Chapter 3: Battlefield
Scott still refused to be intimidated by the mysterious stranger, even less so now that he knew the name. Or the name he claimed was his anyway. No matter how powerful the bastard is there's something silly about someone taking himself so seriously that he refers to himself as Apocalypse. Talk about suffering from delusions of grandeur.

"Yeah, right. Another Hitler wannabe. Just what the world needs. Let me know when you come up with an original plan."

Apocalypse just looked at him with contempt.

"Hitler was just a beginner. I however, play on an entire different level. The might of Apocalypse is not to be trifled with and the age of his coming into power has been foretold since eons ago. Your mentor, Charles Xavier, knows this which is why he is so scared now that he sent his two star-pupils at a suicide mission. A desparate attempt to turn the tide before it's too late."
"If you tell yourself that enough times maybe you'll start believing it." Scott said, not knowing whether Apocalypse could be beaten or not. However, he wasn't a quitter. Never had been. If so he would have been dead by now. Many times over in fact.
"Very well, Cyclops. Enlighten me. What makes you think I can be defeated?"
"The same reason as always. Tyrants come and tyrants go. That's always been the case and you're just another one in a long row. Besides, you haven't done anything but bragging about how strong you are and how everything works in your favour. Talk is cheap."
"You'll just have to wait and see then, cause you're not leaving this place anytime soon. Not as a free man anyway. As a soldier in my army, yes."
"Over my dead body!"
"You speak as if you really had a choice. I can be really persuasive and if that doesn't work, let's just say I have other means. I'd prefer to have you as a volunteer but an involuntary soldier works almost as well. I'm sure your friends at the academy would agree with that now. Erik Lensherr and his friends are just as deadly now as they were before they underwent my treatment."

With that Apocalypse leaves.

Scott turns to Ororo and asks "What do you think?"
"Well, he's sure a arrogant bastard. I don't know what to think otherwise. If he's really capable of what he's bragging about. But as long as we're trapped here there's really not much to do about it either way. One thing's for sure though."
"Which is?"
"The one that designed these shackles knew what he was doing. I thought I could bypass any lock ever made but I was wrong. I've been trying to break out of these ever since your talk with him started and haven't made any progress at all. They seem to absorb my gift too."
"I've also noticed that. Or well, rather that I can't seem to fire my blast at all. It's like I don't want to. Maybe that's soldier thing wasn't so far-fetched after all."
"Maybe not. So what do we do?"
"I don't know."

Meanwhile, back in Westchester
Xavier's distress call had so far gone unanswered. Truth be told, he hadn't really thought help would come in time. No one could tell where everyone was and how fast they could make it back. So they would have to make do with what they had. Which wasn't much. Almost nothing at all actually, which the Brotherhood took clear advantage of. Those of the staff and the students still on the grounds were brutally slaughtered one by one and a piece of Xavier died when he felt them die.

He was useless, he thought. He couldn't do anything to save them. Whatever method Eric was using to make himself invulnerable to his psychic powers he had thaught well to his allies. It wasn't at all part of the helmet as he had once thought. It was something else. Maybe just discipline and selfcontrol. Whatever the reason was it made Xavier totally helpless, bound to his wheelchair as he was.

The door to his office was suddenly thrown open and Magneto strode in. Alone.

"Hello, old friend. Long time no see."
"Who are you? The Eric I know would never be a part of something like this. He may be hot-blooded and impatient but not a cold-blooded murderer."
"That was then. This is now. I told you the war is coming. Well, that's not true anymore. It has already started and I plan to be on the winning side. It's a cruel world Charles and only the fittest will survive."
"That sounds like something Apocalypse would say."
"So you know of him? I shouldn't be surprised I suppose. Yes, the High Lord would say that and I agree. Which is why we now work together."

With that Magneto grabs Xavier and heads out of the building, dropping Xavier uncermoniously on the ground.

"Watch!" he says pointing towards the mansion. Xavier dreads to but forces himself to and sees some other Brotherhood members, using their combined powers to totally demolish the building. When they're finished there's nothing but dust left.

"The dream is broken, Charles. Deal with it. You and a few scattered X-men is all there is left and you're in no position to fight back anymore. I leave you with that."

The Brotherhood leaves Greymalkin Lane as quickly as they came, leaving Xavier in grief and thought.

He thinks it's surreal. He knows the fields are covered in blood but it just cannot be seen. He's never felt such a rage in his life and feels like a dark seed reigns over his body. Apocalypse and Magnto shall pay for this, if it's the last thing he does!

Broken bodies lay down all over the grounds but in their rush, or if it was by intent, not all of them are dead. Severly wounded but not dead. Yet.

The Prophecy is coming true and he himself and Fate was too blind to see every little thing about it. His only comfort is that God knows he's innocent. Innocent of everything but being blind. A cold comfort at best.

He instinctively feels his mind losing the grip of reality. This is all too much for one man to handle, his dream being smashed into so many small pieces in such a short a time. The dream is dead or more aptly put, been turned into a nightmare. Driven insane by blindness and the world's cruelty. Lost in anguish and grief. A sorrow that won't wane until he dies. The mind and body shattered.

The light is gone forever more.