Date: Wednesday, June 9, 2010.

Location: Limbo

Date: Wednesday, June 9, 2010.

Location: Limbo

The ground was a mix of rocky outcrops and scorched earth. Lava-like rivers flowed, glowing bright and casting an additional, surreal light. The air seemed to ripple with energy, and in the distance, dark, looming cliffs jutted out against the horizon. Tyson's heightened senses were on overdrive. The scents in the air were far more complex than the last time he'd been in Limbo. The acrid smell of sulfur tinged with the stench of countless demons reached his nostrils. His eyes narrowed as he looked down from the elevated ridge they stood on. Below, the landscape was swarming with writhing forms. Misshapen creatures with glaring eyes, sharp claws, and an aura of menace were copious.

"What happened here?" Tyson's voice was full of concern, even a touch of disbelief.

Illyana sighed. Her eyes reflected the weight of her situation. "Time passes differently in Limbo," she began, her Russian accent even more pronounced as she continued, frustrated, "I have a small amount of control over it, but not enough. Since our fight with Azazel, every time I return, there are more demons. Now," she paused, taking in the overwhelming sight, "there are thousands."

Tyson surveyed the seemingly endless horde of demons sprawling below them. The sheer scale of this task made him gulp. Even with his power, the idea of battling thousands of demons was, to put it mildly, daunting. He felt a pang of sympathy for Illyana. Her realm was being overrun. But then he turned to her, his eyes narrowing. "You tricked me!" he exclaimed incredulously while pointing at Illyana. "The deal was… You’d strip for me when the demons were all killed. But with this many? You knew it was an impossible task!"

Tyson brought a hand to his face, groaning into his palm. He mumbled, “It’d be easier to just go to a strip club.”

“You’re not old enough.” Illyana reminded while chuckling softly with a playful smirk on her lips. Adopting a mock innocent tone, she responded, "Aww, don't think so poorly of me, Tyson. Help me out here, and I promise, I'll make it worth your while."

Then she reached up, slipped off her jacket, and unbuttoned her top. Tyson watched as Illyana began stripping. Her confident demeanor and playful teasing were disarming. She glanced at him with a cheeky grin. "What? Did you think I was going to ruin this outfit?"

Tyson could only shake his head. “You’re going to do that, now? Here?” He gestured to the demons below. “I’d love a show, and I can’t believe I’m saying this, but is this the time?”

Illyana continued to shed her attire, “Don’t worry. Limbo is connected to me, this is my safe place. Even with all the demons around.”

Tyson wasn’t so sure, but the sight of her removing her clothes was enticing enough that he didn't interrupt. Each article of clothing she removed revealed the intricate, delicate lace of her underwear beneath. The fabric clung to her curves sensuously, yet left just enough to the imagination. The ambient glow of Limbo made her skin gleam, and every motion she made seemed deliberate and seductive. Her confidence was palpable, and it was clear she was in her element, unfazed by her surroundings.

Then, with a motion of her hand, a portal materialized. Through the shimmering oval, Tyson caught glimpses of Illyana's room, which seemed a stark contrast to the hellish landscape of Limbo. She reached in and pulled out a set of athletic wear.

Turning back to face Tyson, she took her time putting on the new attire. The tight clothing hugged her figure, accentuating her athletic build. Each movement she made while dressing felt like an intimate performance just for him. The fabric of her top stretched across her breasts, while her leggings emphasized the toned muscles of her legs. Every action, every pull of fabric was intentional, and Tyson couldn't help but appreciate the show.

Finally dressed, Illyana struck a playful pose, hands on her hips and one foot slightly in front of the other. She flashed a confident grin, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "See? Worthwhile, right?" she said, "Now, let's get to it."

— Rogue Replacement —

As the duo neared a horde of demons, Tyson reached out, halting Illyana in her tracks. "Look, Illyana, we took down Azazel together, but this is a different kind of fight," he said, gesturing toward the writhing mass of demons below. Illyana frowned, her eyebrow arching, but she stayed silent, allowing him to continue. "Those creatures might not be as tough as Azazel, but we shouldn't underestimate them."

Tyson began recounting his second demon encounter. "Remember the massive bird demon I fought when you found me here? Before you showed up, it released a debilitating screech. It left me dazed and vulnerable. That thing didn’t waste any time capitalizing on that; it landed several devastating slashes before I recovered." He rubbed his side as if recalling the pain from the demon's blows. "And it wasn't just that. It released these...spores. Made me feel sick, off-balance. My healing helped me push through, but without it, I'm not sure how I would've fared."

Illyana's intense blue eyes scanned the demon-filled horizon, processing Tyson's words. The mention of the bird demon's capabilities made her look thoughtful, maybe even a little wary. "I can handle myself," she said, her Russian accent giving the statement a hard edge.

Tyson nodded, acknowledging her strength. "I know you can. You put up a hell of a fight against Azazel. But it wouldn't hurt to be a bit more strategic. My powers make me a decent tank.” At her blank stare, he reworded his meaning, “My ability is specialized for absorbing damage. Let me engage these new creatures first. Let's find out what they can do. If they have any tricks up their sleeves, I should find out with my healing as a safety net. Once we know what we're dealing with, then you can dive in."

She contemplated for a moment before reluctantly agreeing. "Fine," she muttered, gripping her sword's hilt tighter. "But if you're in over your head, don't be too proud to call for backup."

Tyson grinned, "Deal. Let's do this."

Tyson examined the assembly of hunched creatures. These demons, with their mottled grayish-green skin, were a disconcerting sight. Each bore beady, yellow eyes and their mouths were filled with jagged, mismatched teeth. Their lumpy, misshapen bodies were a far cry from any creature on Earth, with elongated arms that ended in clawed appendages. The way they moved was an unsettling combination of walking upright and lumbering; much like a gorilla.

Not far from them, Tyson assessed the situation. He bent down and picked up a hefty chunk of Limbo rock. Winding up, he launched it towards the demons with all his might. Though his aim wasn't precise, the sheer number of targets made it almost impossible to miss. Thanks to his superhuman strength, the rock hurtled through the air like a bullet, finally striking one of the twisted beings square in the chest.

With an outraged shriek, the demon focused its beady eyes on him, recognizing the source of the attack. Rage evident in its features, it lunged towards him, claws outstretched. Its screech of pain and anger seemed to act as a signal for others of its kind. Two more of the ghastly creatures, drawn by the noise or perhaps sensing an opportunity, joined in the charge, hurtling towards Tyson with a surprising turn of speed.

Using the jagged terrain to his advantage, Tyson quickly sidestepped behind an outcropping. He couldn’t see the incoming targets, but Tyson’s sharp senses alerted him to the hints of the approaching demons. As the first demon rounded the corner, it was met with the swift brutality of Tyson's attack. He lunged and delivered a crushing punch straight into the demon's face. The impact resonated with a sickening crunch, sending the creature flying backward, lifeless even before it hit the ground.

He was in a chaotic abyss, surrounded by darkness, fire, and a cacophony of monstrous roars. He felt... small. Weak. A lowly demon spawned from the chaotic abyss. Hunger and fear were the primary drives along with the persistent ache of never being satiated. The taste of rot and decay was oddly comforting. A cloud of nauseating green gas surrounded him, one of the few defenses against larger, more powerful demons. This stinking cloud could confuse and deter any who came too close. Fear dominated his existence. Layered within these primal emotions and experiences, was a profound resentment. It was dimly aware of its weakness and had a deep-seated drive to become something more.

The next creature, attempting to leap onto Tyson, found itself intercepted mid-air. With a fierce swipe of his clawed hand, Tyson tore through the demon's slimy flesh, leaving it disemboweled and twitching.

However, with each fatal blow Tyson dealt, the creatures released a nauseating, greenish gas. It swirled around him like a foul, tangible cloud. The gas was thick and cloying, reminiscent of rotting vegetation and decaying meat. While the poison didn’t hamper his physical abilities much, the stench was overpowering, making each breath a gag-inducing challenge.

As the final demon rushed him, Tyson sidestepped its charge, catching it by its elongated ‘arm’. With one swift, powerful motion, he swung it into the rock face, silencing its malevolent snarls forever. The beast's demise added to the already pungent atmosphere.

Tyson grimaced; he was unharmed and the noxious fumes had little effect on him, but the smell was horrid.

As Illyana approached the aftermath of Tyson's bout with the demons, the greenish gas cloud wafted up to greet her. Her face twisted in revulsion, and she choked, the pungent smell assaulting her nostrils like a punch. She waved her hand in front of her nose and staggered a step backward, eyes watering. Catching her breath, Illyana broke into a fit of laughter, pointing a teasing finger at Tyson. "Is that the cologne you put on for our date?” She snickered, holding her nose in mock horror. “I have to say, your suggestion to attack first was a great idea."

Tyson falsely laughed, “Ha. Ha.” he replied, "Just making sure our date is unforgettable." Brushing off some lingering demon residue from his clothes.

Tyson moved stealthily, positioning himself at the edge of the demon group's sight. He hurled another rock into the midst of a few of them, gauging their reaction, prepared for any other tricks they might have up their sleeves. When they displayed no additional special abilities beyond the noxious gas emitted, he and Illyana agreed on their tactics.

Illyana positioned herself away from Tyson. They began their well-coordinated attack. Tyson lunged forward and went toe-to-toe with the creatures. His powerful swipes and strikes sending them reeling, while the sickly green cloud billowed out around him. But he wasn't alone. Each time Tyson engaged a group, Illyana used her glowing portals to appear just behind or beside the demons. The Soulsword's sharp edge would swiftly slice through them. Before the gas could envelop her, Illyana would retreat, repositioning herself for another precision strike. She danced around the battlefield like a wraith. Together, Tyson's raw power and Illyana's cunning use of her portals ensured that the demons stood little chance.

Tyson looked down at his hands, they had elongated. His knuckles stretched out, and his fingers became long and thin, tapering to vicious-looking points. He felt a tugging sensation at his ears, which now stretched out horizontally, sharp at the tips. He caught a glimpse of his reflection in a puddle of dark liquid on the ground. His face had contorted into a feral visage, resembling a blend between a pig and a wild dog. His once firm jaw now sported a snout-like extension, and his skin, normally a warm hue, had turned a sickly shade of grey.

"That is not a good look," Illyana unnecessarily stated, her eyes wide as she took in his altered appearance.

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"It's these demons. I don’t have a weapon so I still absorb a portion of their traits when I come into contact with them," Tyson grumbled, his voice more growly than usual. "It's not permanent, so long as I’m careful. But it's making me feel... different."

He clenched his elongated fists. The feral changes also brought with them an increase in aggression and bloodlust. He felt the urge to charge back into the horde, to lose himself in the frenzy of battle.

Illyana placed a hand on his shoulder, "Stay with me, Tyson. Focus. You've got this."

Tyson took a deep breath, fighting against the raging instincts that threatened to consume him. He gave Illyana a determined nod, "Let's finish this."

With every demon Tyson encountered, his relentless drive grew. The battlefield seemed to blur around him as he moved with a singular focus, unleashing powerful strikes on any demon that came his way. The feral changes to his physique might not have enhanced his abilities much, but they certainly didn't diminish his combat prowess. His mind became consumed by the heat of battle. Abandoning the initial tactics, Tyson relied on brute strength to tear through the ranks of the grotesque creatures.

Illyana observed the transformation in Tyson's combat style. She swiftly adjusted her tactics to match his. Her portals were placed to direct his unbridled rage to the densest clusters of demons, allowing him to unleash his fury where it would be most effective. The horde, though vast in number, was no match for Tyson's newfound savagery. In his rage, he didn’t bother dodging. The demons landed several brutal hits on him, opening massive gashes in his skin. But his rapid healing capabilities quickly mended each wound. As the last demon was felled, Tyson stood amid the chaos. His clothes were torn, but his healing factor had already sealed any wounds.

Illyana waited before approaching him. When she did, her expression held a hint of concern. "That was... intense," she remarked, watching as Tyson tried to regain his composure.

Tyson shook his head, trying to dispel the lingering psychic absorption. After a few minutes, his facial features began to revert, losing the elongated snout and pointed ears. The grey hue of his skin shifted back to its normal tone. Taking a deep breath, he glanced at Illyana. "These creatures... they're primal, like animals," Tyson started, his voice holding a hint of fatigue. "They communicate in their demonic tongue and share some sort of telepathy, but it's not sophisticated. Mostly, I was just feeling their instinctual drives."

Illyana tilted her head slightly, "You took on a lot back there. You okay?"

Tyson chuckled lightly, flashing her a confident smile, though it didn't completely reach his eyes. "I'm good. But, my clothes? Not so much."

Illyana smirked, glancing over his tattered attire. The demon’s claws had done no lasting damage to Tyson, but his clothes had been reduced to rags, hanging from his large frame. She quipped, "Well, it's nothing I hadn't seen a few days ago." She winked playfully.

Their flirty banter was suddenly interrupted. A crippling terror washed over them, making their hearts race and their breaths shallow. It was like a dark cloud had descended, pressing down on their souls. Tyson clenched his fists, his knuckles white. He knew this wasn't normal. He possessed superhuman stamina, his heart shouldn't be racing without reason. His psionic resistance allowed him to shake off the unnatural dread.

Illyana’s face was pale. It took her a moment longer than Tyson to shake off the fear; her strong will allowed her to push past the dread. She looked at Tyson with narrowed eyes and asked, "What was that?"

Tyson replied, "I don't know, but it wasn't natural. Something, or someone, is messing with us."

Illyana gripped her Soulsword, ready for the next challenge. "Well, they picked the wrong duo to mess with."

Then suddenly a relentless droning noise overwhelmed the area. It was reminiscent of a monstrous swarm of flies all buzzing and beating their wings at the same time. It was so intense that Tyson and Illyana both reflexively covered their ears as their faces contorted in pain. The noise intensified, and Tyson's eyes darted around trying to pinpoint its source. Meanwhile, Illyana was less able to weather the sudden assault on her senses. She staggered and her face paled. She gave Tyson a brief, alarmed look before dropping to her knees and collapsing.

Illyana lay unconscious on the ground. The droning had done its insidious work, rendering her vulnerable and defenseless. Tyson, alarmed, scanned the surroundings and looked up just in time to see a figure emerging from a shadowy crevice above. The creature was a monstrous hybrid of a fly and a human. Its massive body, covered in dark chitinous plates, bore two sets of buzzing wings that seemed to struggle under the weight of its foul form. Long, slender arms, reminiscent of a human’s but corrupted in design, hung from its thorax. Four other limbs, jagged and insectoid, scratched at the air as the creature descended. Its head was the thing of nightmares: a twisted, exaggerated human face, with compound eyes that gleamed malevolently. A sharp horn-like nose jutted out and dripped with a viscous fluid.

But what truly sent shivers down Tyson’s spine was the creature's tiny, gnashing mouth, surrounded by black bony ridges instead of teeth. As it drew closer, the hollow, rasping sound it emitted filled the air, a ghastly reminder of its ability to render its victims unconscious with just the sound of its wings.

His healing factor repelled the debilitating effects of the fly demon’s aura and droning. With a feral growl, Tyson unsheathed his claws and summoned his superhuman speed and agility as he sought to close the distance between him and the creature.

The creature’s compound eyes recognized Tyson's intentions. The creature flexed its wings and soared into the air, intent on keeping its distance. Its strategy became evident as it employed evasive tactics. The demon pulled away in the nick of time, evading his retaliatory strikes.

Tyson felt the wind rush past him as he propelled himself forward, leveraging his unparalleled agility to spring off a jagged outcrop. Every muscle in his body tensed in anticipation as he saw their paths converging, the fleeting opportunity almost palpable. Just as victory seemed within grasp, the demon shifted its course with alarming dexterity, evading him effortlessly.

Cursing under his breath, Tyson pivoted to see the demon darting dangerously close to Illyana's prone figure. A chill of dread washed over him, but he shook it off, his instincts and reflexes firing in perfect tandem. "No you don't!" he shouted.

Before the demon could get within arm's reach of Illyana, Tyson was already there. Realizing it was outpaced, the creature banked sharply and took to the skies once more, seeking the safety of altitude. The demon circled high above, its eerie silhouette contrasting starkly against the bleak Limbo sky.

Tyson acknowledged that as long as the demon remained in the air, he was at a disadvantage. He eyed Illyana's unconscious form, coming up with a plan. Her teleportation could be the key. All he needed was a touch. He rushed toward her, but as he did, the demon let out a shrill, otherworldly screech. Almost instantly, an oppressive, impenetrable darkness manifested around Illyana, creating a barrier that seemed to swallow all light. It was like staring into a void, the blackness so profound it was palpable.

The darkness seemed to mock him with its absolute blackness. But Tyson wasn't deterred. Relying on his heightened senses, he stepped into the black. He couldn’t see anything, but he had a rough idea of his location, and he had Illyana’s scent.

Before Tyson could reach Illyana, something colossal slammed into him from above, pinning him to the ground. The massive creature loomed over Tyson in the dark. He was pinned and disoriented. He struggled to make sense of the sudden attack, his eyes darted around, searching for the unconscious Illyana, the monstrous demon on top of him, but his vision was entirely obscured by the inky blackness.

The moment the creature's form made contact with Tyson, his power activated, and the demon’s life force transferred through him. A wave of memories, experiences, and emotions crashed over him.

Suddenly, he was soaring above an abyssal expanse, the rush of wind under large, leathery wings. The Chasme’s world was painted in hues of crimson and obsidian, an ever-shifting landscape of torment and chaos. Its most potent weapon, its droning wings, could lull any living being into a deep, vulnerable sleep. Then there was its aura, just by being in its presence, the aura could cripple one's will to fight, making them easy prey. Its sharp, elongated proboscis was a tool for feeding, capable of draining life force. Its very nature was to dominate, to instill terror, and to revel in the suffering of others. Arrogance, as clear as the midday sun, dominated its essence. It viewed other beings, even other demons, with a certain disdain. Everything was either prey or an obstacle, with no in-between. But amidst all this, there was also a hint of trepidation, a sliver of fear. Hidden beneath layers of haughtiness was an ever-present dread of being hunted. The demon's world was one of constant peril, where power dynamics shifted rapidly. And while the Chasme was a fearsome predator, it was also prey in the eyes of mightier entities.

Clarity washed over Tyson. "Deep down, you're just as scared as those you terrorize," he spoke in the demon’s abyssal tongue. "Just like you fear… this time… you’re the prey."

The Chasme, hissed in fury, its wings vibrating with increased intensity. As the demon's vitality flowed into Tyson, it began to alter him. First, his nose began to stretch, changing its shape and structure to mirror the creature's horn-like nose. The changes didn't stop there; soon, gossamer, fly-like wings sprouted from his back, rapidly growing and stretching out. The magical darkness still blocked his view, but he assumed the creature was also fighting blind.

While the demon dwarfed Tyson with its nearly nine-foot length, it did not match up to Tyson's inherent strength. Flexing his muscles, Tyson's claws dug deep into the demon's flesh, anchoring him. With a growl of determination, Tyson leveraged his enhanced strength and forced the creature off him. The demon screeched, writhing in his grip, but Tyson, dug in with his claws to maintain a firm and relentless hold.

With a primal roar, Tyson used every ounce of his power to force the massive demon backward. They broke through the border of the area of magical darkness. The creature's back collided with the imposing stone cliff wall behind it, sending a resounding thud echoing throughout the surrounding rock. Dust and small debris dislodged from the impact, raining down around them. Pinning the behemoth against the rock with one hand, Tyson's eyes blazed with intensity.

He was momentarily caught off guard when it suddenly thrust its head forward. The horn, wickedly sharp and curved at the end, punctured Tyson's skin with surprising force. He gasped as the unnaturally hollow tongue, reminiscent of a pulsating straw, slithered from the creature's maw and began draining the blood from his new wound.

He could feel the warmth of his blood being siphoned. With a frenzied movement, Tyson's free claw lashed out, carving through the creature's horn and its vile tongue. The black ichor, thick and putrid, poured forth, sizzling and emitting a nauseating stench as it met the air.

The creature hissed in pain, recoiling from Tyson and the wounds he'd inflicted. But as Tyson looked down at his injury, an unsettling realization took hold. His wounds, which typically healed almost instantaneously, now oozed a dark, viscous substance. The puncture seemed to pulse, as if alive, and instead of sealing itself rapidly, the healing process appeared stunted, visibly struggling against an unseen corruption.

Ignoring the pain and the disturbing sensation, Tyson continued his assault on the demon. He pierced the creature's exoskeleton again and again, causing it to shriek in agony with each attack. As the creature's life force dwindled, Tyson, sensing its impending demise, quickly disengaged.

Tyson broke contact, stepping back.

H took no chances making sure he didn't absorb any more of the demon's essence. The last thing he wanted was to become too much like one of these monstrosities.

Though formidable in size, the demon looked pitiful in its final moments. Its legs flailed weakly in a desperate bid to defend itself. Its droning wings faltered, producing an uneven and off-kilter buzzing that filled the air. The vibrations grew weaker, sounding like the last sputtering beats of a broken machine. With a final, feeble swipe of its leg, the demon's energy ebbed, and it crumpled to the ground. Its massive body lay defeated, the life drained from it, its wings now silent and still.

Tyson turned his attention to Illyana. He approached her cautiously, the weight of concern evident in his eyes. He hesitated for a moment, not wanting to touch her. He watched her chest, and the steady rise and fall assured him that she was breathing. Her face, though pale, showed no signs of distress. He gave her a few moments, hoping she'd stir, waiting for any sign of movement, a flicker of her eyes, or a twitch of her hand.

After a few minutes, she failed to regain consciousness. Tyson gently brushed his fingers against the soft skin of her throat. For that brief instant, a torrent of memories flooded Tyson's mind, images flashing like a slideshow played at high speed. But amidst the whirlwind of memories, something else surged within Tyson. He felt Illyana's ability. With the borrowed power coursing through him, Tyson focused on the familiar surroundings of the Xavier Institute. Visualizing his dorm room, he willed a shimmering portal into existence. He gently cradled Illyana’s limp and vulnerable body in his arms. He stepped forward, leaving behind the hellish landscape of Limbo; replacing it with the familiar sight of his room at the institute.

The portal closed behind them with a soft whoosh. Leaving Tyson gently lowering Illyana into his bed, hoping she would soon wake.

Illyana's eyelids fluttered open for a brief moment, a hint of confusion shining in her sapphire eyes. "What... happened?" she murmured, her voice weak.

Tyson, standing beside the bed, offered a comforting smile. "It's okay, Illyana. We're back at the institute. You just need some rest." Nodding faintly, she let out a sigh of relief, her eyes drifting closed once more. Within moments, she was lost in the world of dreams.

Illyana lay sprawled across the bed, her platinum blonde hair splayed out like a halo around her head. Her chest softly rose and fell with every breath causing a few stray strands of hair to move. Her lips, slightly parted, bore the ghost of a smile as she fell back into unconsciousness.

Shaking off the events of the day, Tyson grabbed a towel. Thankfully the grime and residue from the demon's foul gas didn't stick to him, but the thought of a hot shower, with the steam and the sensation of water cleansing his skin, was a welcome one.