CHAPTER SIX -- "A BITTER REUNION"
Wolverine lowered himself into a cautious fighting stance and prepared for battle, feeling the passionate heat of bloodlust coursing through his veins with heady fervour. This was his moment. This was what he had been waiting for. This was his fight, his chance for glory, his calling. And nothing, no self-proclaimed 'Force of Evil', no whimpering Cavalier, no serious and contemplative Scott Summers, would be able to take this chance away from him.
Venger stepped forwards and extended a hand of welcome; hospitality oozed from his every pore, further arousing Logan's violent temper. "Greetings, Young Ones," he said, and his impenetrable eyes moved from Presto to Diana to the wailing Eric, and back. "Only three of you?" he mused thoughtfully, then noticed--apparently for the first time--the X-Men. Gazing at them each in turn, he frowned. "Who--or indeed what--are you? You certainly do not look like Ranger--" studying Scott's solemn features, "--Thief--" eyeing Rogue with interest, "--or Barbarian," staring intently at Logan. "I believe," he continued with agonising simplicity, "that it is fair to deduce that you are not the remaining three Young Ones." He paused for a moment. "You have infiltrated my castle, destroyed my faithful Lizard Men, and attempted to spy on my supreme self. I therefore do not see it as rude or unfair to demand that you identify yourselves."
Glancing in faint surprise at the so-called 'Young Ones', Cyclops nodded, then cleared his throat. "Uh, all right. We are the X-Men. I'm Cyclops, group leader, this is Rogue, and that's Wolverine. We entered your castle because we have it on good authority that you have gained a large amount of power with the intent to conquer this world for evil purposes, and we have been asked to stop you." As he listened to Scott's speech, Wolverine had to force himself not to scream and charge at either Venger or Scott himself; what the hell did Summers hope to achieve by describing their entire mission in detail to their enemy? Was he hoping that the Force of Evil would simply turn around and say 'You are mistaken, would you like some tea and crumpets?' The mere thought was enough to cause a dangerous snarl to erupt from Logan's throat.
"Indeed?" Venger chuckled softly. "I suppose it was my old *friend*, DungeonMaster, who informed you of this?" At Scott's affirmative nod, he shook his head with the fatigued air of a man who had heard exactly what he had wanted to hear. "Very well. Now that you have explained yourselves to me, I am afraid that I must destroy you. DungeonMaster must learn that I cannot be subdued, not by his own pupils, and not by alien 'X-Men' creatures."
Diana stepped forwards, javelin raised. "Not so fast, Venger," she said. "Why all the sudden civility? You've never spoken a polite word to anyone, so why all of a sudden are you talking to us like old friends?"
"Y'call *this* polite?" cried Rogue.
Venger ignored her disrespect, moving to approach Diana with a faintly cruel smile. "Why?" he repeated, and it was clear that he was humouring her, accommodating her mortal ignorance. "Because I pity you. I pity your complete worthlessness, your laughable hope, and your inevitable futility. You are fools, weak and microscopic insects that are unworthy of anything more than my deepest pity, and regret for your inescapable failure. You shall be crushed as the insignificant creatures that you are."
The three Young Ones exchanged glances. "Uhh, I thought you felt that way about us anyway..." Presto mumbled, biting his lip and shuffling his feet; as Venger turned to raise a curved eyebrow at him, Wolverine stepped with instinctive protectiveness in front of the frightened Magician, overwhelmed by an innate desire to take care of the so-called 'innocent'.
"Fool!" roared the Force of Evil. "Before I achieved this--" he gestured expansively, incorperating the full length of his flame-engulfed body, "--your weapons redeemed your human inadequacies. Now, you are nothing. You are the literal personification of nothingness. And I shall destroy you, solely for the pleasure of seeing you dissolve before my very hands, and to hear DungeonMaster's helpless sobs as he watches his dreams end with hopeless desperation." He smiled, extending a hand. "After the enormous degree of humiliation and rage that you have caused me, you should be considering yourselves fortunate."
Logan growled and stepped forwards, ignoring Scott's warning cough. "I don't think so, Bub!" he snarled. "You ain't gettin' *near* these kids without goin' through me first!" He stopped, then corrected himself. "Well, except that damned Cavalier, y'can have him fer free." He raised his right hand, displaying his claws, fighting to resist the urge to attack straight away. "So, unless you wanna taste adamantium, you better back down and leave 'em alone!"
"Very well," said Venger with a careless shrug. "I was going to destroy all of you eventually anyway. If you choose to be the first, then so be it. It is your decision. I do not care which one of you dies first." He tilted his head towards the mutant, obviously unimpressed by his artillary. "Prepare yourself for a pain unlike any you have ever experienced."
Wolverine grinned. "Bring it on."
The Force of Evil raised one finger of his pale hand, and Wolverine watched with a lazy yawn as a tiny point of red light began to form at the very tip. Slowly--frustratingly slowly--the searing flames that covered his body began to flicker and fade, and he raised the hand high above his head. Logan watched, unable to suppress his puzzlement, observing with checked confusion the fact that the tiny orb upon Venger's fingertip grew fractionally larger with every passing moment.
Steeling himself for whatever strange attack the Force of Evil was preparing, Logan waited patiently, neither approaching his enemy, nor retreating from him. He was dimly aware of the three Young Ones stumbling fearfully backwards; in Eric's case, this struck Wolverine as no more than a blatant display of his obvious cowardice. Admittedly--albeit to a lesser extent--the same could be said of Logan's new-found charge, the spineless but generally good-natured Magician, but the sincere depth of his fear sent a momentary wave of caution through the angry mutant. Diana also had the uncontrollable mania of panic in her eyes, and this, more so than even Presto's terrified response, alerted Wolverine to the potential severity of the situation; he had long come to realise that she had a far greater degree of courage than either of her two comrades, and Logan was beginning to learn that her judgement, unlike that of the Cavalier, could be trusted with a fair degree of accuracy. Silently acknowledging the gravity of what he had set himself up for, Logan covertly adjusted his defences to accommodate his new-reluctantly-higher level of caution.
In an attempt to mask his discomfort, he snarled, once again displaying his claws, even as his chest began to pound with a sensation that he was entirely unfamiliar with: anxiety. "Well, Sparky? Whatcha waitin' for?"
Venger turned his hand over so that it was facing down. "You are truly spirited," he murmured with a cruel smile, watching with overt fascination as the mutant stood strong and stoic in spite of the Young Ones' reactions. "It is almost a pity to be forced to destroy you so quickly. I could have used one as bloodthirsty as you." He sighed softly. "Such a waste."
"Shut up and get on with it, Big Shot," growled Logan, consciously ignoring the faint traces of concern in Rogue's eyes and the angry tension in Scott's posture as he glared at his rebellious comrade. He would go down in blaze of glory, or he would not go down at all; *he* would not die screaming in terror. He was Wolverine. He could not be frightened. He *would* not be frightened.
Nodding respectfully, Venger took a single step backwards, holding his hand perfectly still in front of him. Disappointment was evident in his eyes as he clenched his fist, gazing at the floating red ball of energy that he had created; closing his eyes, he waved his hand in an expansive, almost careless gesture, in response to which, the glowing red orb began moving towards Wolverine. Its movement was slow, and Logan raised an eyebrow as he watches its crawling approach with disgust. For a brief moment, he considered standing still and allowing the thing to make contact with him; surely something as slow-moving and lethargic as this dimly-glowing bulb couldn't offer *too* much of a threat... But, even as the thought entered his mind, Logan shook his head, dismissing it with long-accustomed efficiency; experience had taught him that trying to play his fate was not a wise decision, no matter how inevitable the conclusion seemed.
As the orb reached his approximate vicinity, it stopped, lingering three metres above the ground and just within Logan's reach; he did not move for several seconds, merely stood and watched the thing for any sign of its intent; he found himself rather disconcerted by the sudden realisation that he was gazing upon this ball of light as a sentient, *dangerous* being. Upon seeing no evidence of the thing's hidden power, he took a step backwards, stopping only when he found himself standing once again beside the trembling Magician. "You got any idea what the hell that thing is?" he asked gruffly, capturing and holding Presto's wide-eyed, panic-filled gaze.
"Uhh, no," the boy whispered, closing his eyes in response to Wolverine's dangerous glare. "Sorry. I've never seen him use *that* one before. If he wants to attack any of us, he usually just tries to blast us. Not like that, though... I mean, he just--" he extended one of his own thin hands, emulating Venger's sinister motions "zaps us."
Logan gritted his teeth, then turned to Eric and Diana. "What about you two? Ya know anythin' about it?" he demanded, focusing his attention solely on Eric. "No wise-cracks this time, Joker Boy."
Eric whimpered and cowered behind his shield, babbling incoherently. "Ignore him," said Diana, and Wolverine struggled to avoid looking into her eyes, which, once so strong and deep, were now filled solely with fear. "No, we don't know anything about this, but it doesn't look good. I suggest we get out of here and wait for Hank and the others to show up. Not sure about you, but *I* sure don't want to hang around and see what kind of fire-power that thing has..."
"Yes, I agree," said Cyclops, not waiting for Logan to respond.
Eric yelped, leaping to his feet, as if jolted by an electric shock. "Yes! Run! Good idea! *NOW*!"
"And where the hell would we go?" cried Wolverine, infuriated by the cowardice that all of them were displaying; true, he was starting to question the wisdom of challenging the Force of Evil so directly, but, having done so, he had no intention of running away from his own instigated battle. "This is *his* goddamned castle. We can't run for--"
The energy ball exploded.
*****
Moments before the first suggestive puffs of smoke became visible, billowing through the newly blasted hole in the fast-approaching castle, Sheila knew that something was wrong. To begin with, it was nothing more than a feeling, an instinct that begged her to listen, a deep, unspoken warning; it was a strange sensation, one that she was unfamiliar with, but at the same time found herself somehow unable to break away from. As the moments passed, it became stronger, holding her down until the sheer volume of her pounding heart began to genuinely worry her. She was literally being crushed by her own unexplainable panic. It was not until she heard the deafening explosion and caught sight of the pulsing clouds of smoke wafting out from the sudden gaping hole in the castle, that she was finally able to comprehend exactly what she had been feeling: the inarticulable certainty of impending destruction.
"What the hell?" cried Hank, staring at the hole in a state of shock.
Overcome with heartstopping terror, Sheila gripped her brother's shoulder until her knuckles turned white; Bobby, however, was too busy staring down at the chaos below to acknowledge the pain of her fingers digging into his flesh. Apparently seeing the blind fear in her eyes, Gambit removed her hand from Bobby's shoulder, taking it gently in his own; she could hear his voice whispering soothing reassurances, but found herself entirely unable to make sense of the words. Glancing up in a state of delirious hypersensitivity, she noticed that Storm too seemed unable to tear her gaze from the building; her eyes were wide, but she remained in relative control of herself, even as her fears painted themselves clearly across her features. Jubilee, however, seemed to have no qualms in expressing herself verbally, and the horror in her eyes caused a twinge of empathy to tighten around Sheila's throat, cutting off her ability to speak; as tears spilled unchecked down the young mutant's face, she took a gulping breath, clenched her fists, and screamed.
"*WOLVERINE*!"
Bobby stared at her for a moment, then began whimpering. "Oh no, oh no," he whispered. "Eric and the others were inside the castle..." He turned to face the pallid Ranger. "What happened, Hank? Are they okay?"
Sheila could not deny the momentary bubble of jealousy that welled up within her at the sight of her baby brother turning with such faith towards Hank, and not she herself. The feeling lasted only a second, though, and, before she even realised that she was doing it, she too had moved to gaze hopefully at their fearless leader's suddenly emotionless features.
Looking from Sheila to Bobby to Jubilee, Hank sighed softly. "They're fine. I promise." His eyes were shadowed with similar concern, and as he acknowledged the juvenile terror that was so evidently consuming the two youngest group members, he appealed to Sheila. "Look, I'm going to need you to keep them calm. We're not going to be able to help anyone if we're busy trying to cope with two hyperventilating kids. Think you can manage that?" He winked in response to her courageous nod, gave her a thumbs-up as she wiped away her own tears and turned to speak to Bobby and Jubilee with that maternal compassion that she knew was what defined her.
"It's going to be all right," she said softly. "The others can take care of themselves. If they *were* in there-and we don't know for sure that they were on the receiving end of that blast-you can be sure that they managed to keep standing!" In spite of her active discomfort at this blatant lie, she forced a confident grin to her features, and felt Gambit's hand tightening upon her own.
Smiling proudly, Hank moved to address Tiamat with renewed confidence. "Move it! We need to get inside *now*."
"Be silent, mortal," she hissed. "I take orders from no-one."
Nevertheless, she did seem to pick up speed. As they sailed towards the smoke-spewing hole in the side of the castle, Sheila prepared herself for the worst, clinging desperately to Gambit's hand, and murmuring soothing comforts to Bobby and Jubilee--both of whom were visible struggling to sustain some useless facade of courage. Far below them, countless Lizard Men fled at their approach, and Sheila laughed in spite of the worrying situation as she realised that she was about to bombard the evil Venger's castle without even using her magic cloak. Certainly, riding on the back of the most dangerous dragon in the Realm had its advantages, and she nudged Bobby, tilting her head towards the scene below, then watched with relief as he and Jubilee giggled in amusement as the panicked Lizard Men scattered like so many headless chickens.
Less than two seconds later, Tiamat swooped gracefully down through the hole, coming to rest just within the walls of the devastated castle. Sheila acknowledged with a small degree of gratitude that the hole was not in fact as large as it had seemed from the air; the dragon's enormous body was barely able to squeeze through without enlarging it. Sheila winced slightly as she ducked, pulling Bobby close with reflexive protectiveness as the jagged wall lurched and crumbled, mere inches from their heads.
Not even waiting for Tiamat to completely stop moving, Hank and the others climbed down, squinting through the thick smoke in a desperate--and completely futile--attempt to locate any of their missing comrades. Storm moved to float uneasily beside Tiamat's largest head. "I call upon the mighty tornado to aid me!" she shouted urgently, and Sheila was struck, not for the first time by the pure, unbridled power in the mutant's passionate voice. "Drive away the blinding smoke and reveal the truth!" A screaming-but thankfully, highly concentrated-gale erupted from her fingertips, making short work of the smoke; the six of them watched with bated breath as the room exposed itself for exploration.
The elaborately decorated entrance hall was coated in fine debris and rubble from crushed bricks; it only took a moment to notice the unmoving figures of the other group scattered around the dust-coated room like so many leaves. Gambit, Hank, and Storm rushed to sides of their motionless comrades, while Sheila remained beside the younger group members, keeping within the relative protection offered by Tiamat's bulbous body; placing a reassuring arm around her sobbing brother, she closed her eyes and prayed for any news other than that of death. "It's all right, Bobby," she soothed, holding him tightly, as much for her own comfort as his. "Everything's going to be fine, I promise." Tenderly, she reached across to wipe the tears from his face, simultaneously struggling against her own overwhelming desire to break down and cry, then turned to gaze intently at Hank, who was knelt over the frighteningly still bodies of their comrades.
"Step away from them."
Gambit and the other X-Men whirled around in surprise at the ominously deep voice that seemed to emanate from every direction at once. Not looking up from his unconscious friends, Hank drew his bow, aiming it with unwavering confidence at the darkest corner of rubble-induced shadows. "Show yourself, Venger," he growled, and his voice was so low, so dangerous, so filled with pure and unbridled passion, that Sheila was struck by the sheer force of his emotion; this was not the cool-headed and gentle-natured Hank that she had learned to trust and love with unwavering dedication. This was a frightening monster, and Sheila felt her heart skipping a beat as she wondered with irrepressible terror what in the world could possibly have led to this drastic change in Hank's loving nature.
"Foolish child," whispered the voice, and through the soft-spoken calmness there was an unmistakeable air of pervading evil. "Do you honestly think that your puny weapons will protect you from my limitless power? Surrender, and I shall make your demise as painless as possible. Resist, and you shall endure an eternity of unimaginable torture before eventually being plunged into the great abyss of Death."
Hank did not waver. "What did you do to our friends?"
Venger--or, more accurately, the unseen voice of Venger--laughed. Sheila still had no idea where the voice was coming from, but even as she struggled to think through the maelstrom of noise that was his sinister laughter, she could see that Hank's focus had shifted from the unmoving forms of Eric, Diana, and Presto, to the shadowed region in the farthest corner of the room--the same corner that his bow was pointing at with such unshakable certainty. Steeling herself for what was to come, Sheila followed her leader's unwavering gaze, squinting cautiously through the shadows, knowing beyond all rational doubt that what they were about to confront was not the same Force of Evil that she and her friends had defeated so many times before.
The shadows were moving, writhing over each other like masses of dying insects or diseased rodents. It was a tempest, a raging torrent of blackness consuming blackness, darkness swallowing darkness, and evil engulfing it all. And right in the very centre of the surging hurricane of destruction, two blinding points of white light shone through. It was not Venger. It was too powerful, too immortal. It was a creature that defied comparison, even with one as malevolent as Venger. The creature, whatever it was, had Venger's face and body, and, most significantly, his tangible black soul. But it was more, far more, than Venger could ever have dreamed of being, far more than Sheila, a mere mortal, could possibly comprehend.
"Step away from them," the new Venger repeated. "Or I shall be forced to destroy you."
Reluctantly, and with pain in his eyes, Hank did as he was told, stepping away from Eric's motionless body and moving with steady determination back towards where Sheila, Bobby, and Jubilee still stood beside the seething Tiamat; even as his eyes lingered on his unconscious friends. Storm and Gambit looked at each other, then, with a sigh, Storm followed Hank's example, backing slowly away from Wolverine and rejoining the others. Gambit lingered a little longer; his mysterious eyes were burning as he gazed at the one called Rogue, and Sheila felt an inappropriate twinge of jealousy at the pain in his eyes.
He raised his head from her crumpled body, glaring at the evolved Force of Evil with breathtaking hatred. "They be alive?" he asked, pulling a playing card from his jacket. "If you've hurt any one of them, even a little, Gambit gonna tear you apart!" The furious rage in his voice sent an icy chill down Sheila's spine, a chill that was accentuated by the frigid bitterness that pasted itself so passionately across his face, and she gripped Bobby's hand, trembling.
"Yes, insignificant one, they are alive," sighed Venger. "I wished for the joy of seeing you all together one last time before annihilating you." He chuckled softly. "Just call it... sentimentality." He laughed coldly at that, shaking his head.
Hank cried out and sent an arrow flying towards the creature; Venger smiled at the predictability of the action, and, as if in response to some unheard thought, a searing bubble of blue flames crackled into existence around him. "What the--" Hank cried out, but did not waste time finishing the expletive; instead, he readied another barrage, though it was obvious that he could see as well as Sheila that it would be no use. "Venger, this is crazy! What purpose does all this destruction have?"
"Fool!" screamed the creature, extending its wraithlike hands towards the bow that still aimed directly at its chest. "Venger no longer exists. All that is left... is me. The Quintessence of Evil."
Sheila squeezed Bobby's hand, then turned to Tiamat, struggling to keep the terror from reaching her voice. "Can't you do anything to stop him?" she begged. "That *is* why we brought you here, isn't it?"
Tiamat stretched her heads, looking down at the small creatures that huddled beneath her huge body. "Very well," she hissed, turning to face the self-proclaimed Quintessence of Evil. "I shall destroy him. And, once I have completed the task you have asked of me, I shall destroy the rest of you puny insects, simply for wasting my time with this pointless matter."
She stepped forwards, approaching the new Venger, who, in turn, raised one hand. "Ignorant children," he said wearily. "Do you truly believe that this flawed creature will be able to defeat the Quintessence of Evil? I am beyond such mortal perils as death and defeat. I shall eliminate you one by one, simply for the pleasure of tasting your tears as you watch your comrades fade into nothingness before your very eyes. I had hoped that the bloodthirsty one would be first... the one named Wolverine..."
"NO!" screamed Jubilee, and would have rushed to the unconscious mutant's side had Bobby not reached out to restrain her. "WOLVERINE!"
The Quintessence shook his head in response to her explosion of unbridled emotion. "Fear not, little one," he said, and, had Sheila not known better, she would have been certain that she saw a faint glint of sympathy in his depthless dark eyes. "Your friends wish for the dragon to be first. I shall comply."
Tiamat seethed with laughter. "Mortal! Surely you realise that I, the queen of all dragons, cannot be destroyed by one as lowly as you! There is no force in this paltry world with sufficient power to damage me."
The creature formerly known as Venger, flexed the fingers of his raised hand, moving it in something resembling a beckoning gesture. "Come then, foolish dragon," he said. "Do what you wish." He stepped back, but it was far from the fearful stumbling that Sheila had previously observed in response to Tiamat's fearsome presence. "I tire of this pre-emptive banter."
Roaring in fury, the dragon opened the mouth of her largest head, releasing a jet of flame that seared towards the smiling creature with point-blank accuracy. Sheila winced and covered her face, hearing Hank's shocked gasp and Bobby's surprised cry. The seething screams of fire and fury continued for several long and agonising seconds, after which time there was nothing more than a painful and devastating silence. Taking a deep, quivering breath, Sheila mustered her strength and courage, and opened her eyes, suddenly finding herself stunned into the same dumbstruck, agonised silence as her friends and the X-Men.
Tiamat, the indestructible Dragon Queen, was no more.
*****
Wolverine lowered himself into a cautious fighting stance and prepared for battle, feeling the passionate heat of bloodlust coursing through his veins with heady fervour. This was his moment. This was what he had been waiting for. This was his fight, his chance for glory, his calling. And nothing, no self-proclaimed 'Force of Evil', no whimpering Cavalier, no serious and contemplative Scott Summers, would be able to take this chance away from him.
Venger stepped forwards and extended a hand of welcome; hospitality oozed from his every pore, further arousing Logan's violent temper. "Greetings, Young Ones," he said, and his impenetrable eyes moved from Presto to Diana to the wailing Eric, and back. "Only three of you?" he mused thoughtfully, then noticed--apparently for the first time--the X-Men. Gazing at them each in turn, he frowned. "Who--or indeed what--are you? You certainly do not look like Ranger--" studying Scott's solemn features, "--Thief--" eyeing Rogue with interest, "--or Barbarian," staring intently at Logan. "I believe," he continued with agonising simplicity, "that it is fair to deduce that you are not the remaining three Young Ones." He paused for a moment. "You have infiltrated my castle, destroyed my faithful Lizard Men, and attempted to spy on my supreme self. I therefore do not see it as rude or unfair to demand that you identify yourselves."
Glancing in faint surprise at the so-called 'Young Ones', Cyclops nodded, then cleared his throat. "Uh, all right. We are the X-Men. I'm Cyclops, group leader, this is Rogue, and that's Wolverine. We entered your castle because we have it on good authority that you have gained a large amount of power with the intent to conquer this world for evil purposes, and we have been asked to stop you." As he listened to Scott's speech, Wolverine had to force himself not to scream and charge at either Venger or Scott himself; what the hell did Summers hope to achieve by describing their entire mission in detail to their enemy? Was he hoping that the Force of Evil would simply turn around and say 'You are mistaken, would you like some tea and crumpets?' The mere thought was enough to cause a dangerous snarl to erupt from Logan's throat.
"Indeed?" Venger chuckled softly. "I suppose it was my old *friend*, DungeonMaster, who informed you of this?" At Scott's affirmative nod, he shook his head with the fatigued air of a man who had heard exactly what he had wanted to hear. "Very well. Now that you have explained yourselves to me, I am afraid that I must destroy you. DungeonMaster must learn that I cannot be subdued, not by his own pupils, and not by alien 'X-Men' creatures."
Diana stepped forwards, javelin raised. "Not so fast, Venger," she said. "Why all the sudden civility? You've never spoken a polite word to anyone, so why all of a sudden are you talking to us like old friends?"
"Y'call *this* polite?" cried Rogue.
Venger ignored her disrespect, moving to approach Diana with a faintly cruel smile. "Why?" he repeated, and it was clear that he was humouring her, accommodating her mortal ignorance. "Because I pity you. I pity your complete worthlessness, your laughable hope, and your inevitable futility. You are fools, weak and microscopic insects that are unworthy of anything more than my deepest pity, and regret for your inescapable failure. You shall be crushed as the insignificant creatures that you are."
The three Young Ones exchanged glances. "Uhh, I thought you felt that way about us anyway..." Presto mumbled, biting his lip and shuffling his feet; as Venger turned to raise a curved eyebrow at him, Wolverine stepped with instinctive protectiveness in front of the frightened Magician, overwhelmed by an innate desire to take care of the so-called 'innocent'.
"Fool!" roared the Force of Evil. "Before I achieved this--" he gestured expansively, incorperating the full length of his flame-engulfed body, "--your weapons redeemed your human inadequacies. Now, you are nothing. You are the literal personification of nothingness. And I shall destroy you, solely for the pleasure of seeing you dissolve before my very hands, and to hear DungeonMaster's helpless sobs as he watches his dreams end with hopeless desperation." He smiled, extending a hand. "After the enormous degree of humiliation and rage that you have caused me, you should be considering yourselves fortunate."
Logan growled and stepped forwards, ignoring Scott's warning cough. "I don't think so, Bub!" he snarled. "You ain't gettin' *near* these kids without goin' through me first!" He stopped, then corrected himself. "Well, except that damned Cavalier, y'can have him fer free." He raised his right hand, displaying his claws, fighting to resist the urge to attack straight away. "So, unless you wanna taste adamantium, you better back down and leave 'em alone!"
"Very well," said Venger with a careless shrug. "I was going to destroy all of you eventually anyway. If you choose to be the first, then so be it. It is your decision. I do not care which one of you dies first." He tilted his head towards the mutant, obviously unimpressed by his artillary. "Prepare yourself for a pain unlike any you have ever experienced."
Wolverine grinned. "Bring it on."
The Force of Evil raised one finger of his pale hand, and Wolverine watched with a lazy yawn as a tiny point of red light began to form at the very tip. Slowly--frustratingly slowly--the searing flames that covered his body began to flicker and fade, and he raised the hand high above his head. Logan watched, unable to suppress his puzzlement, observing with checked confusion the fact that the tiny orb upon Venger's fingertip grew fractionally larger with every passing moment.
Steeling himself for whatever strange attack the Force of Evil was preparing, Logan waited patiently, neither approaching his enemy, nor retreating from him. He was dimly aware of the three Young Ones stumbling fearfully backwards; in Eric's case, this struck Wolverine as no more than a blatant display of his obvious cowardice. Admittedly--albeit to a lesser extent--the same could be said of Logan's new-found charge, the spineless but generally good-natured Magician, but the sincere depth of his fear sent a momentary wave of caution through the angry mutant. Diana also had the uncontrollable mania of panic in her eyes, and this, more so than even Presto's terrified response, alerted Wolverine to the potential severity of the situation; he had long come to realise that she had a far greater degree of courage than either of her two comrades, and Logan was beginning to learn that her judgement, unlike that of the Cavalier, could be trusted with a fair degree of accuracy. Silently acknowledging the gravity of what he had set himself up for, Logan covertly adjusted his defences to accommodate his new-reluctantly-higher level of caution.
In an attempt to mask his discomfort, he snarled, once again displaying his claws, even as his chest began to pound with a sensation that he was entirely unfamiliar with: anxiety. "Well, Sparky? Whatcha waitin' for?"
Venger turned his hand over so that it was facing down. "You are truly spirited," he murmured with a cruel smile, watching with overt fascination as the mutant stood strong and stoic in spite of the Young Ones' reactions. "It is almost a pity to be forced to destroy you so quickly. I could have used one as bloodthirsty as you." He sighed softly. "Such a waste."
"Shut up and get on with it, Big Shot," growled Logan, consciously ignoring the faint traces of concern in Rogue's eyes and the angry tension in Scott's posture as he glared at his rebellious comrade. He would go down in blaze of glory, or he would not go down at all; *he* would not die screaming in terror. He was Wolverine. He could not be frightened. He *would* not be frightened.
Nodding respectfully, Venger took a single step backwards, holding his hand perfectly still in front of him. Disappointment was evident in his eyes as he clenched his fist, gazing at the floating red ball of energy that he had created; closing his eyes, he waved his hand in an expansive, almost careless gesture, in response to which, the glowing red orb began moving towards Wolverine. Its movement was slow, and Logan raised an eyebrow as he watches its crawling approach with disgust. For a brief moment, he considered standing still and allowing the thing to make contact with him; surely something as slow-moving and lethargic as this dimly-glowing bulb couldn't offer *too* much of a threat... But, even as the thought entered his mind, Logan shook his head, dismissing it with long-accustomed efficiency; experience had taught him that trying to play his fate was not a wise decision, no matter how inevitable the conclusion seemed.
As the orb reached his approximate vicinity, it stopped, lingering three metres above the ground and just within Logan's reach; he did not move for several seconds, merely stood and watched the thing for any sign of its intent; he found himself rather disconcerted by the sudden realisation that he was gazing upon this ball of light as a sentient, *dangerous* being. Upon seeing no evidence of the thing's hidden power, he took a step backwards, stopping only when he found himself standing once again beside the trembling Magician. "You got any idea what the hell that thing is?" he asked gruffly, capturing and holding Presto's wide-eyed, panic-filled gaze.
"Uhh, no," the boy whispered, closing his eyes in response to Wolverine's dangerous glare. "Sorry. I've never seen him use *that* one before. If he wants to attack any of us, he usually just tries to blast us. Not like that, though... I mean, he just--" he extended one of his own thin hands, emulating Venger's sinister motions "zaps us."
Logan gritted his teeth, then turned to Eric and Diana. "What about you two? Ya know anythin' about it?" he demanded, focusing his attention solely on Eric. "No wise-cracks this time, Joker Boy."
Eric whimpered and cowered behind his shield, babbling incoherently. "Ignore him," said Diana, and Wolverine struggled to avoid looking into her eyes, which, once so strong and deep, were now filled solely with fear. "No, we don't know anything about this, but it doesn't look good. I suggest we get out of here and wait for Hank and the others to show up. Not sure about you, but *I* sure don't want to hang around and see what kind of fire-power that thing has..."
"Yes, I agree," said Cyclops, not waiting for Logan to respond.
Eric yelped, leaping to his feet, as if jolted by an electric shock. "Yes! Run! Good idea! *NOW*!"
"And where the hell would we go?" cried Wolverine, infuriated by the cowardice that all of them were displaying; true, he was starting to question the wisdom of challenging the Force of Evil so directly, but, having done so, he had no intention of running away from his own instigated battle. "This is *his* goddamned castle. We can't run for--"
The energy ball exploded.
*****
Moments before the first suggestive puffs of smoke became visible, billowing through the newly blasted hole in the fast-approaching castle, Sheila knew that something was wrong. To begin with, it was nothing more than a feeling, an instinct that begged her to listen, a deep, unspoken warning; it was a strange sensation, one that she was unfamiliar with, but at the same time found herself somehow unable to break away from. As the moments passed, it became stronger, holding her down until the sheer volume of her pounding heart began to genuinely worry her. She was literally being crushed by her own unexplainable panic. It was not until she heard the deafening explosion and caught sight of the pulsing clouds of smoke wafting out from the sudden gaping hole in the castle, that she was finally able to comprehend exactly what she had been feeling: the inarticulable certainty of impending destruction.
"What the hell?" cried Hank, staring at the hole in a state of shock.
Overcome with heartstopping terror, Sheila gripped her brother's shoulder until her knuckles turned white; Bobby, however, was too busy staring down at the chaos below to acknowledge the pain of her fingers digging into his flesh. Apparently seeing the blind fear in her eyes, Gambit removed her hand from Bobby's shoulder, taking it gently in his own; she could hear his voice whispering soothing reassurances, but found herself entirely unable to make sense of the words. Glancing up in a state of delirious hypersensitivity, she noticed that Storm too seemed unable to tear her gaze from the building; her eyes were wide, but she remained in relative control of herself, even as her fears painted themselves clearly across her features. Jubilee, however, seemed to have no qualms in expressing herself verbally, and the horror in her eyes caused a twinge of empathy to tighten around Sheila's throat, cutting off her ability to speak; as tears spilled unchecked down the young mutant's face, she took a gulping breath, clenched her fists, and screamed.
"*WOLVERINE*!"
Bobby stared at her for a moment, then began whimpering. "Oh no, oh no," he whispered. "Eric and the others were inside the castle..." He turned to face the pallid Ranger. "What happened, Hank? Are they okay?"
Sheila could not deny the momentary bubble of jealousy that welled up within her at the sight of her baby brother turning with such faith towards Hank, and not she herself. The feeling lasted only a second, though, and, before she even realised that she was doing it, she too had moved to gaze hopefully at their fearless leader's suddenly emotionless features.
Looking from Sheila to Bobby to Jubilee, Hank sighed softly. "They're fine. I promise." His eyes were shadowed with similar concern, and as he acknowledged the juvenile terror that was so evidently consuming the two youngest group members, he appealed to Sheila. "Look, I'm going to need you to keep them calm. We're not going to be able to help anyone if we're busy trying to cope with two hyperventilating kids. Think you can manage that?" He winked in response to her courageous nod, gave her a thumbs-up as she wiped away her own tears and turned to speak to Bobby and Jubilee with that maternal compassion that she knew was what defined her.
"It's going to be all right," she said softly. "The others can take care of themselves. If they *were* in there-and we don't know for sure that they were on the receiving end of that blast-you can be sure that they managed to keep standing!" In spite of her active discomfort at this blatant lie, she forced a confident grin to her features, and felt Gambit's hand tightening upon her own.
Smiling proudly, Hank moved to address Tiamat with renewed confidence. "Move it! We need to get inside *now*."
"Be silent, mortal," she hissed. "I take orders from no-one."
Nevertheless, she did seem to pick up speed. As they sailed towards the smoke-spewing hole in the side of the castle, Sheila prepared herself for the worst, clinging desperately to Gambit's hand, and murmuring soothing comforts to Bobby and Jubilee--both of whom were visible struggling to sustain some useless facade of courage. Far below them, countless Lizard Men fled at their approach, and Sheila laughed in spite of the worrying situation as she realised that she was about to bombard the evil Venger's castle without even using her magic cloak. Certainly, riding on the back of the most dangerous dragon in the Realm had its advantages, and she nudged Bobby, tilting her head towards the scene below, then watched with relief as he and Jubilee giggled in amusement as the panicked Lizard Men scattered like so many headless chickens.
Less than two seconds later, Tiamat swooped gracefully down through the hole, coming to rest just within the walls of the devastated castle. Sheila acknowledged with a small degree of gratitude that the hole was not in fact as large as it had seemed from the air; the dragon's enormous body was barely able to squeeze through without enlarging it. Sheila winced slightly as she ducked, pulling Bobby close with reflexive protectiveness as the jagged wall lurched and crumbled, mere inches from their heads.
Not even waiting for Tiamat to completely stop moving, Hank and the others climbed down, squinting through the thick smoke in a desperate--and completely futile--attempt to locate any of their missing comrades. Storm moved to float uneasily beside Tiamat's largest head. "I call upon the mighty tornado to aid me!" she shouted urgently, and Sheila was struck, not for the first time by the pure, unbridled power in the mutant's passionate voice. "Drive away the blinding smoke and reveal the truth!" A screaming-but thankfully, highly concentrated-gale erupted from her fingertips, making short work of the smoke; the six of them watched with bated breath as the room exposed itself for exploration.
The elaborately decorated entrance hall was coated in fine debris and rubble from crushed bricks; it only took a moment to notice the unmoving figures of the other group scattered around the dust-coated room like so many leaves. Gambit, Hank, and Storm rushed to sides of their motionless comrades, while Sheila remained beside the younger group members, keeping within the relative protection offered by Tiamat's bulbous body; placing a reassuring arm around her sobbing brother, she closed her eyes and prayed for any news other than that of death. "It's all right, Bobby," she soothed, holding him tightly, as much for her own comfort as his. "Everything's going to be fine, I promise." Tenderly, she reached across to wipe the tears from his face, simultaneously struggling against her own overwhelming desire to break down and cry, then turned to gaze intently at Hank, who was knelt over the frighteningly still bodies of their comrades.
"Step away from them."
Gambit and the other X-Men whirled around in surprise at the ominously deep voice that seemed to emanate from every direction at once. Not looking up from his unconscious friends, Hank drew his bow, aiming it with unwavering confidence at the darkest corner of rubble-induced shadows. "Show yourself, Venger," he growled, and his voice was so low, so dangerous, so filled with pure and unbridled passion, that Sheila was struck by the sheer force of his emotion; this was not the cool-headed and gentle-natured Hank that she had learned to trust and love with unwavering dedication. This was a frightening monster, and Sheila felt her heart skipping a beat as she wondered with irrepressible terror what in the world could possibly have led to this drastic change in Hank's loving nature.
"Foolish child," whispered the voice, and through the soft-spoken calmness there was an unmistakeable air of pervading evil. "Do you honestly think that your puny weapons will protect you from my limitless power? Surrender, and I shall make your demise as painless as possible. Resist, and you shall endure an eternity of unimaginable torture before eventually being plunged into the great abyss of Death."
Hank did not waver. "What did you do to our friends?"
Venger--or, more accurately, the unseen voice of Venger--laughed. Sheila still had no idea where the voice was coming from, but even as she struggled to think through the maelstrom of noise that was his sinister laughter, she could see that Hank's focus had shifted from the unmoving forms of Eric, Diana, and Presto, to the shadowed region in the farthest corner of the room--the same corner that his bow was pointing at with such unshakable certainty. Steeling herself for what was to come, Sheila followed her leader's unwavering gaze, squinting cautiously through the shadows, knowing beyond all rational doubt that what they were about to confront was not the same Force of Evil that she and her friends had defeated so many times before.
The shadows were moving, writhing over each other like masses of dying insects or diseased rodents. It was a tempest, a raging torrent of blackness consuming blackness, darkness swallowing darkness, and evil engulfing it all. And right in the very centre of the surging hurricane of destruction, two blinding points of white light shone through. It was not Venger. It was too powerful, too immortal. It was a creature that defied comparison, even with one as malevolent as Venger. The creature, whatever it was, had Venger's face and body, and, most significantly, his tangible black soul. But it was more, far more, than Venger could ever have dreamed of being, far more than Sheila, a mere mortal, could possibly comprehend.
"Step away from them," the new Venger repeated. "Or I shall be forced to destroy you."
Reluctantly, and with pain in his eyes, Hank did as he was told, stepping away from Eric's motionless body and moving with steady determination back towards where Sheila, Bobby, and Jubilee still stood beside the seething Tiamat; even as his eyes lingered on his unconscious friends. Storm and Gambit looked at each other, then, with a sigh, Storm followed Hank's example, backing slowly away from Wolverine and rejoining the others. Gambit lingered a little longer; his mysterious eyes were burning as he gazed at the one called Rogue, and Sheila felt an inappropriate twinge of jealousy at the pain in his eyes.
He raised his head from her crumpled body, glaring at the evolved Force of Evil with breathtaking hatred. "They be alive?" he asked, pulling a playing card from his jacket. "If you've hurt any one of them, even a little, Gambit gonna tear you apart!" The furious rage in his voice sent an icy chill down Sheila's spine, a chill that was accentuated by the frigid bitterness that pasted itself so passionately across his face, and she gripped Bobby's hand, trembling.
"Yes, insignificant one, they are alive," sighed Venger. "I wished for the joy of seeing you all together one last time before annihilating you." He chuckled softly. "Just call it... sentimentality." He laughed coldly at that, shaking his head.
Hank cried out and sent an arrow flying towards the creature; Venger smiled at the predictability of the action, and, as if in response to some unheard thought, a searing bubble of blue flames crackled into existence around him. "What the--" Hank cried out, but did not waste time finishing the expletive; instead, he readied another barrage, though it was obvious that he could see as well as Sheila that it would be no use. "Venger, this is crazy! What purpose does all this destruction have?"
"Fool!" screamed the creature, extending its wraithlike hands towards the bow that still aimed directly at its chest. "Venger no longer exists. All that is left... is me. The Quintessence of Evil."
Sheila squeezed Bobby's hand, then turned to Tiamat, struggling to keep the terror from reaching her voice. "Can't you do anything to stop him?" she begged. "That *is* why we brought you here, isn't it?"
Tiamat stretched her heads, looking down at the small creatures that huddled beneath her huge body. "Very well," she hissed, turning to face the self-proclaimed Quintessence of Evil. "I shall destroy him. And, once I have completed the task you have asked of me, I shall destroy the rest of you puny insects, simply for wasting my time with this pointless matter."
She stepped forwards, approaching the new Venger, who, in turn, raised one hand. "Ignorant children," he said wearily. "Do you truly believe that this flawed creature will be able to defeat the Quintessence of Evil? I am beyond such mortal perils as death and defeat. I shall eliminate you one by one, simply for the pleasure of tasting your tears as you watch your comrades fade into nothingness before your very eyes. I had hoped that the bloodthirsty one would be first... the one named Wolverine..."
"NO!" screamed Jubilee, and would have rushed to the unconscious mutant's side had Bobby not reached out to restrain her. "WOLVERINE!"
The Quintessence shook his head in response to her explosion of unbridled emotion. "Fear not, little one," he said, and, had Sheila not known better, she would have been certain that she saw a faint glint of sympathy in his depthless dark eyes. "Your friends wish for the dragon to be first. I shall comply."
Tiamat seethed with laughter. "Mortal! Surely you realise that I, the queen of all dragons, cannot be destroyed by one as lowly as you! There is no force in this paltry world with sufficient power to damage me."
The creature formerly known as Venger, flexed the fingers of his raised hand, moving it in something resembling a beckoning gesture. "Come then, foolish dragon," he said. "Do what you wish." He stepped back, but it was far from the fearful stumbling that Sheila had previously observed in response to Tiamat's fearsome presence. "I tire of this pre-emptive banter."
Roaring in fury, the dragon opened the mouth of her largest head, releasing a jet of flame that seared towards the smiling creature with point-blank accuracy. Sheila winced and covered her face, hearing Hank's shocked gasp and Bobby's surprised cry. The seething screams of fire and fury continued for several long and agonising seconds, after which time there was nothing more than a painful and devastating silence. Taking a deep, quivering breath, Sheila mustered her strength and courage, and opened her eyes, suddenly finding herself stunned into the same dumbstruck, agonised silence as her friends and the X-Men.
Tiamat, the indestructible Dragon Queen, was no more.
*****