Dreamweaver: Part Eight
The world took shape around them a little more gently this time. Logan raised an eyebrow at the sight of their new surroundings. It looked like a highly sophisticated laboratory of some sort, utilizing an organic technology that Logan didn't recognize. Or rather, it had. Currently, it was a mess. Smoke billowed from small fires and most of the equipment he saw was smashed and broken. Looks like a bomb hit, or something-- An alarm shrilled continuously, almost painful to Logan's enhanced hearing.
He heard Bishop curse, and turned to see his fellow X-Man supporting Regina, who had gone alarmingly pale. She leaned against Bishop, breathing heavily.
"You all right, darlin'?" Logan asked worriedly, kneeling at her side. Clone or not, she can't have had her powers long. She's not far past puberty, he realized, frowning. It's not safe for her to be pushing this hard. Ray, I hope you know what you're doing.
"Fine," she said breathlessly. "I'm fine. Just--a little tired, that's all. She's helping me, but this is still--so hard."
"She?" Bishop asked. "Who's helping you? Rachel?" Regina didn't answer, slumping against him as if she were about to pass out. Exchanging a worried look with Logan, he reached down and shook the girl's shoulder lightly. "Regina? How far ahead are we this time?"
"Two years," she said drowsily.
"Two years?" Logan scowled. "First ten, then two? Doesn't make much sense--"
She blinked, and then looked at him, suddenly alert. "What is, is," she said. "No one ever said the world had to make sense, Logan."
Now that sounded like Cable, Logan thought, blinking. "True enough," he said, taking a closer look at the devastated lab. "Wait--this is Sinister's installation beneath the orphanage where Scott grew up, isn't it?" he asked, remembering the evening when Betsy had shared her memories of her and Gambit's expedition into the Inferno. Somehow, I think the door was referring to the OTHER Inferno, though--what happened in New York with Madelyne. I imagine that all of Sinister's schemes are about to come home to roost.
And Rachel had arranged a front-row seat for him. He felt a certain savage satisfaction at the thought. Bless you, Red. I've been waiting for this for years.
***
Sinister opened his eyes to find himself lying on the floor of his lab. He pushed himself up to his elbows, wincing with pain. The last time he'd felt so battered had been when Apocalypse had woken up briefly in the 1930's and decided to punish him for his 'betrayal' back in Victorian England. That little episode had gravely tested his enhanced physiology. He felt almost as badly off now.
What in the name of God happened here? The lab was a shambles. What could have gotten past the defenses and done this much damage? Where were his Marauders? Good help is so hard to find--wait, he thought, suddenly disoriented. This wasn't real. The doors--Phoenix and her damned 'lessons'.
But even as he tried to seize the memory, to set reality firmly in his mind, it faded, leaving behind only a shadow of the frustration he'd felt at being forced into--into what?
He was next to a table. Using it as support, he pulled himself up, swaying on his feet. This was nonsense. Whoever had broken in here would regret it. No one violated the sanctity of his work--
He turned to look at the table, and froze as he saw Cable lying there, wearing a psi-dampener and titanium-alloy restraints. He appeared to be unconscious, blood trickling from his nose.
"Of course," Sinister murmured. "It was you." He remembered now. The battle between the X-Men and the latest version of his Marauders. The so-fortunate turn of events that had forced the X-Men to retreat, leaving Cable, felled by Arclight's attack, behind. "It appears I'll have to increase the power of your dampener, Nathan. Can't have you striking out again and finishing off my poor lab." He glanced around for the tool he needed, finding it on the floor after a moment's search. He made the neccessary adjustments on the dampener. "Not too much," he muttered. "I don't want you to lose control over the virus. Just for your powers to be inhibited to the point where you'll be--malleable."
"Dream on, 'Daddy'," came a contemptuous, very familiar voice from across the room. Sinister's jaw dropped as a slender, dark-clad shape moved out of the smoke and to the other side of the table. "You're getting overly ambitious in your old age, you know," Madelyne Pryor said. She gave him a single, withering look, before she turned her attention to her son. She slid off the psi-dampener gently, and then hurled it away violently.
"Madelyne," Sinister croaked, in the grip of the most profound terror he had ever felt. This 'new' Madelyne, a powerful entity evolved from the psionic ghost created by Nate Grey, was all but invulnerable to a non-psi. She could do whatever she chose to him, and he had no way to stop it. And considering the long list of grievances against him that she was undoubtedly still cherishing, that did not bode well--"Madelyne, wait--"
A telekinetic blow slammed into him, knocking him to the floor. "Shut up, Sinister," she said, her voice calm and remote. She reached out and laid a hand on Nathan's forehead, closing her eyes. After a moment, she gave a hiss of anger. "You bastard!" she snarled, glaring at Sinister with pure hatred burning in her green eyes. "What the hell were you doing? Didn't like how independently your precious pawn was acting, so you thought you'd reshape his mind to your preferences?" Since that was exactly what he'd had in mind, Sinister kept his mouth shut. "Clumsy fool!" she continued furiously. "He's nearly catatonic!" A halo of greenish light took shape around her body. "But I can fix that," she whispered. "And I must admit, you did leave me an opening that I intend to exploit to the fullest--"
The light around her grew brighter as her face took on an expression of intense concentration. Slowly, a smile tugged at her lips. "Yes," she whispered, almost in rapture. "That's it. Trust me, Nathan. Take my hand--"
Sinister shielded his eyes as golden light joined the green, merging with it. No, he thought desperately. I will not lose him, not to her! He knew that if Madelyne had her way, Nathan and Apocalypse would never again come within a thousand miles of each other. The battle Nathan had been born to fight would never take place; Madelyne's version of a mother's love would never permit it. But under her control, influenced by her hatred of the world--and for Sinister himself in particular--Nathan would become a deadlier threat than Apocalypse. Whatever the consequences, Sinister knew that he had to stop this.
He searched the floor desperately until he found the syringe loaded with the latest version of the inhibitor drug now used on Genosha. His invention, of course, and powerful enough to knock out even Nathan's Phoenix-augmented abilities. He'd had it there on his instrument tray, as a back-up measure. Hoping that Madelyne was still deep in the psi-link, he rose, raising the syringe quickly.
A grip like iron closed around his wrist, and the syringe fell to the ground, shattering on impact. Sinister groaned with pain.
"I don't know what was in that," Nathan growled, sitting up. "But something tells me that the floor is the best place for it."
There was something lacking in his eyes, Sinister saw. The balance and control that had always been there was missing, gone as if it had never been. The effect was frightening. An eerie sense of deja vu crept over him as he remembered the first and only time he'd ever met Stryfe.
The restraints were open, glowing with residual telekinetic energy Sinister looked frantically at Madelyne. She looked pale and spent, but immensely satisfied. Like a woman who had just given birth.
Nathan glanced at her, a question in his eyes. Madelyne considered it for a moment, but she shook her head.
"No," she said thoughtfully. "Don't kill him." Her sudden smile was almost mischievious. "We can come back and do it later, when we can--enjoy it. Right now, I need to get you someplace you can rest."
"I feel fine," he complained, but then winced in real pain, releasing Sinister. Sinister backed away quickly. "All--right," Nathan admitted, going quite pale as he rubbed at his temples. "Maybe n-not."
Madelyne helped him down from the table. "Stubborn as a mule," she said tenderly. "I wonder what side of the family you got that from."
Sinister swallowed, thinking rapidly. "Nathan, you can't mean to go off with her! What about the X-Men? Scott and Jean?" Having him back in Xavier's fold would be preferable to seeing him at this madwoman's side as her obedient son. But Nathan looked over at him blankly.
"Scott?" he asked. "Jean?" There was no recognition in his eyes, none at all, and Sinister's heart sank as he realized what Madelyne had meant about giving her an opening.
"Your parents!" Sinister said desperately. The drugs I gave him, to suppress his resistance while I programmed the memory implants--he had no way to defend himself. She shaped the implants telepathically. It would take another telepath, a powerful telepath, to even try and undo her work. Jean Grey could do it, perhaps--the X-Men have to be looking for him. If I can just-- stall them somehow, keep him here--
Madelyne chuckled, laying a hand on Nathan's arm. "He's just trying to deceive you, Nate. It's what he does. Ignore him." She started to lead him away, casting a triumphant look back over her shoulder at Sinister.
#We'll be back, Sinister,# she promised. #But I wouldn't look forward to our next visit, if I were you. Family reunions can be such a bitch.#
They faded into greenish mist and disappeared. Sinister sank to the floor, shaking his head in mute denial. It was quite some time before he heard the computer.
/Wwwarrnning,/ it slurred. /Innntrrudderr--/
A beam of ruby light smashed through the smoke, and the computer fell silent. Sinister almost laughed. The cavalry.
"Too late," he said as Scott and Jean Summers emerged from the smoke. "He's gone."
Cyclops froze, a look of horror on his face. Jean glanced swiftly at her husband, but walked forward to stand beside the table. She touched the restraints almost measuringly, as if she were a bloodhound sensing the last vestiges of telekinetic energy that charged the metal, and then turned to Sinister.
He didn't even have a chance to scream as she ripped the memories directly from his mind. But she did. A howl of pure pain and rage burst from her, so piercing that it reminded Sinister of a hawk. Or a Phoenix.
"Madelyne!" she screamed, her voice as anguished as it was enraged. "Damn you, you bitch!"
"Jean, no!" Scott cried. Sinister looked up and saw the air around her shimmering, glowing with a fiery-red light. Her uniform started to change, telekinetic energy altering it at the molecular level.
Ripple effect, came a soft voice in his head. Dazed from Jean's psychic attack, he tried to focus on the voice. It seemed familiar, somehow. When you changed Nathan's future, you changed other things, too. Do you think that Apocalypse is the only one capable of destroying the world? Think again.
He looked up into the face of Dark Phoenix.
"I should have done this a long time ago," she hissed, the look in her eyes totally insane. It was the last thing he saw.
***
"Oh, Jeanie," Logan whispered as the scene froze and faded just before the blast hit Sinister.
Bishop stood mutely at his shoulder, but Regina walked over to stand beside the huddled geneticist. The look on her face was neutral, but there was the tiniest trace of sympathy in her eyes. Logan wondered at it, but in a way it was good to see. It spoke well for her, that she could understand and regret the impact her power had, even when it was being used on an enemy.
"Did you like what you saw?" she asked Sinister. He shook his head, and she gave him a grim smile. "I didn't think you would. I knew there'd be no point in trying to engage your emotions, like I did with Bishop. After all, you don't have any. But self-preservation is a powerful imperative with you, isn't it? That and the sanctity of your work."
Another door popped out of nowhere. Regina looked down at Sinister dismissively, and headed back to Logan and Bishop. On the way, she seemed suddenly unsteady on her feet, and Logan leaped to catch her before she fell.
"D'you suppose we could hurry this up?" she asked, her voice slightly slurred. "That's your door, Logan."
He lifted her into his arms, surprised at how light she was, and gave her over to Bishop. Then, and only then, did he go to the door.
There were no words written there. Instead, the wood itself shifting, becoming almost mirror-like. Rachel's face appeared, smiling at him.
#Forgive the dramatics, Logan,# she said, #but I thought a personal message would be best. This door is only for you, old friend. Bishop and Sinister are going to stay here.#
Logan smiled, feeling an unusual amount of pleasure at the idea that she was making an exception for him. "All right, Ray," he said quietly. "What's behind the door?"
#A possibility for that moment I spoke of earlier,# she said. #Its form may be different, when it finally arrives--we shape the future with our actions, after all--but the choice you will face will always be the same. Are you ready?#
"Always, Red," he said gruffly. She smiled at him, and vanished. The door opened of its own accord, and he stepped through.
to be continued...
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