbarian toppled over and landed in an untidy heap on the ground. "You guys have *got* to be kidding!" Turning to grin at Rogue and Logan, he continued with infuriating sarcasm. "Look, I don't know how you pulled off those little tricks against that giant rat back there, but I'm not impressed! Why don't you save your little act for someone who cares?"
Wolverine exploded, wrenching free from Gambit's hold and moving to place his hand over Eric's throat. "Listen ta me, Funny-Boy," he snarled dangerously, "I ain't too wild about this whole thing, and I sure as hell ain't happy about being dragged God-knows how many miles away from home just to beat up some crazy jerk that I don't even know! *Therefore*, I ain't in the best of moods at the moment, so *don't* try an' wind me up, 'cos it'll be *you* who ends up regretting it, kid, not me."
In an attempt to prove his point, he extended the claws of his free hand, holding them up for Eric's inspection. The terrified teenager took one look at the adamantium extensions as Wolverine pushed them worryingly close to his face, and, upon realising that they were not, as he had first surmised, some sort of costume, he promptly passed out. Cyclops chuckled; under normal circumstances, he would have reprimanded Logan for his unwarranted cruelty, but in this case, he truly felt that the kid deserved what he had received.
With an evil smile on his face, Logan released the boy, allowing him to crumple to the floor, then turned to face Hank and the other children, all of whom were grinning widely. "I sure hope that the rest of you freaks are more *civil* than that little jerk," he said, retracting his claws with a meaningful snarl.
"Uhm..." murmured Hank, looking a little uneasy. "I guess that would depend on how easily you get offended..."
As the X-Men once again exchanged puzzled glances, the one called Sheila knelt beside Eric, attempting to reposition his unconscious limbs into something that looked almost comfortable. "He's just kidding," she said with a friendly smile. "We're all much easier to get along with. And Eric's not really *that* bad once you get to know him...."
"Well," said Scott, placing a hand on Hank's shoulder as the blond boy continued to grin at the newcomers. "I guess we'll find out soon enough. Seeing as how none of us has any idea where to go from here, it looks like we're going to be spending quite some time getting to know you guys." He glanced from his comrades to the strangers, forcing a grin.
"Oh goody," muttered Wolverine.
*****
Eric groaned and opened his eyes. The image of Wolverine's sharp and deadly claws slashed into his mind with ruthful vengeance, and he winced; once again, the 'Old Cavalier' had placed his foot into his mouth, and once again, he had been punished for it. As he sat up, rubbing the back of his neck and struggling to push Logan's sneering face out of his mind, he felt a brief twinge of self-sympathy at his own misfortune; couldn't the lumbering hulk take a joke? And why the hell hadn't DungeonMaster alerted them as to the fictitious nature of their latest companions? And, more importantly, why hadn't Hank or the others said anything to dissuade Wolverine from trying to disengage Eric's head from his shoulders?
Sighing wearing, he dismissed the useless questions from his mind; he had learned from experience that if he wanted something to be done, or indeed, even half-done, he would, quite simply, have to do it himself, or risk allowing himself to be decapacitated by raging monsters or angry super-heroes. With a faint grin, he shook off the last remnants of disorientation, content in the self-proclaimed knowledge that he, the brave and heroic Cavalier, was in fact the one true leader of the group of Young Ones.
"Have a nice nap, Loud-Mouth?"
Rolling his eyes, Eric turned to face the larger-than-life Wolverine, struggling to sustain a facade of grace and dignity. "As a matter of fact, I did," he said smugly, straightening his tunic with exaggerated pride.
"Glad ta hear it," replied the smirking mutant, and Eric felt a twinge of anxiety wrenching through his stomach as those unbreakable adamantium claws dangled in front of his mind's eye once again.
Coughing nervously, the Cavalier nodded, and stumbled towards the relative safety of Hank's side, all the while keeping his eye on Wolverine's gleaming fangs as the mutant continued to 'grace' him with a vampiric leer. With a concentrated effort, he forced his discomfort aside and focused on the Ranger, who was currently engaged in a quiet and serious-sounding conversation with the leader of the X-Men regarding their next course of action.
"Listen to me," Hank was saying. "There's no *way* of infiltrating Venger's castle. We'd all be captured in seconds, and, trust me, he wouldn't let us live long enough to neutralise this so-called evil power."
"So, what do you propose?" Cyclops demanded patiently. "That we just sit here and wait for him to come to us? I don't know what world you guys came from, but in the *real* world, things don't often happen like that."
A soft, ironic chuckle escaped Hank's lips, and he shook his head gently. "You're right," he said, silencing his light-hearted laughter. "In the real world, they don't. But in *this* world...well, you'd be surprised. Venger's been after our magic weapons ever since we arrived in this crazy place, and he always manages to track us down sooner or later. Besides," he added, and Eric grinned, knowing what would come next, "even if we *do* try to make our way to his castle, we'd just end up getting lost."
"Again," Bobby giggled.
Sheila shot her brother a warning scowl, and Hank coughed self-consciously. "Uhm, yes. Thank you, Bobby." The Barbarian tilted his head and winked. "Anyway, the point I was trying to make was--"
"The *point* yer tryin' ta make," Wolverine interjected angrily, and the harsh tone of his voice sent another jolt of fear down Eric's spine, "is that ya don't know what the hell yer talkin' about. Listen, Bright Spark, if this jerk is really as powerful as that Dungeon-Weirdo said he is, then he ain't gonna need your precious weapons. Just think about it, Genius. Whatever the hell this evil force is, it sounds ta me it could blast you *and* your little toys out of existence!"
Presto raised his hand, clearing his throat uneasily. "I hate to say it, Hank, but he's got a point. If Venger's newfound power is really as awesome as these guys are saying it is, then he *isn't* going to need us any more, which means that if we want to--" he paused, frowning "--uh, put an end to it...then *we* are going to have to go out and find *him*."
He smiled nervously at Wolverine, who returned the gesture with a crude smirk. "I like your attitude, kid," he said, turning back to the Ranger. "You oughtta listen to your buddies a little more, Hotshot. Maybe you'll learn somethin' from 'em. Now, I say we crash this guy's party right now, and teach him a lesson about how *not* ta treat people!"
"You're crazy!" yelled Hank, folding his arms. "You have no idea what you're going up against here! We've been in this Realm much longer than you, and we've fought Venger millions of times, and *trust me* when I say that you guys, even *with* your super-powers, or whatever you've got, don't stand a chance against him."
Wolverine growled, and would have responded, had Storm not placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Calm your temper, Logan," she said. "He is correct. He and his friends know a great deal more about this place than we do, and it would be unwise to second-guess their judgement."
Hank shot her a grateful smile, then turned his attention once again back to Cyclops. "Look, I'm trying to be sensible here. We all want to destroy this thing and go home, but rushing headfirst into a situation where there's no chance of coming out alive is not the right way to go about it. Even if you're right about Venger not wanting our weapons anymore, that's just further evidence to suggest we think of something a little more strategic than running headfirst to our deaths."
"Right," Cyclops agreed, nodding thoughtfully.
"I've got an idea," Eric heard himself saying, once again speaking without considering the consequences. "Why don't we just screw all this stupidity and have a barbecue instead?" The others turned to stare at him, and, faced once again with Wolverine's disconcerting glare, the Cavalier whimpered and averted his gaze. "Hey, it was just a suggestion."
"Just a suggestion?" repeated Wolverine. "Well, here's another *suggestion*, Bright Boy. Why don't ya shut up and leave the planning to those of us who can open our mouths without putting our foot into 'em."
Eric gulped. "Good idea."
Much to his disgust, his so-called 'friends' seemed to be in support of Wolverine's terrorist tactics. Hank grinned and shook his head, placing a friendly hand on the oversized mutant's shoulder, and Bobby burst into hysterical laughter. "All right!" he yelled. "You've just made history! Nobody's *ever* managed to get Eric to agree with them!" He yelled triumphantly and thrust his fist into the air, totally oblivious to the filthy glare that the Cavalier directed towards him.
"Hank," Sheila murmured thoughtfully, drawing their attention back to the task at hand, for which Eric was extremely grateful. "What about Tiamat? Do you think she could help us find Venger?"
Eric spluttered, but somehow managed to keep himself from saying anything out loud; staring in open-mouthed disbelief at the contemplative Ranger, he rolled his eyes and silently prayed that Hank would see the sensible side of the argument and tell Sheila, in no uncertain terms, that she was a nut case. Of course, knowing the Ranger as he did, Eric had a feeling that such a hope was probably too much to ask for, even in response to such a stupid and suicidal suggestion.
"I don't know," Hank murmured solemnly. "It would be pretty risky...but if Venger really has become as powerful as these guys say he has, it sounds like we're going to need all the help we can... and it might be worth the risk." Glancing over his shoulder at the X-Men, who were exchanging puzzled frowns, he went on to explain "Tiamat is a dragon, the most powerful and dangerous dragon in the Realm... and Venger's sworn enemy. She's the only one capable of stopping him."
Cyclops and Storm glanced briefly at each other, and there was no mistaking the anxiety on their faces. "I really think we should try and stop this guy as quickly as possible," Cyclops said. "From what the DungeonMaster said, it doesn't sound like we have the time to go on a wild-goose-chase in the vain hope that this dragon will help us."
Diana nodded in agreement. "He's right, Hank," she said softly. "Don't you think DungeonMaster would have briefed us himself if we had the time to spare? I say we've wasted too much time already. We have to confront Venger before he uses his power to take over the Realm, and that means finding him *now*. Sure, it'd be *helpful* to have some extra man-power, but we have the... uhh... X-Men on our side, and that's twice as much as we're used to... so it's a start, right?"
"But Tiamat is the only force in the Realm powerful enough to take Venger on," Sheila cried, then gestured towards the X-Men. "For all we know, these guys might be just as useless as we are..." Pausing uncomfortably, she coughed. "Uh, no offence. Anyway, what I'm trying to say is that if we don't stand a chance against Venger in his normal state, we certainly don't stand a chance against a super-Venger, even with the X-Men to help us. Tiamat might be the only way we *can* stop him."
Hank smiled and placed a supportive hand on her shoulder, then turned back to the others. "All right then, how about this? Sheila, Bobby and I will track down Tiamat and try to convince her that we need her help to defeat Venger, while the rest of you see if you can infiltrate Venger's castle and try to find out as much as you can about this power...and do what you can to keep Venger from using it until we show up with Tiamat. How does that sound?"
"It's not perfect, but I don't think there's much else we can do at the moment," Cyclops said, and Eric smirked a little at the uncertainty in the mutant's voice. "But take Storm, Jubilee, and Gambit along with you. That way, we can keep in contact with each other using our communicators, and you'll have a little extra muscle just in case this 'Tiamat' thing refuses to listen to reason."
As Hank took a deep breath, nodded at his comrades, and began moving off in a south-westerly direction, Eric felt the briefest twinge of jealousy; certainly, if *he* had made such an outrageous--not to mention suicidal--suggestion, he would have been bombarded with a chorus of 'shut up, Eric'. Still, he knew better than to complain out loud, and instead turned his attention to Cyclops, who was gazing at the horizon, following his companions' journey with a shadow of concern shrouded his features. "I really hope your friend knows what he's doing," he murmured, looking from Eric to Diana to Presto and back again.
Nodding solemnly, Eric found his gaze wandering back to Wolverine's scowling visage, and he felt a painful knot of panic wrenching its way through his stomach. "So do I," he heard himself whisper.
*****
"So...what do we do now?"
Frowning thoughtfully, Cyclops gazed across the alien landscape, keeping his eyes on the distant horizon. "I'm not sure," he murmured in response to Jubilee's question, consciously forcing himself not to look at her expectant youthful features. "To be perfectly honest, I don't really understand what that Dungeon Master person expects from us... but I *do* know that whatever it is, we *shouldn't* try to challenge it. Anyone with the power to drag all of us into this 'Realm', breaking through the Blackbird's defences like they didn't even exist, is not the kind of person we want to argue with or try and go up against."
"Agreed," said Storm, nodding slightly. "I believe the most appropriate plan of action to take at the moment would be to find the 'pupils' that the man spoke of. Perhaps they will be able to elaborate on his vague request for assistance."
Scott clenched a fist, but did not allow his frustration to show through in his voice, grateful not for the first time that his eyes were not visible to the others. "That's what I'd suggest as well, *if* I knew where to begin looking. We don't even know what these pupils look like, let alone where they're likely to be found. We're not even sure how big this damned Realm is!" He sighed and struggled to maintain his clear-headed sense of leadership; the abstract nature of this situation was setting him on edge, in spite of the calm voice of reason that continually whispered into his mind, reminding him that he and his friends had all been through far more bizarre adventures than this.
"Hey!" cried Wolverine suddenly, the crude sharpness of his voice cutting bitterly into Scott's thoughts. "Did you hear that?" He cocked his head slightly to the side.
Cyclops followed the other mutant's shrouded eyes as he stared vacantly at some distant point, struggling to hear whatever it was that Logan was hearing; it took a few moments, but eventually he became aware of the faintest sound of screaming, emanating from some distant point to the west. "Yes," he said softly as he struggled to pinpoint the sound's exact origin. "It sounds like somebody needs our help. Let's check it out...they might be able to tell us where these 'pupils' are."
Wolverine was already running in the approximate direction from which the screams seemed to originate; the other X-Men were quick to follow him. Where Rogue immediately began flying above and ahead of the others, scouting the desolate landscape as she carved her way gracefully through the air, Storm preferred to remain on the ground, chasing Gambit and Jubilee as they fought to keep pace with Wolverine. Scott brought up the rear, and as he squinted at the others' backs, he found himself wondering what exactly he was leading them into. Such a rash decision was extremely dangerous--a fact that he had learned the hard way from painful experience--but somehow, even as he searched within himself, he could not find even the faintest glimmer of doubt. He *knew*, beyond all question, that this was right, and this breathtaking certainty set him on edge; it was not normal for him to feel so confident, and nor was it safe.
It did not take long to locate the origins of the screaming; five oddly-dressed teenagers and an equally strange-looking little boy were engaged in an obviously hopeless battle against something that looked remarkably like a gigantic armadillo. Scott blinked, staring in awestruck silence at the creature, shocked into a momentary state of static dumbness.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Wolverine was muttering with his characteristic harsh sarcasm. "Welcome to the Twilight Zone."
The tallest of the six children, a strapping blond young man dressed in green, was the closest to the creature, eyes blazing defiantly as he stood in front of the little boy, who wore some kind of primitive Barbarian's clothing; the two of them appeared almost completely fearless as the howling creature slashed at them with its claws, and, in spite of the obvious gravity of the situation, Cyclops took a moment to admire their courage. A short distance away, a dark-haired boy in chain-mail armour was cowering behind a gleaming orange shield, apparently oblivious to the fact that the creature was nowhere near him; he was being yelled at--undoubtedly in a way that was far from polite--by an athletic-looking dark-skinned girl wearing an elaborately-jewelled Amazonian outfit, who was simultaneously trying to draw the creature's attention away from the other two. Behind the wailing armour-clad one, a skinny boy in glasses and baggy green Wizard's robes stood quivering beside a shrieking red-haired girl clad in a short pink dress.
"Woah," cried Gambit, blinking in disbelief at the impossible scene that lay before them. "That be the biggest rat Gambit ever saw. Where'd it come from?"
Growling, Wolverine extended his claws. "Who cares?" he yelled, moving forwards with familiar bloodlust in his eyes. "I say it's just beggin' for a lesson in good manners...and I'm just the guy to teach it." Before Cyclops could summon the breath to call out a warning, the wild-eyed mutant was rushing headfirst into the danger zone, once again taking it upon himself to play the heroic role without pausing to consider the consequences of his actions.
"Sounds good ta me!" cried Rogue, swooping down to follow Logan's trail. "Didn't nobody ever teach that ol' fella that it ain't polite to be attackin' folks who ain't done nothin' to them?"
Cyclops felt a weary groan clenching in his throat, and struggled to suppress it. He was not surprised by the irresponsible vigilante attitude that seemed to overpower the two headstrong X-Men--as it did every time they found themselves confronted by a perceived threat--and nor was he particularly impressed by it. There was no denying the fact that the determination pasted across Wolverine's face as he extended his claws and leaped readily into battle without pausing to consider the wisdom of the action was admirable, as was the fierce dedication in Rogue's eyes as she flew fearlessly between the creature and its victims with complete disregard for her own safety. Still, Scott couldn't help wishing that they had the patience to wait until they knew exactly what manner of creature they were up against.
The sight of the green-and-yellow flash flickering across its field of vision sent the creature reeling in surprise, and as its glowing eyes struggled to focus on Rogue's darting form, Wolverine took the opportunity to strike from behind, driving his claws right through the heavy armour plates of the armadillo's back as if they were nothing but paper tissues, grinning sadistically all the while.
Roaring in pain, the creature spun to face its newest attacker, bringing its razor-like claws down towards Logan's head. As Wolverine raised his own claws to parry the blow, an ear-splitting metallic clash exploded through the air, and Cyclops winced in pain. "Nice try, Sparky," growled Logan, pushing the creature back with obvious effort, "but I ain't gonna be that easy to beat." Drawing his fist back to his side, he paused for a moment, before thrusting forwards with his other arm, a primal snarl erupting from his lips as he slashed at the creature's chest, his entire body visibly pulsing with the primitive thrill of combat.
The armadillo reared back, emitting a sharp whimper of pain as lines of dark blood welled up, sinking to the ground in obvious pain. Seeing the weakness in his opponent, Wolverine lunged forwards once again, fist raised to deliver one more crushing blow upon the helpless creature's head. Scott tried to call out, to demand that Logan retreat and leave the wounded creature to escape, but he found himself unable to speak; in spite of the armadillo's size, it seemed no match for Wolverine's adamantium claws and powerful strength, and, judging by the possessed look in Logan's eyes, he was not about to quit.
"That's enough, sugar," said Rogue, moving to land gracefully beside the panting Wolverine, and placing a restraining hand on his arm. "You got him. Now let the poor fella go. He ain't no threat ta no-one now, so there ain't no point in tryin' ta take him out. We stopped him from hurtin' them kids, an' that's enough."
Wolverine snarled at her and wrenched his arm away from her gentle restraint; still, he retracted his claws and made no attempt to stop the creature as it stumbled to its feet and limped away, the dripping blood from its wounds accentuated by the readily apparent bruises to its ego--or the armadillo equivalent of an ego. Cyclops smiled, unable to keep the relief from his face, and moved, followed closely by Storm and the others, to congratulate Logan on a job well done--in terms of both neutralising the threat and controlling his infamous temper; however, the bright-eyed pride on Jubilee's face as she rushed to embrace the scowling Wolverine was more than enough to turn a simple 'well done' into a small--but equally loud and disordered--victory celebration.
"Hate to break up this little party here, but who do you guys think you're trying to be? Are you on your way to some fancy-dress thing or what? Jeez, talk about lame costumes!"
Whirling around in surprise, Cyclops recognised one of the six kids that Wolverine and Rogue had rescued from the armadillo; it was the one dressed in chain-mail, the one who had sat behind his shield and done absolutely nothing for the entire duration of the battle. "Excuse me?" he asked with a raised eyebrow, speaking as politely as he could to a boy for whom he was already beginning to develop an acute dislike.
"I *said*, are you on your way to some fancy-dress thing or what?" the kid repeated with a smirk. "I've never seen such dopey costumes in my whole life!"
Scott glanced over his shoulder at the others; it was obvious from the bewilderment on their faces--and the obvious anger rising on Logan's--that they were just as confused as he was. Before he had the chance to ask the boy to explain himself a little more clearly, one of the other children pushed his way into the conversation; it was the tall blond one in the Robin-Hood outfit. "Eric, shut up!" he snapped, pushing the other boy out of the way. "I'm sorry. He doesn't have very well-developed people skills." Turning his attention to Wolverine and Rogue, he grinned, then cleared his throat nervously. "Uhm, thanks for rescuing us back there. I don't know how you managed to get through that thing's armour, but I'm glad you did!"
Wolverine ignored him, scowling at the one called Eric with furious rage on his face. "You've got a big mouth on you, kid," he growled. "Ya might wanna learn ta keep it shut b'fore *someone* decides ta remove it!"
Rolling his eyes, Eric nudged the other boy. "I'm so sure," he snorted with a smug grin. "Like I'm gonna listen to anything that some costume-party reject says to me."
"In case you've forgotten, Mister Diplomat, he just saved our lives," said the blond boy, sighing with obviously long-suffering patience. "Show him a little respect." Turning back to Cyclops and the other X-Men, he gave an apologetic shrug and smiled shyly. "Well, anyway, thanks again for your help. It was much appreciated, even if *some* of us don't have the manners to say so."
"Weren't no big deal, sugar," said Rogue with a warm grin.
Ever the rational and focused member of the group, Storm took a step towards the boy. "While we are here, perhaps you will be able to assist us," she said, and Scott nodded as he remembered their purpose. "We were directed by a short gentleman known as--" she paused for a moment, recalling "--DungeonMaster, to seek his 'pupils'. Do you know where we can find these individuals?" She gazed expectantly at the young man, eyes gleaming with hopeful anticipation.
"You bet we do!" cried the smallest of the children.
The older boy smiled gently at his young charge. "All right, Bobby," he said gently, then turned back to Storm. "I think he was referring to us," he explained, suddenly looking rather uneasy. "He always tells us that we're his pupils... but I don't see why he'd tell anyone to look for us." Suddenly, his crystal blue eyes brightened. "Unless you know of a way for us to get home...?" As Scott looked at him, he saw, for the first time since laying eyes on the young man, not a courageous hero or the brave Robin Hood of his attire, but a hopeful child.
"I don't think so," he said softly. "We were told we're supposed to help you fight a great evil... but he didn't say very much more than that. We were hoping you could explain what he meant."
The boy shook his head, and his eyes brimmed with quickly concealed tears. At that moment, Scott felt a deep sense of empathy swelling within him; it was fairly obvious that this boy was the leader of the strangely-dressed group, just as Cyclops led the X-Men, and, judging by his pained expression--the expression that he fought so hard to mask--it was a role that he simply was not ready to play.
"A great evil?" one of the other children, the young girl in the pink dress said, sighing very softly. "Not again!"
The loud-mouthed one released an exaggerated groan. "When is that drip gonna learn that we're sick of doing his dirty work for him? I say we just sit here and refuse to even try and figure out this latest riddle of his! Ha! That'll show him!"
Hank clenched his fists, then turned to glare at the other boy, silencing him, before once again returning his attention the X-Men. "All right," he said after a brief moment. "I suppose we should start by introducing ourselves... and then we can try and figure out what's going on." At Scott's agreeable nod, he extended a hand. "I'm Hank, and I guess you'd call me the leader of this little group." The slight anxiety that pervaded his otherwise-friendly expression was more than enough to confirm Scott's suspicions of the boy's insecurities.
The dark-haired boy grunted. "Yeah, well, that can always change."
"And this is Eric," said Hank, tilting his head towards his obnoxious companion. "Also known as 'the one who doesn't know when to shut his mouth'." He then moved to introduce each of his friends in turn, beginning with the enthusiastic little boy in the Barbarian's outfit. "This is Bobby, and his sister Sheila." This last was spoken with a gesture towards the girl in the pink dress. "That's Diana--" motioning to the one in the elaborate jewellery "--and Presto," patting the shoulder of the nervous-looking one in baggy Wizard's robes. "We've been stuck in this Realm for...well, a long time now...and we're searching for a way home. I'm not really sure why DungeonMaster told you to look for us, but--"
Cyclops smiled. "That's okay. My name is Scott Summers, also known as Cyclops, and my friends are Storm, Gambit, Jubilee, Rogue--" gesturing towards them just as Hank had done "--and Wolverine. We're still not entirely sure why we were brought here, but, from what we could understand from your friend DungeonMaster, it involves disposing of a great evil power...of some sort, which has come into the possession of one named--" he paused, struggling to remember.
"Venger," said Storm.
Hank and his comrades sighed heavily, sharing momentary looks of resigned disappointment. Scott found himself briefly surprised by their recognition of the name, but dismissed the shock immediately; after all the surrealism that he and the other X-Men had encountered thus far, he was willing to be a little indulgent towards the strangers. "Yes," he continued, forcing himself to avoid making contact with Hank's piercing blue eyes. "Venger. He told us that this..." he frowned, "uhh, person... has obtained some sort of incredible power, and that *we* are supposed to help *you* to destroy it." He looked to his fellow X-Men, then shrugged thoughtfully, looking to the boy for an explanation.
"Yeah, right!" cried the one called Eric, crossing his arms impatiently. "Forget these jokers, Hank. I say we keep searching for the way home. There's no way I'm going to trust a bunch of comic-book hero wannabes."
Wolverine raised a threatening fist, stepping towards the smirking boy with obvious intent; had Gambit not placed a restraining hand on his arm, he would have undoubtedly attacked the kid. Thankfully, Eric's companions seemed equally irritated by his unwarranted aggression, and were far less hesitant than the X-Men to express it.
"Will you just shut up, Eric!" yelled the little one, Bobby, raising a primitive-looking club that was almost as tall as he was. "They're totally cool! I wish DungeonMaster had let *us* dress up like comic-book super-heroes!"
Jubilee snorted and shook her head. "Comic-book super-heroes?" she repeated, blinking in disbelief, reaching out to poke the kid in the chest. "What are you talking about, Short Stuff?"
"Aw, come on!" cried Eric, pushing Bobby out of the way; Cyclops watched with suppressed amusement as the poor Barbarian toppled over and landed in an untidy heap on the ground. "You guys have *got* to be kidding!" Turning to grin at Rogue and Logan, he continued with infuriating sarcasm. "Look, I don't know how you pulled off those little tricks against that giant rat back there, but I'm not impressed! Why don't you save your little act for someone who cares?"
Wolverine exploded, wrenching free from Gambit's hold and moving to place his hand over Eric's throat. "Listen ta me, Funny-Boy," he snarled dangerously, "I ain't too wild about this whole thing, and I sure as hell ain't happy about being dragged God-knows how many miles away from home just to beat up some crazy jerk that I don't even know! *Therefore*, I ain't in the best of moods at the moment, so *don't* try an' wind me up, 'cos it'll be *you* who ends up regretting it, kid, not me."
In an attempt to prove his point, he extended the claws of his free hand, holding them up for Eric's inspection. The terrified teenager took one look at the adamantium extensions as Wolverine pushed them worryingly close to his face, and, upon realising that they were not, as he had first surmised, some sort of costume, he promptly passed out. Cyclops chuckled; under normal circumstances, he would have reprimanded Logan for his unwarranted cruelty, but in this case, he truly felt that the kid deserved what he had received.
With an evil smile on his face, Logan released the boy, allowing him to crumple to the floor, then turned to face Hank and the other children, all of whom were grinning widely. "I sure hope that the rest of you freaks are more *civil* than that little jerk," he said, retracting his claws with a meaningful snarl.
"Uhm..." murmured Hank, looking a little uneasy. "I guess that would depend on how easily you get offended..."
As the X-Men once again exchanged puzzled glances, the one called Sheila knelt beside Eric, attempting to reposition his unconscious limbs into something that looked almost comfortable. "He's just kidding," she said with a friendly smile. "We're all much easier to get along with. And Eric's not really *that* bad once you get to know him...."
"Well," said Scott, placing a hand on Hank's shoulder as the blond boy continued to grin at the newcomers. "I guess we'll find out soon enough. Seeing as how none of us has any idea where to go from here, it looks like we're going to be spending quite some time getting to know you guys." He glanced from his comrades to the strangers, forcing a grin.
"Oh goody," muttered Wolverine.
*****
Eric groaned and opened his eyes. The image of Wolverine's sharp and deadly claws slashed into his mind with ruthful vengeance, and he winced; once again, the 'Old Cavalier' had placed his foot into his mouth, and once again, he had been punished for it. As he sat up, rubbing the back of his neck and struggling to push Logan's sneering face out of his mind, he felt a brief twinge of self-sympathy at his own misfortune; couldn't the lumbering hulk take a joke? And why the hell hadn't DungeonMaster alerted them as to the fictitious nature of their latest companions? And, more importantly, why hadn't Hank or the others said anything to dissuade Wolverine from trying to disengage Eric's head from his shoulders?
Sighing wearing, he dismissed the useless questions from his mind; he had learned from experience that if he wanted something to be done, or indeed, even half-done, he would, quite simply, have to do it himself, or risk allowing himself to be decapacitated by raging monsters or angry super-heroes. With a faint grin, he shook off the last remnants of disorientation, content in the self-proclaimed knowledge that he, the brave and heroic Cavalier, was in fact the one true leader of the group of Young Ones.
"Have a nice nap, Loud-Mouth?"
Rolling his eyes, Eric turned to face the larger-than-life Wolverine, struggling to sustain a facade of grace and dignity. "As a matter of fact, I did," he said smugly, straightening his tunic with exaggerated pride.
"Glad ta hear it," replied the smirking mutant, and Eric felt a twinge of anxiety wrenching through his stomach as those unbreakable adamantium claws dangled in front of his mind's eye once again.
Coughing nervously, the Cavalier nodded, and stumbled towards the relative safety of Hank's side, all the while keeping his eye on Wolverine's gleaming fangs as the mutant continued to 'grace' him with a vampiric leer. With a concentrated effort, he forced his discomfort aside and focused on the Ranger, who was currently engaged in a quiet and serious-sounding conversation with the leader of the X-Men regarding their next course of action.
"Listen to me," Hank was saying. "There's no *way* of infiltrating Venger's castle. We'd all be captured in seconds, and, trust me, he wouldn't let us live long enough to neutralise this so-called evil power."
"So, what do you propose?" Cyclops demanded patiently. "That we just sit here and wait for him to come to us? I don't know what world you guys came from, but in the *real* world, things don't often happen like that."
A soft, ironic chuckle escaped Hank's lips, and he shook his head gently. "You're right," he said, silencing his light-hearted laughter. "In the real world, they don't. But in *this* world...well, you'd be surprised. Venger's been after our magic weapons ever since we arrived in this crazy place, and he always manages to track us down sooner or later. Besides," he added, and Eric grinned, knowing what would come next, "even if we *do* try to make our way to his castle, we'd just end up getting lost."
"Again," Bobby giggled.
Sheila shot her brother a warning scowl, and Hank coughed self-consciously. "Uhm, yes. Thank you, Bobby." The Barbarian tilted his head and winked. "Anyway, the point I was trying to make was--"
"The *point* yer tryin' ta make," Wolverine interjected angrily, and the harsh tone of his voice sent another jolt of fear down Eric's spine, "is that ya don't know what the hell yer talkin' about. Listen, Bright Spark, if this jerk is really as powerful as that Dungeon-Weirdo said he is, then he ain't gonna need your precious weapons. Just think about it, Genius. Whatever the hell this evil force is, it sounds ta me it could blast you *and* your little toys out of existence!"
Presto raised his hand, clearing his throat uneasily. "I hate to say it, Hank, but he's got a point. If Venger's newfound power is really as awesome as these guys are saying it is, then he *isn't* going to need us any more, which means that if we want to--" he paused, frowning "--uh, put an end to it...then *we* are going to have to go out and find *him*."
He smiled nervously at Wolverine, who returned the gesture with a crude smirk. "I like your attitude, kid," he said, turning back to the Ranger. "You oughtta listen to your buddies a little more, Hotshot. Maybe you'll learn somethin' from 'em. Now, I say we crash this guy's party right now, and teach him a lesson about how *not* ta treat people!"
"You're crazy!" yelled Hank, folding his arms. "You have no idea what you're going up against here! We've been in this Realm much longer than you, and we've fought Venger millions of times, and *trust me* when I say that you guys, even *with* your super-powers, or whatever you've got, don't stand a chance against him."
Wolverine growled, and would have responded, had Storm not placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Calm your temper, Logan," she said. "He is correct. He and his friends know a great deal more about this place than we do, and it would be unwise to second-guess their judgement."
Hank shot her a grateful smile, then turned his attention once again back to Cyclops. "Look, I'm trying to be sensible here. We all want to destroy this thing and go home, but rushing headfirst into a situation where there's no chance of coming out alive is not the right way to go about it. Even if you're right about Venger not wanting our weapons anymore, that's just further evidence to suggest we think of something a little more strategic than running headfirst to our deaths."
"Right," Cyclops agreed, nodding thoughtfully.
"I've got an idea," Eric heard himself saying, once again speaking without considering the consequences. "Why don't we just screw all this stupidity and have a barbecue instead?" The others turned to stare at him, and, faced once again with Wolverine's disconcerting glare, the Cavalier whimpered and averted his gaze. "Hey, it was just a suggestion."
"Just a suggestion?" repeated Wolverine. "Well, here's another *suggestion*, Bright Boy. Why don't ya shut up and leave the planning to those of us who can open our mouths without putting our foot into 'em."
Eric gulped. "Good idea."
Much to his disgust, his so-called 'friends' seemed to be in support of Wolverine's terrorist tactics. Hank grinned and shook his head, placing a friendly hand on the oversized mutant's shoulder, and Bobby burst into hysterical laughter. "All right!" he yelled. "You've just made history! Nobody's *ever* managed to get Eric to agree with them!" He yelled triumphantly and thrust his fist into the air, totally oblivious to the filthy glare that the Cavalier directed towards him.
"Hank," Sheila murmured thoughtfully, drawing their attention back to the task at hand, for which Eric was extremely grateful. "What about Tiamat? Do you think she could help us find Venger?"
Eric spluttered, but somehow managed to keep himself from saying anything out loud; staring in open-mouthed disbelief at the contemplative Ranger, he rolled his eyes and silently prayed that Hank would see the sensible side of the argument and tell Sheila, in no uncertain terms, that she was a nut case. Of course, knowing the Ranger as he did, Eric had a feeling that such a hope was probably too much to ask for, even in response to such a stupid and suicidal suggestion.
"I don't know," Hank murmured solemnly. "It would be pretty risky...but if Venger really has become as powerful as these guys say he has, it sounds like we're going to need all the help we can... and it might be worth the risk." Glancing over his shoulder at the X-Men, who were exchanging puzzled frowns, he went on to explain "Tiamat is a dragon, the most powerful and dangerous dragon in the Realm... and Venger's sworn enemy. She's the only one capable of stopping him."
Cyclops and Storm glanced briefly at each other, and there was no mistaking the anxiety on their faces. "I really think we should try and stop this guy as quickly as possible," Cyclops said. "From what the DungeonMaster said, it doesn't sound like we have the time to go on a wild-goose-chase in the vain hope that this dragon will help us."
Diana nodded in agreement. "He's right, Hank," she said softly. "Don't you think DungeonMaster would have briefed us himself if we had the time to spare? I say we've wasted too much time already. We have to confront Venger before he uses his power to take over the Realm, and that means finding him *now*. Sure, it'd be *helpful* to have some extra man-power, but we have the... uhh... X-Men on our side, and that's twice as much as we're used to... so it's a start, right?"
"But Tiamat is the only force in the Realm powerful enough to take Venger on," Sheila cried, then gestured towards the X-Men. "For all we know, these guys might be just as useless as we are..." Pausing uncomfortably, she coughed. "Uh, no offence. Anyway, what I'm trying to say is that if we don't stand a chance against Venger in his normal state, we certainly don't stand a chance against a super-Venger, even with the X-Men to help us. Tiamat might be the only way we *can* stop him."
Hank smiled and placed a supportive hand on her shoulder, then turned back to the others. "All right then, how about this? Sheila, Bobby and I will track down Tiamat and try to convince her that we need her help to defeat Venger, while the rest of you see if you can infiltrate Venger's castle and try to find out as much as you can about this power...and do what you can to keep Venger from using it until we show up with Tiamat. How does that sound?"
"It's not perfect, but I don't think there's much else we can do at the moment," Cyclops said, and Eric smirked a little at the uncertainty in the mutant's voice. "But take Storm, Jubilee, and Gambit along with you. That way, we can keep in contact with each other using our communicators, and you'll have a little extra muscle just in case this 'Tiamat' thing refuses to listen to reason."
As Hank took a deep breath, nodded at his comrades, and began moving off in a south-westerly direction, Eric felt the briefest twinge of jealousy; certainly, if *he* had made such an outrageous--not to mention suicidal--suggestion, he would have been bombarded with a chorus of 'shut up, Eric'. Still, he knew better than to complain out loud, and instead turned his attention to Cyclops, who was gazing at the horizon, following his companions' journey with a shadow of concern shrouded his features. "I really hope your friend knows what he's doing," he murmured, looking from Eric to Diana to Presto and back again.
Nodding solemnly, Eric found his gaze wandering back to Wolverine's scowling visage, and he felt a painful knot of panic wrenching its way through his stomach. "So do I," he heard himself whisper.
*****