HELLIONS v2
Written by
Kostmeyer
Plot by Pharoah and Kostmeyer
ISSUE
12
"Time Runs Out"
Cover by Kostmeyer
This story features HELLIONS and related characters, which are characters of Pharoah.The X-men, and the Hellfire Club
are
trademarks of Marvel comics. This is an unauthorized work and no profit is being made on this work.
This
work is © Kostmeyer 2006. Please do not archive without permission of creator.
PREVIOUSLY IN HELL ON EARTH…
The mysterious beings called the Horde have attacked the Earth, imprisoning the world’s most powerful psychics and magicians in a machine called the Chaos Engine. Their leader, Samhain, has killed the only two beings he considers powerful enough to stop his plans; The Shadow King and the X Men’s founder Professor Charles Xavier. The ensuing psychic shockwave rips open the barriers between dimensions and the Horde’s demon army invades. Their armies attack cities across the world, while the leaders raid the X Mansion taking Neo-X members Psihawk (Warren Worthington) and Reaver (Lleander Neramani) and Freelove (Chastity Wagner) prisoner.
The White
Queen (Krystil Frost) and Teryn of the Hellions have also been kidnapped
by the Horde, and manage to alert their team mates that the Horde’s
headquarters is inside Wundagore Mountain, in the tiny eastern European
country of Transia. The Hellions and Spitfire leave the safety of the
Hellfire Club brownstone and set out to launch a desperate final attack
on the Horde. Unknown to them, the Horde’s preparations are now
complete. With Psihawk and Reaver added to the Chaos Engine, they are
finally ready to perform an ancient ritual which will bring their master,
the Demon God Chthon into this dimension, to recreate his own Hell on
Earth…
The Hellion’s shuttlecraft shuddered violently as it climbed steeply away from the Brownstone. Beneath them, New York was burning, the whole city cast in a deathly red-orange glow as the fires raged unchecked. The Demons rampaged through the streets, killing any living thing in their path, their numbers swelling with every minute by more of their brethren dropping like a swarm of grotesque insects through the yawning chasm in the sky, a rift between dimensions that was sawing and straining wider and wider. Broken shards of the sky rained down, smashing into buildings and disintegrating into a million glittering fragments. The few survivors still able to watch the scene had little doubt. The world was ending.
Quill, seated at the pilot’s chair, guided the shuttle up and around the descending ranks of newly arrived demons, taking the vessel in a wide arc to avoid being seen. It didn’t work. There were so many of the creatures now scouring the city for fresh blood that it was only a matter of time before they were spotted. With a shriek, a group of the monstrous invaders tucked their broad bat-like wings behind them and dived down at the escaping vessel from above.
“Hold tight!” Quill shouted as she accelerated, driving the shuttlecraft right through the middle of them. In the co-pilot’s seat beside her, Shade gripped the arms of the chair as the creatures got closer and closer. Quill held her course, until finally, at the last moment, the demons lost their nerve and scattered out of their path. A tiny patch of pale grey sky opened out above them, and the shuttle surged forwards. On the Brooklyn Bridge, a running battle between the demons and the National Guard had finished in the only way it could. Victoriously striding across the shattered army barricades, the leader of the demon force, a massive creature with a scarred face, halted and watched the tiny Hellions ship until it disappeared from view.
“Should we stop them?” Another demon asked. The leader shook his head.
“No need.” He croaked. “Where can they go? In a few more hours, the whole planet will be ours.”
* * *
The harsh clatter of an iron key turning in a rusted lock made Krystil Frost wake with a start. The demons had returned – their grotesque bodies silhouetted in the entrance to her cell. So they had come for her – just as they had taken the other prisoners one by one – Warren, Lleander, and Gillian, now it was her turn. Frost stood as the gate swung open and the demons loped into the cell. Several carried burning torches which they fitted into brackets on the walls, illuminating the cavern with flickering yellow light. Frost watched as they filed into the room, trying to assess their strength. If this was the end, she was going to take as many of the vile creatures with her as she could. At her mental command, her body was encased in a suit of crystalline armour, daggers spouting from her balled fists.
“Really human, there’s no need for us to fight.” A female voice – familiar somehow. The demons immediately fell into respectful silence and stepped back away from the doorway. A tall woman was standing at the gate, her body covered with shimmering dark scales, wings folded behind her. Despite her monstrous form she was beautiful – her voice soft, compelling. “There’s no need for this hostility – I want us to be friends.”
“Friends?” Frost scowled with effort. For some reason it was hard to sustain her anger. “You kidnap me – attack my world…” her voice trailed off.
“But we have so much in common.” Perdition smiled, stalking into the cell. Frost backed away until she felt the wall against her back. “Both leaders – both manipulators.” The demon gestured and Frost’s armour melted away into nothingness. “That’s better.” Perdition licked her teeth. “It seems a shame to cover up that pretty dress.”
Krystil had almost forgotten that she was still wearing her wedding dress. She looked down at the tattered white fabric. It seemed like a lifetime ago that she had walked along the aisle, her future husband waiting for her at the front of the Great Hall. The mocking laughter of the assembled demons brought her out of her reverie. Frost gathered up the rags of her dress defensively – she didn’t like the way Perdition was looking at her – like a starving cat that had just seen a mouse.
“If you’re going to kill me, get on with it.” Krystil demanded. “I’m in no mood for your games.”
“No games, human!” Perdition said, smiling. “In fact I have something to give you. Let’s call it a late wedding present.” She drew back and pointed, back towards the entrance. Krystil watched in astonishment as the encircling demons drew back from the gate, revealing a slender figure standing in the doorway. It was Gillian DaCosta.
“I’m restoring your bridesmaid to you.” Perdition said, beckoning with a black claw. Teryn stepped forwards into the cell, and into the light cast by the torches. She seemed to have been miraculously cured of the terrible injuries that she had suffered earlier, but there was something not quite right – something strange about the way she moved. Frost realised that the girl was in a trance, her actions controlled by the demon’s magic.
“What have you done to her?” Krystil demanded.
“I?” Perdition said, with exaggerated surprise. “You wound me! I have done nothing. Ask, rather what have I undone! I think it’s time you woke up, little Hellion!”
Gillian’s eyelids flicked and opened. “Wh-where am I?” she said. She looked around, taking in the cell, the demons, and Frost. “I… I remember.” She said slowly.
“Gillian, thank goodness you’re alright!” Krystil said, taking a step towards Teryn. Suddenly, the girl’s eyes narrowed.
“I remember everything!”
“Gillian – I can explain!” Frost began. Suddenly a spur of rock burst up through the floor, slamming into the White Queen. Frost twisted aside at the last minute, rolled with the impact and turned what would surely have been a fatal impact into merely a painful one.
“You bitch!” Teryn screamed. “I’ll kill you!”
“No! Wait!” Frost said, attempting to get to her feet. “You don’t understand!”
“Understand?” At Teryn’s command the floor opened up beneath Frost, pitching her forwards into a chasm. “I understand you attacked me!” Teryn screamed down at her. “I understand you brainwashed me! I understand you turned me into your puppet – your slave!” She raised her arm and a pillar of stone formed under Frost and propelled her upwards. Seconds before she could be crushed against the roof of the cavern the White Queen managed to roll to one side, falling awkwardly to the ground.
“Gillian I don’t want to fight you –” Frost got to her feet and generated another protective shell of crystal around herself. “-but if you won’t end this – I will.”
“Excellent!” Perdition cackled, rubbing her claws together. “Yes! Yes! That’s right! Fight! Kill!”
* * *
In the rear compartment of the Hellion’s shuttlecraft, Carrie Conway – better known as the British super-hero Spitfire – was looking fixedly through the window. Not that there was anything to see. Beneath them the Atlantic Ocean sped past, a blur of dark red reflecting the unnatural hue that the sky had taken on. Carrie stared through the window to avoid meeting the gaze of the other occupants of the craft.
“I wish I’d had the chance to fight you.”
Carrie looked up at the sound of the voice and realised that it was Lamprey who had spoken. The blue skinned Hellion was staring at her with undisguised curiosity.
“What did you say?” Carrie asked.
“I said I wish I could have fought you.” Lamprey repeated. “Now we are all friends of course, but you are very strong. It would have been a good fight.”
“Thank you.” Carrie said, a little puzzled by the Hellion’s directness. “I think.”
“Of course,” Lamprey added. “I would have killed you.”
“You think so?”
“Oh yes. You’re powerful, but you’re no fighter. You don’t have the taste for it.” She got to her feet and moved towards the forward compartment, but then stopped and turned back, a look of regret on her face. “Still, it would have been a good fight.”
“She actually meant that as a compliment.” Minotaur said, getting out of his seat. “Here.” He said, sticking out a massive hand. Carrie flinched, but the hand held a small plastic cup, he was offering her a drink. “Only water I’m afraid – you look like you could use something a bit stronger.”
“Yeah, I guess.” Carrie said, taking the cup. “Thanks.”
“You sure you’re OK?” Minotaur said with concern.
“It’s the end of the world, didn’t you notice?” Carrie said, smiling. “I fought just one of the Horde and she killed me. I think I have every right to be nervous.”
“I don’t know you that well, but I don’t think that’s it. You make jokes when you’re covering up what you really think.”
“That…” Carrie said, taking a sip of her water as she thought about how to reply, “Is very perceptive Minotaur.”
“It’s Scotty, remember?” The Hellion took the seat next to her. “Look, I know you’ve been through a lot – if even half of what the papers say about you is true. But you’ve been beaten before but you keep coming back. What is it really?”
“If you must know, it’s you – the Hellfire Club I mean. Every time I come away feeling so useless – so humiliated… The first time we met I was being blackmailed into working for the Club, and here I am again.”
“You must admit we’re on the right side this time.” Scotty grinned.
“That’s not the point. Last time it was blackmail. This time my body was stolen. Used.” She looked over at Touch, who was sitting on the opposite side of the cabin. Damien deliberately avoided her gaze. “There was nothing I could do to stop them Scotty. I hate being so bloody useless.” She rubbed her hand across her eyes and then looked up at Minotaur. “Why do you work for them? You don’t seem… I mean…”
“It’s kind of hard to explain.” Minotaur began hesitantly. “I grew up in a circus, did you know that?” Carrie shook her head. “Yeah well I guess it’s easier to accept mutant rights when the mutant looks human. I’m a freak. People paid to look.”
“By the time I was eight years old I was over six feet tall and I could lift a truck over my head.” He continued. “Pretty soon the Boss realised that I had more uses than just as a sideshow attraction – I started helping him out on business – collecting debts, calling in favours. I did a lot of stuff that I’m not proud of, but people weren’t laughing at me any more. I was starting to enjoy it – using my strength to hurt people made me feel big – and I hated myself for it – but there was no way out – it was all I knew.”
“Then William Marushi found me.” His expression changed and he smiled. “He was the old White King of the Hellfire Club. I don’t know what he said to the Boss but he let me go – and I joined the Hellions. And for the first time I was a part of something – I was part of a team – accepted. I like who I am now, Carrie. I like who I am in the Hellions.”
“Don’t you see it?” Carrie said, shaking her head sadly. “You’re doing the exact same thing now as you were in the circus. You were the Circus bully and now you’re the Hellfire Club’s bully. Open your eyes Scotty.”
“Buckle up!” Quill shouted through the doorway from the forward compartment. Minotaur gratefully broke off the conversation as Quill added: “We’ve arrived.”
* * *
Frost lunged at Teryn, reaching out for her with a crystal blade. At Gillian’s command a granite block spat itself out of the wall and blocked the other woman’s lunge, shattering her blade into a million fragments.
“That’s it Teryn!” Perdition cackled. “Pay her back for betraying you! You’re ten times the leader she is – show her who deserves to rule the Inner Circle!”
“Don’t you see what’s happening?” Frost shouted, taking advantage of the temporary lull in the fight to reconstitute her armour. “It’s Perdition! She’s in our heads! She’s making us fight! She’s…”
“I don’t care!” Gillian pointed at Frost, then raised her arm. The stone floor beneath the White Queen formed into a gigantic hand, and before Frost could react, the stone fingers had clamped shut around her – crushing her.
“Think about it!” Frost said. “She’s the real enemy! Not me!” she gasped for breath as the pressure increased. “Fight her!”
“I don’t care if she’s making me do this!” Gillian said, closing her own hand. The stone fist mimicking her actions. Frost screamed as her armour began to crack. “You deserve to die for what you’ve done!”
“Are you just going to take that from her Frost?” Perdition called out. “She’s a spoiled brat who wants to ruin your life because of her own selfish jealousy! You’re the White Queen! Show her who rules here!”
Concentrating, Krystil reformed her armour in a new shape – projecting blades that pierced the stone fist and shattered it into fragments. Gillian – reeling from the psychic feedback, fell to the ground, while Frost lay in the rubble, exhausted from the effort.
The demons began to chant for their favoured fighter – as each of the two women struggled to be the first to seize the initiative. As the crowd watched Frost push herself up to a sitting position, a large, armoured figure appeared in the doorway. Maaxa took in the situation at a glance and with a look of the utmost contempt on her face, beat a path through the mass of demons until she was standing beside Perdition.
“What are you doing?” Maaxa demanded. “You’re needed in the upper levels. Samhain has all but begun the final ritual!”
“Remember your place Maaxa.” Perdition sneered. “I serve Samhain – not you.” Nevertheless she left her place and stalked towards the gate. At the doorway she halted and looked back to the fight between the two women. Frost had been the first to recover, aiming a kick at her prone opponent. But Gillian had been luring her in, and cast a cloud of black grit into the other woman’s eyes. “A pity, I shall miss the kill.” Perdition sighed, then shouted back an order to the nearest demon: “Save the winner for me. You know how rituals always give me an appetite.”
* * *
Minotaur, Touch and Spitfire crowded into the forward compartment of the shuttlecraft.
“I thought I ordered you to strap yourselves in.” Quill said, with some irritation. “This is going to be a rough ride.”
“As if we’re going to miss seeing this.” Minotaur said, peering ahead of the ship.
Quill sighed. “I go away for a few weeks and they lose all discipline. Well, ready or not Hellions – there it is!”
The shuttlecraft had been racing along the southern edge of a range of grey, snow capped mountains, which descended into bleak foothills beneath them. One dark mountain loomed large ahead of them, its peak shrouded in long strands of billowing cloud. At irregular intervals green lightning shot upwards from the summit – forming – unless it was some trick that the strange light played on their eyes – strange letters and unfamiliar signs before the electric glare faded.
“So, which one do you think is Wundagore?” Minotaur asked. Shade reached back and swung a punch at him.
“Oh my God…” Lamprey said. “Look!”
As they drew closer, they could see that what they had taken to be banks of cloud drifting around the mountain were actually billowing flocks of winged demons – millions of them – circling the Horde’s headquarters in an unceasing ever watchful patrol.
“So many!” Carrie breathed.
“What you thought that the Horde’s base would be unguarded?” Quill said. “Damien – Stop staring and get me some information I can use.”
Touch swung himself into position beside a console and expertly keyed in the shuttle’s sensors.
“These readings make no sense!” he said finally. “The computer is picking up just about every kind of psychic and magical energy signature we’ve ever encountered, plus one or two new ones…”
“Summarize Damien – we don’t have a lot of time.” Quill interrupted. The outermost demon patrol had spotted them and began to alter their course to intercept them.
“Well something weird is happening.” Damien began. “But the biggest concentration of weirdness is right in the centre – about two hundred feet down from summit.”
“Paris,” Quill barked. “Can you shadowport us inside?”
“I guess so.” Shade hesitated. “Going through one of my portals isn’t like walking through a door, you know. The Darkforce Dimension is unpredictable – and I’ve never tried to take so many people with me before…”
“Well, you’re going to have a major incentive to get this right.” Quill keyed in a final instruction to the shuttlecraft’s computer and then got up from the pilot’s seat. “In about thirty seconds this shuttle goes straight into the face of that mountain.” She smiled. “This ought to get their attention.”
* * *
The White Queen drove a crystal javelin at Teryn, who blocked it with an avalanche of loose earth and stones which then cascaded down on her adversary. Frost spun a glittering dome above her head seconds before she was buried. The demons roared their appreciation. The fight had been raging for almost half an hour, with no let up in intensity. Both women were bloodied and battered, and the grotesque audience were in little doubt. This was a fight to the death.
Gillian was now cautiously searching for Frost, parting the rubble with a gesture. Suddenly the White Queen emerged from the debris behind her, and before the Hellion could react, delivered a low kick that swept the girl’s legs out from under her. Gillian fell heavily and Frost generated another crystal spear to deliver the killing blow.
Then the whole room shook. The Hellions’ shuttlecraft smashed into the mountain, not far from their position. The impact utterly destroyed the vessel which was consumed in an incandescent fireball as the fuel ignited. Inside the mountain, demons fled shrieking from the closest tunnels as the roofs caved in on them. In the prison cavern, fragments of the roof broke away under the strain. The demon onlookers were packed in too closely to escape and several were crushed, or impaled on falling stalactites.
“Now!” Krystil shouted, reversing her hold on the javelin and pushing it through the face of the nearest demon. “This is our chance – fight your way to the gate!” Gillian glared at her with suspicion. “If we don’t work together now, we’re dead anyway!” Krystil said.
“OK.” Gillian muttered. “For now.” Teryn hurled a boulder into the demons and joined the White Queen in a desperate struggle to reach the door of their cell.
* * *
For the first time in her life, Lamprey was afraid. She knew where they were. She knew all about the Darkforce Dimension – at least, she knew as much as anyone did – which wasn’t much. A dimension where darkness was not merely the absence of light, but a form of energy in itself, a place where the earthly rules of nature didn’t apply. The knowledge didn’t help. Even her enhanced vision – able to see through the sunless depths of the ocean – didn’t help her here. Completely blind and totally disoriented she drifted, unable even to tell which way was up or down, in a void of blackness.
“Lamprey!” A hand grabbed at hers, and gratefully she closed her fingers around it. Finally, something real! She could barely make out Paris and behind him other figures, clustered together so that they didn’t drift apart. With a fixed point of reference Lamprey’s sense of balance reasserted itself.
“Good job, Paris.” Quill’s voice. “Now get us out of here!”
“Oh, you’re not going anywhere.” A man’s voice – thin and echoing. It seemed to come from all around them.
“Defensive positions!” Quill ordered, then, as the Hellions edged back to back in a circle, she shouted to the stranger: “Who are you?”
“I’ve used many names.” Two red points of light appeared in the darkness, two glowing, sinister eyes. “You can call me Lord Beltane. I am of the Horde, but darkness is my domain. You were fools to come here.”
The darkness between them billowed and flared up, and with physical force drove the tiny knot of Hellions, Quill and Spitfire apart, sending each one drifting helplessly in opposite directions. Beltane – visible in the baleful glow given off by his own eyes, appeared now, a tall, wraith-like being, an armoured shell and tattered robes hanging from a body composed of pure darkforce.
“The fabric of this world is mine to command!” Beltane ranted. “And at my command, it will destroy you all!”
Tendrils of the darkness lashed out, whipping around the Hellions, Spitfire and Quill. Slowly the strangling bonds tightened their grip. Beltane laughed as their cries were smothered by the dark.
“Paris!” Quill managed to shout. “Get us out of here now!”
“But – I don’t know where I’m sending you!” Paris’ voice called out from somewhere.
“Just do it!”
* * *
Damien Morgan fell through a whole in space and hit the floor. The stone passageway he found himself in was only dimly lit by a flickering torch, but compared to the complete darkness he had just experienced the light seemed dazzling, and it took his eyes a while to adjust.
“Wh-what happened?” The Hellion recognised Spitfire’s voice and saw the girl laying a few metres away from him. He ran over to her. She seemed unhurt, just disoriented by the sudden shift from dimension to dimension.
“We’re inside Wundagore.” He answered. “Paris did it! He transported us through the Darkforce Dimension and into the Horde’s base.”
“Where are the others?” Carrie asked, ignoring the hand he offered and getting to her feet by herself. “Did they make it as well?”
“I guess so, I don’t know.” Damien said. “We were separated during the shadowport – maybe that means we all arrive separately. We’ve probably been scattered right through the mountain. Just luck we ended up together.”
“Yeah. Luck.” Carrie said angrily. She started to walk along the tunnel but Damien reached out and stopped her.
“Listen – I know this isn’t the right time, but I may not get another chance to say this to you…” he started. “About what happened with Reese – you mustn’t judge him too harshly… he was a good man… one of the best…”
“He stole my body.” Carrie snapped, pulling away from him.
“Nothing happened, I told you that!” Reese protested, running after her. The tunnel gradually widened out into a large, naturally formed cavern.
“Why should I believe you?” Spitfire halted and turned to face him. “You people lie whenever it suits you! You mess with people’s lives and don’t give a damn about the consequences. Just because we’re on the same side against the Horde doesn’t mean I can forgive you Damien – we’re not going to be friends. You’re Hellfire Club – you’re the bad guys.”
Carrie turned on her heel and walked straight into Maaxa and Perdition, who were hurrying through the cavern in the opposite direction.
“You!” Maaxa’s mouth dropped open with astonishment. “But it can’t be! I killed you!”
* * *
Shade screamed as Beltanes’s darkforce whips lashed across him, shredding his coat and biting deep into his flesh. Blood spattered out into the air, slowly drifting eerily away in the strange gravity currents that ebbed and flowed and stirred the tides of blackness. The lashes tightened and pulled him closer to the spectral demon.
“How did you do that?” Beltane hissed menacingly, raising Shade until the Hellion was level with his face. “How did you free them?”
Paris cried out again as the whips sliced into his body. Beltane’s voice dropped to a threatening whisper. “You managed to push your friends back into the prime dimension. But it won’t work twice. My will is stronger than yours, boy.”
The demon turned his back on the struggling Hellion and gestured – a swirling portal appearing in front of him. On the other side, one of the rock-hewn tunnels beneath Wundagore could be seen. The darkness around the edge of the portal hissed and squirmed at the presence of the light. “I go to destroy your pitiful friends.” Beltane taunted. “You – You I’ll leave here. If you’re lucky, I’ll come back to kill you. If not you’ll be driven slowly insane. Good night!”
“Get off of me!” Paris shouted, using his own powers to snatch control of the darkforce whips and sending them writhing and snaking back towards Beltane. The astonished demon dissipated the weapons with a glance, but the brief respite enabled the Hellion to pull himself together.
“I’m not afraid of the dark.” Paris shouted defiantly. “What you thought you were the only person who can use this stuff?” The Hellion pointed, and the portal swirled shut. “I can’t leave? Fine. Now you can’t either. You said you rule this place? Let’s find out.”
Beltane turned back to face him, his red eyes burning with hatred. “Your mother once thought she could challenge me, boy. It seems that you won’t be happy until you share her fate.”
* * *
“What’s this?” Perdition smiled. “A visitor?”
Spitfire froze in her tracks. She hoped that, behind her, the Hellion had the sense to stay hidden.
“This is a trick!” Maaxa said. “It’s not possible!”
“Or perhaps you made a mistake.” Perdition gloated. “Don’t worry – she’s about to tell me everything.”
The demon was reaching out for Carrie, but Maaxa grabbed her wrist.
“Leave this to me.” Maaxa snarled. “This is personal.”
“As you wish.” Perdition spread her wings and soared upwards to a higher gallery. “Try to finish her properly this time!” she called back, then disappeared into the tunnel. Maaxa didn’t waste a second. With a roar of rage, she lunged towards Spitfire, swinging the axe in a wide arc. Carrie threw herself to the floor, narrowly avoiding being decapitated, while the axe blade smashed into the wall showering her with rubble. Touch chose this moment to step out into the cavern.
“Damien! Run!” Carrie screamed. “She’ll kill you!”
Ignoring her, the Hellion stooped, brushing his fingertips across the rubble. Then, using his mutant ability of tactile telekinesis, he hurled the boulders at the demon. Maaxa swatted the debris aside with a casual stroke of the axe, then reversed her grip, driving the butt of the weapon into the Hellion’s face. Damien crumpled to the floor, stunned and bleeding.
“No!” Carrie flew forwards, but Maaxa was too fast for her, grabbing her by the neck.
“How did you survive?” The demon demanded. “Answer me!”
“Just… too dumb… to give up…” Carrie gasped, reaching out and grabbing the haft of the axe with both hands. An explosion of magical feedback shook the cavern and filled it with a blinding flash of blue light. Spitfire screamed, as wave after wave of blistering mystical force was channelled through the axe into her body. The onslaught intensified, but she kept her firm grip on the axe, refusing to let go even as her gloves melted and the skin on her hands began to burn.
Maaxa at last realised what the girl was trying to do. From their previous encounter, Spitfire had learned that the weapon was the source of the demon’s power – in fact the axe truly was Maaxa, the woman who carried it merely the latest in a long line of bearers. Spitfire was trying to take the axe away from her.
“Let go!” The demon screamed, channelling more and more power into the girl’s body – but there was an edge of desperation in her voice. Despite everything Spitfire hung on – against all the odds – against all reason – she had killed her! She should have been dead – how was this possible? Doubt flickered across Maaxa’s face, and in that brief second the battle was lost. Carrie seized the initiative and throwing all her remaining strength into one last effort, she twisted away, tearing the axe from the demon’s grasp.
Instantly her vision exploded into red – the force of Maaxa’s personality smashed into her own – the bloodlust – the power – it was an intoxicating rush, she had only to give in – submit to the will of the demon and no-one would ever be able to hurt her again… Maaxa’s corruption spread through her, transforming her costume into pieces of golden armour, skin paled, hair bleached. Maaxa’s thoughts pounded through her mind.
“NO!” she screamed defiantly, hurling the axe away from her, back down the tunnel. The armour vanished – she was Spitfire again. “No-one controls me! No-one uses me!” She fell to the ground, sobbing with relief.
The demon woman scrambled after the axe, but Damien had regained consciousness in time. Reaching out he managed to touch her shoulder as she ran past him, and the contact made, he pinned her to the far wall with telekinetic force. The demon fought back, with maniacal fury that the Hellion hadn’t expected. Still shaky from his injury, his head pounded as she battered away at his psychic barrier. Then he saw why the creature was so obsessive to reclaim the axe. Maaxa had not only granted the woman power – it had sustained her life too. Slowly, before his eyes, the demon woman began to fall to pieces, skin withering away, bones crumbling into dust. With a thin, desperate shriek of frustration and terror, she was gone.
Damien raced to Spitfire’s side. She was badly hurt, her body still coursing with the residual energy left over from the struggle for the axe. Her body was so hot that it was impossible to touch, her tears turning to steam on her face. In places her costume had liquefied, and her hands were scorched and blackened.
“That was the bravest thing I’ve ever seen!” Damien said, scrambling to his feet and racing along the tunnel. “Hold on Carrie, I’ll get help.”
* * *
Not far away, and several levels beneath them, Krystil Frost and Gillian DaCosta were fighting for their lives. They had reached the gate to their cell, but reinforcements had flooded in to help the demon guards, and only the narrowness of the passageway prevented the two women from being overwhelmed.
Suddenly a black shape, moving too quickly to clearly see, lunged out of the shadows and fell on the demons with a scream of inhuman rage.
“It’s Nero!” Teryn realised. “Synn’s cat! What’s he doing here?”
The Black Lynx tore the throat from one of the demon jailers and then leapt onto the next, the ferocity of the attack taking even the demons by surprise. Frost and Teryn renewed their own attack, and the remaining demons fled back along the tunnel. Nero sat and licked the blood from its claws.
“Good boy!” Gillian patted the cat on the head. Nero purred appreciatively. “Do you think he’s part of a rescue attempt? That explosion we heard..?”
“I don’t know.” Frost answered. “He never leaves Synn’s side – and she wasn’t at the Wedding. In fact we haven’t heard from her in a while.”
At the mention of Synn’s name, Nero got to his feet and padded away. Frost and DaCosta exchanged glances, then followed.
* * *
“This is intolerable!” Samhain’s anger was palpable – it filled the Horde’s sanctum like the electric atmosphere before a thunderstorm. Herne’s hounds covered behind their master’s chair. “If the Ritual is delayed by their foolishness, I’ll crack open their skulls and drink their brains, if I can find any!”
Perdition flew in through a tunnel entrance in the roof and landed on the stone table in the centre of the room. Her claws scratched across the stone like nails along a blackboard.
“Humblest apologies, dread master!” she said, with an obvious lack of sincerity. “There are humans in the lower levels. Maaxa is dispatching them.”
“An attack?” Herne rumbled, getting to his feet.
“I wouldn’t dignify it with the term.” Perdition slid across the table and draped herself across Samhain, stroking her claws across his face. “They are too weak to do us harm. Our numbers are limitless. Why worry?”
The demon lord grabbed her wrist and pushed her away. “And what of Beltane?”
“Who can say?” Perdition said, casually, falling back into her own chair. “But if he misses the ritual, all the more power for us.”
Samhain sat back in his throne, his expression dark. For a few moments no-one spoke, until Herne picked up his sword and gathered around his fist the chains that held his pack.
“I’ll go.”
Samhain looked up. “No, Herne your place is here. I’ve just summoned a little extra assistance, to deal with these troublesome humans. Nothing will prevent the Ritual. Nothing! Bring the girl. Bring me the Vessel!”
* * *
Hundreds of miles away in Red Square, Nikola Rasputin, formerly Alloy of Neo X, ripped the turret from a massive Russian tank and hurled it through the dome of St Basil’s Church. Inside the shattered vehicle, the startled crew emptied their pistols into the metal monster and closed their eyes, waiting for the creature to finish them. But the expected blow never came. Rasputin, now known as Siege, stopped and titled his head, as if he was listening to a voice that only he could hear. Then, spreading his jagged metal wings, he launched himself up into the sky, heading with remorseless, impossible speed towards Wundagore.
* * *
Lamprey dropped onto the demon’s back, stunning it with a bio-electric jolt before it could sweep her away with its wings. As the creature went limp she broke its neck with casual ease and threw the body to the floor.
“Guard is down. Come on!” she said. Behind her, Minotaur and Quill emerged from the tunnel mouth. Cautiously, following Lamprey’s lead they continued along the passage, trusting to the girl’s heightened senses to warn them of danger. Suddenly Lamprey halted.
“What is it?” Quill demanded. “Demons?”
“No. At least I don’t think so. A noise – it’s mechanical – metal wheels, moving parts – whatever it is, it’s huge – it makes the air shake.”
Quill extinguished the burning torch she carried and the trio waited for their eyes to adjust to the darkness. There was a barely perceptible glow, coming from the end of the corridor. After a few minutes walk, they could see a doorway ahead of them, and beyond it the source of the light.
“Oh my God.” Minotaur breathed, as they emerged into the cavern.
It was the Chaos Engine. The Horde’s most sinister invention – a massive machine that dominated the entire chamber, an unholy fusion of science and black magic. Grafted into the machine, the astonished Hellions could make out the bodies of helpless prisoners – living components, their life energies drained to power the creaking, grinding mechanism.
“Look!” Lamprey pointed. “That’s Jonathan Kahn – Conjur’s Dad!” the machine’s orbit carried the prisoner past them and up towards the roof. “But… he was one of the most powerful sorcerers in New Salem!”
“Over there!” Minotaur pointed. “Isn’t that Synn? Looks like we’ve found out why she wasn’t at the wedding! And there -!”
“Quiet!” Quill interrupted harshly. “Do you think the Horde are going to leave this place unguarded for long? Scotty, help me secure a perimeter. Lamprey – see if you can free one of those prisoners. Now!”
As Minotaur and Quill searched the room, Lamprey vaulted lightly onto the lowest piston of the grim machine, and then acrobatically leapt from cog to spoke to pillar until she arrived beside two of the prisoners. The first, a tall, albino-skinned woman with dark hair, Lamprey didn’t recognise, but the other was Warren Worthington IV – Psihawk of Neo-X. Lamprey felt a cold chill run through her body. They really were on their own. The Xavier School had already fallen, its leader taken. Psihawk stared sightlessly past her, unaware of her presence.
“Well?” Quill called up. “Can you get them free?”
“It… it’s impossible!” Lamprey shouted back. “It’s not like they’re wired into a machine – it’s… it’s more like they’ve been grown into each other – it’s impossible to see where the person stops and the machinery starts.”
“Hang on.” Quill answered. “I’m coming up.” But before she could move, Minotaur interrupted.
“Miss Morell! Look!”
The Hellion was pointing towards one of the many tunnels that ran into the cavern. Two yellow points of light were visible, moving towards them – eyes shining from the darkness. Quietly, Minotaur and Quill took up position at either side of the tunnel mouth, ready to strike. They could hear footsteps. Quill looked at Scotty and mouthed the word ‘two’ – two people – almost upon them.
Suddenly, just as they were preparing to strike, Nero padded out through the tunnel exit between them. Quill and Minotaur exchanged a look of complete amazement.
“Good to see you Rawhide!” Teryn said.
“Gillian!” Minotaur grabbed the girl and threw her into the air, laughing. Behind them, Krystil Frost emerged from the tunnel.
“Thank God you’re alright.” Quill said, smiling at her old friend.
“I knew you’d come.” Krystil returned the smile. “Is the Club… I mean… is he...?”
“Roberto has got nothing to do with this.” Quill said. “It’s just us. He left you here to die. I’m sorry.”
“My God what is that thing?” Teryn said, noticing the Chaos Engine for the first time.
“We don’t know.” Quill said. “But look who’s here.” She pointed to where Synn was bonded to the mechanism. Frost shrugged.
“Not all bad news today then.” The White Queen observed, arching an eyebrow.
* * *
Chastity Wagner stood in the centre of a pentagram, etched on the floor in human blood. She was changing, changing into something else – something alien – something dangerous. The voice in her head was strong now – so strong that she wasn’t sure which thoughts were her own and which were the stranger’s.
Outside the pentagram, the demon Sheol watched the girl swaying in time to the distant undulations of the Chaos Engine.
“It is time.” He said. “She’s ready.”
* * *
“Something’s happening!” Lamprey shouted. The Chaos Engine had begun to speed up, whirling around faster and faster. Electricity began to crackle across its surface. Suddenly the prisoners – the human components – began to scream, hundreds of voices crying out together. The noise was deafening – horrific – Lamprey lost her grip and fell, landing on a lower spur of the machine, and clinging to it with her legs so that she could clamp her hands over her ears.
* * *
The pentagram around Chastity Wagner suddenly illuminated, glowing with white fire. Freelove threw back her head and screamed.
* * *
“What’s happening?” Frost shouted above the noise of the machinery.
Jonathan Kahn’s body began to twist and spasm. Then he stopped struggling, and his body collapsed inward, completely drained – the life leeched out of him in a fraction of a second. Kahn’s dying shriek briefly drowned out the others.
“It’s killing them! Oh God no!” Minotaur sank to his knees. “Oh God, please no!”
“Cut them loose!” Frost shouted up to Lamprey. Three more victims had died even as she spoke. “Cut them loose!”
* * *
“I am the vessel of Chthon!” Chastity Wagner chanted, as the white fire rose around her. “I give myself freely to him! I am the vessel of Chthon!”
* * *
Lamprey extended the razor sharp fins along her forearms and sliced into the Chaos Engine, trying to free the prisoner she was clinging next to. Liquid – a horrific mixture of blood and oil, splattered across her – she knew she was hurting the prisoner – but if she didn’t get him loose, he was already dead.
With a sickening wet crack, the man came free, and fell towards her trailing pipes and cables. Lamprey lost her grip and they toppled away from the spinning machine. Minotaur was there, and caught them in his broad arms.
“Is he?” Lamprey started.
“I don’t know – Oh Jeez – look at him!”
There wasn’t much left. Part of him – most of his head, his chest and one of his arms was human still – the rest was lost – muscles and sinew fused into organic links and connections, bonded to metal gears and valves and fuses. He was dying, coughing up oil.
“Tell Lynn!” he managed to choke out. “Tell her I loved…” then he died.
Above them, another victim was inhaled by the machine. And another, and another. The Hellions watched – silent – knowing that there was nothing they could do. Then Frost spoke.
“We can’t save them.” She said, generating another suit of spiked crystal armour. “But we can stop that machine from doing whatever it was designed for. Hellions, let’s trash this thing.”
Suddenly a dark shape dropped down from the roof of the cavern, a slender female form, covered in dark fur, her hands terminating in wicked barbed claws. Before Frost could react, the creature turned its hand intangible, passed it through the White Queen’s head and partially solidified it. Frost squealed in pain and dropped to the ground, unconscious.
“No-one touches the Chaos Engine.” The creature growled. “Isn’t that right, my love?”
Heavy footsteps pounded along one of the tunnels, and a massive metallic shape emerged into the light. Peter Rasputin, once the X Man Colossus, threw the unconscious body of Damien Morgan into the room and then joined the corrupted creature that had once been his wife, Katheryn Pryde Rasputin.
“The Horde have already won.” He intoned. “To serve is to survive.”
* * *
Enveloped in a rising crescendo of mystical power, Sheol raised his arms in supplication.
“The vessel is ready!” he chanted. “The master calls!”
Behind him a massive stone door swung open and Samhain entered, flanked by Herne and Perdition. Behind them, a procession of demons lined the tunnel, each carrying a burning torch or a brazier giving off clouds of noxious incense. Sheol turned and obediently stepped to one side.
“Behold, the vessel.” He announced. “Chastity Wagner, go now to meet your destiny!”
“I am the vessel of Chthon!” the girl said coldly, walking towards the waiting line of demons. The white fire about her flared up but unharmed she moved through it. Samhain smiled.
“No!” Spitfire flew across the room, swept the girl up in her arms and landed on the far side of the hall. Samhain roared with rage.
“Is there no end to these human vermin!” he snarled. “Kill her!”
“Run for it kid.” Carrie said to Chase. The other girl seemed too stunned to respond. Carrie shook her. “Go!” she said. “I don’t know what they want you for, but you’re important – I heard enough to tell that. Run! I’ll hold them off!”
Samhain laughed. “Do you really think you can stand against the might of the Horde? Look at you! In a few more moments you’ll bleed to death without our help.”
“Maaxa underestimated me too.” Carrie replied grimly.
“Are you really Spitfire?” Chase Wagner whispered, pulling at Carrie’s arm.
“Yes, that’s right.” Carrie said, pushing the teenager behind her and not taking her eyes off of the advancing demons. “Call me Carrie.”
“Carrie, can you do something for me?” Chase asked.
“Sure. Of course. What do you want me to do?”
“Scream.” Chase answered, shattering Carrie’s mind with a devastating psychic blast. Carrie reeled forwards, clutching at her head as her thoughts were consumed with images of fire and death. Her greatest fears, summoned up by the girl’s mutant power, amplified and intensified by the power of the Chaos Engine.
“Scream.” Chase repeated, hammering home another attack. Spitfire writhed in anguish.
“Please! NO!”
“Scream!” Chase said. “Scream!”
Finally, Chastity Wagner delicately stepped around the shrieking, thrashing body and stood beside Samhain. She looked up at the demon and smiled.
“I am the vessel of Chthon.”
HELL ON EARTH CONCLUDES IN NEO-X 50…
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