Chapter 7

Arc 1 - Ch 7: Limbo

Date: Friday, June 4, 2010.

Location: Limbo

Limbo was a nightmare realm, unlike anything on Earth. The sky churned with fiery oranges and deep purples, sporadically lit by crackling white lightning. Jagged obsidian spires jutted from the ground, towering over a hellish landscape of rocky crags and bubbling magma. The air was oppressively thick with the stench of brimstone and sulfur.

In the distance, bone-chilling roars and agonized screams echoed through the empty void. Grotesque creatures stalked the land, horrors beyond imagination. Patches of murky green water glowed with an eldritch light, reflecting the apocalyptic scenery above.

He needed to escape this place, to return to Earth, to the Institute.

Tyson tapped into Magik's power, visualizing the portal that would take him home. He pictured the basketball court at Xavier's school, and the faces of his friends; Jean and Jubilee. But nothing happened. The portal refused to open. Panic surged as he felt the silver armor that had manifested on his arm fall away into nothingness.

The realization dawned. Magik's power had already faded.

Her touch had been fleeting, the fall from the sky, and his healing had used up the moment of borrowed power. Taking a deep breath, he steadied himself. Panic would only make this worse.

But he was trapped.

"Think, Tyson, think," he muttered under his breath.

His knowledge of this place was limited. Tyson didn't retain memories from those he absorbed unless he had thought about them while he had them. And Magik's memories were already gone. But he still held a scant few tidbits of knowledge that he'd thought of as he fell through the sky.

Time flowed differently here. Minutes could stretch into eternity unless Magik willed otherwise. No sun, no moon, no way to mark the passage of time. He could be trapped for eons.

That thought was more terrifying than any monstrosity roaming the bleak landscape.

Wait.

Another piece of knowledge he'd gleaned stood out in his mind.

There were no creatures in Limbo.

In all her time in this hellish realm, Illyana was certain of one thing. Limbo was empty. It's why she'd hidden here when she was a child. There were no animals, no life...

And certainly none of the horrors he now sensed in the distance.

Tyson's options were limited. Waiting for Illyana to return and rescue him was not a viable choice. From their brief encounter, he was uncertain if she would be in any hurry to help him, especially after he had inadvertently used his power on her. Tyson refused to languish, hoping for a rescue that may never come. He would take an active role in finding an escape from this hellish realm. The first step was to learn more about Limbo and its inhabitants. Perhaps he could find someone or something that might help guide him.

"Time to meet the locals," he declared aloud.

Tyson's enhanced senses gave him acute environmental awareness. Sifting through the brimstone and ash, he detected a putrid odor reminiscent of rotting meat and damp, moldy soil. Guided by the stench, he found himself atop a jagged outcrop, gazing down at its source. The creature below was a wretched, pathetic sight. It stood barely higher than four feet, with a corpulent, bloated frame. Mottled blue-gray skin hung in loose folds, hairless and marked by oozing sores where maggots fed. A round, bald head sat atop its body, dominated by a drooling maw filled with jagged teeth. Spindly arms ending in sharp claws scraped futilely at the barren ground, probing its bleak surroundings. The being resembled a morbidly obese, tiny old man given claws to make him seem a threat. The creature acted almost feral, lost, and without purpose as it moved through the lifeless landscape.

As Tyson observed, conflicting emotions rose within. Sabertooth's predatory instincts viewed it as easy prey to be ended. But Tyson wondered if communication might be possible; whether this wretched creature might offer knowledge or aid in navigating Limbo.

When the thing finally caught Tyson's scent upon the wind, its reaction was instant. With an ear-piercing shriek, it turned and charged toward the rocky outcrop.

"Easy now," Tyson called out, raising a placating hand. "I just want to talk."

The creature appeared oblivious, focused only on its perceived prey. To call its attack a 'charge' was perhaps an overstatement. The thing moved in a slow, lumbering shamble like an obese killer penguin. When it finally reached Tyson, each attack was blatantly telegraphed through clumsy, uncoordinated movements. The sight might have been comical, if not for the wicked claws that could easily rend flesh.

Tyson easily sidestepped each swing, staying well beyond the creature's grasp. "Last chance. Stand down," he demanded after evading another reckless swipe.

He muttered resigned, "Of course, the drooling demon wouldn't be interested in helping or giving directions."

The creature's beady eyes glinted with a mindless fervor as it shambled toward Tyson.

Tyson suppressed a sigh, settling into a defensive stance as the creature approached. Communication appeared off the table. The thing was relentless, growing more aggressive with each failed attack. The creature lunged with a gurgling shriek, oblivious to its lack of speed or skill. Tyson pivoted smoothly, allowing its momentum to carry it stumbling past. As it flailed to regain its balance, Tyson flexed his fingers to extend talons from each nail. When the creature charged again, maw gaping, he slashed, opening a deep gash along its side.

It stumbled, wheezing wetly, but quickly gathered itself for another assault. Tyson flowed forward, plunging his claws deep into its chest. As the creature gasped, Tyson's mind flooded with disjointed thoughts.

Flashes of hunger, rage, and fear. He felt no complex emotions or layered experiences, just base urges. He experienced the cold, relentless drive of an existence where survival was the sole motivator.

Tyson retracted his claws, pulling back from the motionless creature. It lay dead, its life ended by the damage done by his claws before he could absorb its essence. Tyson let out a relieved breath. He couldn't imagine what would happen if he permanently absorbed the twisted psyche of this demon. Its primal memories still echoed in the corners of his mind, impressions fading like a disturbing dream upon waking. He had glimpsed the rawness of its existence, driven purely by vicious instinct rather than conscious thought.

Shuddering, Tyson pushed the lingering influence away and rose to his feet.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

He continued his cautious exploration, senses primed. The pungent odor of the demons had become familiar, allowing him to avoid the packs. But as he ventured deeper, an overpowering new scent assailed his nose.

Tyson's hackles rose instinctively. Whatever lurked ahead was far more dangerous than the pathetic creature he had easily dispatched. He moved stealthily between jutting rocks and stalagmites.

Up ahead, nestled between jagged rocks, stood an enormous creature that made the other demons seem like flies in comparison.

It towered at least eight feet tall with a frame covered in coarse ebony feathers. The creature's head resembled a vulture, with a cruel curved beak and beady yellow eyes. Enormous draconic wings sprouted from its back. Taloned feet scraped against the harsh ground as the demon shifted, bones rattling from a belt of skulls around its waist.

Tyson tensed, ready to fight or flee. But something about this demon unsettled him. While hideous in appearance, it had an unnerving intelligence in its gaze. This was no mindless beast.

They sized each other up in tense silence before Tyson spoke. "Can you understand me?" he asked evenly.

The demon tilted its head, sinewy neck twisting grotesquely. It let out a rasping laugh. "Understand?" it croaked, voice dripping with malice. "Yesss. But why speak with my food? You are merely a morsel that has lost its way."

"I may be lost, but I'm no one's meal," he replied, holding the creature's baleful stare. "So if you're thinking of trying something, think again."

The demon unfurled its powerful wings to their full span, revealing itself like an unfolding threat.

Steeling himself, Tyson said "Here's my offer. Answer my questions willingly, and for each one, I'll answer two of yours in return. Or I'll pry the answers from you by force." He drew on what he knew of demons from supernatural lore he'd consumed in his previous life. In stories it was common for demons to profit from deals, he leaned on that hoping he might exchange information.

But the demon only laughed, a grating, bone-chilling sound. "Such bravery from a snack," it mocked.

Lunging forward, the demon slashed at Tyson with razor-sharp talons. But his mutant reflexes allowed him to narrowly dodge the attack, the wind from the demon's claws brushed his cheek. It struck again, aiming a sweeping kick with a taloned foot. Tyson ducked and rolled away, avoiding the blow and coiling for a counterattack.

— Rogue Replacement —

The glowing portal swirled open before Illyana as she stepped through into Limbo. The foggy compulsion that had clouded her mind at the Institute melted away, replaced by a surge of power as Limbo's essence flowed into her. This place was hers, her domain; a sanctuary where none could command her will. Here, she drew strength from the very fabric of the dimension, her abilities magnified tenfold. Limbo was an extension of her being.

She was in control once more, mistress of this realm. Strong enough now to resist the commands that had tried to bind her, bending her will to another's. Though Jean had compelled her through raw psychic force, Limbo's energies had burned away that crude control. Here, her mind was her own. Yet regardless of her strength, Illyana did not interpret Jean's manipulation as a telepathic attack. To her, it had seemed only a request from a friend in need, not a violation.

Even Limbo's empowering influence could not reveal the truth that her will had been momentarily stolen.

Oblivious, she retained the intention Jean's command had etched into her psyche. She would still seek out Tyson, believing it to be her own choice... spurred by concern by her distressed classmate.

Jean's compulsion became Illyana's intention.

Limbo's swirling energies embraced their mistress as she closed her eyes. Illyana could sense Tyson like a piece of him was of Limbo like he belonged. She'd retrieve him and return him to the institute.

But there was a problem.

Unease crept over her as she gazed around the fractured landscape. Strange presences lurked here, their auras harsh and intrusive compared to the subtle currents native to Limbo. She could feel them slithering across the dimension, sullying it with their unnatural imprint.

There should not be anything here.

The only presence that has ever inhabited Limbo were those she brought or sent here, like Tyson.

Anger simmered in Illyana's chest. How dare these interlopers invade her domain? Limbo belonged to her and her alone, bound to her very soul. She would purge them from this place, no matter their power or purpose. The land trembled in answer to her rage, cracks spread through the earth as she called on Limbo's essence.

First, she needed to find Tyson. His presence shone like a beacon amidst the contamination. With a thought, she teleported to his location, ready to confront whatever awaited them.

She materialized atop a jagged rise, spotting Tyson below locked in battle.

He was locked in fierce combat with a misshapen form vaguely resembling an enormous vulture. It possessed a jagged, bony beak and leathery wings. Lunging at Tyson, it emitted an ear-piercing shriek that seemed to momentarily stun him.

Tyson shook off the shriek just in time to evade the creature's attack, dodging claws and beak alike with effortless agility. When the thing did manage to land a blow, his mutant healing ability swiftly knit wounds back together. He rained heavy slashes upon the creature leaving it howling in pain. With a sudden burst of speed, Tyson darted behind the fiend. He leaped upon its back, sinking his claws deep into leathery flesh in one smooth motion. The beast thrashed wildly, desperately trying to dislodge him, but Tyson held fast. Then, swinging around its front, he brutally tore out the creature's throat in a spray of dark blood. It stumbled and collapsed heavily, its death throes sending tremors through the ground.

Illyana watched this gruesome display from atop a craggy rise, her boots crunching on the gravelly surface. She had found Tyson. Now she needed to discover how these vile things had invaded her domain and purge them no matter the cost. As she approached, shock raced through Illyana. While still unmistakably Tyson… he had transformed.

His once-human face now bore avian features, a prominent beak protruding where his nose and mouth had been. His fingers were vicious talons, and leathery wings unfurled from his back.

"What in the seven hells was that thing?" she demanded, "What was it doing here? And what happened to you?"

Tyson's unsettling gaze met hers, his wings flexing as if testing their span. "You sent me here," he rasped, accusation heavy in his tone. "You don't know?"

Illyana watched in stunned disbelief as the inhuman features distorting Tyson's face slowly receded. The beak protruding where his mouth and nose had been softened, reforming into the rugged yet handsome profile she recognized. His hands still sported talons, but they'd regained their human shape and looked more like vicious nails than something found on a bird of prey. Most astonishingly, the immense leathery wings that unfurled from his back appeared to dissolve, melting into his skin until no trace of them remained. Within moments, the transformation reversed itself entirely.

Tyson stood before Illyana once more, looking as if the past few minutes had been only a nightmare. He stood motionless, his eyes closed as he took a deep breath. The remnants of the savage demon's psyche still lingered in his mind, but he pushed them aside, regaining control.

"Illyana," he began, "My powers... they're not like other mutants. I absorb memories and skills when I touch someone, but it's more than that. I take on their physical traits and their abilities. All of it becomes a part of me temporarily." Tyson glanced down, his voice growing distant. "It's always active, this power. I can't turn it off or control what flows into me. Each touch opens a floodgate of memories, emotions, fragments of their very self."

He looked up, holding her gaze intently. "And it causes pain to those touched. This curse is part of who I am. But I didn't mean to hurt you earlier."

"I understand," she said, "Our powers manifest in ways we cannot choose. But we learn to accept them as part of ourselves."

"I accept your apology, Tyson. Each of us bears scars from the manifestations of our gifts."

Tyson blinked in surprise. "Uh, thanks… I guess." he managed.

He waited for her apology for touching him against his wishes, but it did not come. Then he frowned.

Why had he apologized?

Illyana was just as much at fault as he was, if not more. Sabertooth had been influencing his actions, making him quick to anger and lust. But this was different. Why was he suddenly so… remorseful?

Instead of apologizing in turn, Illyana's attention had moved on from Tyson to the motionless demon, its grotesque features frozen in death. "You said you absorb their memories. Did you learn anything from this creature that might explain its presence here?"

Tyson's expression darkened. "Yes. This thing is called a Vrock. They usually hunt in small packs, but this one was alone. It was drawn here, to Limbo, I mean, by another. A demon, or a devil, who found this realm." His hands clenched into fists.

"The demon is seeking to conquer Limbo. His name is Azazel."

"And I know where he is," Tyson added grimly.