Release, Part Twenty-One

by Tangerine

wake from your sleep
the drying of your tears
today we escape
we escape

Betsy massaged Warren's back, careful still of the wounds, as she ground her fingers into him, singing softly under her breath. His eyelids hung low as the melody and gentle hands eased some of the tremendous pain he constantly felt.

They had been at Braddock Manor for thirty-three days.

pack and get dressed
before your father hears us
before all hell breaks loose

Outside, the moors were being violated by a cruel, hateful darkness as it spread over the land. The snow began to writhe violently, and the wind whipped through the sky, howling at the intruder. The moors had fallen to the Apocalypse.

breathe keep breathing
dont loose your nerve
breathe keep breathing
i cant do this alone

Warren tilted his head as a strange sensation overtook his weak body, looking around even as Betsy urged him quietly to relax. The feeling terrified him, but he knew Betsy was there, and he was safe from whatever it was. He was not alone.

sing us a song
a song to keep us warm
theres sucha chill sucha chill

How warm it was as her hands touched his tender flesh and her breath coated his skin, so utterly sweltering that it melted away the cold that was becoming him, and Betsy kept singing, caressing him as he was lulled into a dreamlike state.

you can laugh
a spineless laugh
we hope your rules and wisdom choke you

He watched the lovers through the window, seeing them as they were, both dying because of him, and he laughed at it, pleased his game had not been lost entirely. His son has broken the unbreakable deal and bent the unbendable rules when it was forbidden and how he would suffer for it.

"He's here," Warren whispered, sitting up in the large bed and looking around, his eyes wide and trembling. Betsy kneeled beside him, covering him with his robe then gently forced him back down. "Oh God, he's here. I can feel him."

"I can't sense anything," Betsy responded slowly, her mental butterfly flickering to life as she projected her mind outwards. "He's not here, Warren, I would have... argh!" Betsy cried, her head snapping back as she was hit with an incredible mental blast. She screamed again as her mind was hit for a second time. Her ears and nose bleeding, she lost total control of her mind and body and slowly slipped in the shadows, her body sinking until she was completely gone.

Warren climbed off the bed, away from the pool of darkness that lurched once before blending back as it had been. He leaned against the door, placing his hand on the handle to support his meager weight. He hadn't walked for nearly two days, and he feared in his insane horror he had forgotten somehow.

"Are you frightened, my son?" The cold, dead voice asked, the intensity of the question increased in the quiet room. Warren, focussing on simply getting his legs to allow him to stand, shook his head. "Do I terrify you?"

"You give yourself too much credit, Apocalypse," Warren forced out, wishing his voice wouldn't quaver when he spoke. "My fear of you died a long time ago."

"Did it?" Apocalypse inquired, suddenly moving toward him, and Warren, almost reflexively, flinched away. The madman laughed at his cowardly action, a cruel, sadistic laugh. "You know why I've come."

"And you'll not have me." Warren realised he had backed himself into a corner with no chance for escape, and he knew Apocalypse saw what fault lay with his move. "You no longer have any control over me. I won't allow it."

"You seem to think our positions have somehow been reversed, my dark Angel. You pledged me your soul, and I've tolerated your childish games up until now. I showed much patience in trying to get you back where you belong, but you've ignored every summons I've issued. I resorted to mental torture, and that did not work. I sent our poor, dear Candace to retrieve you, but like any good human, she failed in her task."

"You destroyed her," Warren spit, pointing at him with an accusing finger. "Why her? What did she ever do to deserve what you did to her. I love her once, and she loved me, but you brought her back, and she destroyed me, and herself. You had no right to meddle with her to get to me. I'll kill you for that."

"Kill me? Be reasonable, Worthington. You could not kill a soul now if you tried. Once, I had made you strong, but your mind was too weak to handle what I gave you."

"I was human, and far stronger than you'll ever understand. I have compassion, and as much as you tried to make me otherwise, I am not a monster. You would like to have thought you drove me over the edge, but I never fell from grace. Had I, I would have stayed as one of your minions, but I'm free. You have no control over me anymore."

"I control everything about you, my son. Without me, you would have died in that plane crash. Without me, you would be rotting six feet under with the maggots. I offered you salvation, and you willingly took it. You owe me everything you have."

"You gave me all of what? Three seconds to decided my fate? Was it that long or shorter before I died at your feet?" Warren asked, noticing a faint look of surprise pass over Apocalypse's face. "Yes, I remember it. I remember every detail. I never even said yes, did I? I didn't willingly take anything."

"You did not protest when I brought you back from Hell."

"Yes," Warren murmured softly, lowering his head, "but that was my mistake, and I regret that more than you will ever comprehend, but by then the damage had been done, and it was too late. My mind had been completely destroyed by you." Warren looked at Apocalypse. "I was never supposed to remember, was I? You thought you had erased Warren Worthington for all time, didn't you, my lord?" Warren smiled suddenly, grinning almost sadistically. "But you hadn't, not completely."

Apocalypse grabbed Warren by the throat, lifting him up. Warren put his hands on Apocalypse's, trying free himself from the stifling grasp, but Apocalypse rose his body higher, twisting his metallic fingers into Warren's pale skin.

"I'll kill you if I must," Apocalypse said quietly, "and bring you back again, content to know you would suffer. I am not a spiteful man, my son, but my patience can only be tried so far." He tightened his grasp, and Warren closed his eyes in protest of himself, which only infuriated Apocalypse further. "You cry? You cry?! I have made you strong, and you have the indignation to cry?!"

"I have the humanity," Warren whispered in the madman's clutches as he choked and gasped for life-giving breath almost in spite of himself, "and the soul."

Apocalypse's grim expression grew darker. "Enough of this foolishness. Whether you want to or not, my prodigal son, you will return me."

"No," another voice said, colder even than Apocalypse's. "He will not."

Apocalypse turned around slowly, meeting face to face with a creature he knew not of. Warren would have gasped if the hold had allowed him, but he had to settle on staring at the black cloaked figure as she stood on a pedestal of shadow.

The figure lunged at Apocalypse, making a stab at his heart, and distracted by the action, it grabbed the Angel from the demon's clutches, laying him gently on the bed, careful, after heeding a warning, not to touch his skin.

"You attack the weak, but can you handle me?" She asked, forming a katana blade out of the shadows, then allowing the light of her mental powers to flow over the sword. Taking an offensive pose, she circled Apocalypse menacingly, her knife cutting through the air like wind.

"Insolent child, have you no idea of who I am?" Apocalypse demanded, expressing his obvious distaste at being forced into the defensive role. "You caught me unaware, Psylocke, made me think you might be a threat. I was wrong."

"I am a threat!" Psylocke screamed, twisting and arching through the air as she sliced the katana through Apocalypse's body, and the monster stumbled back, placing a hand over the odd wound. It was jagged and large, but though the blade had gone straight through his body, the cut was only an inch deep.

"So you can bleed."

Apocalypse grew a cutter on his left hand, as thin as sheet metal and just a sharp, and he swung at her, but she melted into the floor, appearing behind him again to plunge the katana into his back, narrowly missing the spine but leaving it raw and exposed.

Before Apocalypse could retaliate, Psylocke disappeared into the floor once more then emerged on the bed, grabbing Warren and went back into the shadows. Seconds later, she stepped from the darkness, battle ready.

Apocalypse's eyes flared in uninhibited rage, and he charge at her, slashing with his mutated arm, but Betsy jumped up and flipped over him, sliding into the shadows as he tried to grab her ankle then came out across from him, giving him no time to respond to her change in direction as she sliced his arm clean off.

"How long does is take for techno-organic metal to heal? Or can it? Can you grow that arm back? Or has it been lost for all time?" Psylocke challenged darkly, as the blackness around her screeched and moaned as she drew more of its dark power in.

"Cease with the chatter. I will destroy you for this blasphemy," Apocalypse threatened, ignoring the thick, maroon fluid that dripped from his wound in its severity. His hand morphed into a huge hammer-like creation, and he plunged it at her, but she stepped back into the dark, remerging behind him, and again she cut through him like a piece of meat. What she guessed to be blood and handful of organs poured out through the gaping wound, collecting on the floor in a puddle of corruption.

"How does it feel? How does it feel to know I control your life?" Psylocke challenged, driving the katana into him again, and the massive devil fell to the ground, lying in a pool of his own waste, but still he fought to stand and fight, but she plunged the blade into him again and again, hitting very major organ she figured he had, ripping him apart. "Are you strong, Apocalypse, are you fit for survival?"

"More than you, my forgotten child," Apocalypse forced out through a coughs, pulling himself along the ground, like he had when his glorious Angel of Death had confronted him and had been unable to kill him master, but Betsy plunged the shadow sword through his chest, pinning him to the ground.

"No, that is where you are wrong, devil. I am fit, I am worthy, and I will survive when you are food for the maggots and worms. That is what I am, Apocalypse, and that is what you are not. I will make sure you suffer for all time for what you have done to Warren, do you hear me? Suffer!"

"No, sweets, not today anyway," another voice laughed, hitting Psylocke over the head with a chair leg. It had not been the item Rhythm had wanted to use, but she made do with what she had. Psylocke fell to the ground, and the shadow blade disappeared as her concentration faded. Heaving Apocalypse so the huge mutant lay over her tiny frame, Rhythm opened a teleportation hole and disappeared into it without another word.

Betsy pushed to her hands, then to her knees and finally to her feet, stumbling over to the light switch. She had been a part of the dark too long, and she knew she wouldn't be able to purge her body if the evil without the help of light. This time as the light tore through her body she did not scream. She could not find the energy to voice her pain.

Amidst the suffering, she felt arms envelop her, adding their strength to her struggle. She didn't even have to open her eyes to know it was Warren, braving the pain light caused to him also to be with her when she needed him.

Brian surveyed the room quietly, and for the first time in his life, he was terrified by his sister. Betsy knew this, for his thoughts betrayed him, and she felt ill because of it, but she knew this is what she was now. The shadows had as much control over her as she did them, and in the end, the shadows were what saved Warren from the life he didn't want.

now we are one
in everlasting peace

we hope that you choke that you choke
we hope that you choke that you choke
we hope that you choke that you choke...

[next part]

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