Well. here's chapter two. I'll try to maintain my update speed of one chap
a day.
Enjoy.
*~*
Desert Isle
It was a dark night. Scott had been afraid, but his mother had told him that it was all right. It was just the clouds that had covered the moon. However Scott's father had seemed uneasy and his mother had looked around a bit fearfully when she thought Scott wasn't looking. Scott ran to where his brother had been playing with a few other children, most of them around their own ages. A small girl had slipped in the mud as it began to rain. Alex and Scott had helped her up and taken her to her home that had been right next to theirs. Then as Scott and Alex had been settled, they heard shouts from outside, and then the unmistakable sound of a gunshot, followed by what sounded like a humming noise which went into a screech. Someone had screamed in agony and Scott's father had gone outside to investigate. Scott and Alex crept out of their bed. The noise of bullets rose, and now more sounds were coming. Explosions that could only be mortar shells. Then had come the sound that chilled Scott to the bone and caused Alex to cry out in fear. Their father had shouted in anger, then screamed in agony. Scott ran forward to stop whatever it was that had hurt his father. His mother screamed from behind, and something loomed up in front of him suddenly. Then all was blackness.
The gentle and soothing sound of waves lapping the surface broke into Scott's thoughts. Scott opened his eyes. He was alive and relatively unharmed. He tried to move his arms and found nothing broken. He tried again with his legs, and then tried to move his neck. Nothing seemed broken. He was suddenly aware that something was digging into his side. He rose and felt along his side. The medicine pack was still there. That was good, however the larger one had disappeared. The machete was still strapped to his thigh. That was good too. His clothes, given by the X-men were all right, except for his jacket. That had been lost with the rest of his equipment. He looked around him. There were a few trees to be seen, and beyond that the ground looked the same. Dunes stretched on either side of him as far as he could see.
* Great, I had to end up on a desert island. Hey Scott, at least you're alive. Yeah, I'm alive. Without any supplies, I don't know if death's only been delayed. *
Scott looked around again, more carefully. Debris from his ship littered the ground nearer to the sea. Perhaps he could salvage something. He walked towards the broken planks and the large sail lying on the ground a few feet away. He poked around in the sand, scaring away a small lizard in the process. His hopes flared as he saw the large medical pack under a large plank. Scott hurled away the plank and lifted the bag. He opened it hurriedly and looked through the contents. Nothing was missing; even his broken compass was still there. The large med kit had opened and some medicines and anesthetics were lying around in the bag. One had spilled, but Scott wasn't overly concerned. The food items were still there as was the dehydration fighting drink. A sip of that would not really quench his thirst too well, but it would keep him away from dehydration and give him a boost of energy. On that he could survive a week in a desert without too great difficulty. He strapped the backpack on his back. He took a last look through the debris. The best part about the backpack was also the fact that his armor was stored in it. He had all the protection he could need as well. Scott smiled as he began striding off into the surrounding desert. At least he couldn't be taken down by nature. He had overcome nature so far. The sea had beaten him down, but it had not killed him and he counted that as a plus in his book. Now it was time to brave the desert. Scott had never met an enemy he could not defeat and he wasn't about to be beaten yet.
A few hours later Scott wasn't feeling so upbeat. The long trek in the heat had sapped his energy by a lot and he wasn't as un-injured as he believed. His ankle had been twisted badly, and he hadn't felt it till he walked on uneven ground. Now it was beating at his speed, making him slower, and taking part of his energy in overcoming the pain. At this rate he wouldn't last half a week. As he sat rubbing his ankle he wished for the tenth time in the last three hours, that Cece was there, so he could go to her and take a nice dip in the de-tox tank. However Scott was not given to fancies and he stood up after a little while determined to press on. He had no idea where he was going; only that he was going in a fairly straight line. He knew he was probably on an island; the northwest beaches of the Mediterranean were not deserts. Neither was the northeast. And it was impossible for the storm to have carried him all the way to the southern beaches of the Mediterranean. If he was lucky, the island wasn't too large and he could traverse it in a few days. Unless it was an island that was very longitudinal in nature. In which case he could be very wrong. He shrugged off his worries. No point in wasting time sitting here. He would accomplish nothing moping around here.
Scott stumbled forward, pressing on determinedly. He would not give up. It had been almost twenty hours since he had woken up after crashing onto the shore, and he was now tired, apart from freezing. The desert grew very cool at night, and Scott had not enough protection to cover himself properly. He had ignored the cold so far though. He would do so for as long as necessary. Stumbling over a stick in the sand he dropped to his knees. God, he was tired. His limbs were on fire and he couldn't think very well. Only the need to press on had kept him going, but he was now too tired and worn out to even consider going ahead. He sank backwards till his head touched the cool sand. He lay down and closed his eyes to go to sleep.
x----------------- ------------x
Sammael walked into his rooms. The dark décor immediately set him at ease. The first room seen upon entering was a sunken room, with a dark blue carpet, and dark blue hangings on the walls. The large seats were plush black leather, and a large, low, black table stood in the center of the chairs. Two hallways led off from the room, one straight ahead upon entering, the other to the right. Sammael walked into the one leading to the right and went in. The walls of this room were black as well, and lamps spaced out at regular intervals gave the hall some lighting. Sammael walked onwards, his usual appreciation of the subtle effect of his rooms lighting on the paintings hanging from the walls not in evidence as he walked into his bedroom, still lost in thought. Sammael was concerned about Sinister and his plan. That it was a good plan was not the reason Sammael was worried. It was a good plan. It was instead the fact that Sinister had bothered to share it with them. Oh it would have been necessary to involve the other External's, that was certain, but Sinister would not have needed to tell them the whole plot for it to work successfully. No, Sammael had not lived for so long without being as suspicious as was possible. In fact he knew that many of his fellow External's thought him more than a little insane. He was very sane though, and his mind worked as well as it ever had. Sammael knew what Sinister was like. Sinister had always been a devious individual, playing all the hands against the middle, in the hopes that once the dust settled, he would emerge victorious. Sammael knew Sinister was planning something, but he wasn't sure what it was. Sammael smiled. He would let Sinister believe that the Renegade External's sidetracked him. Then when Sinister chose to strike at him Sammael would be ready, and his counterstroke would leave Sinister dead.
Sinister stood in front of the monitor, watching carefully the reading being given. Candra sat in a chair watching him. It was only a short while ago that Sinister had gone to his laboratory. He had begun to work on something, the likes of which Candra didn't understand too well. Biology and Chemistry had never been her forte. She had come with Sinister on a pretext, to retrieve an item she had dropped there during the fight against the rebels. She knew that Sinister knew she was lying, but he didn't say anything. Even when she supposedly couldn't find it in his lab and had decided she must have dropped it elsewhere he hadn't batted an eyelid. She only stuck around him because he was her only connection to the Cajun empath. She didn't know why Sinister was so concerned with the Cajun, but then again she herself had no idea why she was so obsessed with finding him as well. She needed to find the mutant and find out why she was stricken with the need to get him. At first she had thought it was revenge, that she wanted to pay him back for actually managing to use his empathic powers on her, when even Behamen had failed to accomplish that feat. But when she had finally seen him again she had realized that revenge was not what she wanted. She had no real wish to see him hurt, for all he was a rebel. No something about him drew her to him, and she would have to find out what it was, and if necessary destroy it. She had been lucky. Sinister had set wards around the area where they had to have come from in the first infiltration, when they had rescued Psylocke. The wards had a ten-mile radius, and it had picked up on Gambit's mutant signature while they had been in the lab. Sinister now was confirming Gambit's position through the radar. Candra waited for success. She too would follow, and try and get to Gambit first. She didn't know what Sinister wanted with him, but knowing what she did know about the External, it would be anything far from good.
Exodus roamed his private gardens, watching with half a mind on what his personal gardeners were doing. His garden was one of his pride and joys. Only the External's had ever been here, apart from Apocalypse and Helena. It was a massive project when it had started some ten years ago, and was now complete, with massive oaks in one end, and smaller willows on the other, with rows of delicately cut bushes crisscrossing the grass between them, flower bed's running on either side. There were benches laid out at interval's and a pool stood in the middle of it all, with a fountain rising out of it. Bougainvillea ran up and down the walls of the massive room and in one corner steps led to a small room which had a cast iron grille instead of walls. A two-seater swing sat in the middle of it. Exodus enjoyed life's pleasures, and in his long life he had never found anything to really match the solitude and peace of a garden. Exodus picked out a rose from one of the bushes and inhaled the scent. He thought that his life was like a rose bush sometimes; very nice to look at but once felt it turned out to have thorns. In this instance the thorns in his side were the rebels, especially that traitor Helena, as well as his fellow External's, not to mention Apocalypse and the renegade External's. The rebels were his most pressing problem. For his defeat he would crush them, as though they were the insignificant roses that he held in his hand. His hand squeezed once, quickly and the tattered remains of the roses crumbled from his fist, the needles snapped into mere shards.
x----------------- ------------x
Remy walked through the streets, his mind on his destination. It had only been a week since he had last been here, but a lot had happened in that week. He had taken part in an assault on the Tower, and had met the mutant who had haunted his dreams since Belladonna's death. The mutant who had murdered Bella. Without his noticing his eyes narrowed into slits, and his fists clenched and began to burn. He walked onward, oblivious of his gloves beginning to smolder. He only noticed when he smelled smoke. Looking down at his hands he yelped and took off his gloves, throwing them aside.
* Damn it. Those were my favorite gloves. Better watch what I'm doing. *
He walked up to the wall that was a door to Belladonna's grotto. Pushing the fake brick inwards, he waited for the door to open. As it opened he walked through. He walked straight to the other hidden door and opened it. He walked into that door and headed straight for the grave. He stared down at the grave and then looked up at the angelic being. It had been a statue that had been in his own room in the thieves guild, one his pater had given to him as protection against the night. Remy had been surprised to find it whole. He had searched that whole night, but no bodies had been found. In the end he had given up, returning with only Belladonna's body, and burying it in the room which was now a beautiful garden. He turned his attention to the grave. He sank to the floor and muttered a short prayer, one of the few he had bothered to learn. He looked at the grave again.
"Well Bella, I know it's been a short time since Remy came 'ere last. Lot appened dis last week. For one, one o' dose External's finally bit de dust. Blew up 'alf of de Tower in de process. Nother t'ing happened though. I met dat Sonofabitch who killed you. I told you all dose years ago I'd get revenge, and well, I'm in de position to do it. De t'ing is I got other responsibilities now. I gotta team dat counts on me to be dere for 'em. I'm sorry Bella girl, but I can't jes go off an kill de bastard. I'd probably die in de process. Don't worry though, dis Cajun ain't done wid dat bastard Sinister. One day I'll get him in de position I wan'. Dat's when Mr. Sinister gonna go t' hell. I promise you dat Bella."
He rose and walked towards the pool. He sank down next to it and ran his hands through his long auburn hair. He sighed.
"Truth is Bella; my life's real screwy right now. All de ladies who Remy likes most not be too happy wid him at de moment. Making life pretty much hell. Even Stormy's on my ass. An' I never thought I'd see de day dat Wanda accepted Rogue as a stepmama. Life's a bitch, dat's for damn sure."
He was silent a moment deep in thought.
"You know Bella, I tol' you b'fore how I thought dat Roguey was de only girl for me. Now Remy be thinking dat's not true. Rogue, she's happy with Erik. Who am I t' ruin dat for her. Not too many people find happiness here. De only t'ing is every time I look at her my heart leaps. I don' know Bella, I just don't know what t' do! Don' let it get out though. Remy don't want his reputation being spoiled." The last said with a rakish grin.
He stood up and walked to her grave again. Before he could say another word though, a small alarm went off. Someone had entered the grotto. Remy walked out of the hidden room, staff in hand, ready for an attack.
"Ah, there you are, I was wondering where you were. Never expected another door, very ingenious."
Remy's eyes went wide and he snarled. "Sinister!"
Sinister walked towards him calmly, a slightly mocking smile on his face.
"No need to make it sound so insulting Lebeau."
"I'll kill you, you Sonofabitch." Remy whipped out a card and set it aflame, "coming here is de last t'ing you'll ever do."
He flung the card towards him. Sinister raised his hand and a thin beam of energy arced out of his hand, hitting the card, which exploded. Remy ducked his eyes from the blast. Not waiting for Sinister to make a move, he leapt in the air, another card already charged and ready to throw.
"My Sinister, did you know that the room he came from is where that assassin girl you killed is buried."
Remy held his throw at the last moment and turned around, throwing the card in that direction instead. Candra barely had time to duck and the card smashed into the wall behind her. Remy was now seriously angry. Not only had they broke into Belladonna's grotto, but they were desecrating it by making him fight here.
A flash of pain in his back reminded him that Sinister was still behind him. He stumbled forward in pain, and Candra pivoted on her heel and her kick caught him on the chin, sending him flying back. As he fell to the ground he could make out Sinister coming towards him. Then another flash of pain struck him and darkness took him.
x----------------- ------------x
The sound of gunfire shattered the silence of the night. Scott rose and saw a house burning in the distance. He could hear screams from the house. Children were screaming and a woman was crying out in grief. Scott increased his speed and smashed through the door of the house. A woman was cowering away from the other side of the house which was burning. Two children were seated by a hallway, crying. A body slammed into the wall next to him. Scott looked at it and suddenly his face blanched. The face of the figure was one he would never forget. It was his father. He suddenly recognized the children, they were he and Alex, and that meant the woman was his mother. He stepped back, his mind reeling with shock. A dark figure began to walk out of the smoke, laughing harshly. The woman- his mother- screamed and turned to him, in agony, her face pleading for help. Before he could do anything she was pulled back into the fire and he heard a scream of pain. Then the rotten smell of burning skin permeated his nose. Scott bent forward in pain. Then suddenly a woman was next to him. It was Jean. Jean? What was Jean doing here? Before Scott could understand what was happening, Jean had grabbed the children and was running away. Before he could do anything a dark figure leaped out of the shadows and grabbed Jean. Dark Beast howled in triumph as he began dragging Jean backwards. "NO!" Scott yelled in anger and raised his visor. Nothing happened. Scott raised his gauntlets but there were only pale hands looking back at him. Scott tore off the visor, but found he could see natural colors.
Scott lunged forward, but Dark Beast whipped out a gun from somewhere, and pointed it at Jeans head. Before Scott could reach him, Dark Beast pulled the trigger. Jeans crumpled body fell to the floor, her hair cascading over the remains of her head, the blood soaking red tresses a darker red. Scott screamed in pain, and sank to his knees. Dark Beast stood laughing to the side. Then he disappeared, and only a dark man stood there, a tall man, dressed in black.
"Your mind is troubled; you have woken even me from sleep. Awaken!"
Scott's eyes flashed open. He got up breathing haggardly in the chill night air. Scott looked around. There was no body of Jean, no burning house, no Dark Beast and no man in black. He checked his watch. It was just past four a.m. He got up and shrugged on the med-kit/ backpack. He stretched his body, and jerked his limbs around to loosen them from stiffness. It was funny, he thought, he had never had dreams like this before, however it was now two nights in a row that he had had dreams of his parents. It was not the first time he had dreamed of something happening to Jean. The woman had not been out of his dreams since he had met her for the first time, face to face. The man in black worried him though. He had never appeared in his dreams so far. Scott wondered who he was. Was he part of the dream, or was he something else? Scott walked on, keeping his eye on where he walked; yet half his mind was puzzling over the strange dream.
Eventually Scott came across signs of life. In rising incredulity Scott looked at the half-buried wrapper of a popular candy bar. Not only was it a sign of civilization, but also a sign that whoever was on this desert island had access to the rest of the world. Scott staggered onwards; on this last trek he had walked nearly five hours. Presently Scott came across vegetation, about a two-minute walk from the candy bar wrapper. Soon he could hear the sounds of the sea again. Presently he came across a small dune. When he reached the top, he saw that at the bottom of the dune- or rather hill; the other side was a cliff like slope, with a crudely fashioned staircase leading downward- sat a small villa, nestled in the side of the large cliff face, with a road leading down to - wonder of all wonders - a small village. Scott smiled. He had finally lucked out.
x----------------- ------------x
Apocalypse sat in his lair; the monitor bank in front of him was blank. His expression was brooding. It had only been a couple of days since his horsemen had set off into the world, and he had yet to receive reports from them. They were to work on their own initiative, but with the goal of his supremacy. That they would be loyal to him was not something that could be called into question. He had made no mistake with these specimens. They were all bound to his will as firmly as any form of total mind control could do, without the loss of the subjects own qualities. Apocalypse had created mutants before, or had made mutants into something beyond what they were. In the fifteen years of war against Xavier, he had had to release two of his creations, as well as create two newer, more hurried ones. However he had managed to turn three of Xavier's own number into pseudo-horsemen. They had not been too effective, and one of them had even managed to fight off his control. Another had died, but Apocalypse had tightened his control over the last remaining one, finally being forced to clone him, and destroying the original. The clone had been sadistic and twisted, more macabre than Apocalypse's expectations. The clone was also tied to Apocalypse, as firmly as his horsemen were, and his life was dependant on Apocalypse's. The Dark Beast had been suitably named in Apocalypse's opinion. His work was far better than the original Beast's for the original had had an inherent nature that Apocalypse could not have changed, not with the limited technology he possessed. That inherent nature caused Beast to not go beyond a certain point in experimentation and interrogation. Apocalypse had dealt with that problem in the cloning process.
"Master."
The single word spoken with soft reverence roused Apocalypse from his reverie. Apocalypse looked upon the visage of his horseman of Death. The two glowing eyes were all that could be seen within the depths of the hood, and the rest of the horseman's body was covered in black cloth. The way the horseman spoke was sure to strike fear into the hearts of mortal's, Apocalypse was pleased with that effect. Death was a name that suited the horseman to perfection.
"Report, horseman. I have not had word for two days now and was irritated by the silence."
Deaths' eyes flashed, "Forgive my lord, but I was delayed through necessity. I have managed to inveigle myself in the presence of men, and shall set up my base of command over here. The new mutations and powers you have granted us have been of considerable help in that process."
Death's face changed then, becoming blurred, then the hood was thrown back, and seemed to disappear into thin air, as features began to show. Once the change was complete, Apocalypse stared at the new face of Death.
"Using this appearance I have managed to achieve a position of considerable power. These mere mortal men are pathetic. I shall have that which you desire in a matter of weeks master."
Apocalypse began to smile, then after dismissing Death, and turning off the monitor he began to laugh. It was really quite amusing.
x----------------- ------------x
Scott turned and stood in front of the villa. It looked deserted. From behind him he heard the sound of voices. Young voices. He turned and saw a group of teenagers walking up the road towards the villa.
"Chiklet man, this is total bullshit. I mean, why the hell are we going to this goddamn villa?"
One of them, a gangly boy with long blonde hair that fell to his shoulders and a hooked nose replied exasperatedly, "Because there's no where else to go to have fun, dumbass."
Another one, a short dark boy, with short spiky brown hair wearing blue tinted glasses laughed sneeringly, "Fun. HA! Like setting firecrackers on a haunted house is going to do anything."
The first boy to speak, Baboon, was also short and stocky as well. He also wore glasses, and had long black hair slicked back into a ponytail. He shrugged and began to brood again. The fourth member of their group, a tall thin boy, with neatly groomed light brown hair and a small goatee just grinned at them.
Scott stepped aside and hid behind a rock. The group didn't look as though they would appreciate being found, and Scott also wanted to see how young people behaved. In his youth he had been expected to train, and train hard, to become a Prelate one day. These adolescents seemed very carefree. They all wore baggy, low slung pants and dark colored shirts or sweatshirts. Scott watched as they walked up to the villa and surveyed it, watching for any possible entrance. Scott saw Chiklet take out a cigarette and light it. He saw the short boy with blue tinted glasses, whose name was apparently Neeb-Dog, frown at him. Chiklet began blowing smoke rings on the face of Neeb-Dog, which caused Neeb-Dog to slap him. Baboon and the tall boy, whose name Scott had yet to learn- they just called him. 'Him', stood a little away and laughed at the other two. Suddenly Chiklet stopped his antics and turned and looked towards where Scott was hiding.
"What the hell. someone's there." Scott blinked in shock. There was no way Chiklet could have seen him! He came out from his hiding place and looked at them, but before he could speak Baboon yelled, "Get the motherfucker!" Suddenly Him was right next to him, and the others were running towards him. Scott was now doubly shocked. These were all mutants?
"Hey wait, I'm also a mutant." He pointed towards his visor, "See, I got shipwrecked on the other side of this island, and walked here. I won't bother you, just can you direct me around town?"
The teenagers looked at him strangely.
"Look, I won't tell anybody about your plans, I just need to get something to eat, and find out how to get off the island."
Finally Chiklet spoke.
"I don't know what you mean by mutants, but we'll take you to the village. However, there's no need for you to bother trying to find a way off the island. There's no way off."
Scott looked at him in surprise. What did he mean no way off the island?
"What do you mean no way off the island? Surely there must be some way you leave the island?"
The four boys looked at him with faint smiles on their faces. It was obvious they had a low opinion of him already. Apparently not knowing about there being no way off the island was the height of stupidity.
"By no way off we mean, that no one will take you off the island. This is a well-guarded secret. We have lived here for a long time, hiding from Apocalypse. Come, we'll take you to the village council."
Scott followed the boys, his mind working. He was so lost in thought he didn't notice that the villa's curtains drew slightly apart.
A man dressed in black looked down at the retreating figures of the boys and Scott Summers. His thin lips curved into a smile. All was going to plan.
x----------------- ------------x
Logan stood staring at the balls. He leaned on his cue and stared at them carefully. The angling needed to be just. so. He chewed on the end of his cigar. Leaning forward he positioned the cue carefully. After completing the shot he walked around the table looking for the best shot to make. His olfactory senses detected the presence a split second before his keen sense of hearing made out the sound of footsteps above. He turned and looked as Jean walked down the stairs leading to the entertainment area. * Oh fucking great. *
Jean looked at him surprised, then, "Hello Logan."
He just grunted in reply and turned around and began staring at the table again. For the last few days he had been avoiding Jean as much as possible. After the assault he had barely spoken two words to her apart from when they were in council or in the Danger Room. Jean had tried to approach him a few times, but he had quickly managed to make some excuse and run off. He could almost sense her determination to talk to him now that they were finally alone, and he had no excuse to run off.
"Logan, look at me." Logan's eyes widened, he hadn't expected her to be so blunt. He turned around. To not do so would have been cowardly, and that was what Logan had been doing for a long time now. He steeled himself for the conversation that was sure to follow.
"Logan, you have to stop running. We have to talk, and you know it." She stood there then, with her arms crossed in front of her.
Logan nearly smiled; she looked cute standing there, for all that she was angry, and an angry redhead to boot.
"It's your call Red."
She looked relieved and Logan realized she had been dreading having to force him to stay. This time he grinned openly. Jean looked at him in annoyance, then took a deep breath. Logan's grin slipped. It was time.
"Logan, I know you have feelings for me. and I still care for you, deeply.. But.. Well I love Scott. I've loved him since I first met him, all those years ago. He was the boy who I met, and who shaped my life into joining the X-men. I'll always cherish the time we spent together, but I can't help my feelings for Scott. I love him more deeply than I could imagine anybody could ever love someone. I'm sorry it had to end so abruptly, but it's over."
Logan looked at her.
"Jean, the first time I saw you, I was struck by your beauty and your fragile air. I wanted to make you whole, and even though I managed to make you feel again, and not remain so bitter, you were never complete with me. Something was missing, and I think you've found it. I love you Jean, and I always will I guess, but I know that Scott is the man fer you. The way you feel when he's around, you never felt that way with me. Jest remember Jeannie, I'll always be here for you."
Jean stared at him with tears in her eyes, then jumped forward and hugged him tightly.
"I'll always be your friend Logan."
She let go of him and turned and walked up the stairs and out of the room.
Logan stood there staring at the stairway. * Yeah Jeannie, I'll always be yer friend, God knows I want ta be more, but a man knows when he's beaten and Scott is the man you'll always love. * Logan turned and continued to stare at the pool table, however his mind was far in the past and his time with Jean and other past loves. He had survived pain before, and he could do it again. In his hundred odd years he had known and loved many women, but only a small handful had ever caused him to fall utterly in love. He silently added Jean's name to the handful of his lost loves. Many he had outlived, one had run away from him and the latest had left him for another. Logan smiled bitterly; fate had just dealt him another hand that he would have to deal with.
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Well. It's almost finished. Just the last two chapter left to finish, and then A Lid will Beta them.
Next chapters not going to have too much action, but it'll explain the history of this version of AoA, or A/U to the actual universe, or whatever it is I'm writing. Basically It'll have the back story of how Apocalypse took control etc. Keep reading, keep reviewing, keep enjoying, and always remember. Life should be enjoyed. It only happens once (dependant on your belief of course.).
Enjoy.
*~*
Desert Isle
It was a dark night. Scott had been afraid, but his mother had told him that it was all right. It was just the clouds that had covered the moon. However Scott's father had seemed uneasy and his mother had looked around a bit fearfully when she thought Scott wasn't looking. Scott ran to where his brother had been playing with a few other children, most of them around their own ages. A small girl had slipped in the mud as it began to rain. Alex and Scott had helped her up and taken her to her home that had been right next to theirs. Then as Scott and Alex had been settled, they heard shouts from outside, and then the unmistakable sound of a gunshot, followed by what sounded like a humming noise which went into a screech. Someone had screamed in agony and Scott's father had gone outside to investigate. Scott and Alex crept out of their bed. The noise of bullets rose, and now more sounds were coming. Explosions that could only be mortar shells. Then had come the sound that chilled Scott to the bone and caused Alex to cry out in fear. Their father had shouted in anger, then screamed in agony. Scott ran forward to stop whatever it was that had hurt his father. His mother screamed from behind, and something loomed up in front of him suddenly. Then all was blackness.
The gentle and soothing sound of waves lapping the surface broke into Scott's thoughts. Scott opened his eyes. He was alive and relatively unharmed. He tried to move his arms and found nothing broken. He tried again with his legs, and then tried to move his neck. Nothing seemed broken. He was suddenly aware that something was digging into his side. He rose and felt along his side. The medicine pack was still there. That was good, however the larger one had disappeared. The machete was still strapped to his thigh. That was good too. His clothes, given by the X-men were all right, except for his jacket. That had been lost with the rest of his equipment. He looked around him. There were a few trees to be seen, and beyond that the ground looked the same. Dunes stretched on either side of him as far as he could see.
* Great, I had to end up on a desert island. Hey Scott, at least you're alive. Yeah, I'm alive. Without any supplies, I don't know if death's only been delayed. *
Scott looked around again, more carefully. Debris from his ship littered the ground nearer to the sea. Perhaps he could salvage something. He walked towards the broken planks and the large sail lying on the ground a few feet away. He poked around in the sand, scaring away a small lizard in the process. His hopes flared as he saw the large medical pack under a large plank. Scott hurled away the plank and lifted the bag. He opened it hurriedly and looked through the contents. Nothing was missing; even his broken compass was still there. The large med kit had opened and some medicines and anesthetics were lying around in the bag. One had spilled, but Scott wasn't overly concerned. The food items were still there as was the dehydration fighting drink. A sip of that would not really quench his thirst too well, but it would keep him away from dehydration and give him a boost of energy. On that he could survive a week in a desert without too great difficulty. He strapped the backpack on his back. He took a last look through the debris. The best part about the backpack was also the fact that his armor was stored in it. He had all the protection he could need as well. Scott smiled as he began striding off into the surrounding desert. At least he couldn't be taken down by nature. He had overcome nature so far. The sea had beaten him down, but it had not killed him and he counted that as a plus in his book. Now it was time to brave the desert. Scott had never met an enemy he could not defeat and he wasn't about to be beaten yet.
A few hours later Scott wasn't feeling so upbeat. The long trek in the heat had sapped his energy by a lot and he wasn't as un-injured as he believed. His ankle had been twisted badly, and he hadn't felt it till he walked on uneven ground. Now it was beating at his speed, making him slower, and taking part of his energy in overcoming the pain. At this rate he wouldn't last half a week. As he sat rubbing his ankle he wished for the tenth time in the last three hours, that Cece was there, so he could go to her and take a nice dip in the de-tox tank. However Scott was not given to fancies and he stood up after a little while determined to press on. He had no idea where he was going; only that he was going in a fairly straight line. He knew he was probably on an island; the northwest beaches of the Mediterranean were not deserts. Neither was the northeast. And it was impossible for the storm to have carried him all the way to the southern beaches of the Mediterranean. If he was lucky, the island wasn't too large and he could traverse it in a few days. Unless it was an island that was very longitudinal in nature. In which case he could be very wrong. He shrugged off his worries. No point in wasting time sitting here. He would accomplish nothing moping around here.
Scott stumbled forward, pressing on determinedly. He would not give up. It had been almost twenty hours since he had woken up after crashing onto the shore, and he was now tired, apart from freezing. The desert grew very cool at night, and Scott had not enough protection to cover himself properly. He had ignored the cold so far though. He would do so for as long as necessary. Stumbling over a stick in the sand he dropped to his knees. God, he was tired. His limbs were on fire and he couldn't think very well. Only the need to press on had kept him going, but he was now too tired and worn out to even consider going ahead. He sank backwards till his head touched the cool sand. He lay down and closed his eyes to go to sleep.
x----------------- ------------x
Sammael walked into his rooms. The dark décor immediately set him at ease. The first room seen upon entering was a sunken room, with a dark blue carpet, and dark blue hangings on the walls. The large seats were plush black leather, and a large, low, black table stood in the center of the chairs. Two hallways led off from the room, one straight ahead upon entering, the other to the right. Sammael walked into the one leading to the right and went in. The walls of this room were black as well, and lamps spaced out at regular intervals gave the hall some lighting. Sammael walked onwards, his usual appreciation of the subtle effect of his rooms lighting on the paintings hanging from the walls not in evidence as he walked into his bedroom, still lost in thought. Sammael was concerned about Sinister and his plan. That it was a good plan was not the reason Sammael was worried. It was a good plan. It was instead the fact that Sinister had bothered to share it with them. Oh it would have been necessary to involve the other External's, that was certain, but Sinister would not have needed to tell them the whole plot for it to work successfully. No, Sammael had not lived for so long without being as suspicious as was possible. In fact he knew that many of his fellow External's thought him more than a little insane. He was very sane though, and his mind worked as well as it ever had. Sammael knew what Sinister was like. Sinister had always been a devious individual, playing all the hands against the middle, in the hopes that once the dust settled, he would emerge victorious. Sammael knew Sinister was planning something, but he wasn't sure what it was. Sammael smiled. He would let Sinister believe that the Renegade External's sidetracked him. Then when Sinister chose to strike at him Sammael would be ready, and his counterstroke would leave Sinister dead.
Sinister stood in front of the monitor, watching carefully the reading being given. Candra sat in a chair watching him. It was only a short while ago that Sinister had gone to his laboratory. He had begun to work on something, the likes of which Candra didn't understand too well. Biology and Chemistry had never been her forte. She had come with Sinister on a pretext, to retrieve an item she had dropped there during the fight against the rebels. She knew that Sinister knew she was lying, but he didn't say anything. Even when she supposedly couldn't find it in his lab and had decided she must have dropped it elsewhere he hadn't batted an eyelid. She only stuck around him because he was her only connection to the Cajun empath. She didn't know why Sinister was so concerned with the Cajun, but then again she herself had no idea why she was so obsessed with finding him as well. She needed to find the mutant and find out why she was stricken with the need to get him. At first she had thought it was revenge, that she wanted to pay him back for actually managing to use his empathic powers on her, when even Behamen had failed to accomplish that feat. But when she had finally seen him again she had realized that revenge was not what she wanted. She had no real wish to see him hurt, for all he was a rebel. No something about him drew her to him, and she would have to find out what it was, and if necessary destroy it. She had been lucky. Sinister had set wards around the area where they had to have come from in the first infiltration, when they had rescued Psylocke. The wards had a ten-mile radius, and it had picked up on Gambit's mutant signature while they had been in the lab. Sinister now was confirming Gambit's position through the radar. Candra waited for success. She too would follow, and try and get to Gambit first. She didn't know what Sinister wanted with him, but knowing what she did know about the External, it would be anything far from good.
Exodus roamed his private gardens, watching with half a mind on what his personal gardeners were doing. His garden was one of his pride and joys. Only the External's had ever been here, apart from Apocalypse and Helena. It was a massive project when it had started some ten years ago, and was now complete, with massive oaks in one end, and smaller willows on the other, with rows of delicately cut bushes crisscrossing the grass between them, flower bed's running on either side. There were benches laid out at interval's and a pool stood in the middle of it all, with a fountain rising out of it. Bougainvillea ran up and down the walls of the massive room and in one corner steps led to a small room which had a cast iron grille instead of walls. A two-seater swing sat in the middle of it. Exodus enjoyed life's pleasures, and in his long life he had never found anything to really match the solitude and peace of a garden. Exodus picked out a rose from one of the bushes and inhaled the scent. He thought that his life was like a rose bush sometimes; very nice to look at but once felt it turned out to have thorns. In this instance the thorns in his side were the rebels, especially that traitor Helena, as well as his fellow External's, not to mention Apocalypse and the renegade External's. The rebels were his most pressing problem. For his defeat he would crush them, as though they were the insignificant roses that he held in his hand. His hand squeezed once, quickly and the tattered remains of the roses crumbled from his fist, the needles snapped into mere shards.
x----------------- ------------x
Remy walked through the streets, his mind on his destination. It had only been a week since he had last been here, but a lot had happened in that week. He had taken part in an assault on the Tower, and had met the mutant who had haunted his dreams since Belladonna's death. The mutant who had murdered Bella. Without his noticing his eyes narrowed into slits, and his fists clenched and began to burn. He walked onward, oblivious of his gloves beginning to smolder. He only noticed when he smelled smoke. Looking down at his hands he yelped and took off his gloves, throwing them aside.
* Damn it. Those were my favorite gloves. Better watch what I'm doing. *
He walked up to the wall that was a door to Belladonna's grotto. Pushing the fake brick inwards, he waited for the door to open. As it opened he walked through. He walked straight to the other hidden door and opened it. He walked into that door and headed straight for the grave. He stared down at the grave and then looked up at the angelic being. It had been a statue that had been in his own room in the thieves guild, one his pater had given to him as protection against the night. Remy had been surprised to find it whole. He had searched that whole night, but no bodies had been found. In the end he had given up, returning with only Belladonna's body, and burying it in the room which was now a beautiful garden. He turned his attention to the grave. He sank to the floor and muttered a short prayer, one of the few he had bothered to learn. He looked at the grave again.
"Well Bella, I know it's been a short time since Remy came 'ere last. Lot appened dis last week. For one, one o' dose External's finally bit de dust. Blew up 'alf of de Tower in de process. Nother t'ing happened though. I met dat Sonofabitch who killed you. I told you all dose years ago I'd get revenge, and well, I'm in de position to do it. De t'ing is I got other responsibilities now. I gotta team dat counts on me to be dere for 'em. I'm sorry Bella girl, but I can't jes go off an kill de bastard. I'd probably die in de process. Don't worry though, dis Cajun ain't done wid dat bastard Sinister. One day I'll get him in de position I wan'. Dat's when Mr. Sinister gonna go t' hell. I promise you dat Bella."
He rose and walked towards the pool. He sank down next to it and ran his hands through his long auburn hair. He sighed.
"Truth is Bella; my life's real screwy right now. All de ladies who Remy likes most not be too happy wid him at de moment. Making life pretty much hell. Even Stormy's on my ass. An' I never thought I'd see de day dat Wanda accepted Rogue as a stepmama. Life's a bitch, dat's for damn sure."
He was silent a moment deep in thought.
"You know Bella, I tol' you b'fore how I thought dat Roguey was de only girl for me. Now Remy be thinking dat's not true. Rogue, she's happy with Erik. Who am I t' ruin dat for her. Not too many people find happiness here. De only t'ing is every time I look at her my heart leaps. I don' know Bella, I just don't know what t' do! Don' let it get out though. Remy don't want his reputation being spoiled." The last said with a rakish grin.
He stood up and walked to her grave again. Before he could say another word though, a small alarm went off. Someone had entered the grotto. Remy walked out of the hidden room, staff in hand, ready for an attack.
"Ah, there you are, I was wondering where you were. Never expected another door, very ingenious."
Remy's eyes went wide and he snarled. "Sinister!"
Sinister walked towards him calmly, a slightly mocking smile on his face.
"No need to make it sound so insulting Lebeau."
"I'll kill you, you Sonofabitch." Remy whipped out a card and set it aflame, "coming here is de last t'ing you'll ever do."
He flung the card towards him. Sinister raised his hand and a thin beam of energy arced out of his hand, hitting the card, which exploded. Remy ducked his eyes from the blast. Not waiting for Sinister to make a move, he leapt in the air, another card already charged and ready to throw.
"My Sinister, did you know that the room he came from is where that assassin girl you killed is buried."
Remy held his throw at the last moment and turned around, throwing the card in that direction instead. Candra barely had time to duck and the card smashed into the wall behind her. Remy was now seriously angry. Not only had they broke into Belladonna's grotto, but they were desecrating it by making him fight here.
A flash of pain in his back reminded him that Sinister was still behind him. He stumbled forward in pain, and Candra pivoted on her heel and her kick caught him on the chin, sending him flying back. As he fell to the ground he could make out Sinister coming towards him. Then another flash of pain struck him and darkness took him.
x----------------- ------------x
The sound of gunfire shattered the silence of the night. Scott rose and saw a house burning in the distance. He could hear screams from the house. Children were screaming and a woman was crying out in grief. Scott increased his speed and smashed through the door of the house. A woman was cowering away from the other side of the house which was burning. Two children were seated by a hallway, crying. A body slammed into the wall next to him. Scott looked at it and suddenly his face blanched. The face of the figure was one he would never forget. It was his father. He suddenly recognized the children, they were he and Alex, and that meant the woman was his mother. He stepped back, his mind reeling with shock. A dark figure began to walk out of the smoke, laughing harshly. The woman- his mother- screamed and turned to him, in agony, her face pleading for help. Before he could do anything she was pulled back into the fire and he heard a scream of pain. Then the rotten smell of burning skin permeated his nose. Scott bent forward in pain. Then suddenly a woman was next to him. It was Jean. Jean? What was Jean doing here? Before Scott could understand what was happening, Jean had grabbed the children and was running away. Before he could do anything a dark figure leaped out of the shadows and grabbed Jean. Dark Beast howled in triumph as he began dragging Jean backwards. "NO!" Scott yelled in anger and raised his visor. Nothing happened. Scott raised his gauntlets but there were only pale hands looking back at him. Scott tore off the visor, but found he could see natural colors.
Scott lunged forward, but Dark Beast whipped out a gun from somewhere, and pointed it at Jeans head. Before Scott could reach him, Dark Beast pulled the trigger. Jeans crumpled body fell to the floor, her hair cascading over the remains of her head, the blood soaking red tresses a darker red. Scott screamed in pain, and sank to his knees. Dark Beast stood laughing to the side. Then he disappeared, and only a dark man stood there, a tall man, dressed in black.
"Your mind is troubled; you have woken even me from sleep. Awaken!"
Scott's eyes flashed open. He got up breathing haggardly in the chill night air. Scott looked around. There was no body of Jean, no burning house, no Dark Beast and no man in black. He checked his watch. It was just past four a.m. He got up and shrugged on the med-kit/ backpack. He stretched his body, and jerked his limbs around to loosen them from stiffness. It was funny, he thought, he had never had dreams like this before, however it was now two nights in a row that he had had dreams of his parents. It was not the first time he had dreamed of something happening to Jean. The woman had not been out of his dreams since he had met her for the first time, face to face. The man in black worried him though. He had never appeared in his dreams so far. Scott wondered who he was. Was he part of the dream, or was he something else? Scott walked on, keeping his eye on where he walked; yet half his mind was puzzling over the strange dream.
Eventually Scott came across signs of life. In rising incredulity Scott looked at the half-buried wrapper of a popular candy bar. Not only was it a sign of civilization, but also a sign that whoever was on this desert island had access to the rest of the world. Scott staggered onwards; on this last trek he had walked nearly five hours. Presently Scott came across vegetation, about a two-minute walk from the candy bar wrapper. Soon he could hear the sounds of the sea again. Presently he came across a small dune. When he reached the top, he saw that at the bottom of the dune- or rather hill; the other side was a cliff like slope, with a crudely fashioned staircase leading downward- sat a small villa, nestled in the side of the large cliff face, with a road leading down to - wonder of all wonders - a small village. Scott smiled. He had finally lucked out.
x----------------- ------------x
Apocalypse sat in his lair; the monitor bank in front of him was blank. His expression was brooding. It had only been a couple of days since his horsemen had set off into the world, and he had yet to receive reports from them. They were to work on their own initiative, but with the goal of his supremacy. That they would be loyal to him was not something that could be called into question. He had made no mistake with these specimens. They were all bound to his will as firmly as any form of total mind control could do, without the loss of the subjects own qualities. Apocalypse had created mutants before, or had made mutants into something beyond what they were. In the fifteen years of war against Xavier, he had had to release two of his creations, as well as create two newer, more hurried ones. However he had managed to turn three of Xavier's own number into pseudo-horsemen. They had not been too effective, and one of them had even managed to fight off his control. Another had died, but Apocalypse had tightened his control over the last remaining one, finally being forced to clone him, and destroying the original. The clone had been sadistic and twisted, more macabre than Apocalypse's expectations. The clone was also tied to Apocalypse, as firmly as his horsemen were, and his life was dependant on Apocalypse's. The Dark Beast had been suitably named in Apocalypse's opinion. His work was far better than the original Beast's for the original had had an inherent nature that Apocalypse could not have changed, not with the limited technology he possessed. That inherent nature caused Beast to not go beyond a certain point in experimentation and interrogation. Apocalypse had dealt with that problem in the cloning process.
"Master."
The single word spoken with soft reverence roused Apocalypse from his reverie. Apocalypse looked upon the visage of his horseman of Death. The two glowing eyes were all that could be seen within the depths of the hood, and the rest of the horseman's body was covered in black cloth. The way the horseman spoke was sure to strike fear into the hearts of mortal's, Apocalypse was pleased with that effect. Death was a name that suited the horseman to perfection.
"Report, horseman. I have not had word for two days now and was irritated by the silence."
Deaths' eyes flashed, "Forgive my lord, but I was delayed through necessity. I have managed to inveigle myself in the presence of men, and shall set up my base of command over here. The new mutations and powers you have granted us have been of considerable help in that process."
Death's face changed then, becoming blurred, then the hood was thrown back, and seemed to disappear into thin air, as features began to show. Once the change was complete, Apocalypse stared at the new face of Death.
"Using this appearance I have managed to achieve a position of considerable power. These mere mortal men are pathetic. I shall have that which you desire in a matter of weeks master."
Apocalypse began to smile, then after dismissing Death, and turning off the monitor he began to laugh. It was really quite amusing.
x----------------- ------------x
Scott turned and stood in front of the villa. It looked deserted. From behind him he heard the sound of voices. Young voices. He turned and saw a group of teenagers walking up the road towards the villa.
"Chiklet man, this is total bullshit. I mean, why the hell are we going to this goddamn villa?"
One of them, a gangly boy with long blonde hair that fell to his shoulders and a hooked nose replied exasperatedly, "Because there's no where else to go to have fun, dumbass."
Another one, a short dark boy, with short spiky brown hair wearing blue tinted glasses laughed sneeringly, "Fun. HA! Like setting firecrackers on a haunted house is going to do anything."
The first boy to speak, Baboon, was also short and stocky as well. He also wore glasses, and had long black hair slicked back into a ponytail. He shrugged and began to brood again. The fourth member of their group, a tall thin boy, with neatly groomed light brown hair and a small goatee just grinned at them.
Scott stepped aside and hid behind a rock. The group didn't look as though they would appreciate being found, and Scott also wanted to see how young people behaved. In his youth he had been expected to train, and train hard, to become a Prelate one day. These adolescents seemed very carefree. They all wore baggy, low slung pants and dark colored shirts or sweatshirts. Scott watched as they walked up to the villa and surveyed it, watching for any possible entrance. Scott saw Chiklet take out a cigarette and light it. He saw the short boy with blue tinted glasses, whose name was apparently Neeb-Dog, frown at him. Chiklet began blowing smoke rings on the face of Neeb-Dog, which caused Neeb-Dog to slap him. Baboon and the tall boy, whose name Scott had yet to learn- they just called him. 'Him', stood a little away and laughed at the other two. Suddenly Chiklet stopped his antics and turned and looked towards where Scott was hiding.
"What the hell. someone's there." Scott blinked in shock. There was no way Chiklet could have seen him! He came out from his hiding place and looked at them, but before he could speak Baboon yelled, "Get the motherfucker!" Suddenly Him was right next to him, and the others were running towards him. Scott was now doubly shocked. These were all mutants?
"Hey wait, I'm also a mutant." He pointed towards his visor, "See, I got shipwrecked on the other side of this island, and walked here. I won't bother you, just can you direct me around town?"
The teenagers looked at him strangely.
"Look, I won't tell anybody about your plans, I just need to get something to eat, and find out how to get off the island."
Finally Chiklet spoke.
"I don't know what you mean by mutants, but we'll take you to the village. However, there's no need for you to bother trying to find a way off the island. There's no way off."
Scott looked at him in surprise. What did he mean no way off the island?
"What do you mean no way off the island? Surely there must be some way you leave the island?"
The four boys looked at him with faint smiles on their faces. It was obvious they had a low opinion of him already. Apparently not knowing about there being no way off the island was the height of stupidity.
"By no way off we mean, that no one will take you off the island. This is a well-guarded secret. We have lived here for a long time, hiding from Apocalypse. Come, we'll take you to the village council."
Scott followed the boys, his mind working. He was so lost in thought he didn't notice that the villa's curtains drew slightly apart.
A man dressed in black looked down at the retreating figures of the boys and Scott Summers. His thin lips curved into a smile. All was going to plan.
x----------------- ------------x
Logan stood staring at the balls. He leaned on his cue and stared at them carefully. The angling needed to be just. so. He chewed on the end of his cigar. Leaning forward he positioned the cue carefully. After completing the shot he walked around the table looking for the best shot to make. His olfactory senses detected the presence a split second before his keen sense of hearing made out the sound of footsteps above. He turned and looked as Jean walked down the stairs leading to the entertainment area. * Oh fucking great. *
Jean looked at him surprised, then, "Hello Logan."
He just grunted in reply and turned around and began staring at the table again. For the last few days he had been avoiding Jean as much as possible. After the assault he had barely spoken two words to her apart from when they were in council or in the Danger Room. Jean had tried to approach him a few times, but he had quickly managed to make some excuse and run off. He could almost sense her determination to talk to him now that they were finally alone, and he had no excuse to run off.
"Logan, look at me." Logan's eyes widened, he hadn't expected her to be so blunt. He turned around. To not do so would have been cowardly, and that was what Logan had been doing for a long time now. He steeled himself for the conversation that was sure to follow.
"Logan, you have to stop running. We have to talk, and you know it." She stood there then, with her arms crossed in front of her.
Logan nearly smiled; she looked cute standing there, for all that she was angry, and an angry redhead to boot.
"It's your call Red."
She looked relieved and Logan realized she had been dreading having to force him to stay. This time he grinned openly. Jean looked at him in annoyance, then took a deep breath. Logan's grin slipped. It was time.
"Logan, I know you have feelings for me. and I still care for you, deeply.. But.. Well I love Scott. I've loved him since I first met him, all those years ago. He was the boy who I met, and who shaped my life into joining the X-men. I'll always cherish the time we spent together, but I can't help my feelings for Scott. I love him more deeply than I could imagine anybody could ever love someone. I'm sorry it had to end so abruptly, but it's over."
Logan looked at her.
"Jean, the first time I saw you, I was struck by your beauty and your fragile air. I wanted to make you whole, and even though I managed to make you feel again, and not remain so bitter, you were never complete with me. Something was missing, and I think you've found it. I love you Jean, and I always will I guess, but I know that Scott is the man fer you. The way you feel when he's around, you never felt that way with me. Jest remember Jeannie, I'll always be here for you."
Jean stared at him with tears in her eyes, then jumped forward and hugged him tightly.
"I'll always be your friend Logan."
She let go of him and turned and walked up the stairs and out of the room.
Logan stood there staring at the stairway. * Yeah Jeannie, I'll always be yer friend, God knows I want ta be more, but a man knows when he's beaten and Scott is the man you'll always love. * Logan turned and continued to stare at the pool table, however his mind was far in the past and his time with Jean and other past loves. He had survived pain before, and he could do it again. In his hundred odd years he had known and loved many women, but only a small handful had ever caused him to fall utterly in love. He silently added Jean's name to the handful of his lost loves. Many he had outlived, one had run away from him and the latest had left him for another. Logan smiled bitterly; fate had just dealt him another hand that he would have to deal with.
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Well. It's almost finished. Just the last two chapter left to finish, and then A Lid will Beta them.
Next chapters not going to have too much action, but it'll explain the history of this version of AoA, or A/U to the actual universe, or whatever it is I'm writing. Basically It'll have the back story of how Apocalypse took control etc. Keep reading, keep reviewing, keep enjoying, and always remember. Life should be enjoyed. It only happens once (dependant on your belief of course.).