APOCALYPSE

Disclaimer: this is all marvel's, except for the plot and Sidney.

Author's notes: Ok, bad news, my computer is dead. It'll take me a little longer to post the upcoming chapters, but they will come. Don't loose interest on me, please! (sob, sob)

Feedback: yes, I can still see if you reviewed, so do it!

CHAPTER EIGHT:

WINGS

Warren Worthington the third was a man used to class and style. He had grown up amongst the finest things in life. His father had been a powerful man, and his father before him. And he would have been a liar if he'd said he didn't enjoy the privileged spot life had chosen for him.
He was a lucky man, always had been not only was he one of the richest men alive, but he had been blessed with great friends, and a gorgeous girlfriend.
But none of this things were enough to make him happy. Specially considering that now he felt he was loosing all his friends; what with Bobby taking a leave of abscense from the X men and Hank disappearing along with Bishop, Joseph, Trish and Sam without leaving a trace of their whereabouts. And Betsy; the connection that had led him to believe they were destined for each other was faltering. He didn't know where they stood anymore.
That was his fault, he knew it. He wasn't himself as of late. Recent events had opened old wounds and he was shutting her out. But she was acing strange too.

On that particular night though, the X men once known as Angel, was beginning to remember what happiness felt like. Like every single night since he'd gotten his wings back, Warren had taken all his sorrows and pain, up to the sky with him.
Flying over the city lights, feeling the wind on his face and pretending he was thirteen again. No worries, no X-men, no Betsy; just sky.
Yes, he was starting to remember.
Those nightly flights reminded him of who he really was; of the man he'd thought had died on he Morlocks' tunnels so long ago.
Deep inside of him he knew Apocalypse would expect something in return for his wings. The External wasn't exactly famous for his generosity. Warren also knew that he'd rather die than to work for Apocalypse again. So, he'd decided to use the bliss he'd been given as much as he could. He's fly until he'd drop out of sheer exhaustion.
He felt a little disgusted with himself. He couldn't help to feel grateful towards Apocalypse. It was confusing, and unnerving. It was what tortured him the most. He was grateful to that monster on one hand, and hated a teammate on the other.

"He's not a teammate anymore." He said to none. "Everyone knows he's a traitor, just like I do. I won't ever have to see his face again."

Something in that statement wasn't quite right. He was lying to himself, and he knew it. He knew Rogue and Wolverine would find the Cajun. He knew Scott would never turn his back on any mutant who showed enough repent. Hadn't Scott accepted the one and only Magneto to the team?
Why couldn't Scott see that things weren't as they were? Warren had always secretly considered the professor's decision of bringing new mutants to the team to be a mistake.
It was too naïve of him to think that everyone would eventually share his dream. That every mutant, no matter what was his past, could understand it.
Yet, though Warren knew it was stupid to expect the rest of the world to get it, he'd shared the dream. He'd fought for it. He'd given his life to see it come true.
He'd accepted the new ones, even though some of them had questionable backgrounds. And time had proved him right.
Why, after so much proof, didn't Scott realize it had been a mistake?

He'd been flying for so long he didn't know where he was anymore. He knew how to find his way back to his penthouse, but he needed to rest a little before taking on the skies again. Around him, all he could see was green. Trees, grass, life. He put his problems aside and smiled. He was free; free and grateful. Grateful to Apocalypse, to God, to whoever he needed to thank for getting his life back.

"Thank you." He whispered.

"You are welcome." Echoed a voice behind him, and Warren spun around, recognizing the voice immediately. It was the brown man who'd given him his wings back. Apocalypse's messenger.
Warren wanted to scream, to cry; to kill the bastard that ruined his existence. He wasn't so sure it that had been Apocalypse or Gambit, though.

"What do you want?!" he snapped. The brown man remained unexpressive.

"It's time for you to pay your debt for the gift the master has granted you. The one that makes slaves out of kings commands you..." Warren blinked a few times, outraged, and laughed a little too nervously.

"Well! You can go back, making sure the towel you have in your head doesn't fall, and tell him to forget about it. I'm never working for him again. Do you hear me?!" the man didn't even flinch.

"Are you implying that you refuse to obey?"

"Dam right I'm refusing!"

"You are aware of the fact that what was given to you can be taken away, aren't you?" Warren's anger was rising with each word the man uttered.

"I don't care! Don't you understand?! You can take my wings back, you can take my fucking life if you want! But I won't le Apocalypse take my soul ever again!"

The man smiled, patronizingly.
"You are a survivor, Angel. Your passion surprises me. But your energy is misguided. Apocalypse is the beginning and the end. The only possible future. And he's chosen you, Angel. He wants you by his side."

Warren was livid.
"Are you deaf, or just plain stupid?! That pathetic, megalomaniac piece of shit is nothing! Nothing!"

The man shook his head and faked confusion; though not all that well, Warren noted.
"I don't understand. Your friend told us you'd be the first to accept the truth."

'What the hell is he talking about?!' Warren thought, but only managed to say.
"My friend?"

"Yes. Smart mortal, if I've ever seen one. Apocalypse saw the potential in him when he was working for one of his followers, and made his powers more acute. The young man didn't even wait for us to come to him, hat he'd already left the X-men to join us. I think even the master was surprised!" the man laughed, and Warren's eyes widened in recognition.

"Gambit?" he whispered.

"Yes, that's the one." The man answered deviously. "And he's become so powerful that he's already one of the Lord's favorites."

"I knew it! That fucking traitor!"

"You still refuse to come with us, Angel? Even when one of your own has seen the truth?"

Warren walked slowly to the brownish man and spoke inches away from his face, putting all the hate, resentment and disgust he was feeling in each word.
"You can give Apocalypse a message from me. I will make sure that his *favorite* dies a painful and slow death. Your *master* better kill me if he plans on staying in this planet, because I may not be able to kill him, but I'll make sure he wishes I could. And I'll start with that traitorous son of a bitch. Gambit *will* die. I'll never work for apocalypse again!"

Warren spread his wings and flew away. He was terrified. Bracing himself for the pain that never came. No one took his wings, or his life. And he was proud of himself, because he had kept his soul as well.
He was going to avenge every single victim of the Cajun.

Far in the woods, while he watched Archangel fly away, The messenger of Apocalypse smiled.
"Whatever you say, mortal. Whatever you say."
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