CHAPTER FIVE -- "THE PERSONIFICATION OF MALEVOLENCE"
Diana heard herself yell, felt her fingers tightening as they gripped the reassuringly familiar javelin, saw the weapon extending to its full length, and tasted the sweet pleasure of victory as the two Lizard Men who had held her collapsed noiselessly to the ground. Still, even as she heard and felt and saw and tasted, she was, in fact, witnessing the undertaking of her plan from a surreal and bizarre distance; it was as if something else had overpowered her body, and she was merely an indifferent spectator to her own feats.
She knew the feeling well; it engulfed her like a protective shroud whenever she found herself in a predicament in which blood would have to be spilled by her own hands. Competitive as she was, she was far from brutal, and the frightening necessity of needing to wound another--perhaps even fatally--often caused her to dissociate during times of intense battle; since entering the Realm, she had come to accept the temporary loss of self, knowing beyond all doubt that, at times, it was all that kept her sane. And so, as she observed from a safe distance the damage that she herself was inflicting on the innocent and unsuspecting reptiles, she managed to remain unerringly calm and concentrated on the task at hand, consciously preventing herself from being trapped beneath the weight of scruples and ethics--the likes of which had, in a life long past, been the sole foundation of her unwavering moral compass.
The attack lasted only a matter of minutes, and as Diana felt her mind and body once again merge with each other, congealing into the single, rational, individual that she had come to be accepted as, she felt a wave of pride washing over her. Generally, she enjoyed leaving the construction of plans to either Hank or, less often, Eric, not wanting to be burdened with the potential prospect of failure; however, whenever she was able to push aside this unspoken insecurity and voice her thoughts, the heady thrill of watching *her* plan unfolding to completion was far more pure and powerful than that of any gold medal, and the consequent congratulations that she received from the X-Men made this particular case all the more enjoyable.
"All right," said Eric, leaning against the wall; Diana noted with undisguised affection that, as always, the Cavalier had entirely failed to dispose of a single assailant, yet simultaneously managed, through some long-perfected manipulation of his tiresome features, to adopt an expression of brave and exhausted heroism. "So we're in. What do we do now?"
"Now we find Venger," Cyclops replied in a voice so low that the others had to strain to hear it. "And then we discover what exactly it is that we're up against, and how we can even the odds against him." Diana frowned slightly at the crisp, calculated sobriety of the mutant's speech; his intent features, and the disconcerting lack of any eyes upon which to focus offered a suggestion of an all-too rational individual, and one that would allow the harsh brutality of his solemn determination to be his downfall, should the opportunity arise.
Eric grunted in response to the mutant's sombre muse. "Oh, great."
"Yeah," agreed Wolverine with hungry enthusiasm, wiping his bloodstained claws on the Cavalier's shirt; Diana acknowledged that, of the fourteen Lizard Men that had 'escorted' them into the castle, Wolverine alone had taken out at least ten. "Great. All this talk of the 'super-powerful Force of Evil' has put me in the mood for a *real* challenge..."
Diana rolled her eyes as Eric yelped and leaped away from the smirking mutant, but her good-humoured chuckle faded in her throat as she observed Presto's slightly nervous nod as he moved once again to Logan's side. Despite her earlier conversation with Cyclops on the subject, she still found herself unable to trust the wild Wolverine, and the faithful puppy-dog trust in Presto's eyes as he gazed up with innocent devotion at the snarling mutant was making her extremely uneasy; the unnerving rapport that the two seemed to have developed struck Diana as leading to nothing but trouble, and, judging by the tightness of his jaw, Cyclops seemed equally anxious, in worrying contrast to his own earlier expression of confidence in his comrade's nature.
Straightening his tunic with wounded pride, Eric shook his head. "No way. Getting in side was *lucky*, but our luck isn't going to last forever, and we don't want to be anywhere near Venger when it runs out..."
Rogue grinned and draped an arm across his shoulder. "Sure we do, sugar," she said brightly. "There ain't no fun in playin' it safe all the time. What've ya got to lose by loosenin' up a little?"
Eric mumbled something indistinct, blushing dark crimson, and Diana laughed at his response to the playful mutant's advances; she did not require DungeonMaster's infinite wisdom to see that Rogue had no interest whatsoever in the self-centred young Cavalier, but had no absolutely qualms about using her abundant charms--charms that Eric seemed to have taken *great* interest in--to 'persuade' the boy into conforming with the others' ideas and suggestions. Still, it did strike Diana as rather interesting that the friendly female mutant had taken to defending the Cavalier from her easily-angered companion.
"I'll tell you what we've got to lose," he cried, finally recovering his voice-and, apparently, his dignity. "Our lives, that's what! Your comic-book powers might keep you guys alive, but they're not going to do anything for the rest of us!"
"Take it easy, Eric," Presto said, moving to grip his lifelong friend's arm. "Nobody's suggesting we rush headfirst into a no-win combat zone. Well, maybe Wolverine is suggesting that, but he's only kidding... I think. If we were going to take Venger out right now, what was the point of sending Hank and the others to find Tiamat? For all we know, the X-Men might be just as powerless against Venger as we are! I think Mr... uhh, Cyclops, was suggesting we do what Hank said: we figure out what Venger's done to make himself so powerful, then lay low until the others show up with Tiamat. Forgive me if I'm wrong, Sir." he finished, addressing this last to the smiling Cyclops, then, in direct response to Wolverine's disgusted snort "I mean... uhh, that is... oops."
Wolverine slapped him on the back, sending the anxious young Magician sprawling; Diana felt her fists clenching again and struggled to suppress her rising qualms. Cyclops, apparently experiencing a similar twinge of consternation, shot a warning glance at Logan, before turning back to Eric. "That's right. I have no intention of taking on this Force of Evil until I know *exactly* what it is that we're up against, or at least until we hear a report from Storm and the others about how their dragon-hunt is going." Diana sighed at the lingering seriousness in the mutant's voice; he was far too stoic for his own good, and she knew that if he was to stand even half a chance against Venger, he would have to relax... or, at the very least, learn to 'go with the flow', as the old saying went.
"Think of it as one of those undercover secret-agent things," Presto offered helpfully, grinning first at Wolverine and then at Eric. "We go in, we stick to the shadows, we find out the source of Venger's newfound power, we get out. Nobody gets hurt, and no Kentucky Fried Cavalier. That's simple enough."
"Yeah," grinned Diana, unable to resist adding to the hilarious analogy as she nudged the Cavalier in the ribs and smirked with the smug confidence that she knew he could not tolerate. "You copy that, Double-Oh-Stupid?"
Cyclops leaned against the wall, running his hand across his visor with a fatigued groan. "Can we *please* stop allowing ourselves to lose focus?" he begged, as usual trying to retain some form of order in a chaotic situation; the Acrobat considered warning him that maintaining sensible order in such a deadly situation was often what caused otherwise-perfect heroes to lose control. "Now, whereabouts would this Venger character be found?" Diana looked at Eric, Eric glared stubbornly at the nearest wall, and Presto flushed and stared with renewed intensity at the floor. "You don't have a *clue*, do you?" Scott asked, and Diana could hear the exhaustion in his voice. "All right then. I say we just keep on walking in a roughly straight line. How hard can it be to find an all-powerful being in one little building? That was *rhetorical*, Eric" he added quickly, as the Cavalier once again opened his mouth.
The others glanced at each other, then began moving as Cyclops had suggested, keeping close to the walls and remaining consciously alert for even the slightest signs of danger from any direction. Scott held position at the head of the group, scouting cautiously ahead as they made their way out of the brightly-decorated entrance hallway, and into a dimly-lit, drab-looking corridor; Presto remained with stubborn loyalty by Wolverine's side, and Diana silently cursed this observation, having been praying for a chance to catch the violent mutant alone, and speak to him regarding his intentions towards the impressionable Wizard. Instead of intruding, though, she decided that the more diplomatic option would be to simply hang back a little and watch their interactions unnoticed. Apparently intuitive of her idea, Eric clung to her side, loitering behind her in an attempt to both hide himself from Logan, and have somebody to protect him from the sinister attacks that he seemed certain were lurking around every corner.
In stark contrast to the others, Rogue appeared perfectly content to walk alone. She strolled a short way behind the cautious Cyclops, and a similar distance ahead of Presto and Wolverine, gazing curiously at the abstract paintings that hung on the wall at spasmodic intervals; Diana noticed that, other than her tactful attempts to sway Eric's selfish resolve or cool Logan's temper, the female mutant had kept mostly to herself, remaining quiet and calm, and, though she was ashamed to admit it, Diana could not deny that it offered some degree of relief to know that at least *one* member of the group was sustaining some sense of realism. Admittedly, Scott's adoption of the 'calm voice of reason' role had relieved much of the weight that so often rested on Diana's shoulders whenever the six Young Ones were forced to split up; however, his reluctance to deal with the obvious problems that his hot-headed friend was causing, coupled with his obvious over-emphasis on sustaining an impossible sense of serious concentration suggested that Cyclops, in spite of his evidently well-honed leadership skill, was not the mutant to turn to regarding non-mission-related issues.
Though the layout of the castle was fairly familiar to the Young Ones, it was still something of a struggle to navigate, as the attempt was hindered rather considerably by their efforts to remain hidden; Diana felt a twinge of momentary worry at the realisation that, in spite of the enormous quantity of protection that Venger had positioned outside the castle, there was absolutely no sign within the building of Orcs, Lizard Men, or any of Venger's other 'expendable' soldiers. At various points, the floor was laced with traps--in the form of tripwires or small, easily-avoided trap doors--but other than that, there seemed to be no attempt whatsoever to neutralise any potential intruders, and this realisation struck Diana as extremely frightening; knowing Venger as she did, she had not expected things to run as smoothly as they were running thus far. The ease with which they found themselves creeping through the bowels of the famed castle offered the worrying suggestion that, sooner or later, they would encounter the exact reason for Venger's lack of caution, a reason that Diana was certain they did *not* want to know.
"This is stupid!" hissed Eric as they left one corridor, stepping out into an infuriatingly similar-looking one. "It's obvious we're walking right into a trap! There's no way Venger would let us get this far into his castle without some ulterior motive up his slimy sleeve! I say we get the heck out of here while we still can!" He folded his arms, glaring at the others.
"Be quiet before someone hears you!" snapped Cyclops, and Diana observed with momentary surprise-and undeniable pride-that the fingers of his right had had curled into a loose fist. "We're not backing out now. So shut up and keep to the shadows."
Logan nodded. "And besides, Bright Boy," he growled, "how do ya think those hundreds of lizard creeps outside the castle are gonna react if they see a handful of death-wish prisoners tryin' ta get away? They'd re-capture us in a second, and we'd be right back where we started!" He laughed cruelly at the unhappy anxiety that suddenly pasted itself over Eric's features. "Face it, Hotshot, we're stuck here, whether you like it or not. And, I know *yer* too much of a coward ta do anythin' about it, but I'm sure *I* ain't the only here one who wants ta spend my time doing something *productive*, instead of standin' around this dump, lookin' stupid and waitin' ta be captured again." He snarled dangerously, challenging the Cavalier to argue with him. In response to this, Eric muttered fiercely under his breath, but declined to say anything further aloud.
Laughing, Diana moved to Scott's side, placing a friendly hand on the mutant's broad shoulder. "Congratulations!" she cried with a grin. "You're finally learning. I was beginning to think you didn't know how to raise your voice, and I was betting you'd *never* be able to use it on Eric."
"Hmm?" he asked, puzzled.
She grinned. "Oh, come on. 'We're *not* backing out now!' 'Be quiet before someone hears you.' *That* is the only way to talk to an idiot like Eric, and I was starting to wonder if you'd ever figure it out."
"Sorry," he said, apparently only half-listening. "I lost my cool. The Professor has always taught me not to resort to using angry words, but--no offence intended--Eric is not the easiest person in the world to negotiate with."
"I'm not complaining," she said, shaking her head fervently at his would-be hero's attitude. "I said that raising your voice to him was a *good* thing. You really need to learn that there is no diplomacy on this world, and life *doesn't* revolve around your latest mission. I can't believe you guys are all on the same team!" She paused, thinking back to her earlier conversation with the absent Ranger, and a twinge of unexplained nostalgia wrapped itself around her stomach. "You remind me so much of Hank. He's always trying to be Mr. Perfect, Mr. Everything Has To Go Right, Mr. Hero... and I said exactly the same thing to him last night. You *can't* live your life like that, because if you do, you won't be able to tear yourself away from it. Especially here. Your friend Rogue said it perfectly: what have you got to lose by loosening up a little?"
He smiled wistfully. "Where I come from, having a cool head is often the only thing that keeps you alive. In a world where the planet's entire population hates you and those like you, you don't really get much of a chance to loosen up."
"Oh yeah," she said, nodding solemnly and struggling to keep a straight face. "I can tell. Wolverine has such a *cool* head, and Rogue *definitely* hasn't had the chance to loosen up. You're absolutely right. What was I thinking?"
Unable to sustain her façade of seriousness, she allowed the faintest hint of a knowing smirk to break through, and Cyclops chuckled softly. "Yes, all right. You've made your point. And when we get back home--assuming, of course, that we *will* get back home--I'll bear it in mind. I'm sure Jean will enjoy the challenge of trying to help me 'loosen up'." He grinned to himself, apparently imagining the conversation, and Diana rolled her eyes in response, understanding perfectly who 'Jean' was, and why she would 'enjoy the challenge'.
"Hey guys!" cried Presto, and Diana quickly returned to 'sensible' mode. The Magician stood with Wolverine, a little ways ahead of the rest of the group, squinting cautiously through a junction that connected their corridor with another, similar-looking one. In perfect synch with Cyclops, she moved to see what the unlikely pair had discovered. As it turned out, the corridor itself was completely empty, and as the others turned to frown with impatient curiosity at Presto and Logan, the Magician shook his head, raising a silencing finger, and frowning with intent concentration. "Shh!" he hissed. "Can't you hear it?"
Diana listened, straining to hear whatever it was that Presto and Wolverine seemed to have picked up. Even as she saw Rogue, Cyclops, and--humiliatingly--Eric nodding thoughtfully, she found herself entirely unable to pick up anything but the heady pressure of forced silence. After a few fruitless moments, she shook her head apologetically. "I still don't hear anything."
"Ya will in a second, Darlin'," said Wolverine, smiling dangerously. "Keep quiet and watch this." He extended his claws, clenched his fist, and frowned contemplatively at the far wall. Then, without warning, he lashed out, driving his claws with obvious relish into one of the dull grey bricks that the ancient structure was constructed of, growling with exertion, and watching with unconcealed pride as the brick crumbled to powder beneath the force of his adamantium attack. "There ya go. That any better for ya?"
Diana blinked, moving to peer through the newly-opened gap in the wall. "Woah!" she cried reflexively, then quickly cut herself off. Instead of the second layer of brickwork that she had expected, she found herself staring down from a dizzying height, at an impossibly enormous circular room. With a disoriented gasp, she pulled back, covering her eyes and fighting back a wave of vertigo. "That...that's quite a drop..." she whispered queasily, then turned to stare in astonishment at Wolverine. "How did you know--?"
Wolverine flashed his teeth. "I could smell it."
"Huh?" said Eric, looking to Cyclops and Rogue for an explanation.
Rogue winked. "Don't ask, sugar. Just don't ask."
Having recovered her wandering equilibrium, Diana took a deep breath and moved to gaze once again into the adjoining room, finding herself staring down from a dizzying-and all-too-impossible-height at the source of Logan and Presto's concern. She could not entirely keep herself from crying out again, though she was well aware of the obvious foolishness of the loud exclamation, and ducked back into the corridor, staggering against the nearest wall, panicked beyond all forms of logic by what she had seen. For, what seemed like miles below them, engulfed in hot blue flames, and impassioned by a fit of tangible rage at some terrified victim, stood the Force of Evil, Venger, basking in all his maleficent glory.
*****
"Are you *sure* this is safe?" asked Jubilee.
Bobby grinned and stretched lazily. "Sure it's safe," he said with a grin. "What d'ya think she's gonna do, bite our heads off?" With a cute giggle, he leaned back against Tiamat's blue head, gazing at the almost non-existent wisps of cloud that soared past them at breathtaking speed. Jubilee rolled her eyes at the young boy's carefree attitude, finding herself entirely unable to comprehend his complete lack of anxiety, while at the same time struggling to come to terms with the fact that she was genuinely sitting on the back of a flying dragon.
"That's enough, Bobby," said Sheila, speaking with the annoying maternal gentleness that seemed to annoy the kid beyond all consolation, before turning to Hank, and even Jubilee could see the conscious effort that she made to keep the nervousness from her voice. "She's right, you know, Hank. How can we be sure that Tiamat's not going to drop us, or try to eat us, or do any number of horrible things to us? It's kind of risky agreeing to let her carry us all the way to Venger's castle, don't you think?"
Hank nodded. "Sure it is, but at this point, I don't think we have much of a choice. We've run out of time to take a leisurely walk and admire the pretty scenery." Jubilee snickered at the faint trace of sarcasm in the otherwise all-too-Cyclops-like Ranger's voice. "We need to get there and confront Venger as quickly as possible, and that means taking the risk. I think, at the moment, the minimal risk of being barbecued is outweighed by the more significant danger of allowing Venger any more time to complete his plans... whatever they may be."
Jubilee winced slightly; though she had admittedly spent only a very short amount of time with Bobby and his strange friends, she was already beginning to notice particular aspects of their characters, and, even after such brief exposure, she could see that Hank's brusque speech and anxious demeanour were merely expressions of exactly how deeply he was concerned about this latest arrangement. It seemed fairly obvious, even to someone as supposedly 'innocent' as Jubilee, that, if even the self-assured Ranger was questioning the wisdom of his decision, then consequently, the chances of a smooth and uneventful journey were very slim indeed, a fact that only served to accentuate the discomfort of the young mutant's dry throat and fluttering stomach.
"Do not be foolish, child," seethed Tiamat. "I would not waste my energies consuming you. Had I wished, I would have done so when you first approached me. To delay until now would have been pointless. Had I required a meal, you would not have survived long enough to question my intentions." She picked up speed slightly, muttering angrily to herself. "Mindless creatures."
"Wow," said Jubilee, pulling down her sunglasses in an attempt to shield her eyes from the glaring brightness of four midday suns. "I've never been called 'mindless' by a giant flying lizard before."
Gambit chuckled softly, playing with one of his numerous card decks. "Careful, Petite," he said. "This be one giant flyin' lizard ya don't want to be makin' mad." He grinned and flicked his wrist, sending a single card hurtling down towards the ground. Jubilee watched, faintly dizzy, as the small object exploded a short distance below the dragon's enormous belly.
Hank shook his head at the charismatic Cajun, then looked to Storm, who flew gracefully alongside Tiamat, apparently deep in thought. "You mind coming over here a minute?" he called, smiling tightly as she nodded and moved to execute a perfect landing upon the creature's back, stepping back to stand just within arm's reach of the tense Ranger. "Uhm, thanks. I was just wondering... Uhh, the others haven't gotten in touch with you yet, have they?" he asked, anxiety clear in his voice.
"I am afraid not," she replied with an apologetic smile. "I would have informed you immediately had I heard anything." She sighed softly upon hearing the half-spoken murmur that was his only reply, then took his hand, offering a reassuring smile. "But do not fear. I am certain they are safe. Your friends could not ask for better protection than Cyclops, Rogue, and Wolverine."
"Sure they could," Gambit broke in with a sly grin. "They could've had *Gambit* with 'em."
Snickering, Jubilee elbowed the Cajun in the ribs; he winked at Sheila, and draped a casual arm across her shoulders. She did not seem to mind the attention, but Jubilee was rather surprise to acknowledge Hank's sudden clenched jaw as he visibly struggled to focus on his initial train of thought. "Do you think you could, I don't know, call them or something? Just to make sure they're okay? Uhh, and let them know that we're on our way with Tiamat, I guess."
"What's wrong, Hank?" asked Bobby, and Jubilee felt a twinge of empathy with the boy's innocent uncertainty. "You don't usually get this worried when we have to split up. Don't you trust the others to keep 'emselves outta trouble?" He gazed up at his leader with wide, beautifully bright eyes.
Hank sighed. "Of course I trust them, Bobby. You know I do. But I don't think it'd hurt to make sure that they're still safe. And anyway, when we *usually* have to split up, we don't have the option of communicating with the others."
"In other words," said Sheila with a knowing smile, "Hank just wants to see how your little communicator toys work." She grinned in response to Hank's chagrin groans, then turned back to the others, obviously relishing the chance to embarrass the otherwise-perfect Ranger. "He loves all this hi-tech stuff. You should've seen him on his birthday back home. We all got together and bought him a new CD player, and he spent three hours just reading the instruction manual."
Bobby giggled. "And it was in Japanese!"
Tilting her head gently towards the blushing Ranger, Storm tapped her communicator badge; Jubilee noted that her eyes remained glued to Hank's, even as she spoke into the tiny microphone. "Cyclops, this is Storm. Do you read me?"
Read you perfectly. How goes the dragon hunt?
Hank blinked curiously, then leaned forwards to address the unseen mutant. "Uhm, we've found Tiamat, and we're on our way to the castle with her. Have you managed to get into Venger's castle yet?" Jubilee couldn't help acknowledging the fascination in the Ranger's eyes as he stared awestruck at Storm's comm. badge.
Yes, and--
Before Scott had the chance to say anything else, another voice crackled over the speaker; after a few moments, Jubilee recognised it as belonging to the clumsy-looking Magician, Presto. Yeah, and we found Venger too! You won't believe it when you see him, Hank. He's *glowing* with power. I guess DungeonMaster wasn't kidding when he told the X-Men that Venger's strong enough to take out the whole Realm! I mean--hang on a sec, Cyclops wants you back.
He paused, and the line went dead, but for a momentary burst of static; seconds later, Scott's voice resumed once again, and Jubilee fought back a wave of relief at hearing the familiar voice of their team leader. I don't know what this person is *supposed* to look like, he said with checked concern, but it looks like he's going to be more than a match for us, even with our mutant powers. He's wrapped in some kind of fire...I can't tell for certain, but from here it looks impenetrable. We're going to observe him from this distance for a while longer, then try to get a little closer.
"All right then," said Hank. "Be careful."
Same to you.
Bobby leaned across to speak into the microphone, a decidedly childish gleam in his sparkling eyes. "That's a ten-four, Team Alpha. Beta Group out." He grinned widely and sat back. "Man, you guys are so awesome!"
Rolling her eyes at his infantile nature, Jubilee leaned back against Tiamat's scaly back, feeling the wind whipping her coat, and revelling in the sensation of bareback dragon riding. "Just wait'll the others back at the Mansion hear about this!" she cried, speaking mostly to herself, even as she became aware of Bobby's puzzled frown; shrugging carelessly in response to his arched eyebrow, she stretched out, wondering how much of a tan *four* suns would give her.
In spite of her disdain at the young Barbarian's juvenile nature, she could not deny that felt some connection to the only other one who knew what it was like to be called a 'child'. Though she considered herself to be markedly more mature than the plucky little boy, there was no way of avoiding the fact that his antics made her laugh, or denying the wistful smiles that she found creeping with breathtaking suddenness across her face whenever she gazed at that innocent freckled face. For a kid, at least, he was pretty cute.
Even so, the age and wisdom in his eyes was startling, and Jubilee had observed on several occasions that Storm too had noticed the depth that lay beneath the surface of those liquid crystals. As painful as mutant life was, Jubilee could not deny that, since having joined the X-Men, her life at least had become infinitely better; she knew that other mutants still lived difficult and terrified lives, but she herself-and for this she was eternally grateful-could no longer be numbered among them. The family community that Cyclops, Storm, and the others had shared with her compensated almost completely for the unloved childhood that she had endured; Bobby, it seemed, shared the same communal atmosphere with his friends, the only difference being that such loving and protective compassion as Hank and Sheila showed towards the boy was *forced*, whereas the sense of family that Jubilee experienced as one of the X-Men had been forged solely through choice. Certainly, she could have chosen to become like Wolverine or Gambit, alone, solitary and completely independant, but she--or at least the child in her that she so fervently denied--needed love and trust and friendship.
However, it was not Bobby that Jubilee pitied, nor was it Hank, the stoic and courageous hero. It was Sheila. The quiet red-head was certainly no more than two or three years older than Jubilee herself, and yet she was burdened, not only with her own qualms, doubts, and concerns, but also with those of her brother, with whom she shared a familial bond that even the X-Men could see the depth of. It was this, far more than the girl's obvious aesthetic qualities, that Jubilee guessed was truly the reason behind Gambit's cool Cajun advances. He too, it seemed, could detect the despair that emanated so clearly from the frightened girl, and seemed intent on taking her mind off the terrors that she had been forced to witness, for a time at least.
The relationship between Hank and Storm, however, seemed far more interesting to the gossip-hungry young mutant. It was clear that there was nothing especially romantic going on between them, much to Jubilee's disappointment, but the two definitely seemed to have developed some kind of tangible rapport. Perhaps, she mused, yawning lazily as she felt the suns bathing her in their gentle rays, the two strongest members of their "Beta Group"--as Bobby had insisted on naming them--were enjoying an intimacy akin to the one that she felt blooming between herself and the headstrong Barbarian. Certainly, similar parallels could be drawn between Hank and Storm as between Jubilee and Bobby: both were brave and determined for the sakes of their weaker comrades, but it was clear from even the briefest of contact with either of them that their courage and heroism were easily-removed masks, the likes of which served to conceal frightened, lonely, and, more often than not, wounded children.
Unlike Jubilee and Bobby, however, Storm and Hank seemed entirely unafraid to express their need for support, and, specifically, to lean on the other whenever the need arose. Jubilee had noticed--albeit with a faint air of disgust--the compassion that Storm had shown the anxious Ranger when Hank's concern for his absent comrades had overwhelmed him. She had humoured his desire to contact the others, though it was clearly unnecessary, and similarly, he had accommodated the violent attacks of claustrophobia that had struck her down at various points during their subterranean search for Tiamat. It seemed that, perhaps, their relationship was something more than a sharing of circumstances, and perhaps it was for this reason that Jubilee found herself seeking out something deeper and more powerful between them.
"Hey, look!"
Bobby's trademark enthusiasm broke through Jubilee's thoughts, and she opened her eyes. "What is it now?" she demanded, struggling to hide the fact that she had, only moments ago, been thinking of him.
He was pointing down, to a small flickering shadow that lurked far below the shroud of wispy cloud that protected them from even the most observant of witnesses. She glared at him, pushing her sunglasses back up onto her head, and he grinned in response. "You see that black shadow just past that little cliff down there?" he asked, and she nodded, squinting at the distant silhouette in an attempt to give the object some kind of shape. "Well, *that* is Venger's castle!"
"That little blob?" she cried.
He nodded excitedly. "Pretty soon, that 'little blob' is gonna be the biggest, meanest-looking castle you've ever seen! And once we bust inside, Venger is gonna be ours for the taking! Nothing's gonna stop us now!"
*****
"Hey Genius," blurted Eric as Cyclops turned away from his communicator with a satisfied smile; he was aware of the words escaping his lips long before his brain caught up with the potential danger of what he was saying. "How exactly do you propose we 'try to get a little closer' without getting zapped by the souped-up Force of Evil?"
Cyclops groaned softly, and Eric could see that he was fighting to ignore the question. Wolverine, meanwhile, was in the process of slashing the bricks that lay adjacent to his makeshift hole, widening it to a point of almost being large enough for a human body to slide through. Eric could see what the Small-Brain-Big-Muscles mutant was planning, and choked in terror. "What's the matter with you?" he demanded. "There's no way you could survive a fall like that..." He paused, glancing briefly at the consternation pasted across Presto's innocent face and the wild fury that suddenly filled Logan's eyes at the detection of a challenge to his judgement. "Uh... on second thoughts, go ahead. It was great knowing you, buddy. Don't forget to send us a postcard when you hit the bottom."
"Eric, I know you're not the smartest jerk in the Realm, so I'll explain this nice and slowly for you," Diana said, and Eric recognised well the threat of her 'you're treading on dangerous ground' voice. "If you don't shut up, Venger's gonna be getting a new Cavalier-coloured carpet."
It took a few moments for the Cavalier to choose between a rebuttal--and certain death--and remaining painfully silent but alive; in the end, and after much thoughtful deliberation, he decided upon the lesser of two evils. He shut up. Leaning sulkily against the wall, he glared at the others as Cyclops, in sickeningly Hank-esque style, endeavoured to piece together some kind of plan. Eric knew that, whatever hare-brained scheme the buffoon came up with, failure was inevitable. However, partially out of contempt for their lack of appreciation towards him, and partly as a result of his inbred sense of dignity, he refused to warn the handsome mutant that his endeavour would only serve to be fruitless. So, instead of participating in their idiotic conversations, he simply continued to lean against the wall with characteristic regality and struggled not to stare too hard at the breathtaking Southern Belle known as Rogue.
"I think you're right, Cyclops," Presto murmured thoughtfully, squinting down at the flickering bubble of fire that was Venger. "We'll never figure out the source of his new power from this distance. We've got to get closer." He paused, then frowned in faint annoyance. "I swear this stupid castle changes its appearance every time we visit it!"
Eric rolled his eyes, but remained silent. Stupid. The five of them were all as foolish as each other, and they were all doomed. As a matter of principle, he did not say anything to dissuade them. Certain death would surely make them realise how much of a mistake it had been telling the Old Cavalier to 'shut up'. He grinned cruelly; of course, he would not allow them to die, simply to become so helplessly trapped by Venger and his Orc armies that they would beg for him to forgive them and come heroically to their rescue. Then he, the dashing and courageous warrior that he was, would come to their aid, single-handedly taking on Venger, rescuing his eternally grateful comrades, and saving the Realm from certain doom. The crowds would cheer, gigantic marble statues would be constructed in his honour, and entire cities would be developed for him to rule. He would be made a King, loved and respected by all under his reign.
At least, that was how it played out in his mind.
He knew from experience that the real world was seldom as utopian as such dreams, that a lowly coward such as himself would never become a hero, and so he found himself entirely unable to keep his mouth shut. Surely it was courageous to risk being thrown down an impossible drop, rather than remain safe and silent and allow the others to die, if for no reason other than to relieve his own pitiful guilt at having watched their downfall without once trying to stop them.
"You can't do this!" he cried, then, realising the emotion that he had allowed to creep into the exclamation, quickly covered it up. "I mean, you're totally stupid! If you think I'm just going to sit back and watch while you guys plummet to your deaths, you all need your heads examined! I say we turn around and forget this whole deal!"
"Oh yeah?" Wolverine snarled, pushing his face frighteningly close to the Cavalier's and gripping his tunic, and Eric winced as he felt the mutant's breath warming the side of his face. "Well, *I* say you go and get yourself a spine, you low-life jellyfish. But I guess it looks like neither of us are gonna get what we want." He snapped his teeth and released Eric's shirt with violent reluctance.
Presto was hunched over his hat, musing thoughtfully in an attempt to think up an impressive-sounding spell. Eric chuckled to himself and stepped back towards the wall, safe in the knowledge that, once Wolverine and the other mutants saw the hopeless Wizard's hopeless attempts at magic, they would quickly forget the entire useless plot of chivalry. Far more important than that, though, was the fact that Presto's inevitable failure would offer Eric the chance to complain about something new. Though he could not deny the burning desire that pulsed through his hardened heart--during rare, uncharacteristically contemplative moments--to become more like his amiable comrades--as brave and respected as Hank, as passionate and energetic as Diana, as clumsy and loveable as Presto--he had learned from experience that any attempts to be *anything* but his usual arrogant self were always met with scorn and cruel remarks.
"Listen hat, no time to joke: We need to be hidden, so give us some smoke." Presto gazed expectantly into his hat, glancing up to smile briefly at Eric and Diana. "Good one, huh? I think I'm getting better..."
Eric snorted. "Well, you couldn't be getting much worse, could you?" he demanded.
"Shut it, Death-Wish," growled Wolverine.
The six of them gazed expectantly at the hat; Eric did not doubt for one second that his expectations were completely different to those of the others, with the possible exception of Presto himself. To his surprise, the hat gurgled precariously, and moments later, a thin shroud of steam-like cloud hissed out from inside it, effectively concealing the group from any nearby witnesses. Eric watched, stunned into silence by the apparent success of the Magician's attempt at being useful.
The celebration, however, was short-lived, just as Eric had known it would be. Mere seconds before the smoke completely enveloped the small group--consequently allowing Cyclops to undertake his foolish plan of moving closer--the hat released an unhealthy grinding sound, and promptly exploded in a noisy shower of searing yellow sparks.
Surprised for only the briefest of moments, Eric smirked at the stammering Magician. "You see!" he cried, poking Wolverine in the chest even as his sense of reasoning warned against the action. "Totally useless!" It only took him a second to acknowledge the acute terror on Presto's face as he gripped his charred hat in limp hands, and the subdued worry on Scott's as he began to back fearfully away from Wolverine's makeshift spying spot, and less than that to realise that, taking into consideration the volume of Presto's unintentional explosion, it was highly unlikely that Venger, even from the considerable--and impossible--distance, could not have missed hearing it. "Uh oh!" he yelped. "I think it's time to run for it, don't you?"
"No way!" cried Logan, extending his claws. "The X-Men never run from a fight. This is what we came here for, and I fer one ain't gonna run away just because it ain't gone the way we expected it to go."
Eric gulped and stammered, totally shocked by what he was hearing. Realising that he was not going to be able to talk sense into the headstrong Wolverine, he turned to Cyclops, begging unabashedly. "Come *on*!" he cried, falling to his knees. "We don't stand a chance against Venger, not without the others and Tiamat. We've got to get out of here until they show up!" Then, unable to resist turning to Logan, he continued, "So we beat a *tactical* retreat and come back when we actually stand a chance against the guy!"
Cyclops hesitated for the briefest of moments, then shook his head in weary submission. "Where do you suggest we go?" he asked very softly. "Wolverine's already pointed out that we're stuck inside this castle, with thousands of Lizard Men just waiting to attack us if we take a step outside. Venger knows we're here. We can only run for so long before he catches up with us, and then we'll be trapped *and* exhausted. We don't need to fight him now, only distract him until Storm and the others show up with that dragon of yours."
"And how exactly do you propose we do *that*?" cried Eric, finding himself entirely unable to believe the ridiculous words that were abusing his sensitive ears.
Wolverine dragged his claws down the wall, smiling at the painful shrieking sound. "I'm sure *you* could occupy him for at least ten minutes... What could be more fun than a nice long game of Torture the Loud-Mouthed Jerk?"
"Enough!" cried Cyclops, moving back into the corridor that they had recently left. "We need to find somewhere with enough space to confront the Force of Evil without compromising ourselves." He broke into a jog, and the others moved to follow him; after a moment spent glancing over his shoulder to ensure they were not being too closely chased, Eric took off after them. He knew as well as Cyclops that they had no idea where they were going and that, essentially, Scott's 'we need a bigger battlefield' plan was nothing more than an excuse for his unspoken agreement with Eric's 'run for our lives' plea.
It was not until they had reached the entrance hall in which they had fought their reptilian captors that Cyclops paused, breathing hard, and turning to gaze behind them in search of their elusive pursuer. Venger, however, was nowhere to be seen, and, just as Eric was about to breathe an enormous sigh of relief, the ground began to shake.
A searing lake of icy fire seemed to form out of nothingness on the carpet at their feet; as Eric yelped and backed away from the offending pool, he saw that its liquid blue flames matched almost perfectly the conflagration that had engulfed Venger as they had observed him from their hidden post. Squealing in terror, Eric cowered behind his shield, pushing Wolverine in front of him as he prayed for the phenomenon to be nothing more than a cheerful, blazing 'Welcome' mat.
Of course, with Eric's luck being as it was, the raging inferno began to bubble all the more fiercely, rising from the lush carpet to form an almost humanoid shape. It was a shape the Cavalier knew all too well, a shape that filled his mind with even deeper, inconsolable fear and sent a cold shiver down his spine, even as he closed his eyes and screamed in incomparable terror, oblivious to both his long-time friends and the equally helpless X-Men.
It was the shape of pure Evil.
*****
Diana heard herself yell, felt her fingers tightening as they gripped the reassuringly familiar javelin, saw the weapon extending to its full length, and tasted the sweet pleasure of victory as the two Lizard Men who had held her collapsed noiselessly to the ground. Still, even as she heard and felt and saw and tasted, she was, in fact, witnessing the undertaking of her plan from a surreal and bizarre distance; it was as if something else had overpowered her body, and she was merely an indifferent spectator to her own feats.
She knew the feeling well; it engulfed her like a protective shroud whenever she found herself in a predicament in which blood would have to be spilled by her own hands. Competitive as she was, she was far from brutal, and the frightening necessity of needing to wound another--perhaps even fatally--often caused her to dissociate during times of intense battle; since entering the Realm, she had come to accept the temporary loss of self, knowing beyond all doubt that, at times, it was all that kept her sane. And so, as she observed from a safe distance the damage that she herself was inflicting on the innocent and unsuspecting reptiles, she managed to remain unerringly calm and concentrated on the task at hand, consciously preventing herself from being trapped beneath the weight of scruples and ethics--the likes of which had, in a life long past, been the sole foundation of her unwavering moral compass.
The attack lasted only a matter of minutes, and as Diana felt her mind and body once again merge with each other, congealing into the single, rational, individual that she had come to be accepted as, she felt a wave of pride washing over her. Generally, she enjoyed leaving the construction of plans to either Hank or, less often, Eric, not wanting to be burdened with the potential prospect of failure; however, whenever she was able to push aside this unspoken insecurity and voice her thoughts, the heady thrill of watching *her* plan unfolding to completion was far more pure and powerful than that of any gold medal, and the consequent congratulations that she received from the X-Men made this particular case all the more enjoyable.
"All right," said Eric, leaning against the wall; Diana noted with undisguised affection that, as always, the Cavalier had entirely failed to dispose of a single assailant, yet simultaneously managed, through some long-perfected manipulation of his tiresome features, to adopt an expression of brave and exhausted heroism. "So we're in. What do we do now?"
"Now we find Venger," Cyclops replied in a voice so low that the others had to strain to hear it. "And then we discover what exactly it is that we're up against, and how we can even the odds against him." Diana frowned slightly at the crisp, calculated sobriety of the mutant's speech; his intent features, and the disconcerting lack of any eyes upon which to focus offered a suggestion of an all-too rational individual, and one that would allow the harsh brutality of his solemn determination to be his downfall, should the opportunity arise.
Eric grunted in response to the mutant's sombre muse. "Oh, great."
"Yeah," agreed Wolverine with hungry enthusiasm, wiping his bloodstained claws on the Cavalier's shirt; Diana acknowledged that, of the fourteen Lizard Men that had 'escorted' them into the castle, Wolverine alone had taken out at least ten. "Great. All this talk of the 'super-powerful Force of Evil' has put me in the mood for a *real* challenge..."
Diana rolled her eyes as Eric yelped and leaped away from the smirking mutant, but her good-humoured chuckle faded in her throat as she observed Presto's slightly nervous nod as he moved once again to Logan's side. Despite her earlier conversation with Cyclops on the subject, she still found herself unable to trust the wild Wolverine, and the faithful puppy-dog trust in Presto's eyes as he gazed up with innocent devotion at the snarling mutant was making her extremely uneasy; the unnerving rapport that the two seemed to have developed struck Diana as leading to nothing but trouble, and, judging by the tightness of his jaw, Cyclops seemed equally anxious, in worrying contrast to his own earlier expression of confidence in his comrade's nature.
Straightening his tunic with wounded pride, Eric shook his head. "No way. Getting in side was *lucky*, but our luck isn't going to last forever, and we don't want to be anywhere near Venger when it runs out..."
Rogue grinned and draped an arm across his shoulder. "Sure we do, sugar," she said brightly. "There ain't no fun in playin' it safe all the time. What've ya got to lose by loosenin' up a little?"
Eric mumbled something indistinct, blushing dark crimson, and Diana laughed at his response to the playful mutant's advances; she did not require DungeonMaster's infinite wisdom to see that Rogue had no interest whatsoever in the self-centred young Cavalier, but had no absolutely qualms about using her abundant charms--charms that Eric seemed to have taken *great* interest in--to 'persuade' the boy into conforming with the others' ideas and suggestions. Still, it did strike Diana as rather interesting that the friendly female mutant had taken to defending the Cavalier from her easily-angered companion.
"I'll tell you what we've got to lose," he cried, finally recovering his voice-and, apparently, his dignity. "Our lives, that's what! Your comic-book powers might keep you guys alive, but they're not going to do anything for the rest of us!"
"Take it easy, Eric," Presto said, moving to grip his lifelong friend's arm. "Nobody's suggesting we rush headfirst into a no-win combat zone. Well, maybe Wolverine is suggesting that, but he's only kidding... I think. If we were going to take Venger out right now, what was the point of sending Hank and the others to find Tiamat? For all we know, the X-Men might be just as powerless against Venger as we are! I think Mr... uhh, Cyclops, was suggesting we do what Hank said: we figure out what Venger's done to make himself so powerful, then lay low until the others show up with Tiamat. Forgive me if I'm wrong, Sir." he finished, addressing this last to the smiling Cyclops, then, in direct response to Wolverine's disgusted snort "I mean... uhh, that is... oops."
Wolverine slapped him on the back, sending the anxious young Magician sprawling; Diana felt her fists clenching again and struggled to suppress her rising qualms. Cyclops, apparently experiencing a similar twinge of consternation, shot a warning glance at Logan, before turning back to Eric. "That's right. I have no intention of taking on this Force of Evil until I know *exactly* what it is that we're up against, or at least until we hear a report from Storm and the others about how their dragon-hunt is going." Diana sighed at the lingering seriousness in the mutant's voice; he was far too stoic for his own good, and she knew that if he was to stand even half a chance against Venger, he would have to relax... or, at the very least, learn to 'go with the flow', as the old saying went.
"Think of it as one of those undercover secret-agent things," Presto offered helpfully, grinning first at Wolverine and then at Eric. "We go in, we stick to the shadows, we find out the source of Venger's newfound power, we get out. Nobody gets hurt, and no Kentucky Fried Cavalier. That's simple enough."
"Yeah," grinned Diana, unable to resist adding to the hilarious analogy as she nudged the Cavalier in the ribs and smirked with the smug confidence that she knew he could not tolerate. "You copy that, Double-Oh-Stupid?"
Cyclops leaned against the wall, running his hand across his visor with a fatigued groan. "Can we *please* stop allowing ourselves to lose focus?" he begged, as usual trying to retain some form of order in a chaotic situation; the Acrobat considered warning him that maintaining sensible order in such a deadly situation was often what caused otherwise-perfect heroes to lose control. "Now, whereabouts would this Venger character be found?" Diana looked at Eric, Eric glared stubbornly at the nearest wall, and Presto flushed and stared with renewed intensity at the floor. "You don't have a *clue*, do you?" Scott asked, and Diana could hear the exhaustion in his voice. "All right then. I say we just keep on walking in a roughly straight line. How hard can it be to find an all-powerful being in one little building? That was *rhetorical*, Eric" he added quickly, as the Cavalier once again opened his mouth.
The others glanced at each other, then began moving as Cyclops had suggested, keeping close to the walls and remaining consciously alert for even the slightest signs of danger from any direction. Scott held position at the head of the group, scouting cautiously ahead as they made their way out of the brightly-decorated entrance hallway, and into a dimly-lit, drab-looking corridor; Presto remained with stubborn loyalty by Wolverine's side, and Diana silently cursed this observation, having been praying for a chance to catch the violent mutant alone, and speak to him regarding his intentions towards the impressionable Wizard. Instead of intruding, though, she decided that the more diplomatic option would be to simply hang back a little and watch their interactions unnoticed. Apparently intuitive of her idea, Eric clung to her side, loitering behind her in an attempt to both hide himself from Logan, and have somebody to protect him from the sinister attacks that he seemed certain were lurking around every corner.
In stark contrast to the others, Rogue appeared perfectly content to walk alone. She strolled a short way behind the cautious Cyclops, and a similar distance ahead of Presto and Wolverine, gazing curiously at the abstract paintings that hung on the wall at spasmodic intervals; Diana noticed that, other than her tactful attempts to sway Eric's selfish resolve or cool Logan's temper, the female mutant had kept mostly to herself, remaining quiet and calm, and, though she was ashamed to admit it, Diana could not deny that it offered some degree of relief to know that at least *one* member of the group was sustaining some sense of realism. Admittedly, Scott's adoption of the 'calm voice of reason' role had relieved much of the weight that so often rested on Diana's shoulders whenever the six Young Ones were forced to split up; however, his reluctance to deal with the obvious problems that his hot-headed friend was causing, coupled with his obvious over-emphasis on sustaining an impossible sense of serious concentration suggested that Cyclops, in spite of his evidently well-honed leadership skill, was not the mutant to turn to regarding non-mission-related issues.
Though the layout of the castle was fairly familiar to the Young Ones, it was still something of a struggle to navigate, as the attempt was hindered rather considerably by their efforts to remain hidden; Diana felt a twinge of momentary worry at the realisation that, in spite of the enormous quantity of protection that Venger had positioned outside the castle, there was absolutely no sign within the building of Orcs, Lizard Men, or any of Venger's other 'expendable' soldiers. At various points, the floor was laced with traps--in the form of tripwires or small, easily-avoided trap doors--but other than that, there seemed to be no attempt whatsoever to neutralise any potential intruders, and this realisation struck Diana as extremely frightening; knowing Venger as she did, she had not expected things to run as smoothly as they were running thus far. The ease with which they found themselves creeping through the bowels of the famed castle offered the worrying suggestion that, sooner or later, they would encounter the exact reason for Venger's lack of caution, a reason that Diana was certain they did *not* want to know.
"This is stupid!" hissed Eric as they left one corridor, stepping out into an infuriatingly similar-looking one. "It's obvious we're walking right into a trap! There's no way Venger would let us get this far into his castle without some ulterior motive up his slimy sleeve! I say we get the heck out of here while we still can!" He folded his arms, glaring at the others.
"Be quiet before someone hears you!" snapped Cyclops, and Diana observed with momentary surprise-and undeniable pride-that the fingers of his right had had curled into a loose fist. "We're not backing out now. So shut up and keep to the shadows."
Logan nodded. "And besides, Bright Boy," he growled, "how do ya think those hundreds of lizard creeps outside the castle are gonna react if they see a handful of death-wish prisoners tryin' ta get away? They'd re-capture us in a second, and we'd be right back where we started!" He laughed cruelly at the unhappy anxiety that suddenly pasted itself over Eric's features. "Face it, Hotshot, we're stuck here, whether you like it or not. And, I know *yer* too much of a coward ta do anythin' about it, but I'm sure *I* ain't the only here one who wants ta spend my time doing something *productive*, instead of standin' around this dump, lookin' stupid and waitin' ta be captured again." He snarled dangerously, challenging the Cavalier to argue with him. In response to this, Eric muttered fiercely under his breath, but declined to say anything further aloud.
Laughing, Diana moved to Scott's side, placing a friendly hand on the mutant's broad shoulder. "Congratulations!" she cried with a grin. "You're finally learning. I was beginning to think you didn't know how to raise your voice, and I was betting you'd *never* be able to use it on Eric."
"Hmm?" he asked, puzzled.
She grinned. "Oh, come on. 'We're *not* backing out now!' 'Be quiet before someone hears you.' *That* is the only way to talk to an idiot like Eric, and I was starting to wonder if you'd ever figure it out."
"Sorry," he said, apparently only half-listening. "I lost my cool. The Professor has always taught me not to resort to using angry words, but--no offence intended--Eric is not the easiest person in the world to negotiate with."
"I'm not complaining," she said, shaking her head fervently at his would-be hero's attitude. "I said that raising your voice to him was a *good* thing. You really need to learn that there is no diplomacy on this world, and life *doesn't* revolve around your latest mission. I can't believe you guys are all on the same team!" She paused, thinking back to her earlier conversation with the absent Ranger, and a twinge of unexplained nostalgia wrapped itself around her stomach. "You remind me so much of Hank. He's always trying to be Mr. Perfect, Mr. Everything Has To Go Right, Mr. Hero... and I said exactly the same thing to him last night. You *can't* live your life like that, because if you do, you won't be able to tear yourself away from it. Especially here. Your friend Rogue said it perfectly: what have you got to lose by loosening up a little?"
He smiled wistfully. "Where I come from, having a cool head is often the only thing that keeps you alive. In a world where the planet's entire population hates you and those like you, you don't really get much of a chance to loosen up."
"Oh yeah," she said, nodding solemnly and struggling to keep a straight face. "I can tell. Wolverine has such a *cool* head, and Rogue *definitely* hasn't had the chance to loosen up. You're absolutely right. What was I thinking?"
Unable to sustain her façade of seriousness, she allowed the faintest hint of a knowing smirk to break through, and Cyclops chuckled softly. "Yes, all right. You've made your point. And when we get back home--assuming, of course, that we *will* get back home--I'll bear it in mind. I'm sure Jean will enjoy the challenge of trying to help me 'loosen up'." He grinned to himself, apparently imagining the conversation, and Diana rolled her eyes in response, understanding perfectly who 'Jean' was, and why she would 'enjoy the challenge'.
"Hey guys!" cried Presto, and Diana quickly returned to 'sensible' mode. The Magician stood with Wolverine, a little ways ahead of the rest of the group, squinting cautiously through a junction that connected their corridor with another, similar-looking one. In perfect synch with Cyclops, she moved to see what the unlikely pair had discovered. As it turned out, the corridor itself was completely empty, and as the others turned to frown with impatient curiosity at Presto and Logan, the Magician shook his head, raising a silencing finger, and frowning with intent concentration. "Shh!" he hissed. "Can't you hear it?"
Diana listened, straining to hear whatever it was that Presto and Wolverine seemed to have picked up. Even as she saw Rogue, Cyclops, and--humiliatingly--Eric nodding thoughtfully, she found herself entirely unable to pick up anything but the heady pressure of forced silence. After a few fruitless moments, she shook her head apologetically. "I still don't hear anything."
"Ya will in a second, Darlin'," said Wolverine, smiling dangerously. "Keep quiet and watch this." He extended his claws, clenched his fist, and frowned contemplatively at the far wall. Then, without warning, he lashed out, driving his claws with obvious relish into one of the dull grey bricks that the ancient structure was constructed of, growling with exertion, and watching with unconcealed pride as the brick crumbled to powder beneath the force of his adamantium attack. "There ya go. That any better for ya?"
Diana blinked, moving to peer through the newly-opened gap in the wall. "Woah!" she cried reflexively, then quickly cut herself off. Instead of the second layer of brickwork that she had expected, she found herself staring down from a dizzying height, at an impossibly enormous circular room. With a disoriented gasp, she pulled back, covering her eyes and fighting back a wave of vertigo. "That...that's quite a drop..." she whispered queasily, then turned to stare in astonishment at Wolverine. "How did you know--?"
Wolverine flashed his teeth. "I could smell it."
"Huh?" said Eric, looking to Cyclops and Rogue for an explanation.
Rogue winked. "Don't ask, sugar. Just don't ask."
Having recovered her wandering equilibrium, Diana took a deep breath and moved to gaze once again into the adjoining room, finding herself staring down from a dizzying-and all-too-impossible-height at the source of Logan and Presto's concern. She could not entirely keep herself from crying out again, though she was well aware of the obvious foolishness of the loud exclamation, and ducked back into the corridor, staggering against the nearest wall, panicked beyond all forms of logic by what she had seen. For, what seemed like miles below them, engulfed in hot blue flames, and impassioned by a fit of tangible rage at some terrified victim, stood the Force of Evil, Venger, basking in all his maleficent glory.
*****
"Are you *sure* this is safe?" asked Jubilee.
Bobby grinned and stretched lazily. "Sure it's safe," he said with a grin. "What d'ya think she's gonna do, bite our heads off?" With a cute giggle, he leaned back against Tiamat's blue head, gazing at the almost non-existent wisps of cloud that soared past them at breathtaking speed. Jubilee rolled her eyes at the young boy's carefree attitude, finding herself entirely unable to comprehend his complete lack of anxiety, while at the same time struggling to come to terms with the fact that she was genuinely sitting on the back of a flying dragon.
"That's enough, Bobby," said Sheila, speaking with the annoying maternal gentleness that seemed to annoy the kid beyond all consolation, before turning to Hank, and even Jubilee could see the conscious effort that she made to keep the nervousness from her voice. "She's right, you know, Hank. How can we be sure that Tiamat's not going to drop us, or try to eat us, or do any number of horrible things to us? It's kind of risky agreeing to let her carry us all the way to Venger's castle, don't you think?"
Hank nodded. "Sure it is, but at this point, I don't think we have much of a choice. We've run out of time to take a leisurely walk and admire the pretty scenery." Jubilee snickered at the faint trace of sarcasm in the otherwise all-too-Cyclops-like Ranger's voice. "We need to get there and confront Venger as quickly as possible, and that means taking the risk. I think, at the moment, the minimal risk of being barbecued is outweighed by the more significant danger of allowing Venger any more time to complete his plans... whatever they may be."
Jubilee winced slightly; though she had admittedly spent only a very short amount of time with Bobby and his strange friends, she was already beginning to notice particular aspects of their characters, and, even after such brief exposure, she could see that Hank's brusque speech and anxious demeanour were merely expressions of exactly how deeply he was concerned about this latest arrangement. It seemed fairly obvious, even to someone as supposedly 'innocent' as Jubilee, that, if even the self-assured Ranger was questioning the wisdom of his decision, then consequently, the chances of a smooth and uneventful journey were very slim indeed, a fact that only served to accentuate the discomfort of the young mutant's dry throat and fluttering stomach.
"Do not be foolish, child," seethed Tiamat. "I would not waste my energies consuming you. Had I wished, I would have done so when you first approached me. To delay until now would have been pointless. Had I required a meal, you would not have survived long enough to question my intentions." She picked up speed slightly, muttering angrily to herself. "Mindless creatures."
"Wow," said Jubilee, pulling down her sunglasses in an attempt to shield her eyes from the glaring brightness of four midday suns. "I've never been called 'mindless' by a giant flying lizard before."
Gambit chuckled softly, playing with one of his numerous card decks. "Careful, Petite," he said. "This be one giant flyin' lizard ya don't want to be makin' mad." He grinned and flicked his wrist, sending a single card hurtling down towards the ground. Jubilee watched, faintly dizzy, as the small object exploded a short distance below the dragon's enormous belly.
Hank shook his head at the charismatic Cajun, then looked to Storm, who flew gracefully alongside Tiamat, apparently deep in thought. "You mind coming over here a minute?" he called, smiling tightly as she nodded and moved to execute a perfect landing upon the creature's back, stepping back to stand just within arm's reach of the tense Ranger. "Uhm, thanks. I was just wondering... Uhh, the others haven't gotten in touch with you yet, have they?" he asked, anxiety clear in his voice.
"I am afraid not," she replied with an apologetic smile. "I would have informed you immediately had I heard anything." She sighed softly upon hearing the half-spoken murmur that was his only reply, then took his hand, offering a reassuring smile. "But do not fear. I am certain they are safe. Your friends could not ask for better protection than Cyclops, Rogue, and Wolverine."
"Sure they could," Gambit broke in with a sly grin. "They could've had *Gambit* with 'em."
Snickering, Jubilee elbowed the Cajun in the ribs; he winked at Sheila, and draped a casual arm across her shoulders. She did not seem to mind the attention, but Jubilee was rather surprise to acknowledge Hank's sudden clenched jaw as he visibly struggled to focus on his initial train of thought. "Do you think you could, I don't know, call them or something? Just to make sure they're okay? Uhh, and let them know that we're on our way with Tiamat, I guess."
"What's wrong, Hank?" asked Bobby, and Jubilee felt a twinge of empathy with the boy's innocent uncertainty. "You don't usually get this worried when we have to split up. Don't you trust the others to keep 'emselves outta trouble?" He gazed up at his leader with wide, beautifully bright eyes.
Hank sighed. "Of course I trust them, Bobby. You know I do. But I don't think it'd hurt to make sure that they're still safe. And anyway, when we *usually* have to split up, we don't have the option of communicating with the others."
"In other words," said Sheila with a knowing smile, "Hank just wants to see how your little communicator toys work." She grinned in response to Hank's chagrin groans, then turned back to the others, obviously relishing the chance to embarrass the otherwise-perfect Ranger. "He loves all this hi-tech stuff. You should've seen him on his birthday back home. We all got together and bought him a new CD player, and he spent three hours just reading the instruction manual."
Bobby giggled. "And it was in Japanese!"
Tilting her head gently towards the blushing Ranger, Storm tapped her communicator badge; Jubilee noted that her eyes remained glued to Hank's, even as she spoke into the tiny microphone. "Cyclops, this is Storm. Do you read me?"
Read you perfectly. How goes the dragon hunt?
Hank blinked curiously, then leaned forwards to address the unseen mutant. "Uhm, we've found Tiamat, and we're on our way to the castle with her. Have you managed to get into Venger's castle yet?" Jubilee couldn't help acknowledging the fascination in the Ranger's eyes as he stared awestruck at Storm's comm. badge.
Yes, and--
Before Scott had the chance to say anything else, another voice crackled over the speaker; after a few moments, Jubilee recognised it as belonging to the clumsy-looking Magician, Presto. Yeah, and we found Venger too! You won't believe it when you see him, Hank. He's *glowing* with power. I guess DungeonMaster wasn't kidding when he told the X-Men that Venger's strong enough to take out the whole Realm! I mean--hang on a sec, Cyclops wants you back.
He paused, and the line went dead, but for a momentary burst of static; seconds later, Scott's voice resumed once again, and Jubilee fought back a wave of relief at hearing the familiar voice of their team leader. I don't know what this person is *supposed* to look like, he said with checked concern, but it looks like he's going to be more than a match for us, even with our mutant powers. He's wrapped in some kind of fire...I can't tell for certain, but from here it looks impenetrable. We're going to observe him from this distance for a while longer, then try to get a little closer.
"All right then," said Hank. "Be careful."
Same to you.
Bobby leaned across to speak into the microphone, a decidedly childish gleam in his sparkling eyes. "That's a ten-four, Team Alpha. Beta Group out." He grinned widely and sat back. "Man, you guys are so awesome!"
Rolling her eyes at his infantile nature, Jubilee leaned back against Tiamat's scaly back, feeling the wind whipping her coat, and revelling in the sensation of bareback dragon riding. "Just wait'll the others back at the Mansion hear about this!" she cried, speaking mostly to herself, even as she became aware of Bobby's puzzled frown; shrugging carelessly in response to his arched eyebrow, she stretched out, wondering how much of a tan *four* suns would give her.
In spite of her disdain at the young Barbarian's juvenile nature, she could not deny that felt some connection to the only other one who knew what it was like to be called a 'child'. Though she considered herself to be markedly more mature than the plucky little boy, there was no way of avoiding the fact that his antics made her laugh, or denying the wistful smiles that she found creeping with breathtaking suddenness across her face whenever she gazed at that innocent freckled face. For a kid, at least, he was pretty cute.
Even so, the age and wisdom in his eyes was startling, and Jubilee had observed on several occasions that Storm too had noticed the depth that lay beneath the surface of those liquid crystals. As painful as mutant life was, Jubilee could not deny that, since having joined the X-Men, her life at least had become infinitely better; she knew that other mutants still lived difficult and terrified lives, but she herself-and for this she was eternally grateful-could no longer be numbered among them. The family community that Cyclops, Storm, and the others had shared with her compensated almost completely for the unloved childhood that she had endured; Bobby, it seemed, shared the same communal atmosphere with his friends, the only difference being that such loving and protective compassion as Hank and Sheila showed towards the boy was *forced*, whereas the sense of family that Jubilee experienced as one of the X-Men had been forged solely through choice. Certainly, she could have chosen to become like Wolverine or Gambit, alone, solitary and completely independant, but she--or at least the child in her that she so fervently denied--needed love and trust and friendship.
However, it was not Bobby that Jubilee pitied, nor was it Hank, the stoic and courageous hero. It was Sheila. The quiet red-head was certainly no more than two or three years older than Jubilee herself, and yet she was burdened, not only with her own qualms, doubts, and concerns, but also with those of her brother, with whom she shared a familial bond that even the X-Men could see the depth of. It was this, far more than the girl's obvious aesthetic qualities, that Jubilee guessed was truly the reason behind Gambit's cool Cajun advances. He too, it seemed, could detect the despair that emanated so clearly from the frightened girl, and seemed intent on taking her mind off the terrors that she had been forced to witness, for a time at least.
The relationship between Hank and Storm, however, seemed far more interesting to the gossip-hungry young mutant. It was clear that there was nothing especially romantic going on between them, much to Jubilee's disappointment, but the two definitely seemed to have developed some kind of tangible rapport. Perhaps, she mused, yawning lazily as she felt the suns bathing her in their gentle rays, the two strongest members of their "Beta Group"--as Bobby had insisted on naming them--were enjoying an intimacy akin to the one that she felt blooming between herself and the headstrong Barbarian. Certainly, similar parallels could be drawn between Hank and Storm as between Jubilee and Bobby: both were brave and determined for the sakes of their weaker comrades, but it was clear from even the briefest of contact with either of them that their courage and heroism were easily-removed masks, the likes of which served to conceal frightened, lonely, and, more often than not, wounded children.
Unlike Jubilee and Bobby, however, Storm and Hank seemed entirely unafraid to express their need for support, and, specifically, to lean on the other whenever the need arose. Jubilee had noticed--albeit with a faint air of disgust--the compassion that Storm had shown the anxious Ranger when Hank's concern for his absent comrades had overwhelmed him. She had humoured his desire to contact the others, though it was clearly unnecessary, and similarly, he had accommodated the violent attacks of claustrophobia that had struck her down at various points during their subterranean search for Tiamat. It seemed that, perhaps, their relationship was something more than a sharing of circumstances, and perhaps it was for this reason that Jubilee found herself seeking out something deeper and more powerful between them.
"Hey, look!"
Bobby's trademark enthusiasm broke through Jubilee's thoughts, and she opened her eyes. "What is it now?" she demanded, struggling to hide the fact that she had, only moments ago, been thinking of him.
He was pointing down, to a small flickering shadow that lurked far below the shroud of wispy cloud that protected them from even the most observant of witnesses. She glared at him, pushing her sunglasses back up onto her head, and he grinned in response. "You see that black shadow just past that little cliff down there?" he asked, and she nodded, squinting at the distant silhouette in an attempt to give the object some kind of shape. "Well, *that* is Venger's castle!"
"That little blob?" she cried.
He nodded excitedly. "Pretty soon, that 'little blob' is gonna be the biggest, meanest-looking castle you've ever seen! And once we bust inside, Venger is gonna be ours for the taking! Nothing's gonna stop us now!"
*****
"Hey Genius," blurted Eric as Cyclops turned away from his communicator with a satisfied smile; he was aware of the words escaping his lips long before his brain caught up with the potential danger of what he was saying. "How exactly do you propose we 'try to get a little closer' without getting zapped by the souped-up Force of Evil?"
Cyclops groaned softly, and Eric could see that he was fighting to ignore the question. Wolverine, meanwhile, was in the process of slashing the bricks that lay adjacent to his makeshift hole, widening it to a point of almost being large enough for a human body to slide through. Eric could see what the Small-Brain-Big-Muscles mutant was planning, and choked in terror. "What's the matter with you?" he demanded. "There's no way you could survive a fall like that..." He paused, glancing briefly at the consternation pasted across Presto's innocent face and the wild fury that suddenly filled Logan's eyes at the detection of a challenge to his judgement. "Uh... on second thoughts, go ahead. It was great knowing you, buddy. Don't forget to send us a postcard when you hit the bottom."
"Eric, I know you're not the smartest jerk in the Realm, so I'll explain this nice and slowly for you," Diana said, and Eric recognised well the threat of her 'you're treading on dangerous ground' voice. "If you don't shut up, Venger's gonna be getting a new Cavalier-coloured carpet."
It took a few moments for the Cavalier to choose between a rebuttal--and certain death--and remaining painfully silent but alive; in the end, and after much thoughtful deliberation, he decided upon the lesser of two evils. He shut up. Leaning sulkily against the wall, he glared at the others as Cyclops, in sickeningly Hank-esque style, endeavoured to piece together some kind of plan. Eric knew that, whatever hare-brained scheme the buffoon came up with, failure was inevitable. However, partially out of contempt for their lack of appreciation towards him, and partly as a result of his inbred sense of dignity, he refused to warn the handsome mutant that his endeavour would only serve to be fruitless. So, instead of participating in their idiotic conversations, he simply continued to lean against the wall with characteristic regality and struggled not to stare too hard at the breathtaking Southern Belle known as Rogue.
"I think you're right, Cyclops," Presto murmured thoughtfully, squinting down at the flickering bubble of fire that was Venger. "We'll never figure out the source of his new power from this distance. We've got to get closer." He paused, then frowned in faint annoyance. "I swear this stupid castle changes its appearance every time we visit it!"
Eric rolled his eyes, but remained silent. Stupid. The five of them were all as foolish as each other, and they were all doomed. As a matter of principle, he did not say anything to dissuade them. Certain death would surely make them realise how much of a mistake it had been telling the Old Cavalier to 'shut up'. He grinned cruelly; of course, he would not allow them to die, simply to become so helplessly trapped by Venger and his Orc armies that they would beg for him to forgive them and come heroically to their rescue. Then he, the dashing and courageous warrior that he was, would come to their aid, single-handedly taking on Venger, rescuing his eternally grateful comrades, and saving the Realm from certain doom. The crowds would cheer, gigantic marble statues would be constructed in his honour, and entire cities would be developed for him to rule. He would be made a King, loved and respected by all under his reign.
At least, that was how it played out in his mind.
He knew from experience that the real world was seldom as utopian as such dreams, that a lowly coward such as himself would never become a hero, and so he found himself entirely unable to keep his mouth shut. Surely it was courageous to risk being thrown down an impossible drop, rather than remain safe and silent and allow the others to die, if for no reason other than to relieve his own pitiful guilt at having watched their downfall without once trying to stop them.
"You can't do this!" he cried, then, realising the emotion that he had allowed to creep into the exclamation, quickly covered it up. "I mean, you're totally stupid! If you think I'm just going to sit back and watch while you guys plummet to your deaths, you all need your heads examined! I say we turn around and forget this whole deal!"
"Oh yeah?" Wolverine snarled, pushing his face frighteningly close to the Cavalier's and gripping his tunic, and Eric winced as he felt the mutant's breath warming the side of his face. "Well, *I* say you go and get yourself a spine, you low-life jellyfish. But I guess it looks like neither of us are gonna get what we want." He snapped his teeth and released Eric's shirt with violent reluctance.
Presto was hunched over his hat, musing thoughtfully in an attempt to think up an impressive-sounding spell. Eric chuckled to himself and stepped back towards the wall, safe in the knowledge that, once Wolverine and the other mutants saw the hopeless Wizard's hopeless attempts at magic, they would quickly forget the entire useless plot of chivalry. Far more important than that, though, was the fact that Presto's inevitable failure would offer Eric the chance to complain about something new. Though he could not deny the burning desire that pulsed through his hardened heart--during rare, uncharacteristically contemplative moments--to become more like his amiable comrades--as brave and respected as Hank, as passionate and energetic as Diana, as clumsy and loveable as Presto--he had learned from experience that any attempts to be *anything* but his usual arrogant self were always met with scorn and cruel remarks.
"Listen hat, no time to joke: We need to be hidden, so give us some smoke." Presto gazed expectantly into his hat, glancing up to smile briefly at Eric and Diana. "Good one, huh? I think I'm getting better..."
Eric snorted. "Well, you couldn't be getting much worse, could you?" he demanded.
"Shut it, Death-Wish," growled Wolverine.
The six of them gazed expectantly at the hat; Eric did not doubt for one second that his expectations were completely different to those of the others, with the possible exception of Presto himself. To his surprise, the hat gurgled precariously, and moments later, a thin shroud of steam-like cloud hissed out from inside it, effectively concealing the group from any nearby witnesses. Eric watched, stunned into silence by the apparent success of the Magician's attempt at being useful.
The celebration, however, was short-lived, just as Eric had known it would be. Mere seconds before the smoke completely enveloped the small group--consequently allowing Cyclops to undertake his foolish plan of moving closer--the hat released an unhealthy grinding sound, and promptly exploded in a noisy shower of searing yellow sparks.
Surprised for only the briefest of moments, Eric smirked at the stammering Magician. "You see!" he cried, poking Wolverine in the chest even as his sense of reasoning warned against the action. "Totally useless!" It only took him a second to acknowledge the acute terror on Presto's face as he gripped his charred hat in limp hands, and the subdued worry on Scott's as he began to back fearfully away from Wolverine's makeshift spying spot, and less than that to realise that, taking into consideration the volume of Presto's unintentional explosion, it was highly unlikely that Venger, even from the considerable--and impossible--distance, could not have missed hearing it. "Uh oh!" he yelped. "I think it's time to run for it, don't you?"
"No way!" cried Logan, extending his claws. "The X-Men never run from a fight. This is what we came here for, and I fer one ain't gonna run away just because it ain't gone the way we expected it to go."
Eric gulped and stammered, totally shocked by what he was hearing. Realising that he was not going to be able to talk sense into the headstrong Wolverine, he turned to Cyclops, begging unabashedly. "Come *on*!" he cried, falling to his knees. "We don't stand a chance against Venger, not without the others and Tiamat. We've got to get out of here until they show up!" Then, unable to resist turning to Logan, he continued, "So we beat a *tactical* retreat and come back when we actually stand a chance against the guy!"
Cyclops hesitated for the briefest of moments, then shook his head in weary submission. "Where do you suggest we go?" he asked very softly. "Wolverine's already pointed out that we're stuck inside this castle, with thousands of Lizard Men just waiting to attack us if we take a step outside. Venger knows we're here. We can only run for so long before he catches up with us, and then we'll be trapped *and* exhausted. We don't need to fight him now, only distract him until Storm and the others show up with that dragon of yours."
"And how exactly do you propose we do *that*?" cried Eric, finding himself entirely unable to believe the ridiculous words that were abusing his sensitive ears.
Wolverine dragged his claws down the wall, smiling at the painful shrieking sound. "I'm sure *you* could occupy him for at least ten minutes... What could be more fun than a nice long game of Torture the Loud-Mouthed Jerk?"
"Enough!" cried Cyclops, moving back into the corridor that they had recently left. "We need to find somewhere with enough space to confront the Force of Evil without compromising ourselves." He broke into a jog, and the others moved to follow him; after a moment spent glancing over his shoulder to ensure they were not being too closely chased, Eric took off after them. He knew as well as Cyclops that they had no idea where they were going and that, essentially, Scott's 'we need a bigger battlefield' plan was nothing more than an excuse for his unspoken agreement with Eric's 'run for our lives' plea.
It was not until they had reached the entrance hall in which they had fought their reptilian captors that Cyclops paused, breathing hard, and turning to gaze behind them in search of their elusive pursuer. Venger, however, was nowhere to be seen, and, just as Eric was about to breathe an enormous sigh of relief, the ground began to shake.
A searing lake of icy fire seemed to form out of nothingness on the carpet at their feet; as Eric yelped and backed away from the offending pool, he saw that its liquid blue flames matched almost perfectly the conflagration that had engulfed Venger as they had observed him from their hidden post. Squealing in terror, Eric cowered behind his shield, pushing Wolverine in front of him as he prayed for the phenomenon to be nothing more than a cheerful, blazing 'Welcome' mat.
Of course, with Eric's luck being as it was, the raging inferno began to bubble all the more fiercely, rising from the lush carpet to form an almost humanoid shape. It was a shape the Cavalier knew all too well, a shape that filled his mind with even deeper, inconsolable fear and sent a cold shiver down his spine, even as he closed his eyes and screamed in incomparable terror, oblivious to both his long-time friends and the equally helpless X-Men.
It was the shape of pure Evil.
*****