The mountain and its cave are in Kashmir, not Tibet. It's called "creative license." Don't get mad.
Behold, he is coming with the clouds ... and all tribes of the earth will wail on account of him.
- Revelation 1:7
Standing next to the professor, Storm had a fairly unobstructed view of the man who called himself Cable. At first glance, she'd thought him to be a mercenary - the weaponry, attitude and military buzzcut all indicated as much - and possibly after the thief. She had been out of the game for several years now, but even she had heard accounts of Remy LeBeau's exploits. The youngest son of the Guild's "king," he was supposedly wanted by law enforcement agencies around the world. She wasn't sure whether she hoped that Professor Xavier extended an invitation to him or not. A Guild thief could be trouble. So could this Cable, regardless of his intent.
" 'Cable,' huh?" Wolverine said, bringing his claws up. "Never heard of ya."
Cable's eyes narrowed. He was standing motionless, but all of his weapons were in easy reach. "I didn't say that you had, old man."
The only response to that was a low growl. Storm tensed, ready to use her powers despite her headache. She was fortunate - they were all fortunate - that the tempest she'd created under Mesmero's command had never gotten beyond its preliminary stages. In the short amount of time since awakening, she'd been able to dispel most of it without taxing herself too greatly.
"Wolverine," the professor said, both rebuking and warning. Wolverine growled again, but lowered his claws. Gesturing at Cable, the professor asked, "Who are you, and how do you know that Mesmero has gone to Tibet?"
"I told you, my name is Cable. As to how I know - it's too long a story to get into here. I'll explain when we're en route to Tibet."
"We're not going anywhere," Cyclops said. "Not until you explain."
Good, Storm thought. She remembered clearly a time when Scott would have stayed silent, deferring to the professor, Wolverine, or herself. It was gratifying to see their leader-in-training consistently rising to the job.
Cable's eyes narrowed still further, if such a thing was possible. Storm considered her options: a lightning strike to the mercenary's arm, if it was cybernetic, would overload the feedback circuits and likely immobilize him; if it was simply armor, the electrical shock would do the same. It might also do him serious - perhaps fatal - injury, and for that reason, she decided to summon a miniature tornado if such action was necessary.
However, Cable made no move to attack. Instead, he exhaled sharply and said, "Fine. Mesmero is working for a creature called Apocalypse, who's been imprisoned for the last two thousand years. If we don't get to Tibet before he's freed, then the entire world is doomed."
A very old fear unexpectedly blossomed in her chest, bringing with it memories of ethereal hands that grasped and clawed at her mind, and the painful, panicked feeling of walls beginning to close around her. Ororo pushed it all away firmly. She was not a child and this Apocalypse was not the shadow demon she had once been shackled to. Nor was he the hungan who had more recently attempted to use her as a living, soulless weapon.
Wolverine raised his claws again, growling, "What a load of -"
"No," the professor interrupted, moving his chair forward until he was barely a foot from Cable. "I believe that he's telling the truth."
The two men regarded each other silently with nearly identical expressions - the detached, clinical stare of a scientist looking at something interesting under his microscope. She wondered if they were holding a telepathic conversation.
Wolverine was not done. "C'mon, Charles - ancient monsters? Apocalypse? Gimme a break."
"I believe him as well," Storm said, catching Logan's eye and holding it. In a different voice, one meant to remind him of the supernatural forces lurking in her own past, she added, "Stranger things have happened."
He grunted and finally retracted his claws, apparently getting the idea. It was always hard to tell with Wolverine.
The professor abruptly broke off the staring contest with Cable and gestured for them to move out. "X-Men. We leave for Tibet immediately."
"Professor, we can't leave the helicopter-" Cyclops started, and Storm began to estimate the wind velocity needed to lift the wreckage into the nearby Mississippi.
Before she could do more than raise a gentle breeze, Cable drew one of the two large guns on his back, pumped the barrel like a shotgun, and fired at the helicopter. The wreckage glowed as the round impacted it, then exploded a heartbeat later with a muffled boom. "We're wasting time."
"Do that again and you won't have any time left to waste," Wolverine snarled. He had extended his claws once more and was crouched slightly, ready to leap at Cable. Storm took a few steps closer to her teammate and placed a restraining hand on his arm.
"Discuss it later," she said, the unspoken warning flashing in her eyes. Professor Xavier had declared that they would go to Tibet, and she had no intention of disobeying him.
Logan shook her off, straightening. He gave Cable a hard glare. "We will."
"Hey," Remy said, pulling his hands out of his duster's pockets and looking very much like an abandoned puppy, despite the Guild's trademark silver-and-fuschia body armor that he wore beneath the coat. "What about me?"
Storm felt all eyes, even the professor's, turn to her. Wonderful. Now she had to decide the immediate future of a boy who was dangerous, preoccupied with revenge, and who served as a major distraction to at least one of her students - but who was also a skilled fighter and a fairly powerful mutant, both of which would be assets on this mission.
They could always kick him out later, she supposed, and, resigned to it, told Remy, "You will need a code name."
"Gambit," he said without a moment's thought. "On account I like t' take chances - right, chere?"
The question was directed at Rogue, who pushed past him with a curt, "Whatever."
The rest of the younger X-Men took her lead and began to jog towards wherever they had set the Blackbird down. Remy - Gambit - trailed after them, retrieving his staff from the ground as he went. The professor gave her a discreet nod and a telepathic, I would have made the same choice, before following his students.
Storm waited until it was clear that Wolverine would not try to gut Cable at the first opportunity and then joined the exodus. The ground beneath her feet was still a filthy mixture of mud and litter, but thanks to the restored sunshine, it was not the soup it had been five minutes ago. Her headache was also feeling better.
They would have clear skies on their flight to Tibet.
A loud thump ahead of her made Storm break into a run, but she slowed down almost immediately as the Blackbird came into view. The engines were warming up, but that wasn't the source of the noise. No, it was due to the two children at the base of the stairs.
Their newest teammate was leaning against the hull and rubbing his shoulder. "What'd I do?"
"Just leave me the heck alone," Rogue snapped, the anger and frustration in her voice almost palpable, and boarded the plane.
"Remy," the professor said from the hatch, rebuking him, but instead of adopting a remorseful attitude as the other students would have done, Gambit shrugged and whistled his way up the Blackbird's stairway. The professor's frown deepened slightly.
Storm sighed. Clear skies, yes - outside the jet.
She boarded and, conceding the inevitable, took a seat in the back, which would give her a good view of the interior and its occupants. Wolverine shoved Cable towards one of the front passenger seats and took the seat directly across from the mercenary, where, no doubt, he would stay for the length of the flight.
As she fastened the harness over her chest, Cyclops engaged the VTOL system and announced, "I have our initial heading as north 359.6 degrees."
In the co-pilot's place, the professor nodded his approval, and everyone turned their attention to Cable.
"Okay, bub," Wolverine said. "It's story time. Spill it."
Without appearing to give Wolverine the slightest bit of attention, Cable said, "Apocalypse's real name is En Sabah Nur - 'The First One.' He's the first mutant, and still the most powerful. No one knows how old he is, but most estimates put his birth in approximately 4000 BC - the dawn of civilization. He conquered Egypt before the pharaohs built the first pyramids, then terrorized the rest of the world after the Egyptians drove him into exile. Around 200 BC, he met his match:
a sorcerer called the Ancient One."
Wolverine made a face at that, but said nothing.
"The Ancient One imprisoned Apocalypse in a sacred Tibetan mountain and scattered the keys to the ends of the earth. I managed to track down a student of the Ancient One - a former surgeon named Stephen Strange."
Curious - she seemed to remember hearing that name before - Storm asked, "Where was he?"
Something like a smirk appeared on Cable's face. "Greenwich Village, New York City."
Gambit snorted. "Homme fits right in, I bet."
Cyclops leaned forward, frowning. "Wait, this 'Ancient One' guy is still alive?"
"No. According to Strange, he died in the 1960s." With an unhurried movement, Cable started to draw one of his smaller guns from its holster, making the other passengers tense, then paused at a familiar snikt sound. "Easy, old man. I'm going to clean it, not shoot you."
"You wouldn't get the chance," Wolverine snarled. He kept his claws out. Storm sighed inwardly; there were times she couldn't stand the posturing, and there were times she appreciated the complex interplay of power. Right now, it was probably keeping them all alive.
Methodically dismantling the weapon in his hands with practiced speed, Cable continued, "Strange didn't know much, but he was able to tell me where the mountain is, as well as the location of the entrance to Apocalypse's prison."
"If Apocalypse was so bad, why didn't the Ancient One just kill him instead of lockin' him up?" Surprisingly, it was Rogue who asked the question, and Storm looked at her askance. She was not usually prone to statements of that sort. "I mean, I felt him, a little. He's all hate and evil. Why would you let something like that live?"
"The Ancient One believed all life to be sacred," Cable replied, his expression and tone making it clear that he didn't share that belief. "There was also a prophecy - from the Olmec - that Apocalypse's power would be needed to stop a celestial monster when it came to devour the earth."
The professor tented his fingers. "I don't suppose Strange will be helping us."
Cable shook his head. "When the Ancient One died, his spiritual essence dispersed across the universe. Right now, Strange is in a meditative trance, hoping to track down the part of the essence that knows about Apocalypse. But like I told him, we don't have time to wait."
Judging from the set of his jaw, Cyclops wasn't convinced. "So we're going to do - what? Throw Apocalypse back in jail?"
"We're not going to let him out in the first place," Cable countered. "The goal here is to destroy the key. The Ancient One sealed the doors with a mixture of science and magic that Strange can't duplicate, but it was his 'expert' opinion that even one door could contain Apocalypse until the mountain crumbled to dust."
"And what if he does get out?" Jean demanded.
Cable pulled a section of his gun out and held it up to the light. "Then I'll destroy him."
"Right," Gambit drawled. "How you destroy somethin' that's practic'lly immortal?"
The mercenary didn't blink. "The same way you destroy everything else."
At that, Logan nodded in grudging approval. "Now yer startin' to make sense."
Privately, Storm hoped it would not come to that, but she had the uneasy feeling it would.
The cockpit fell into a silence broken only by the hum of the engines and the soft clicks and scrapes of Cable cleaning his gun. It was no surprise to her when she felt herself sliding into sleep; headache or not, she'd been through a draining experience. With her teammates there, she was safe enough in taking a brief nap. And we will need to be fully alert when we face Mesmero again, she thought, then let the sleep take her.
---
When Storm opened her eyes again, the midday sun had faded into a black, moonless night. Bypassing time zones was one aspect of supersonic flight she would never get used to: by moving from Illinois to Tibet, they had crossed the International Date Line and were effectively jumping into the future. It was disorienting, and not a little confusing to figure out.
She stretched against the harness, feeling the stiffness in her muscles give way. The cockpit was subdued, although now she heard Professor Xavier carrying on a conversation with someone over the radio, probably Beast.
Cyclops was not in the pilot's chair; it took Storm a moment to realize that he was sitting behind her, directly across the aisle from Jean. The Blackbird was running on autopilot.
"-did well," Cyclops was saying softly.
Just as quietly, Jean said, "I panicked."
"But you pulled it together when we needed you."
The conversation went on, but, ashamed of her eavesdropping, she undid the harness and stood, walking towards the front of the cockpit.
Gambit was asleep; good thieves thought alike. Her mouth twitched at the idea. Storm, a mentor, teacher and respected X-Man, was a thief at heart. It would have been funny had it not been so true.
Rogue was staring blankly at the metal hull next to her. She looked a thousand miles away, and Ororo wondered briefly what the girl was thinking. Stolen memories of Apocalypse - or a subject closer to home and heart?
Cable had finished cleaning his gun and was sitting motionless. Wolverine was stationed across from him, equally still but focused on the two strangers in their midst. She stepped past them and took the empty pilot's seat. Below them, the Himalayas were swathed in a patchy field of clouds that glowed an ethereal white against the night sky. It was a beautiful sight. So odd, to think that below that tranquility was a monster of ageless evil.
"Ororo, I'm glad you're awake," the professor said, all business. "Beast and I have been discussing Cable's information, and we could use a third opinion."
"On one level, the information would appear to be accurate," Beast said. His voice had an electronic warble to it, caused by the scrambling device embedded in the radio's circuitry. "The date of approximately 200 BC would correspond to the beginning of the Han dynasty in China, which agrees with my initial dating of the stolen rings. Cerebro confirms that the mountain which you're currently approaching is indeed held to be sacred by local lore. And, Aztec religious codices explicitly state that the world will be devoured by celestial monsters, thus ending the fifth age of man. The Aztec civilization, although appearing much later than 200 BC, inherited much of their mythology from their Mesoamerican predecessors - including the Olmec." Hank paused and took a deep breath before continuing. "Taken individually, each piece of information is convincing. However..."
"The sum of their parts is not so credible," the professor finished. "At least, not to you."
"Exactly. I'd believe him more if he was dragging you out there to capture a Yeti."
Storm considered her reply carefully before saying, "I've seen and experienced things which lead me to accept Cable's story as true."
"Oh? Such as?"
She could picture Beast tilting his head, curiosity written plainly across his blue, fanged face, and because she knew the inquiry held no malice, she explained, "A creature who called himself the Shadow King. Men and women who have lived for centuries without aging. A hungan who captured my soul. If Apocalypse is a mutant, as Cable claims he is, then it's not impossible that he exists."
The professor nodded. "Well said."
Beast sighed. "That's three to one, and this is a democracy... I know I can't stop you, but I would appreciate it if you'd let me watch. After all, even if 'Apocalypse' is nothing but a heap of dusty bones, the archeological value of such a find would be tremendous."
Storm smiled; for all of his boisterous athleticism and humor, Hank was a scientist to the core.
"Of course," the professor said. "Storm, I believe we have a few headsets with video and audio feeds - they're in the aft compartment."
"Yes. I'll get one," she said, rising.
"Make sure it's got NV," Beast added. "I hear it's dark in Tibet right now."
"And tell Scott to return, please. We're almost over the mountain, and I don't think we've tested him on night landings with non-horizontal surfaces."
Storm nodded and walked back. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Cable giving her a glance as she went past. Interesting. Gambit was awake and shuffling through a deck of cards with one eye fixed on Rogue, who was - a bit too pointedly - not looking in his direction.
Cyclops and Jean were still talking, but broke off when Storm stopped between them. "Cyclops, we're getting ready to land."
Scott looked at her blankly for a moment before jumping to his feet. "Oh. Uh, right."
She put a reassuring hand on Jean's shoulder, then opened the door to the aft compartment. They didn't use it often as passenger space, simply because they didn't need to, and thus it held the majority of their portable equipment. She and Logan had done inventory only a few days before, and she knew the four headsets were stored in a drawer near the floor. She knelt and opened the drawer, removing a headset at random.
Beast had mentioned night vision; she thought it would be a good idea for the students to have NV goggles, just in case. The NV equipment was stored next to the headsets, and she pulled three goggles out along with the lens for the video feed. Cyclops did not need NV.
The engines changed pitch abruptly, sending a shudder through the frame of the jet. They were descending.
Storm made her way back into the cockpit and handed out the NV goggles as well as some advice. "Remember, the air at this altitude is much thinner than what you've trained in. Your reactions will be slower, and you'll tire more quickly. Be sure to compensate for that," she finished as the plane dropped none-too-gently onto the side of the mountain. There was a noticeable tilt to the floor, but it wasn't as bad as it might have been. Scott had found a good landing site.
The students unfastened their harnesses and joined Storm, Wolverine, and Cable at the hatch.
The professor, who hadn't moved, cleared his throat. "I will not be with you, but I will be monitoring you telepathically. Storm will also be providing video and audio to Beast."
The students nodded.
"I know you'll do well," the professor added.
Wolverine opened the hatch and jumped down before the stairs finished descending. "Watch your step," he called back. "We're about three feet away from a long fall."
Cable went next, followed by the four students. Storm took her time adjusting the headset's fit so that the camera was level with her eyes. She turned it on and looked around the cabin. "How's this?"
"Perfect," Beast's voice buzzed in her ear.
"Good." She nodded at the professor and stepped out into the Tibetan night. The air was cold and thin, as she'd warned the students, and it took some concentration before the wind responded to her commands. In a fight, that could be dangerous.
Snow-capped mountains towered in all directions, and the stars arched overhead in a crystalline vault. She breathed deep. This was not Africa, but her soul responded to it with the same sense of awe. Truly, the Bright Lady's power filled this landscape.
Beast whistled. "You know, I've always wanted to see the Himalayas in person."
"They are beautiful. I wish this visit was under better circumstances." The others had already walked upwards along a barely-discernable trail that snaked back and forth across the mountainside before becoming a narrow cliff of a path. She hurried to join them, using a gust of wind to help her. Not for the first time, she regretted the high-heeled boots of her uniform. They made climbing the rocky slope more difficult than it would have been in flats.
Wolverine had taken point, closely followed by Cable. Cyclops was leading the students; she fell into place between the two adults - the better to prevent bloodshed. "Where are we going?"
Without looking at her, Cable said, "Amarnath Cave. The resting place of the immortal one."
"Sacred to Shiva, the god of creation and destruction," Beast said. "If Apocalypse is the powerful force that Cable claims, then stories of his deeds might have been mixed - confused - with those of the Destroyer."
"I thought we were chasing Yetis," Storm said, smiling. Beast chuckled.
"Quiet," Cable hissed. "We're approaching the cave."
And indeed they were. Ahead of them, the trail terminated in a small platform. Wolverine slowed and extended his claws. Cable already had one of his guns in his hand and edged past Storm. The two men inched forward, pressed close to the mountainside, then burst into the cave's entrance with professional grace, guns and claws at the ready.
"Clear," Cable said after a moment. Storm noticed that he did not return his gun to its holster.
She followed the two men into the cave, aware of the students behind her, and also aware of the dark fingers that began to tug at her mind the moment she stepped over the threshold. The inky black space was vast; she could feel it by the air. It was even colder here than it was on the exposed rock face, but this was an unnatural cold.
Be careful, the professor warned telepathically. Do not let Apocalypse gain control of your mind.
"Into the lion's den," she heard Gambit mutter. Someone immediately hushed him.
"Storm," Beast said. "If what I'm seeing is any indication, I think you need to turn on a light."
"Lights?" she asked, realizing a deficiency in their planning. They hadn't brought any kind of lighting, just the night vision.
"I've got one. If you're wearing it, take your NV off." Cable flicked a switch on his gun and a surprisingly bright light flooded the cave.
"Whoa," one of the students said. The word echoed around them.
Storm agreed. The cave was relatively narrow, with a high roof that disappeared into the mountain. Columns, carved out of the same rock that formed the mountain, lined both sides of the cave and created an avenue that led to a towering door directly in front of them. The avenue was lined with artifacts and stelae. The door itself was covered with hieroglyphs and dominated by a large, empty circle and its surrounding picture.
Beast said, "Fascinating. Could I see that stelae to your left?"
Storm obediently walked over to it and knelt in front of a panel engraved with ideograms.
"Aha - now don't move," Beast said.
While she waited for him to interpret the writings, Storm observed the rest of the cave. She wasn't an expert in archeology, but she knew enough to identify some of the artifacts. An impressive array of cultures and civilizations were represented in this space.
The students stayed near the entrance, but Cable, after planting flares at the bases of the columns and turning off his gun's light, walked right up to the door and put a hand on the center picture. Wolverine was roaming the perimeter of the cave, sniffing and looking for danger.
After several long moments, Beast said, "Hmm... My Chinese is a little rusty, but I believe this is a warning against opening the prison. Stands to reason, I suppose... What about the door?"
She rose and joined Cable at the door. Up close, it radiated cold - a deep chill that threatened to freeze the very marrow in her bones.
The dark fingers clamped down suddenly, painfully, and she staggered sideways under their force. Cable grabbed her arm, holding her upright, and though her eyes were mostly shut against the agony, she saw his own eyes flare with a brief, golden energy.
Like a door slamming shut, the dark fingers vanished from her mind. Cable released her arm; she rubbed it absently, giving him a curious stare. He turned away from her and walked down the avenue.
"Ororo, are you all right?" Beast asked, sounding anxious.
"Yes," she said, although she wasn't entirely certain. "What do you know about this picture on the door?"
The picture was a bas-relief carving, with no coloration. The empty circle, about five inches in diameter, was recessed a bit and was probably the keyhole for the door. It seemed to perch on a low-slung boat, with two kneeling, winged women on either side. Their wings, which extended from their arms, touched the circle at its top and bottom. Four hieroglyphs had been carved beneath the boat: a triangle-within-a-triangle, an ankh, a serpent, and one she couldn't identify.
"Well, Cerebro is telling me that this is a solar bark, or boat, carrying a solar disk. The sky deities or seraphim kneeling on either side of the circle are typical depictions; their wings anchor the solar disk in eternity. And the hieroglyphs underneath the boat translate into 'bestowed with eternal life.' All in all, a fascinating example of-"
"Storm," Wolverine called, breaking her concentration. "Tell Beast his art lesson can wait."
She lifted herself into the air and flew to the entrance, where the others had gathered. "What is it?"
Wolverine pointed at a line of black shapes making their way up the mountain. "Looks like Mesmero stopped in Japan on his way over here."
"Hand ninjas," Gambit said, jumping into the conversation. "Assassins use 'em for target practice."
Storm blinked and squinted; if they hadn't been pointed out to her, she might not have noticed them. She knew the name, and their reputation; Yukio, one the few childhood friends she still kept in contact with, had told her horror stories about the ninjas. And despite Yukio's tendency to exaggerate, Ororo thought she was telling the truth.
"Don't let Gumbo fool you - the Hand are some of the nastiest in the business. They like to overwhelm with sheer numbers." Logan didn't sound particularly displeased at that information.
"Like cockroaches. You see one, best reckon there's a hundred more hidin' somewhere." He draped an arm around Rogue's shoulder. "Don' worry, chere, I keep you safe."
Rogue jerked away from him and pointed a threatening finger in his face. "Call me that again and I'll rip out your tongue, you Cajun creep."
Cyclops pushed them apart, saying firmly, "That's enough, both of you. If we're going to beat these guys, we need to fight as a team. Got it?"
"Got it," Rogue mumbled.
"Wish is my command, fearless leader," Gambit said, smirking. Storm resolved to have a small talk with the boy about the attitude - and the behavior - expected from an X-Man.
"Okay. Wolverine, what are the chances that the Hand are working for Mesmero voluntarily?" Cyclops asked.
Logan shook his head. "Slim to none. The Hand don't hire out, not even to the Yakuza."
"So what are the chances that they're hypnotized?"
Before Wolverine could answer - before anyone could answer - a dozen shuriken sliced into the rock floor, narrowly missing their feet. An endless stream of Hand ninjas followed, discarding their black cloaks in graceful swirls to reveal crimson clothes beneath.
They swarmed the entrance en masse, pushing the X-Men back despite Cyclops' optic blasts, Jean's telekinesis, and the gale-force winds Storm was managing to pull out of the oxygen-poor air. Wolverine and Yukio were right, she thought, and so was Gambit. Cockroaches, indeed.
Mesmero appeared in the entrance, along with still more Hand ninjas. Storm did a quick estimate; there were over fifty of the ninjas in the cave now. Mesmero shouted, "Stop them! Apocalypse must be freed!"
"Better than average," Cable said, answering the earlier question with wry understatement.
Storm dodged two ninjas and pushed herself upwards, into the relatively free airspace above the fight. A cave was bad enough, but add grasping crowds and her claustrophobia would not be long in coming. Lacking opponents for the moment, she scanned the chaos below, looking for a teammate in need of help.
Rogue was cornered by eight or nine ninjas, but she was fending off their attacks and getting a few hits of her own in. True to his word, Gambit was staying close to her, and Storm decided that the girl had the only guardian angel she needed.
Cable was dispatching ninjas without difficulty, although he had restrained from using his any of his weapons. He would probably not appreciate any assistance.
Cyclops and Jean were fighting side-by-side in the middle of the avenue, with Jean shielding and Scott attacking. It was their favorite method, Storm knew, and using it, they could hold out for nearly an hour under the Danger Room's toughest settings. The ninjas weren't going to be a problem for them.
Wolverine, however, was having some trouble.
The ninjas were concentrating their efforts on him, evidently knowing that he was the most dangerous of the X-Men, and he was all but buried beneath a tight cluster of nearly thirty red-garbed bodies. She dropped lower, stretched her hands out, gritted her teeth, and sent a small hurricane raging in their direction. The ninjas made an attempt to hang on, but it was useless; they went flying into the walls of the cave as though they were nothing more than matchsticks.
Wolverine knocked the last few out - she was glad to see that he wasn't using his claws - and gave her a mock salute. "Thanks, Ororo."
"You're welcome," she said, breathing slightly harder than usual.
He jerked his head toward the entrance, an expression of mixed exasperation and amusement crossing his face. "Oh, no..."
She looked in the same direction. "What is it now?"
And she saw that it was a foolish question, because Gambit had abandoned Rogue to the ninjas and was fighting his way towards Mesmero. Storm and Wolverine started heading that way as well, Storm picking off assailants with small lightning bolts as she went.
"Kid's persistent, I'll give him that," Wolverine said, punching a ninja without even looking.
"The Guild takes revenge seriously," she said. Very seriously.
Gambit broke free of a ninja's grasp and used his bo to vault over another, landing squarely in front of Mesmero. Without any further ado, he tackled the older mutant.
A ninja grabbed Storm from behind, pinning her arms to her sides. She struggled, but the man's grasp only tightened. This was the most surreal fight she had ever experienced - ninjas who moved silently and who did not speak even when they were injured, the orange light of the flares lighting the cave with Halloween colors, and everywhere the feel of something ancient and decayed and evil.
"You are a fool just like your brother!" Mesmero shouted, kicking Gambit away. Gambit landed lightly on his feet a good three yards away.
"Yeah, and you know what else, cochon? Remy's a thief like him, too!" With a triumphant flourish, he raised his hand to reveal a gold circle roughly five inches in diameter.
Mesmero's eyes widened in shock, then fury. "THE KEY!"
Storm filled the air around her with electrostatic energy, the prelude to a lightning strike, and the man's arms loosened slightly. She took advantage of the opportunity and tore away from him, taking to the air again.
"What, this?" Gambit was saying, flipping the key like an oversized coin. "I think it make a nice coaster for Tantie's coffee table, oui?"
Mesmero fairly bristled with rage. "I think your lifeless body will be the first offering to the dread lord."
In the space of a half-second, every ninja in the cave stopped fighting... and converged on Gambit.
It's the key they want, the professor said urgently. Keep it from them while I try to take down Mesmero.
The thief looked around wildly, then glanced upwards. "Stormy, CATCH!"
The golden disk seemed to hang in the air in front of her for a moment, long enough for her to clearly see the design engraved on the front of it: stylized Egyptian art of a man towering over his defeated enemies, clutching their hair in one fist and a flail in the other, upraised hand. Then her fingers closed around it and time snapped back into alignment. The ninjas immediately shifted their attention to her. None of the Hand could fly, but they all carried projectiles, if the rain of shuriken was any indication.
She dodged and twisted desperately, pushing herself higher into the cave's airspace while pushing the wicked metal blades down. A few made it past her winds and sliced deeply into her hand - the one that held the key.
The child-thief Ororo would have held on regardless, but Storm was out of practice. She cried out in pain. The key fell.
"I got it!" Jean called, stopping the key's descent with her telekinesis. Before Storm could swoop down and retrieve it - better her life endangered than the students' - a ninja kicked Jean in the back of her head. She crumpled, Cyclops blasted the ninja, the key fell again, and this time, no one stopped it.
The disk clattered to the rock floor of the cave some distance away from the main action, and there was a general scramble as both parties tried to get it. One of the Hand made it there first. The ninja snatched up the key and started for the door, but Rogue knocked it out of his hands and into hers with a well-placed shoulder to his midsection. Another ninja grabbed the key from her almost immediately, slamming her into a column in the process. She did not get up.
Gambit and Wolverine went after the ninja with the key. Cyclops was kneeling next to a dazed Jean, using his optic blasts to clear a path for two of his teammates while keeping another safe. Good leadership, but that left one X-Man alone.
Storm dropped to the ground beside Rogue and checked the injured student carefully, while tearing a strip of her cape and making a bandage for her bleeding hand. The three gashes were deep, with clean, almost surgical edges. The pain was a fiery throb; she knotted the bandage and dismissed it. Rogue's condition was more important.
"She might have a concussion," Beast buzzed in Storm's ear, startling her. In the confusion, she had forgotten the headset. She had also forgotten Cable, and now she looked around quickly. He was nowhere to be seen. Neither was Mesmero. That did not bode well. "I'd get her to the Blackbird ASAP."
"I can't leave them now," Storm said, but she knew that he was correct; Rogue needed medical attention. She gently lifted the girl in her arms, cradling her like a small child, and gave one last glance at the melee before heading for the entrance. As they reached the last set of columns, Rogue moaned slightly and stirred, blinking her way to consciousness.
Storm immediately set her on her feet. Rogue shook her head, winced, and swayed a little, but stayed upright. "I hate ninjas," she said, then winced again.
"Are you all right, Rogue?"
Rogue leaned against a column and waved her off. "Fine. Go."
Storm turned around and prepared to return to the fight. Wolverine had the disk now, holding his ground directly in front of the door, and most of the Hand were lying on the floor or were simply gone. Perhaps, under the strain of the professor's psychic attack, Mesmero had been unable maintain such tight control of the ninjas and they had abandoned an unwanted fight. Yukio had claimed that the Hand were mystics, well trained in psychic arts; it must have been difficult for Mesmero to gain control of them to begin with.
For the first time since the fight had begun, Storm felt a surge of hope. They would win this one yet.
A hail of laser fire burst from the shadows to Wolverine's left, catching him in the ribs and chest. He stumbled, clutching the wounds. One of the ninjas leapt over him, neatly snagging the key in the same graceful move.
Mesmero emerged from the shadows, tossed the laser rifle aside, and took the key from the Hand ninja. Wasting no time, he shoved it into the empty circle cut into the final remaining door.
"NO!" someone shouted.
Mesmero began to laugh, a deep, frightening sound of anticipation.
Blue-white light exploded from the circle, overtaking the dying orange flares and filling the entire cave. Storm raised her hand to shield her eyes as the light spread over the door's hieroglyphs, illuminating them one-by-one until the door was a maze of glowing lines and curves. And then the door simply disappeared.
A wave of blue-white light washed over her, bringing with it heat and the distinctive burnt smell of ozone. There was a rushing pressure in her ears, and a dusty wind scouring her skin like the khamsin at its strongest, and every instinct she possessed told her to flee from the abomination of a creature that was coming.
A massive dark shape appeared in the doorway, blocking the light and throwing the X-Men into shadow. All hate and evil, as Rogue had said, and power too - such power that it made her, the Windrider, stare open-mouthed.
This was En Sabah Nur. This was Apocalypse.
"Oh my stars," Beast exclaimed, the words blurred with a strange static.
She barely heard him, because Ororo Munroe was too busy doing something that she had not done in years, not since she was a ragged thief in Cairo. Not since she a was child wandering the Serengeti.
She was praying.
"Goddess save us," she whispered, and then the world exploded around her in a blinding fireball.