Descent

Disclaimer: Characters and Premise are borrowed from the Marvel, I'm not making any money.

Part 2

Four years ago...

"Hey Sarah," Warren said, his wings tucked close to his back in the uncomfortable confines of the tunnels, awkwardly trying to keep them clear of both the floor and only marginally less grimy walls.

"Didya bring my coloring books?" the little girl asked eagerly.

"They're in my bag," Warren replied.

"Good," Sarah said. "I was afraid we'd leave before you got here and I didn't know if you would be able to find us in the other place or if they'd have coloring books there."

"You're leaving?" Warren asked. "Did something happen?"

Sarah nodded, "Everyone's all excited. Flick says maybe she'll be able to go home, I thought here was home, but everybody wants to go to the new place. Cat says we'll be happy there, I said I'm happy here. Mike's all goofy 'bout Remy. Don't see why he's just a boy; he doesn't even have cool teeth like Cat. Boys are icky, that's what Flick says I'm supposed to say till I'm at least twelve. Twelve is awfully old, I need one more finger to count that far."

"One more?" Warren asked, hoping her counting was at fault.

Sarah held up her left hand, proudly showing him the long bone spur growing between her third and fourth fingers. "Chloe wants to pull it out, but I wouldn't let her. She says if I fight with Mike while I've got it I'll be in big trouble. I just got out of big trouble since I colored in Chloe's book. It wasn't that good of a book it only had one picture in the front then a bunch of boring words."

"You said there was a new boy here?" Warren asked interrupting the five-year-old's stream of consciousness style conversation. He wanted to ask what was wrong with the new boy to bring him here, but Sarah wouldn't understand and even if she had it would have been a particularly tactless question.

"Remy," Sarah confirmed. "Well he's not here, here. Not now, here. He comes and goes and now he's gone. Us going was his idea. Everybody likes it, but me, I like here, it's home. His nice place sounds nice but Flick'll go away and I won't see her anymore and Chloe says she won't go away, but Mike doesn't believe her. Mike says if someone can pretend to be normal they go away because no one wants to be with freaks 'less they have to. What's a freak? And what's normal?"

Warren waited, hoping Sarah would prattle on without his needing to answer.

Sarah rolled her eyes. "I hate when grown-ups don't answer my questions," she said.

"Well, um, Mike shouldn't call people freaks," Warren began awkwardly. "Mutants are people like us, because of my wings or your bones or the way Flick makes the lights turned off."

"And normal means you don't have neat stuff like that?" Sarah concluded. "They're boring."

"Sure," Warren said, relieved.

"Wings is here!" Sarah yelled running ahead into the Morlocks' camp. "He brought my color books!"

Warren turned the corner and stopped in his tracks, the Morlocks' normally orderly little camp was a hive of chaotic activity, everything was in the process of being torn down and stowed.

Flick offered him a friendly wave from across the length of the stretch of tunnel. Cat glanced up suspiciously from the makeshift tent he was folding, and then went back to what he was doing. Danny and Mike didn't bother to acknowledge him. Chloe set aside the box she was packing and came over to talk to Warren.

"We don't need your help anymore," she told him. After a pause she added. "We've appreciated it, but we're going to get real help. Not just charity. You don't have to come here any more."

"I heard," Warren said, wondering darkly what this Remy had done to win their trust so quickly when after months of effort he'd only gained a grudging acceptance from the group. "So you're all just packing it up and taking off. How do you know this guy is for real?"

"He's living proof," Chloe said defensively. "He's in control of his powers, I mean complete control."

"And that proves what?" Warren asked.

"That there's hope," Chloe said holding up hands covered with gardening gloves, which were already starting to show discolored patches from the acid produced by her body.

"And what if his powers are just easier to control?" Warren asked.

"He's like us!" Mike exclaimed angrily. "He's got demon eyes and he says when his powers came he couldn't control them, but he got help. He doesn't have to live in some stinking sewer to hide from the upworlders like us. He doesn't let them push him around..."

"And Remy doesn't have to worry about what he might accidentally do to them either," Flick said quietly. "I could go home, it's only been two years, I could catch up, have my life back. I don't think Mark's gotten serious about anyone else..."

"It'd be better than here," Cat said with certainty. "Mike and Sarah would have a real place, Anna-Marie could get some help. We'd have a reason for being."

"What about you Danny?" Warren asked. "What's he sold you on?"

Slowly Danny turned to look at the little group. After a moment he said. "One place is as good as another. Might as well try it."

"And what if he's leading you into trouble," Warren argued. "You can't just trust everyone who wanders in here."

"We don't trust you Angel," Danny said. "But Remy's like us."

"The Eloi don't look at him and see something to love," Chloe said. "He's had to live like us. He won't betray us."

"And I would?" Warren demanded irritably. "I've been doing my best for you for more than half a year, doesn't that prove anything?"

"I like you Wings," Sarah said reaching up to stroke shining feathers.

Warren gave her a quick smile. "What about the rest of you? Doesn't history count for anything? What do you know about this Remy? You've known him for what? A month, a week? And you're ready to pick up and leave on his say so?"

Cat and Chloe traded an uncertain look.

"Shut up about Remy," Mike yelled. "You've never even met him."

"Let me meet him," Warren challenged.

"We'll trust our own judgment thanks," Chloe said dismissively.

"Let me check him out," Warren argued. "I've got the resources to do that, and what's it going to cost you? A couple of days?"

Danny's look said one way or another made no difference to him.

"A few days wouldn't hurt," Chloe said uncertainly. "Just to give us a few more chances to talk with him."

"So you got a last name? Is he from around here?" Warren asked.

"Just Remy, that's all he told us," Chloe said frowning.

"He talked funny," Sarah volunteered.

"It's an accent stupid," Mike pouted. "It's sexy."

"Yeah right, chere," Sarah said mockingly.

"He's French?" Warren guessed as Mike lowered her horns and glared at Sarah, who stuck out her tongue in response.

"He's Cajun," Danny said matter of a factly.

"It is sexy," Flick said. "Too bad he's such a kid."

Warren gave the high schooler a surprised look. "Kid?" he asked.

"Remy's like thirteen," Flick said.

"Twelve," Cat amended.

"Okay, now I'm convinced something screwy is going on," Warren said. "You're up ending your lives on the say so of a grade-school aged kid?"

Warren hadn't been able to kind out much else about the boy beyond a simple physical description of his appearance and powers. The Morlocks' scarcity of information and easy trust in him set off every alarm bell in Warren's head, but believing that a child was responsible for some sort of nefarious plot wasn't easy either. In the end all he could do was go home and phone a private investigator who'd had dealings with his father and hope the man's expertise extended beyond digging into the past of would-be blackmailers.

****** ****** ******

Warren rushed back to his dorm room at lunch, eagerly checking his answering machine and email for a progress report. As he read through the email he found, he stripped off his jacket, shirt and the harness that kept his wings hidden from his teachers and classmates.

Free of their restraints Warren's snowy wings stretched to their full extent, filling the room, pin-feathers brushing the ceiling of for a few moments, before tucking themselves neatly behind him, fluttering a little as he read.

The PI had found a birth certificate for Remy St. Just, born in New Orleans with red on black eyes, a social services folder on the boy from an office in Baton Rouge, which went to great lengths to down play the concerns his teachers had reported and finally a missing persons report. Warren wondered how hard it could have been to locate an eleven year-old runaway with one of a kind eyes and the ability to make things blow up.

Harder than it sounded apparently because somehow the boy had gotten from Baton Rouge to Philadelphia in just over a year a half without the police spotting him once.

"Think about this," Warren told himself sternly. "Someone's helping or maybe using the kid. That's how he's traveling. They might have kidnapped him despite what the police concluded about his disappearance, or he might have gone with them willingly. Doesn't sound like his parents were any sort of prize and it's not like the police really tried to find him till almost a year after he disappeared. I wonder who lit a fire under their butts? Maybe it had something to do with his father getting murdered. Doesn't do me any good either way, I need to know who he's with now and what their intentions are. There's just a lot of nothing on him after Baton Rouge."

Warren called the PI and asked him to focus on more recent information about the boy and any associates.

After finishing his sandwich Warren stood, frowning down at his harness with loathing. It hurt, his wings could fold very close to his back, but it wasn't comfortable, and his cover story about back problems to explain his deformed appearance made him a little of an outcast among his classmates. To make things worse he always felt claustrophobic when he couldn't spread his wings, even wandering around the private boarding school's spacious grounds he felt closed in by the leather bands cutting into his wings.

Warren snorted, a mysterious winged being swooping down to save people from danger was a miracle, but Warren Worthington III with wings was just another freak, no different from the Morlocks even thought he hid behind a costume and his family's money instead of in the tunnels beneath the city.

Walking across campus he waved to one of his classmates, the other boy looked startled, Warren sighed. Two years ago his wings had been small, featherless, useless, easily hidden and almost forgotten. Back then he'd been outgoing and popular. Then over summer break he'd gone through a growth spurt. He'd only gained an inch or two in height, but his wing-span had doubled, bring it to a grand total of twelve feet from tip to tip and his feathers grew in, adding considerably to the bulk of his wings. The best tailor in the world couldn't have hidden them completely. Warren had been depressed and resentful. At first he'd wanted to cut them off, but the muscles in his back had still been developing, altering to accommodate his wings and the doctors had wanted to wait until that had stabilized before operating on him. While they waited for that to happen Warren had been shipped off to a new school. Only by the dint of intensive pleading, he'd escaped being sent to Europe. Angry at fate and bitter about leaving his friends behind Warren had been withdrawn and ill tempered, doing his worst to make his transition to the new school difficult for everyone involved.

And then he'd flown and everything had changed. His parents had been startled and maybe a little disappointed when he'd informed them that he was keeping his wings, but they'd been supportative and happy that he'd finally overcome the black mood he'd been in for over a year at that point. Not long after that he'd begun his efforts as a superhero.

The one thing he couldn't change was the first impression he'd made on his classmates. Sometimes he thought about asking his parents if he could switch schools again, but that would mean leaving the Morlocks behind and Warren couldn't quite bring himself to abandon them.

He'd never dreamed that one day they'd decide to pack up and leave him behind.

****** ****** ******

Upon his next visit to the tunnels Warren found that Remy had returned and the little group's enthusiasm for his plans had returned with him.

Remy was helping Mike pack when Warren caught his first glimpse of the boy. Seeing him only reinforced Warren's already divided opinion of him. On one hand what he'd learned of Remy's background made him sympathetic toward the younger mutant, but Warren was convinced that something underhanded was going on and Remy was the piped piper leading the Morlocks to their doom.

In person Remy shouldn't have been an impressive individual, he was still gaunt from his time on the streets and graceless in a way that was typical of an adolescent trying to adapt to a rapid growth spurt. Like the more human appearing Morlocks Remy's skin had the paleness of someone who didn't spend much time in the sun and long reddish-brown hair that continually seemed to be falling into the red on black eyes that branded him as a mutant.

Warren could see how the boy could be mistaken for a demon as easily as he was mistaken for an angel. Warren knew better, it wasn't the strange color of Remy's eyes that disturbed him; it was the intensity burning in them.

When Remy saw Warren he set aside what he was doing and came over to confront the winged mutant. "So yo're de one tellin' dese nice people not to trus' me, ney?" he asked glaring up at the older boy. "Yo' want dem to stay down here, trapped in dese tunnels?"

"No," Warren said. "But I don't want some cocky, know-it-all kid getting them killed because he didn't have the experience to recognize when he was being used."

"M. Essex saved me!" Remy spat. "I was scared. I couldn' control m' powers. I'd already killed two people an' I couldn' stop. I would of killed every person who came near me till somebody 'ventually killed me. He came, m' powers didn' hurt him, he gave me a safe place, he helped me deal wid dis mutant t'ing. He ain't usin' me! What de hell could I do dat he couldn'?"

"I'm sorry Remy," Warren found himself saying. "I didn't mean to insult you, but I don't know this Essex. How can I trust him like you do? I just want to be sure the Morlocks don't get hurt.

"Dey are hurtin'," Remy said. "It hurts bein' scared all de time, of yourself, of everyone dat might want to hurt yo' cause of what yo' be. Dey look at Mike and dey call her a demon. Dey called me a demon too. Sittin' in dat room wid Richard's dead body I started t'inkin' he be right, dat I should of let him kill me. Den Essex come, he tol' me what I was, he made me so I was safe to be 'round. He made it so I didn' have to be scared no more. He can do de same for dem."

"I'd feel more comfortable if I could meet him myself," Warren said.

"D'accord," Remy replied. "Yo'll see, yo'll like him."

Warren nodded, feeling certain that he would.

"But I like it here!" Sarah yelled, her raised voice carrying across the camp.

"That's because you're a stupid baby and no one cares what you think!" Mike yelled back.

"I am not a baby!" Sarah screamed throwing herself at the older girl. "You're a big jerk!"

"Little baby gonna throw a tantrum cause she can't have her way?" Mike taunted, holding Sarah off with a hand against her forehead.

"Knock it off, both of you!" Cat yelled, bounding across the area.

Sarah slashed at her tormentor with the sharp bone-spur protruding from her hand.

Mike yelped snatching her bleeding arm to her chest.

Before Sarah could press her advantage Cat picked her up by the collar of her sweatshirt. "I said enough," he growled and Sarah seemed to wilt.

"She cut me!" Mike exclaimed.

Chloe took a quick look at the horned girl's arm. "It's hardly more than a scratch and you did ask for it. Get someone to wrap it up so you don't get infect and stop whining. As for you Sarah, that bone comes out now."

"But I like it," Sarah complained half-hearted.

"Should of thought of that before you used it as a weapon," Chloe said. "Don't pretend I didn't warn you."

Remy took Mike's arm, "Come 'long chere. I'll fix yo' right up," he said and she smiled adoringly at him. "You shouldn' let de petite rile yo' up like dat. She's jus' a chile."

"I won't be able to count eleven anymore," Sarah was earnestly explaining to Cat, Warren and Chloe.

"I'll let you count on my fingers," Warren said. "Then you'll be able to count all the way to twenty, forty if we used our toes."

"I'm not supposed to take my shoes off," Sarah told him seriously. "There's bad stuff on the ground."

"Plus you loose them," Cat interjected.

"Okay, no toes," Warren replied. "We'll have to make Cat and Chloe let us use their fingers."

Sarah giggled, "Danny and Anna-Marie would work better, they don't move so much. Anna-Marie has long fingers and they're sharp, I got cut trying to hold her hand. It got better though."

Remy carefully cleaned and bound Mike's cut, paying it much more attention than the injury called for, much to the girl's delight. Danny rolled his eyes at the pair and went back to patiently coaxing Anna-Marie to eat her dinner.

"Remy, when can I meet your friend Essex?" Warren asked.

"He don' 'xpect me back for 'nother couple of days," Remy said. "Yo' can come wid me den. I'll be makin' shor he's ready for guests. Den we bot' come back an' help de Morlocks to make de move."

"I look forward to it," Warren replied.

****** ****** ******

Warren returned to his dorm room to find another update from the PI he'd hired, this one warning him that a boy matching Remy St. Just's description had been mentioned in connection with the disappearance of three teenaged mutants.

Warren assumed Remy had simply taken them to Essex for assistance with their powers and thought nothing more of it that night.

The next morning he reread the report and started wondering about why the teens would have left without telling their, by all accounts, concerned and caring parents where they were going.

While he was sitting in third period, not listening to his teacher's lecture, it occurred to Warren that there'd been no mention of the teens having any problems with their powers.

At lunch he called the PI and got a confirmation that none of the three had a reason to need Essex's help, in fact they'd all been passing as normal humans, the mutant link hadn't come to light until after their disappearance.

By the time classes ended for the day Warren couldn't imagine what he'd been thinking when he'd started trusting Remy. The boy hadn't really told him anything he hadn't known before. Hearing it from Remy's own lips was convincing, but it shouldn't have been that convincing.

By dinnertime Warren's earlier suspicions that Remy was somehow manipulating the Morlocks into trusting him had returned with a vengeance.

His original plan, before meeting Remy, had been to spend as much time with the boy as possible. To question him and learn his associates' true intentions toward the Morlocks, but after getting a taste of Remy's abilities all that changed. Now Warren wanted to keep his distance from the demon-eyed child in hopes of meeting this Essex with his mind free of Remy's influence.

There was no way to evaluate the man's sincerity through interrogating Remy, because when the boy explained things there was no room for judgment, only faith.

Warren spent the week constantly on edge, snapping at classmates and teachers alike, unable to escape the thought of the Morlock's falling deeper and deeper under Remy's spell, perhaps irrevocably so, while he avoided the source of their danger.

A harsh, pragmatic side of him urged Warren to simply eliminate the boy, thus freeing the Morlocks of his heart-twisting influence. He couldn't do it though, whatever threat Remy represented he was still a twelve-year-old child. When he thought about Remy's age Warren started wondering about how effective brainwashing really was or looking up how Stockholm syndrome worked. And then he'd start thinking that he was thinking too hard, why bother with complex explanations like that when he could be blaming it on the fact that sixth graders were rarely renown for their good judgment.

When the time came Warren descended into the tunnels, resolved to minimize his contact with Remy even while using the boy as a guide.

"Yo' ain't been 'round much, t'ought mebbe yo' were backin' out on me," Remy greeted him. "Mebbe yo' getting' bored wid de generous benefactor role."

"You thought wrong," Warren said.

"So where yo' been?" Remy asked.

"School kept me busy," Warren said, wishing he were a better liar. "Mid-terms, you know how it is."

Remy gave the older mutant a dark look. "Non, I don'," he said.

Warren winced. "I'm here now, when I said I'd be, so what difference does it make?" he asked.

"Because yo' ain't like us," Remy said. "Your wings don' change dat. Yo' ain't got no business decidin' what's bes' for dese people, yo' ain't been here. I have."

"So does that mean I don't get to meet your leader?" Warren asked sarcastically. "Are you hiding something?"

"Non," Remy said. "M. Essex be interested in de well bein' of all mutants. He like meetin' yo' an' yo'll see, yo' got rien to be 'pious of."

"Lead the way," Warren said.

He was surprised when Remy headed deeper into the tunnels. About twenty minutes after leaving the Morlock camp Remy paused and checked his watch. " 'Nother ten minutes," he told Warren slouching against the wall and settling in for the wait.

The older mutant made himself as comfortable as possible, crouching with his wings half spread to balance himself and he realized yet another thing he hated about the harness; with his wings secured to his back his center of gravity was off. Some days he just wanted to say the hell with it, cut slits in the back of his shirt and let everyone know what he was regardless of the consequences. Then he thought about the Morlocks living in abandoned subway tunnels, shunned by society and he put the harness on for another day of keeping up pretenses.

Remy straightened and right on time a swirling maelstrom of blackness opened in the air before him. A cold, malevolent wind came off the portal and Warren jumped back from it with a flap of his wings.

"Yo' wanted to come," Remy challenged, stepping into the portal, apparently unaffected by the feeling of impending doom that it invoked in Warren. Gulping softly and tucking his wings close to his sides he followed Remy.

The portal spat him out into a coldly functional room. Remy was waiting for him with a tall, forbidding man in a vaguely old fashion suit.

"Dis be Angel M. Essex," Remy said presenting him. "He wanted to meet yo'."

"I am pleased you brought him, child," Essex said absently patting Remy's shoulder as his eyes coldly dissected Warren. "You've done very well, I know going out troubles you."

"Non, not anymore," Remy replied smiling happily. "Know yo're lookin' out for me. Rien scares me now."

"Proper English," Essex reprimanded without feeling.

"Nothing frightens me," Remy said carefully. Warren wondered how the boy could be oblivious to the cold clinical menace rolling off the man. He wanted nothing more than to turn and run, but the portal was gone, he didn't know where he was and he didn't think showing weakness in front of this creature would be a good idea.

Best to act like Remy had sold him on Essex, smile, agree to anything the man said then go home, grab the Morlocks and run like hell. "Thank God, they were already packed," Warren thought giddily.

"No," Warren reminded himself. He was a hero. Cat, Chloe and Danny were tough. They could stand and fight. Still he'd never seen any one with as cold of eyes as Essex. He'd never had anyone look at him as if he were so totally insignificant before.

"Remy, your scores on your last exercise were unsatisfactory," Essex said. "Go set up the simulator and repeat it while I speak with your friend. Do not concern yourself with seeing him home."

"Sorry, I'll do bettah... better," Remy said leaving the room.

Warren felt a ball of lead forming in his stomach as the door shut behind Remy but he met Essex's eyes squarely. "I hear you preformed quite the miracle for Remy," he said.

"Yes," Essex replied. "My little Gambit is quite impressive. I find continual amazement in the number of unexpected developments which prove to be the most useful of discoveries. He isn't at all what I expected from that line of experiments."

Warren felt his wings lift and spread defensively. It was too much information. Essex wasn't trying to sell him anything; he didn't care what Warren thought of him or his plans for the Morlocks. Warren didn't want to think about why that was.

"You are quite an interesting and contradictory creature yourself," Essex continued. "Are you aware your wing span isn't sufficient to allow you to fly? Nature gifts you with the ability to fly, then encumbers you with these ridiculous appendages, which are, in truth, nothing more than mental crutches. Determining how to correct this error will hopefully prove an interesting challenge."

Warren took to the air, using his powerful wings to crash into Essex at top speed. Essex slammed him to the ground. Warren scrambled to his feet and sprinted toward the door, only to find himself in a narrow hallway. Two people waited on either side of the door, blocking his retreat and a transformed Essex stood behind him, pale skinned with a black diamond on his forehead, shark teeth and burning eyes, he was even more menacing than before.

"Pretty birdie, do we get to play with him?" Archlight asked.

"I don't want him damaged unnecessarily, yet," Essex said.

Warren lashed out with a wing, trying to clear a path. Vertigo ducked, her purple haired companion reached out and caught the wing in a vice-like grip and twisted.

Warren let himself roll with the force she applied, saving himself from a broken wing. It was a futile effort, Harpooner jabbed a spear through Warren's outstretched wing, pinning him to the floor.

Through the waves of red-hot pain radiating out from his wing, Warren heard Essex chastising Harpooner for the damage to his prize.

"Sinister, I didn't think that..."

"You never do," Essex, no Sinister interrupted sharply. "Even Gambit has more sense than you do and he is a child. Take him to the lab."

Warren choked back a scream as the spear was wrenched from his wing and he was hoisted to his feet between the two men.

As they drug him away Warren heard Harpooner complain, "I am so damn sick of Gambit. Boss' little pet, can't do nothing wrong. Too good to associate with the likes of us."

"The kid's useful," Scalphunter replied tossing Warren into one of the sound proof glass tubes that served as Sinister's cells or to be more precise, specimen jars. As the pair walked off he continued. "And he's naive, Sinister wants to keep him that way till he's older. Thinks he might turn squeamish if he's told too much too soon."

"Yeah, I forgot, you've actually met the protégé," Harpooner said sarcastically.

"Sinister can trust me to behave myself and the kid needs to learn to use his powers in a combat situation. He isn't that bad, it's not like it's his fault the boss thinks he has potential."

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