Chapter 53: Chthon's Last Sputtering Words

Chthon thrashed in frustration, still trapped within the Vibranium block that Max had formed around Apocalypse. His efforts to form coherent sentences were hopeless, as the machine Max had activated scrambled Chthon's words into a farcical jumble.

"You...filthy—donkey...shall taste the wrath of...teapots!" Chthon bellowed, his distorted voice reverberating off the pyramid walls.

Tony, suppressing a laugh, leaned over to Steve. "Did he just call us teapots? I've been called a lot of things, but that's a first."

Max grinned, knowing the trap had worked perfectly. Every word Chthon tried to spit out was twisted by the machine, reducing his once menacing threats to absurdity.

Chthon continued to rage, his voice barely coherent. "Your—pigeons shall dance—upon the cheese...of my vengeance!"

Wolverine growled from behind his claws, unimpressed. "Just when I thought the guy couldn't get more ridiculous."

For the next half hour, Chthon continued to sputter nonsensical insults. His voice, though still filled with rage, began to lose its intensity. His words became less defiant, more resigned. At last, his manic fury shifted, and a deep, heavy sigh echoed from the Vibranium block. His face contorted into an expression of pure frustration.

"You...shall not be forgotten..." Chthon began, trying to muster some drama despite his mangled speech. "I...leave you now, but my—hamburgers will—return for...vengeance...banana milkshake!"

His words cut off as a final, pitiful attempt at a threat devolved into nonsense. The Darkhold, still atop the fourth machine, began to crumble into ash. Chthon's grip on Apocalypse's body loosened, and the ancient mutant's face fell slack as Chthon abandoned him.

Tony watched as the machine powered down, its work complete. "Well," he said, a bemused smile on his face. "That was easier than I expected."

Max chuckled. "What, were you hoping for a grand cosmic war where you'd take over the world, uniting it under a single government, finally bringing world peace?"

Tony raised an eyebrow. "Hey, don't tempt me. One good battle is all it'd take to fix the place." He winked.

Steve turned, his brow furrowed. "Is it over? Is Chthon really gone?"

Magneto, standing near the edge of the energy shield, observed the battlefield beyond. "Most of the N'Garai have fallen," he said, his voice steady. "But about 30% remain."

Logan sniffed the air, wiping his claws on his jacket. "They don't smell as bad as they did a few minutes ago. Feels like they're losing power."

Max nodded, then turned to Magneto. "Before we go deal with the cleanup, could I borrow your helmet for a second?"

Magneto was taken aback, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. "Why?"

Max smiled. "Call it... insurance. When we go to visit the Professor, I'd like a little protection."

Storm shook her head, her voice filled with confidence. "That won't be necessary. Professor Xavier is trustworthy. He won't pry into your mind."

Max said nothing, merely gave a short nod as he activated a scanner. His Crysis suit emitted a soft hum as it scanned Magneto's helmet. Seconds later, four helmets emerged from Max's suit, crafted with advanced Nanite technology, each one perfectly calibrated to resist telepathy.

Steve raised an eyebrow. "You really don't trust this Professor, do you?"

Max sighed. "It's not about trust. In most universes, Professor Xavier has a habit of looking into people's minds—sometimes too deeply. He's powerful, and he often underestimates the consequences. In many cases, telepaths like him are walking bombs. Xavier creats more bombs—Jean Grey, his son, his sister, Wanda. These are people who could destroy the planet."

Steve's face darkened as he considered the weight of Max's words. Max continued. "And there's another danger... sometimes, when telepaths try to dig too far into certain minds, they find things that they shouldn't." He thought back to comic stories where Xavier had glimpsed the true nature of his existence in Deadpool's mind, spiraling into existential dread. Max didn't elaborate, though. "Let's just say that having someone like Xavier snooping around in my head could cause some... unfortunate consequences. Some minds aren't meant to be probed."

Magneto listened carefully, his eyes narrowing in thought. Max glanced at him. "And then there's the other risk. If a telepath gets too greedy and tries to absorb all the information in my head at once..." Max looked down at his hands, remembering the vast amount of knowledge stored within him. "It could fry their brain. I have entire libraries of knowledge in here, more than any one person could handle."

Before the group could respond, Apocalypse, now free of Chthon's control, stirred within the Vibranium block. He began to speak, his voice strained. "You...lowly mortals...release me, and I shall—bowls of lightning...will smite your—sandwiches!"

Tony laughed. "Is this what we have to deal with now? Another cosmic god trying to smite our sandwiches?"

Steve remained serious, his eyes still on Apocalypse. "What do we do with him now?"

Max stepped forward, observing the mutant warlord trapped in the Vibranium. "Apocalypse is dangerous—always has been. Your best bet is either to kill him or put him into a coma."

Steve frowned. "A coma? How do we do that?"

Max withdrew a small vial from his suit. "I have a potion, something from a... different world. The Draught of Living Death. It will keep him asleep indefinitely."

Magneto's face tightened as he looked at the subdued Apocalypse. "We'll take him back with us."

Max nodded and carefully injected the potion into Apocalypse's head blood vessel. Slowly, the ancient mutant's body slackened as he drifted into unconsciousness. Max waved his hand, and the Vibranium block disintegrated into sand, leaving Apocalypse lying motionless on the floor.

Tony scratched his chin. "What about the blood samples? Are you sure that's a good idea?"

Max collected a few vials of Apocalypse's blood. "Just in case we need to learn more about him. His physiology could hold answers to mutant evolution."

Apocalypse, his mind still fogged by the potion, muttered weakly. "You shall...regret...stealing my...fridge..."

Max smirked and turned back to the group. "Apocalypse is called what he is for a reason. His entire philosophy revolves around survival of the fittest. He'd gladly wipe out most of humanity just to see which mutants could thrive in the ruins."

Hank looked down at Apocalypse, still intrigued. "How exactly do you plan to keep him in a coma?"

Max pocketed the remaining vials. "With this potion. As long as no one disturbs him, he'll stay like this indefinitely. But I wouldn't take any chances."

Magneto agreed. "He belongs in a place where no one can reach him."

Mordo, watching from the side, opened a portal back to the X-Men's base. One by one, the group passed through—Logan, Tony, Bruce, Steve, and the rest. Magneto, Sabretooth, and Juggernaut followed last, keeping an eye on Apocalypse as they transported him.

As they stepped back into the familiar surroundings of the X-Men villa, Hank immediately contacted Professor Xavier to explain the situation. Max lingered near the portal for a moment, staring out into the void of what they had just faced.

"One problem down," he murmured to himself, "but there are always more to come."

With Apocalypse secured and Chthon banished, the next challenge lay ahead—one that involved far more than just mutants, gods, or cosmic beings.

It involved the conversation with his girlfriend's father.