Crusade: Part 7

by Alicia McKenzie

 

 


DISCLAIMER: The characters belong to Marvel, and are used without permission for entertainment purposes only.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Well, it's been a while since I did anything on this one. Another part should be coming soon, if I continue to be sufficiently motivated. ;) Rated an R for a fair bit of violence...a little disturbing in places, too. Dedicated to Mitai, this time around....;) Feedback would be more than welcome.


The door opened. Apocalypse did not turn away from the viewport. There was no need; he knew who had just entered. The healer had been under instructions to send Cable to the observation dome as soon as he had seen to his self-inflicted injuries.

"What am I to do with you, Nathan Dayspring?" he said, staring out at the barren landscape. He heard the door slide shut again, but there was no answer, no sound of movement from behind him. "I have tolerated your frequent bouts of impudence, your--idiosyncrasies." He turned, finally, staring down at Cable where he stood stock-still, just inside the door. "But this is beyond what I can tolerate. Explain yourself."

Cable stared fixedly at the floor, and did not answer. He was markedly pale, and obviously not quite steady on his feet. Given the level of blood loss the healer had reported, that was unsurprising.

"I am waiting, boy."

"For what?" Cable asked hoarsely, still not looking at him. "For me to tell you what I was doing?" He looked up finally, a curious mixture of defiance and fear in his eyes as he met Apocalypse's gaze. "You're going to be disappointed, because I don't flonqing well know. Happy?"

Apocalypse considered some sort of immediate punishment, then discarded the idea. It would be insufficient to make the point that so badly needed to be made. "Displeased, in truth," he murmured, noting the way Cable flinched, choosing his words very carefully. "Very much displeased. Only the weak seek to end their own lives."

"I wasn't trying to kill myself." Apocalypse raised an eyebrow, but Cable continued stubbornly. "I wasn't. I just--" He trailed off, his voice uncertain, and some of the defiance bled out of his posture. "It wasn't what I intended. I don't--"

"Enough." Cable fell instantly silent, and Apocalypse regarded him coldly. "Have you learned nothing from me in all these months, Cable?" Cable opened his mouth again, then closed it without saying a word. Apocalypse was somewhat mollified. At the very least, he was capable of minding his tongue when the situation called for it. But it was the sort of 'wisdom' a child could manage, and not anything approaching what he expected from his paladin. This entire incident was unacceptable. "Your choices are your own. The consequences must be borne."

Cable swallowed visibly. "How?" he said, his voice roughening with some indecipherable emotion. All the defiance was gone now, and it gave Apocalypse something very close to pleasure to see it--and to recognize the submission to his will implicit in Cable's question.

Instead of answering, he turned back to the window. The sun was just rising over the horizon, but the sky was light already. "I thought you were stronger than this," he rumbled softly. "After what you have endured, the choices you have made--"

"I am." The words were low, hoarse, as if torn from Cable's very soul.

"The healer can repair a wound, remove a scar," Apocalypse continued inexorably, drawing it out even further. He intended to impress the seriousness of the situation upon Dayspring. Words would do, for a start. "He cannot likewise repair whatever lapse of judgement and courage caused you to injure yourself."

"I--know that. I--"

"And I cannot overlook it." Apocalypse let the silence, nearly palpable, hang between them for a full five seconds before he turned once more to Cable. "I spared your life," he said flatly. "I gave you a purpose, when those you called family and friends discarded you like a sword that had broken in the hand." He took a measured step forward, seeing, watching the struggle Cable fought to hold his ground. "You should be kneeling at my feet, thanking me," Apocalypse went on, letting his voice rise a carefully measured distance. "Are you a man or an animal, Nathan Dayspring? Will you fight, or be crushed underfoot while you bemoan what you believe yourself to have lost?"

Cable was staring at the floor once more, his posture braced, as if he expected a blow.

"This is the last time I will ask you this question, Askani'son!" Apocalypse let the question crack like a whip, and Cable flinched violently, finally looking back up at him again.

"I am what I am," he said in that same low, hoarse voice. "What they made me. What you made me--"

"Unacceptable!" Apocalypse thundered, though in truth, the answer was interesting. "Are you nothing but a tool, then, Dayspring? A weapon? Born to be used, and thrown away--"

"I don't know what I am!" Cable shouted. "I don't KNOW!" Apocalypse saw the anger flood back up behind his paladin's mismatched eyes, but it was different, now, a cold, harnessed rage as bleak as the desert at night. "You've given me a purpose, but--"

"I have given you a purpose," Apocalypse said, advancing on him. Cable stood his ground this time, not flinching, not blinking, merely meeting his eyes with a pure, forthright fury that part of Apocalypse exulted to see. "Is that all I have given you, boy? Merely a list of tasks to complete, as if you were a menial, a servant?"

The anger wavered in Cable's expression, and Apocalypse pressed onwards, stopping only when he stood before Cable, towering over him. "Your life was mine to take, Chosen One! Mine! I spared you only because I knew your potential--only for that reason! I FREED YOU!"

Cable's fierce gaze crumbled, his eyes sliding back to the floor. "So I could serve you," he nearly whispered. "Don't you think I know that?"

Apocalypse struck him, not hard, but enough of a blow to drive him to his knees. "So that you could see the world as it truly is!" he roared down at Cable. "You have a true opportunity to shape the world as it will be, and yet you would discard it, out of CARELESSNESS?"

Cable's shoulders slumped, his head bowed. "It was," he muttered almost feverishly. "It was carelessness. A mistake--"

"An excuse!" Apocalypse bellowed. "The excuse of a child! On your feet!" Cable obeyed, and Apocalypse took a step back, staring down at him. "You will choose," he said, more quietly but no less intensely. "I will have no one by my side who is not strong enough to stand there."

"I--"

"No! No more," Apocalypse said forcefully. "Out of my sight!" He gestured at the door, and Cable turned and moved towards it slowly, like a man walking in a dream. "Consider it carefully, and choose," Apocalypse continued harshly. "Continue to mourn, and die. It is as simple as that."

Cable hesitated, hand on the control panel for the door. "The other choice?" he said faintly, not turning around.

"The other choice is for you to determine. There are many questions I will answer for you, Dayspring. This is not one of them."

Cable departed without another word, the door closing behind him. Apocalypse turned back to the window, studying the sunrise.

"Longrifle," he said after a few minutes. The internal communications channel was open, had been throughout the conversation.

/Yes, my lord?/ The answer was as clear as if the Rider was standing beside him, rather than elsewhere in the base.

"Begin."

***

Breathe. He had to breathe. Cable stopped, leaning a hand against the wall to steady himself, trying to concentrate, to slow the rapid beating of his heart. But adrenalin continued to race through his system, as if his body knew something he didn't, that he wasn't out of danger yet.

He hadn't expected to walk out of that room. He hadn't--

He squeezed his eyes shut tightly. Breathe, he reminded himself raggedly, sucking air into lungs that felt compressed, as if there was a vice tightening around his chest.

It wasn't a reprieve. Somehow, he knew that. This wouldn't be a matter of him going back to his quarters and meditating on an appropriate answer to Apocalypse's question.

It wouldn't be in words. Words meant nothing. Words were nothing. Words were---were hollow, he thought, straightening as much as he could and starting back down the hall, trying to ignore the unsteadiness of his legs. They didn't feel like they wanted to hold him. It didn't matter. It didn't--

The hallway blurred in his vision and he stumbled, catching himself with a hand flung out against the wall again. He dragged the back of his hand across his eyes with a bitter curse that caught in his throat.

Weak. So weak--

"Cable?"

He opened his eyes and straightened, staring blankly at Tal as she approached, slowly, as if she was moving towards a wounded animal. "What do you want?" His voice sounded like metal scraping over gravel. He didn't care. Let her see him like this--he'd done it to himself, it was only the truth--

She came right up to him, stretching a hand out to him but letting it fall back to her side before she touched him. Her amber eyes studied his face intently, and Cable flinched under the scrutiny, looking away. "You seem relatively intact," she said softly.

"I don't know why." The words were out of his mouth before he quite knew what he was doing, but she took a step closer, and for some reason, he kept speaking. "I shouldn't be. I--"

"It doesn't matter. Listen to me," she said just as softly, cutting him off. Her eyes bored into his, and he didn't look away, this time. "The healer drugged you while you were unconscious."

His blood turned to ice in his veins, and he started to back away. "What--"

She reached out and took his arm, holding on to it tightly. Her eyes never wavered. "Apocalypse ordered it. He stabilized the virus, and had the healer give you a neural suppressant. Your powers are blocked. They will BE blocked for at least twelve hours."

"Why?" Shaking, he wrenched his arm out of her grip, and took another step backwards. He had almost gotten out of the habit of using his telepathy, since he couldn't read anyone here, but there was still a way to test the truth of her claim. He tried to reach out with his telekinesis to push her backwards--

And nothing happened.

They were gone. His powers were gone. The T-O virus was stable, but his powers were gone. The phrase kept echoing over and over again in his mind, as if it was the only truth in the world.

His powers were gone. He was--

--weak--

--helpless--NO!

He stared down at Tal, trying to shake off the shock. She straightened, squaring her shoulders. "It's a hunt," she said, very calmly and clearly. "And you're the prey." The world seemed to reel around him, all that was constant her soft, almost serene voice as she continued. "It's an exercise. Almost all of us have done it at some point, and those of us who haven't, will. I suppose he was displeased enough with you over what happened that he decided he'd put you through it as well--an object lesson, maybe?"

Anger chased away the shock for a moment and he lunged forward, grabbing her arm, this time, shaking her for a moment. "So why are you telling me?" he hissed down into her face. "Don't tell me last night was THAT good."

She didn't try to pull away. "It's part of the game," she murmured. "Someone had to tell you. He said it should be me."

There wasn't much question about who 'he' was. Apocalypse had known, then, about what had happened between him and Tal last night? It didn't matter. Not now. It was nothing. Still shaking, Cable fell silent, trying to shut out the sound of his own heartbeat and ragged breathing, listening for sounds of anyone approaching.

Nothing. Yet.

He looked back down at her, pushing her out to arm's length. "A game," he rasped.

Something indecipherable flashed through her strange eyes. "Until sundown," she said swiftly. "Because he had your powers blocked, he's told them they can't kill--"

"That's flonqing comforting!"

"It shouldn't be." She swallowed, as if past a lump in her throat, and her eyes grew shadowed for a moment. "It really shouldn't."

Sound, from down the corridor, and Cable jumped as Tal stepped right up to him again. "Stay ahead of them until sunset," she whispered hoarsely. "Get out of the base. And if you're at all grateful for the advice, hit me."

"What?"

"Hit me, and RUN!"

He reacted to the sudden vehemence in her voice automatically, lashing out and slamming a fist into her jaw. She hit the floor hard, clearly stunned, and as he stood there and stared down at her, he heard more noise from down the hall.

Laughter.

"Go!" she hissed at him from the floor.

Cable turned and bolted in the other direction. He ran for maybe five minutes before it dawned on him that this really wasn't the smartest thing to be doing. Running was panicking, and if he panicked, he was as good as--

Caught. He reeled to a stop, falling against the wall and barely managing to keep to his feet. So this was how it was going to be, he thought wildly, straightening as he tried to regulate his breathing. This was how Apocalypse was going to make him choose?

It wasn't much of a choice. Either he put everything else aside and fought, or--

Tal had said they weren't allowed to kill him.

That really wasn't much of a comfort.

He closed his eyes for a moment. *Concentrate--* Forty-odd of them, one of him. He didn't like those numbers. He wouldn't have liked those numbers if his powers had been in perfect working order--

Did they know? They had to know, he concluded bleakly, pushing himself away from the wall and starting down the hall this time, more cautiously. He wouldn't have heard them coming, if they'd thought he was able to use his powers in this 'game'. They would have been more careful--

If they thought he was powerless--

--helpless, they'd be overconfident. He couldn't rely on that to remain the case, but it gave him a chance. Maybe not much of one, but he had to take it.

They'd expect him to go for the armory. He'd get there eventually.

He had another stop or two to make first.

***

Longrifle's eyes widened in disbelief. That was not laughter he heard through his comlink. That had better not be laughter--but it was, and he recognized the voices. "Kyten? Ren?" he said through gritted teeth. "You're supposed to be on recon. Would you kindly consider shutting the fuck up?"

He listened long enough to hear their chagrined affirmatives, then growled and switched channels. "Varen, where is he?"

/Moving between levels nine and ten on the east side,/ the Rider he'd sent to monitor Dayspring's progress on the internal security monitors reported, her voice in his ear almost casual. /Moving fast, but the patrol you sent out that way should catch him soon./

"I wouldn't be too sure of that," Longrifle murmured. "Keep me informed of his movements." He glanced back over his shoulder at the five Dark Riders following him. "You two, down to the armory," he ordered. "The rest of you, with me. We're going to circle around, join up with Peder's patrol."

He eyed those who came with him a little suspiciously. They all looked too confident, and there was no room for overconfidence here. Dayspring's powers might be blocked, but the man had been a guerilla fighter and terrorist for a long time, according to his file, and this was exactly the sort of situation in which he could put his talents to their best use--

Movement, down the hall. Longrifle brought his weapon up immediately, then lowered it when Tal stepped out from around the corner, studying him calmly. "Are you trying to get yourself shot, woman?"

She smiled thinly. "Do I look worried?"

Seth, his second, stepped out from behind him, eyeing Tal suspiciously. "So you told Dayspring?"

"As I was ordered."

"Why didn't you wait for Kyten and Ren? They were closer."

"I figured all the action was here," Tal said, in that so-innocent tone Longrifle knew all too well.

He stepped between them. "This isn't the time or place for a debate," he growled. "Seth, you and the others go ahead. We'll catch up."

Seth grumbled something, then gestured for the other two Riders to follow him. Longrifle waited until they were out of earshot, and then took a step closer to Tal.

"What did you tell him, exactly?"

She smiled. "Exactly what I was told to tell him."

"Bullshit." What he really wanted to do was wipe that damned smile off her face, but he'd learned how futile wrestling matches with Tal were. His mutant abilities were useful and all, but not of much good when he went hand-to-hand with someone with her physical enhancements. "Don't think I don't know what you're doing," he said, his eyes narrowing. "I know where you were last night."

Her smile widened. "Well, since you decided I was a weakness you couldn't afford in your new position, I take my comforts where I can." She leaned forward until they were almost nose to nose. "Don't you want to know if he measured up?" she asked, almost wickedly.

Longrifle did push her this time. Not hard, not as if he meant it, but just enough to move her back a half-step or so. "Just make sure you don't let your ambition run away with you," he said coldly. Something occurred to him--was she stalling? On Dayspring's behalf? He put the possibility aside and delivered the rest of the requisite warning. "You know how the others would react."

"Oh," she said, tossing the words over her shoulder as she turned to head in the direction Seth and the others had gone, "Don't worry about me, love. I pick my sides very carefully, these days."

***

"What is all of this supposed to accomplish?" Sinister asked calmly.

Apocalypse gave him an impassive look from where he stood by the observation portal, and then turned his attention back to the vista before him. "My own purposes, Essex," he responded. "That is all that should concern you, no? My loyal servant--"

Sinister wondered, for a single, absurd moment, if Nur was actually enjoying this. He doubted such a simple explanation could be true - Apocalypse's motivations were complex at the best of times - but there had been something very suspicious about his confrontation with Cable. Sinister had 'eavesdropped' using the monitors in the lab', and Apocalypse's anger had seemed ever so slightly--theatrical, for lack of a better word. And the swiftness with which it had passed, once Cable had left the room--

Suspicious. Very suspicious.

"Tell me," Apocalypse said suddenly. "What did YOU hope to accomplish by making so very certain that I knew Dayspring had injured himself?" He looked over at Sinister again, his expression ever so faintly amused, yet warning at the same time. Sinister refrained from answering, but Apocalypse continued, as if he hadn't truly expected an answer in the first place. "Were you hoping to see me decide that this endeavour had been a failure, and discard him? That would achieve your ends as satisfactorily as if the X-Men had rescued him, would it not?" Sinister met his gaze calmly, still saying nothing, and Apocalypse made a contemptuous noise. "You understand nothing, Essex."

"I merely wonder at your patience," Sinister murmured when Apocalypse returned to his study of the land outside.

"You wonder, Essex? You, who still live and serve me nearly a century and a half after defying me far more treacherously?" Apocalypse turned away from the window and raised a hand, palm-up, to chest level, before clenching it into a fist. "Dayspring's life is mine; I may do as I please with it. I have time enough to be thorough. I have time enough for much, Essex."

"But has he not demonstrated that he is weak?" Sinister pressed, almost despite himself. The chances of him manipulating Apocalypse on this matter were next to nil, of course, given what Nur had just said, but he was curious as to the reason for this persistence on his 'master's' part. There was something here, something in Apocalypse's motivations that he was not seeing, he was sure of it. "By injuring himself--giving in to emotionalism?"

"A child's weaknesses," Apocalypse said almost casually. "When a child errs, you teach it the error of its ways and punish it to drive home the lesson." There was a patience even beyond Sinister's own in Apocalypse's voice, a brutal, timeless patience born of centuries.

"Why is he worth so much effort?" Sinister persisted.

He wasn't imagining it, this time. The look Apocalypse turned upon him then WAS amused. "You brought about his birth, Essex. Do you truly need to ask that question?"

"Somehow," Sinister said very carefully, "I doubt your motivations and mine coincide." It was as close as he dared come to reminding Apocalypse of the reason he had brought about Cable's birth. His position was precarious, and open defiance would be unwise, as well as ostentatious.

Apocalypse merely gave him a cold smile. "Truly ironic," he murmured.

"What?"

"That you should have served me so well, in creating the one you thought would destroy me." Apocalypse turned back to the window once more. "He is, in the end, much more suitable than du Paris ever was," he observed, as if he was talking to himself, rather than addressing Sinister.

"Du Paris," Sinister said slowly. The Crusader Apocalypse had altered so long ago, who had turned the power given him against his new master and been locked in stasis for hundreds of years as punishment--the man who now called himself Exodus and served Magneto, of all people.

Exodus, a psi strong enough to have challenged Xavier and come astonishingly close to victory. *Nathan is more suitable than Exodus.* Sinister's eyes narrowed. Nur had not needed to make that observation aloud. If it was a revelation, it was one he had fully intended to make.

Both powerful psis. One born, the other created--was that the difference? Yet that did not answer the fundamental question.

It merely raised another. Which was what Nur had undoubtedly intended. "I have work to attend to in the lab," Sinister said curtly. This was clearly fruitless. He had more fruitful avenues to pursue, and no inclination to continue playing Nur's game, whatever it was.

Apocalypse turned away from the window again and gave him an unmistakably commanding look. "You will remain here. I will brook no interference."

"Very well," Sinister said expressionlessly. "Tell me, what if this stratagem of yours backfires?" He had studied Nathan's interactions with the Dark Riders very carefully since his arrival, and had no doubt that the Riders would take full advantage of this opportunity to express their anger towards the man Apocalypse had placed in authority over them. Nur had forbidden them to kill - something of a concession, Sinister supposed - but that made it even more clear that this was an exercise designed to punish Nathan. "Do you truly expect him to thank you for placing him in such a position?"

"He placed himself in such a position. It is a lesson, Essex. He will learn that even the strong can be brought low if they permit themselves to display weakness." Apocalypse gave a rumbling laugh. "One way or another, the lesson will be learned."

"We'll see," Sinister murmured.

"Indeed."

***

Touching the release panel, Cable let go of the ladder and dropped soundlessly through the opening iris to the floor below. He looked up from his crouch just in time to see the iris close, and smiled tightly. Memorizing the layout of the base so precisely had definitely been worth the time. From what he'd observed of them over the past months, he doubted that any of the Riders could have made it through the maze of maintenance tubes this quickly. They'd have to take the conventional way down to this level--which gave him enough time to do what he had to do, if he moved quickly.

He slipped down the hall and emerged onto the catwalk stretching across the high-ceilinged room that held the main power core for the base. There was no one guarding the core. *Short-sighted of them,* Cable thought as he climbed down the ladder to the main level. Then again, they probably had expected him to go straight for the armory, not here.

They'd discover their mistake soon enough, he was sure. They were monitoring his movements--they had to be. It was why he was here.

It didn't take long. The technology Apocalypse was using in the here and now wasn't exactly the same as what Cable was familiar with from the future, but it was close enough, and he'd had ample time to learn how to cope with the differences. He went about his work with grim efficiency, doing just enough damage to make sure that repair would take hours. It would be more efficient to blow the core completely, but he didn't want to chance having a patrol of Riders show up just in time to prevent him from getting clear.

*One more safety to disengage--* He snapped a tangled braid of thread-fine techno-organic wire, and the soft hum of the core died into silence as the lights went down.

Auxiliary power would kick in shortly. But it was meant to run 'essential' systems, and that didn't include the system that tracked bio-signs throughout the base. Having the whole base running on auxiliary power would also create minor, helpful problems like doors that wouldn't open and elevators that wouldn't work. He was ready to deal with that--he doubted they were, and he'd take any edge he could get.

Pushing himself away from the control console, he went back to the ladder, and started to climb back up to the catwalk. He could force the iris on a maintenance tube just as easily as a door. The tubes were an indirect route to the armory, but safer than the halls--

He'd just pulled himself up onto the catwalk when someone started to pound on the door, hard enough to leave dents. Cursing, he ran back out into the hall, heading for the same maintenance tube he'd exited from as quickly as he could. There were a number of Riders that he definitely didn't want to take on hand-to-hand, and since he didn't know who was behind that door, better safe than sorry--

Weapons next. He had a definite hankering for the old familiar feel of a plasma rifle in his hands.

***

"All right, we've got to assume that he's going to try and make his way out of the base once he's armed," Longrifle said tersely to the Riders surrounding him. Beside him, Tal made a soft, almost derisive noise, and it took every bit of willpower he had not to glare at her. "I want two men on each exit--"

"So what about us women?" asked Kama, the only other female Rider besides Tal in the group. Longrifle glared at her, and she had the good sense to drop her eyes to the floor.

He was tempted to send Kama and Tal off to reinforce the two Riders he'd already sent to the armory. Maybe he'd luck out and Dayspring would kill them both.

"The two of you can take an exit," he said acerbically. "You work well together." He looked away from her, opening his mouth to give further orders that died on his lips as the lights fluttered and went down. "Crap," he growled, in the darkness. "Don't anyone move."

"Something's wrong with the core," Kama said.

"More like someone," Longrifle heard Seth mutter darkly.

The emergency lights came up, casting the hall in a dusky red glow, and Longrifle's jaw clenched as he looked around and saw that none of them - not a single one of the Riders who'd had ample experience with Dayspring over the past months and should know better! - seemed overly bothered by this turn of events. They didn't understand; they were so fixated on the obvious. Dayspring might be physically weaker than them at the moment - and even that was a bit of a stretch - but there was more than one way to measure strength.

"Cover the exits," he said harshly. "Carry out your orders." He locked eyes with Tal, who was smiling in the darkness. "You're with Kama," he snapped. He didn't want her anywhere near him if she decided to start playing games.

Her smile only grew. He really wished she'd stop it.

***

Cable stopped and flattened himself against the wall as he heard voices from around the corner. He'd expected there to be guards on the armory, of course, but the question was who. Listening for a while longer, he identified the voices. Not unsurprisingly, it was two of the more competent Riders; Paulo, a relative youngster who generated neural shockwaves and Marcus, a veteran shapeshifter of the feline persuasion.

*Just what I need,* Cable thought balefully, and listened for a moment or two longer to try and guess the distance between them. The door to the armory was about ten metres around the corner and straight down the hall. It sounded like they had to be standing in front of it, or close enough.

There really were a minimum of options, he acknowledged bleakly. He wasn't armed, and without his powers, he had no ability to strike from a distance. Hand-to-hand, he had a chance--

So hand-to-hand it would be. He was around the corner and running down the hall at top speed before the thought had even finished forming in his mind. Fortune favored the bold, and it seemed to be favoring him at the moment, given that Paulo was looking the other way when he first emerged from around the corner, and took a precious second or two to turn and focus his power.

The shockwave lashed outwards, a blinding crescent of blue-white light, and Cable dove beneath it, catching just the very edge of it against his T-O shoulder. Sheer willpower let him complete the roll, come back to his feet, and cross the distance between himself and Paulo before the young mutant could generate another shockwave.

He knocked Paulo's outstretched hand to the side as it began to glow with the start of another shockwave, and slammed an elbow into the young man's jaw. Paulo crumpled to the ground, twitching, and Cable began to dodge as he caught movement at the edge of his vision.

Marcus was on him almost immediately, shifting to a partial cat-form as he leapt. Claws grated across his techno-organic armor, digging into his flesh, and Cable cursed inwardly, grappling with the other mutant. They were more evenly matched than he'd thought, at close quarters, and given that he'd caught the edge of Paulo's shockwave. He'd been counting on being stronger--bad call, clearly--

Marcus's hands locked around his throat and started to squeeze. Cable growled and broke his hold, slamming his left fist into the other man's face as hard as he could. Bone cracked under the impact, and the T-O spikes along his knuckles gashed Marcus's cheek open to the bone. The Rider staggered, just for a moment, and Cable followed up ruthlessly, landing a solid kick to the shapeshifter's gut. Marcus doubled up, wheezing, and Cable spat a curse as he laid a hand to the bleeding gashes across his chest.

"Did I mention I hate cats?" he growled and hit Marcus again before he could recover. And again, and again, until the shapeshifter was reeling, barely able to stay on his feet. Cable reminded himself that he didn't really have time to be playing with the man, and dropped him with a single crushing blow to the throat. Marcus fell, gasping futilely for air, and Cable stood over him for a moment, studying him impassively. "You lose," he said softly, and turned away, walking into the armory.

Guns first. It seemed like forever since he'd used conventional weapons, but they felt right in his hands as he lifted them off the racks. Especially the plasma rifle. *Distance,* he thought distractedly, picking out a few knives. *That's the key.* His eyes flickered around the close confines of the armory, and lingered on the explosives. They were individual bombs, more or less, surprisingly powerful for their size--and they could turn out to be very useful.

He nodded to himself, and filled a pack with them. Tal hadn't said anything about rules, and he doubted it was that kind of a game, anyway.

The strong didn't play 'fair'. They did whatever it took to win.

Shoving some extra ammunition into the pack, he left the way he'd come, and hesitated, seeing Paulo beginning to stir. Marcus was dead, he could see that at a glance, but the boy was still moving, if slowly. He strode over to him and raised the plasma rifle.

Paulo raised his head with a groan, and his dazed look turned to panic as he saw the gun leveled at him. "Wait--"

Cable shot him in the head. As the corpse fell to the floor, he observed that he'd forgotten what a mess a plasma rifle made at point-black range. "Sorry, kid," he murmured to the corpse. "Not possessed of a lot of patience today, I'm afraid."

Turning, he pulled one of the explosives out of the pack, set it for five minutes, and threw it through the door of the armory. That done, he set off at a run, as fast as he dared.

Time to get out of here.

***

"Corvan, would you mind telling me what the status of the core is?" Longrifle asked in as neutral a tone as he could manage, adjusting his head with one hand as he followed Seth down the hall.

The answer was an infuriatingly long time in coming. Almost ten full seconds, Longrifle thought balefully. /He's--done a lot of damage down here,/ the other Rider's voice said helplessly. /It's going to take a while to fix./

"Well, get on it," Longrifle growled, and switched channels. "Paulo, Marcus, any sign of him yet?" Another long silence, and he stopped moving, directed a scowl at Seth as his second turned around with an inquiring look. "Paulo! Marcus! Report!"

"That doesn't sound good," Seth muttered, something close to real concern in his eyes. He and Marcus had come into the Riders at the same time, and had somehow managed to maintain some sort of a bizarre almost-friendship in the intervening time. "Should we--"

"No," Longrifle snapped. "We keep going. We leave him an opening, and he'll be out of here. So unless you want to be chasing him around outside--"

Seth glowered at him. "If he's hurt Marcus, I'm going to kill him," he said coldly, and started to turn away.

Longrifle swore, reaching out and grabbing the other man's arm. "No, you will fucking well NOT kill him! We're under orders--"

"Sure," Seth snorted derisively, pulling away. "Some test this is--"

"That's not for us to decide!" Longrifle hissed. "You do as you're told, Seth, or I swear I'll shoot you myself. I am NOT answering to Apocalypse simply because you couldn't keep your temper."

Seth's expression twisted. "Yes, sir," he said sarcastically and turned away, but not before Longrifle saw the flash of fear in his eyes.

Good, the Dark Riders' field leader thought bleakly as he followed his second cautiously down the corridor. If Seth was afraid, he'd be careful. Longrifle wouldn't put up with any less. If Paulo and Marcus were both dead--two dead, and it wasn't even noon yet. Damn it.

"Tal, Kama, are you in position?"

/Affirmative. No sign of him,/ Kama replied.

Longrifle wondered what Tal was thinking, what she'd chose to do if Dayspring picked that particular exit to take out of the base. Surely she hadn't thrown in with him to that extent yet. Tal was careful, above all, and there was no way she could have gotten enough out of one quick fuck to justify taking such a risk.

He switched channels again. "Peder, Lot?"

/We're in position. Hold on--/ Peder's voice trailed off suddenly, and Longrifle stopped, motioning for Seth to do the same.

The silence dragged on for a seemingly endless moment until Peder spoke again. /Nothing. Just a door malfun--/ A blast of sound emanated from the earpiece, a hissing roar that made Longrifle pull his headset off with a curse. Some sort of explosion, had to be, and too bloody close to the two Riders, judging by the noise--

Seth's eyes widened and he adjusted his own headset. "Peder! Lot!" he said harshly. His eyes widened even further, and Longrifle shook his head to clear it of the echo and scrambled to put his headset back on.

It was still set to the right frequency, and he could hear screaming and cursing in a voice that sounded like Lot's, interspersed with gunfire. Then the screams cut off, and there was silence.

"Shit," Longrifle muttered almost dazedly. *Emergency access tube four--* He pushed past Seth, running down the hall and adjusting the headset to broadcast on all bands. "He's headed out emergency access tube four!" he said loudly. "Teams two through six, exit the base and converge on that area! Seven through ten, hold your positions!"

They had to cut him off. If they didn't, he could keep them running around out there all day, and Apocalypse would definitely not approve--

They couldn't track him out there, either. Not that they could track him now. If they could just--

Longrifle stopped dead in his tracks. "He can't use his powers," he murmured, ignoring Seth's curse as he ran into him. "That doesn't mean they're not there." Apocalypse had even SAID that, more or less, and the internal sensors HAD been tracking Dayspring's psi-signature, before he'd sabotaged the core.

He looked at Seth, his eyes narrowing as he remembered how they'd kept Dayspring's powers dampened and harmless when they'd first captured him, all those months ago in Akkaba. And that 'method' had gotten enough of a taste that maybe, just maybe, he could double as a bloodhound. "Where's the psi-vamp?" Longrifle asked calmly.

***

"Dom?" The knock on the door was just as tentative as the voice that had called her name. But she heard it anyway. She hadn't been sleeping, not really. She'd been dozing, not quite willing to let herself sleep. Not after the dreams. The dreams had bothered her. There'd been the feel of sweat-slick flesh against her own, then this--emptiness, a growing cold that she was still trying to shake off.

"Domino, come on."

She pushed herself up and sat on the bed, blinking around at the bedroom. Her head hurt. *Too much damned Scotch last night--* "I'm not decent, G.W.," she called out hoarsely. "Go away."

The door opened anyway, and she muttered a curse, grabbing a pillow and throwing it at him. "What the hell happened to privacy?" she snapped as he took another step into the room and then stopped, glaring at her with that unmistakable look of disapproval.

"I came home and found four empty bottles of Scotch on the table," he said harshly. He was still in his uniform, and Domino remembered vaguely that he'd said something about having a night shift on the Helicarrier before he'd headed out last night. Everything had gotten kind of hazy after that. "I thought we agreed you weren't going to do that anymore."

"No, you agreed. I smiled, nodded, and gave you the finger as soon as you turned your back," she murmured, and raised an eyebrow when his glare only intensified. "What?" she asked a little drolly, sliding off the bed and standing shakily. "You're not my father, Bridge. So long as I don't kill myself you don't have much cause to intervene, and even then, I think I'd probably still tell you to go fuck yourself."

He was giving her that hooded, wary look again. She hated that look. That was the 'is that you talking, or are you channeling Nate again?' look. Domino gave him a brittle smile. "I was dreaming," she said, very clearly and carefully. "Except I don't think it was a dream." A faint, humorless laugh escaped her as she started towards the bathroom. "Life is just a dream--wouldn't that be nice, G.W.?" If it was all a dream--if she could just wake up, and find out that none of it was real, that Nathan was--

She stopped, steadying herself on the doorframe, and looked back over her shoulder at him. The wary look had melted into concern, again. If she hadn't felt so--strange, she might have said something to reassure him.

"You feel like going out for lunch?" he said, much more quietly.

Domino shrugged. "Why not," she said drearily. "Fresh air. Real food. Sounds like fun." She could probably manage to be sociable today, given that she was feeling so--detached. It was better to feel that way, even if she could rarely manage it.

The alcohol helped. Sometimes. Sometimes it just made the pain worse--like last night. The more scotch she'd downed, the sharper the memories had gotten.

It wasn't supposed to be that way.

"Okay," G.W. said, a little hesitantly. "I'm sorry I barged in on you." She nodded, and his mouth tightened for a moment, as if he was debating his next words.

*Don't say it, G.W.,* she thought resignedly.

He didn't hear her. There'd been benefits to Nathan's telepathy. "What--were you dreaming about?" he asked slowly, clearly reluctant.

She gave him a twisted, bitter smile that made him flinch. "Sex, G.W.," she said coldly, and shut the bathroom door before she could see how his expression changed.

Alone in the tiny bathroom, she felt--cramped, confined. Anxious, in a way that made no sense. Slipping off her robe, she turned on the shower and stepped in, trying to ignore the feeling. *Why do I feel like I want to flee the house?* she thought bleakly, closing her eyes and letting the hot water cascade over her. *What are you doing now, Nate? What's happening?*

The anxiety sharpened suddenly into something almost malevolent as icy, savage emotion stabbed down the frayed remnant of the link. Domino cried out, sliding to her knees in the shower, shaking violently. It faded almost immediately, back into that simmering, tense anxiety, and Domino started to laugh. It bubbled up out of her like a spring--soft, wild laughter that she desperately hoped was covered by the sound of the shower.

"Are you having a good time?" she gasped out. Her vision flashed red and she squeezed her eyes shut again, the laughter trailing off into a whimper. "Get out," she whispered raggedly, her hands tangling in her own hair as she clutched her skull. "Leave me alone, damn it, damn you--" The words trailed off in a sob, and before she could help it, she was crying.

The shower was running. G.W. wouldn't hear. No one would hear--no one except Nathan.

And he wasn't listening.

to be continued...


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