author: Lucinda
number 6 in Crimson series.
rating: pg 13
disclaimer: not mine. Nobody from Marvel is mine.
distribution: please ask first. You may have it if you have the rest of the Crimson series.


Betsy didn't get back to the mansion until very late. Warren was
drowsing in a chair, his wings twitching on occasion as he dreamed. Logan
was watching the door as Betsy approached, his sense of smell alerting him to
her approach... and that she smelled of close but not sexual contact with a
strange man. This might be very bad.

"Evening Betsy. What happened with the guy?" Logan's voice rolled
through the darkness, a rough sound calling up memories of the big bad wolf
that would get you if you strayed from the path.

She simply looked at him, smiling through the darkness, the red mark
over her eye almost glowing in the darkness. Her words were accompanied by
a casual shrug. "He got overly pushy. I left him at the club parking lot."

"Was he alive? Did his mind still work?"

Betsy froze, her whole body tensing and quivering slightly. There was
an undertone to her voice, as if something inside were frantically trying to
scream, like a butterfly beating it's wings against a glass window. "Still
alive... what do you mean by that, Logan? Are you implying that I killed
someone? I'm one of the good guys, remember?"

"You do remember dropping Warren to the ground earlier, passed out
after one too many rounds with you? You aren't getting energy from food
anymore, Bets. You've changed, and I think you're drawing energy from
people now." Logan's voice wasn't loud, but it was rough, and showed very
little emotion, mostly just traces of impatience.

"Warren... but I didn't... he should have... This doesn't make sense.
I... what if you're right? What can be done about it anyhow?" Her voice
started hesitant, a bit nervous, filled with concern, and then shifted,
gaining something like a cool polish, as if the emotions were being tucked
away into the darkness.

"Warren isn't dead, just damn tired. As for sense, when have our lives
made sense? Why would they start now? My best guess, confirmed by talking
to a shriveled up old mage is that this is some sort of side effect to the
Crimson Dawn. It didn't just heal you, you were marked, those red lines on
your face. It wants something from you, and these changes must be
connected to that somehow."

"What does it want?" Her voice was barely above a whisper, and her
eyes looked almost red in the darkness.

"Honestly? I have no idea. Gomurr said we could go drop in and ask,
maybe get them or it or whatever the hell this Crimson Dawn actually is to
release you from this binding it's given you. Find out what it wants, at
the very least."

"Would I be expected to go alone?" She sounded a bit concerned.

"No, Warren wants to go, and I'm going too. We found that old geezer,
and on his advice got you that damn stuff to begin with, we got a
responsibility to see this through. So, we just wake up lover-boy over
there, and go through the magic portal into the gates of hell, or the home
of the Crimson Dawn."

In a very small voice, the next words from Betsy's lips left Logan
feeling surprised. "But what if it's dangerous?"

Logan moved towards her, his movements slow, and laid a hand on her
shoulder. "Life is dangerous, bets. A meteor could fall from the sky and
kill Scott... or 'Ro could throw a lightning bolt at that annoying reporter
of Hank's... The Blackbird could crash... we don't live safe lives here on
earth. But, yeah, this trip will be dangerous. We're still going to go."

"So... we're all going into the land of darkness to keep me from
becoming... what am I becoming?" Betsy's voice carried a faint hint of hope.

"Yup. Not the most complex plan, but it'll do." Logan had that same
feral grin on his face, one occasionally seen before big, bloody, horrible
fights. "I'll just go wake up Wings over there."

Sauntering over, Logan tapped Warren on the arm, causing him to flail
a bit, startled into wakefulness. Warren looked around the room, trying to
orient himself. His first words contained dismay and a hint of frustration.
"You again... why do I keep waking up to the sight of your face?"

Logan chuckled, finding amusement in Warren's complaint. "Time to go.
Betsy's here. You still got the little whats-it?"

Warren sighed, looking at Logan with exasperation. "Magical talisman,
not a little whats-it. Yes, I still have it... it's time?"

"If we're going to do this, we need to do it now. Things are changing
for me... I don't know where they are going to end." Betsy's voice was low,
hinting at worry and frustration and a hint of fear.

Warren shivered a bit at her words, and stood up, stretching a bit as
he did. He reached under his jacket, producing the talisman from the inside
pocket. In the darkness, all that was visible was the golden frame, and the
red gem in the center, which almost glowed, like an ember. He walked over,
and placed it on the door to the lower front bathroom, currently unusable
because of some student prank involving feathers, super glue and some
balloons... he didn't know the details or want to know. It was enough that
the bathroom behind the door was currently not functional.

As he secured the talisman, a ripple of darkness, almost like a shadow
spread behind it, spreading out until it met the door frame, deepening into
total darkness, and radiating a chill. There was an almost twisting
feeling, and the darkness swirled, and instead of a door blocking the view
of an unusable bathroom, they were looking into a rock strewn valley, the sky
a sooty dark color, the ground harsh stones, the only light and color the
slender looking stream of lava flowing through the valley below.

Warren looked through the portal, and shivered a bit. "It doesn't seem any more comforting this time."

Slowly, Betsy moved to stand beside Warren, staring through the portal
with wide eyes. "You went there to save me? It looks like some sort of hell..."

Logan gave a small grunt before speaking. "It doesn't smell very good
either. Fact is that you're important to the team, and to Warren for
reasons that are a lot more personal. It was worth it to us then, and it's
still worth it to make sure everything is alright for you. Now, we might as
well go in, waiting here won't help anything."

Their journey felt horribly long, and the feelings that they had ended
up in some sort of evil underworld was only intensified by the darkness, the
harsh molten glow of the lava throughout the area, and the lack of any
vegetation. Occassionally, there would be a hint of distant movement from the corner of their eyes, as if there were things
moving in the distance, but what those things might be, or what they would eat
was a mystery. Perhaps one best left unsolved. They followed a narrow
path, the air thin and harsh on their lungs.

Eventually, they came to a level plain, and they could see something
rising in the distance, something much to regular to be another boulder, or
even a hill. It reminded them of ancient temples, and there was in fact a
small building on the top, and they could see tiny dots where red fires
blazed in front of the building.

"That would be the temple, the home of the Crimson Dawn. Time to go
ask a few questions." Logan seemed undaunted by the air, although the dark
dust of the land had covered him, making him resemble some sort of menacing
creature, almost inhuman.

The ziggurat rose above the plains, looming large and imposing before
them. It also had proven to be farther away and also larger than they had
first assumed, and they were all very relieved to finally climb the many
stairs that moved slowly up the sides of the massive structure. Eventually,
they came to the top, passing between car sized bowls of red fire, fires
that stung the eyes to look at, and produced a sullen smoke with an bitter
after scent. Carefully, they moved towards the building, seeking the door
between the row of massive columns, each as wide as Logan was tall.
Eventually, they found the door on the opposite side of the building from
the stairs, and with trepidation, swung open the door, carved from the same
dark, almost black stone that made the ziggurat and the mountains. Twisting
lines over the door made shapes that almost seemed to writhe and change, and
left a vague feeling of uneasiness.

Slowly, they made their way into the temple, which was lit inside with
rows of torches, all burning with more of the sullen red fires, and a pair
of carved stone bowls of the red fire, positioned beside an alter. Behind
the alter, where there should have been a wall was something that at first
looked like some sort of crazy black on black artwork, set in a large,
almost circular frame of raised stone, regular lines hatched across the
surface. But the darkness wasn't still, it moved, swirling and rippling,
twisting and moving in insane, impossible patterns, with little flecks of
red in it momentarily, much like the vial of fluid that Warren had
retrieved. Standing between the alter and the wall was a figure, a tall,
dark skinned woman dressed in some sort of short white garment, not quite a
toga, not quite like anything they could identify. The red mark went over
her eye, and her eyes were solid red, like the molten lava they had passed.
She only had a small topknot of hair, the length reaching halfway down her
back, the rest of her head smooth, perhaps shaved.

"Why have you entered the Hall of the Crimson Dawn?" Her voice was
inhuman, ringing almost like a gong, but with a slight rippling undertone,
like listening to the lava slowly flow over stone.

"Something is happening to me. I need to know what it is... to know
why these things are occurring." Betsy's voice rang out, so clearly a human
voice in this alien place.

"You have been chosen." This was a new voice, one deeper than Logan's,
and almost reminiscent of a rock slide. The speaker was a giant of a... not
quite man, with dark bronze skin, and four arms. He had to be nearly twelve
feet tall, and he also had the mark over his eye. He was in a remarkably
similar white garment, and also had just a small topknot of hair, although
his would only have reached the level of his ears, which looked small and
almost shriveled.

Warren's muttered comment echoed in the room, proving that it had
unusual and effective accoustics. "Chosen for what?"

"She has been Chosen to be the Bride of the Crimson Dawn. Their union
will permit the Crimson Dawn to return to the Earthly plane." The two
white-garbed figures spoke simultaneously, their eyes glowing like coals as
the words emerged.

end Crimson Darkness.