Author's Note**
Just so you guys know I do collect on soul offerings . . .
In one word, Egypt was hot. Blistering hot. Blistering, walking on sunshine hot. Blistering, walking-
God it's boring out here, Cyclops thought as he wiped sweat from his forehead. The group of thirteen trailed along across the white sand, their eyes constantly on the move in search of danger. A little ways ahead of them stood their intended destination; a stack of cliffs piled against the sky. That's where Mesmero and maybe that Apocalypse were supposed to be. Xavier had warned that it was entirely possible that Mesmero had already secured the final key. They needed to be ready for anything. About halfway between their landing spot and the cliffs were a fairly large cluster of trees, a spot of green in a land of white. An oasis. Weird. I wonder what the people who live here do for fun. Hang out at the oasis? Do they listen to Oasis? Where do they plug in their radios then? Cyclops dropped his head down and stared at the sand that kicked up when he walked. Hey, maybe they make sandcastles? Turning his head, he asked,
"Hey Jean! You wanna make sandcastles?"
Jean stared at him silently. "You're dead to me," was her reply before she flew off to be next to someone who wouldn't lower her IQ simply by breathing. Cyclops watched her go and frowned.
"I meant after the mission," he muttered to himself. Every time he tried to break out of his anal retentive mold, somebody was always slapping him back. Didn't they understand that all he wanted, all he needed was a little understanding and a little love?
Out in front of the group, Wolverine paused and sniffed at the air. The dry heat burned his nose and played tricks on it. All he could smell was sun and sand and decay. His claws extended almost unconsciously. He felt like they were walking right into a trap of some sorts and it bothered him that he couldn't scent it.
"Hey Fairy Boy," he called gruffly. Eyes narrowed, Angel stalked over, the feathers on his wings ruffled, a sign he was angry.
"It's Angel. You call me Fairy Boy again and I'll-"
Wolverine lifted one of his arms up until his hand rested on the youth's shoulder, claws directed at his fleshy throat. "You'll what, exactly?"
Angel swallowed; he could feel the metal even through his suit. "Nothing," he amended.
"That's what I thought. Now, do me a favor and scout up a head a bit. And be careful," Wolverine stated, turning his gaze back on the shifting sands. "I think we're being watched."
After carefully easing himself away from the adamantine knives of death, Angel gave a firm nod and pushed himself up into the air with a couple beats of his powerful wings. It took him a moment before he caught the current of the air. Without much effort, he went gliding forward, blocking out the sun for a brief second. His flight went uninterrupted until he passed over the oasis and then, without any warning at all he plunged downward into the trees, almost as if something had dragged him down.
"Christ," Wolverine muttered darkly as the rest of the group rushed forward after witnessing the dive.
"What happened to Fairy Boy?" Toad chirped, staring off in that direction.
"I told the kid to be careful. I didn't say go plunge headlong into a grove of trees," he growled more to himself than anyone else. A bit of confusion ran through the group.
"Um . . . Wolverine? Like, shouldn't we go rescue him?" Shadowcat asked when she thought it was safe to speak.
Wolverine squinted his eyes toward the oasis and gave a short nod. "Yeah, he's probably busted up a bit. Come on, and this time everyone be careful okay? That means stay . . . clear. . . . of . . . DANGER!"
"You're going to have to be a lot more than careful to stay clear of danger."
Everyone turned at the sound of a low and very familiar voice. Sure enough, there was crazy Wanda Maximoff standing just a few feet from them, looking the very definition of calm and collective. Psychotic people always do at times like those. Immediately Wolverine went into his fighting stance, each claw ready to impose the maximum amount of damage.
"You plannin' on taking us all on, girlie?" he asked.
She smirked and held her arms out innocently. "What, do I look crazy?" Then she threw her head back and laughed while everyone else looked on in puzzlement. Abruptly she quieted and frowned at them, settling her hands on her hips. "It was a joke. Pfsh. Of course I'm planning on taking you all on. Unless," she added, looking Wolverine straight in the eyes, "you don't think you could best one little girl."
Wolverine raised his claws and struck them together, causing a shower of sparks to rain down. "Let's rumble."
***********************************
Angel was hurt, and hurt badly. He had fallen before, broken bones and bruised muscles. But none of the injuries sustained in his boyhood days compared in the least bit to the searing, screaming pain that was raging through him now. His wings were shredded; he could tell. He could feel the blood dripping from them run down his back and stain his uniform. Nausea swam through him and a few times he thought that blackness would overtake him. It would have been a welcome relief. His only comfort came in the fact that he was on his side, unable to move and unable to see the damage for himself. But it was bad. He didn't need to see it to know that.
The pain muddled his brain so much that he could only think of it and not about what had dragged him down from the sky. One moment he had been above the ground, resisting gravity and then suddenly it had been as if he had weighed a thousand tons. It had almost been like the earth had reached up and pulled him down, angry that he would dare to rise above her. Oh god, I'll never fly again. Just let me die, Warren thought, laying his head down against the coarse sand. For years he had tried to hide his wings and now that he stood the lose them, it cut terribly into his heart. To never feel the wind rush over him, to never view the world as a tiny speck devoid of unpleasantness. And the pain, god the pain. Just let me die.
Come, fallen one. Come and I shall heal thy grievous wounds.
The voice was low and soothing with its archaic choice of words. Warren shifted his head and did his best to look up, but could see no one.
"Who's there? Where are you?" he croaked, his head feeling light from his loss of blood. The pain began to recede under a thick heavy white fog that played at the edge of his mind.
Come. Thy pain is great. Suffer no more.
"Where are you?" Warren repeated, his voice beginning to slur. His eyes blurred and doubled but he thought he could make out the shape of a man just a few yards in front of him. Slowly he began to drag himself forward over the sand.
Yes, come. Heed my voice and follow.
High up in the branches of the few trees that grew in the desert, a pair of wings hung dripping.
*********************************
"I don't want to hurt you," Wolverine snarled as he circled Wanda. He motioned with one quick motion of a hand for everyone else to stay back. Wanda rolled her eyes and laughed.
"Sure you do. You want to hurt everyone." She lifted one hand and held it towards him. Blue electricity ran over and between her fingers and Wolverine tensed. Unpredictable events were the worst kind to come up against and there wasn't much more unpredictable than the witch daughter of Magneto. There was a calm silence that settled down over that small area of the world, like the seconds before a tornado sets down and turns things to hell. Wanda gave one slow wink. Then she threw her hand to the left of Wolverine, sending out her cursed touch.
A high powered, uncontrolled burst of plasma energy shot forward out of Cyclops' eyes and slammed into Wolverine, sending him vaulting forward. He raised himself halfway up and then fell forward again and remained still. The rest of the group immediately sprang into action as superheroes do but Wanda had enough tricks up her sleeve for everyone. Jean reached out with her telekinesis, intending to lift the Scarlet Witch off her feet and send her flying. In response Wanda shifted her other hand and the invisible hand curved, snatching up an unsuspecting Toad instead. Before Jean could release it Toad went streaking through the air, crashing into Avalanche and sending the two rolling.
Colossus started forward, his metal skin clanking down as he went and Pyro shot two lines of flame to flank him. They took the shape of two wild stallions. Wanda smiled.
Lifting both hands she flung her talent outward with no restraints. Colossus halted in mid stride and stared down at himself. His metal armor began forcefully retracting itself back inside his skin and the pain dropped him down to one knee. The stallions marched on until they met the wall of Wanda's will and turned to charge straight back at their creator.
Gambit stepped in front of Rogue as the flaming horses rode by chasing one extremely frightened Pyro. An Ace of Spades appeared in one of his gloved hands, his trump card, and he set it to charge with a brief thought.
"Compliments of de house, sorcière," he stated with all his usual flair. Wanda turned her eyes on him just as he let the card fly with what looked like an almost casual gesture. It exploded only a second after it left his hand and the force of the blast sent him flying back into Shadowcat who abruptly found herself nearly smothered beneath a man she was not at all acquainted with. Rogue was bounced off to the right and was caught by an ever helpful Blob. Unfortunately for him she had tugged off one of her gloves before the chaos had begun and it was now pressed against the one of his large arms. His eyes rolled back into his head and he fell backwards unconscious, leaving Rogue stunned as he flowed into her.
Ah really hate that. She pushed herself up off of Blob and shifted her green eyes to Wanda. The sorceress stood surveying the carnage she had managed to create all by her lonesome. Feeling her temper stir, Rogue stalked towards her with the intent of exploring just how many of her newly discovered powers she could wield at the same time. Stiring Rogue's temper never led to a happy, positive occasion. But Wanda apparently had finished her showdown and wasn't about to start another one. She gave Rogue a brief salute and ran off, her long coat flapping behind her.
Rogue stared after her, surrounded by her so recently battered teammates, most of who were getting back onto their feet. They had begun with thirteen, now they were down to ten. But Irene had said there would be twelve. Where the hell are we going to pick up two more mutants?