Arc 3 - Ch 1: This Guy... Again?

Date: Tuesday, July 20, 2010.

Location: Alkali Lake Industrial Complex, British Columbia, Canada

The cold wind howled around them, sending sharp, icy needles pricking their faces. The waters of Alkali Lake mirrored the night sky, making the world feel infinite and them, infinitely small.

"So, gonna have to be honest. I hadn't planned past this point. I know it's a long shot, but do you have any idea where we are?" Tyson's tone was half teasing, half concerned.

Illyana's silvery hair danced wildly in the wind, "Tyson, do I look like I have a map in my pocket?" She said in her thick Russian accent. "But don't worry. I have a trick up my sleeve." 

With a graceful wave of her hand, a portal opened, revealing a shimmering passage to another point in the distance. Without a moment's pause, she stepped through, Tyson right behind her. Again and again, she conjured these gateways, each leap bringing them higher and closer to the towering peak they aimed for. The world around them became a blur of landscapes. But after about thirty such jumps, the strain began to show on Illyana. Her normally fierce and confident demeanor started to waver, her breath coming in ragged spurts. The energy required to continually bend space was enormous, even for someone of her abilities.

Tyson, observing her closely, saw the fatigue setting in. "Illyana," he began, but she cut him off.

"I can do it," she snapped, her pride evident. But her eyes, normally so defiant, told a different story.

Understanding her need to be strong but also wanting to ease her burden, Tyson leaned in and planted a soft kiss on her wind-chilled cheek. "Let me take over," he whispered, his voice gentle yet firm.

Illyana looked as though she might protest, but she merely nodded, gratefully leaning into his embrace for a brief moment. She knew he wasn't undermining her strength but merely lending his own. Tyson took the lead using Illyana's power while drawing from the enhanced stamina and healing factor he had gained from absorbing Sabertooth. With each teleport, they drew closer to the nearest high peak, the strain less evident on him than it had been on Illyana.

Finally, they stood atop the highest point, gazing out at the world stretched below them. The horizon painted a picture of vast alpine forests and shimmering lakes. Illyana, regaining some of her strength, smirked, "Show-off." From this vantage, they spied a distant cluster of lights. "There," she pointed, "we go there."

Tyson squinted at the far-off lights. "That looks pretty far away."

He turned to Illyana, his brows furrowing with curiosity, "Why do you always teleport just a quarter mile at a time? Is it because it's taxing for you?"

Illyana answered, "It's Limbo." He waited, prompting her to continue with a gentle nod. "My teleportation is intertwined with Limbo. Time in Limbo... it doesn't flow like it does here. If I were to teleport too far, I might end up in the past, or even, flung into the future."

Tyson's eyes widened with realization. As she spoke, he parsed her memories, gaining an understanding he needn't have asked for. "That's why… The first time we were in Limbo together, I saw another you entering the portal just as we exited! It was as if we arrived a second before you left in the first place."

Illyana nodded grimly, "Exactly. Every time I open a portal, I'm rolling the dice with time. I can control where, but can't control 'when' we might end up if I push the distance. So, I always make short jumps, minimizing the risks. A second here or there is barely noticeable."

Tyson took a moment, absorbing the gravity of what she had just revealed. "Illyana, every time you teleport, you're taking a risk... I had no idea."

She smirked, her usual bravado returning. "Well, now you know."

Tyson drew Illyana close, wrapping his arms around her. His body emanated a comforting warmth, protecting her from the icy winds whipping around them. Her breath formed misty clouds in front of her, as she spoke. "We could go to Limbo for a bit, you know," she suggested, "Warm up some?"

Tyson's face tensed slightly, "Omega Red's in Limbo right now."

She raised an eyebrow questioningly, "And? Do you honestly think you couldn't handle him?"

Memories flashed in his eyes of their first brutal encounter, the fight, the struggle. Then he said, "I came close the first time, it was an even match-up. But now? With adamantium claws, illusions, and you by my side?" He grinned, "It's no contest."

Illyana's lips curled into a sly smile, her confidence unwavering. "That's what I wanted to hear."

Without further ado, she summoned a swirling portal with an elegant motion. The otherworldly reddish glow of Limbo beckoned them, and the two stepped into the portal.

Limbo unfolded around them. Nearby, volcanic geysers spewed hot steam, while just a few steps away, patches of ice sparkled under Limbo's eternal twilight. Despite the overall mildness of Limbo's temperature, its unpredictable nature kept the environment from being comfortable. Tyson moved to wrap his arms around Illyana, hoping to provide the warmth she was seeking. But as he reached out, he felt a sudden tension in her posture.

Illyana stiffened, her sharp eyes darting around, "Something's different," she murmured, her voice tinged with caution.

Tyson paused, immediately on alert. "What do you mean?"

Illyana looked at him, her piercing blue eyes reflecting a deep unease. "The energies, they feel... off."

He frowned, "Is it from Omega Red or something he could've done?" he asked, in a low voice.

"I don't know," she whispered. Her agitation was evident as the Soulsword manifested in her hand. "But we should be ready."

Tyson and Illyana traversed Limbo, avoiding the demons, and inevitably found their way to the dimension's only structure.  

It was a fortress. 

Far larger and more imposing when compared to the last time they'd seen it, Originally, the structure had been built under the commands of the demonic mutant, Azazel. 

The surroundings were abuzz with activity. Demons of all sizes scurried around the site, working feverishly on the construction. Their rough, guttural sounds filled the air, echoing off the cold stone walls. 

Illyana's face darkened, her lips drawing into a thin line. "Azazel," she spat, the name dripping with contempt. 

But before Tyson could respond, another figure caught their attention. Among the demons was Omega Red. His long and whip-like tentacles effortlessly lifting and placing huge slabs of rock.

Tyson squinted, disbelief evident in his voice. "Is Omega Red... helping them?"

Illyana nodded slowly, her eyes sharp. "It seems so. But why?" Tyson shook his head, equally puzzled. Illyana gripped her Soulsword tighter as she stood. "We need to find out their plan. Then, we stop it."

The looming fortress ahead was a hive of activity. Tyson instinctively held up a hand to halt Illyana. "Maybe we should try a more subtle approach."

Illyana asked, "And what did you have in mind?"

Tyson smirked, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. "Illusions."

She rolled her eyes "Care to explain?"

He chuckled softly, nodding. "Alright, alright. I can craft illusions but with some limitations. I can make them see what I want and create different images to a certain extent. If I make direct eye contact, I can exert some control over them."

She pondered this, then asked, "Are there any other limitations?"

Tyson grimaced slightly. "The illusions can't cause any harm, because they aren't real. If I hurt someone under illusion, I can try to mimic the sensation, but doing so will likely cause the illusion to break. A strong willpower can also break through the illusion. Those with psionic abilities will likely be unaffected. Jason's power only worked in Professor X because he wore a device that suppressed his abilities. No idea about non-humans like these demons, but it's worth a shot, especially if it keeps us under the radar."

Illyana gave a nod of approval. "Let's give it a try."

Illyana waited a few paces behind Tyson, watching as he inched closer to the unsuspecting demon. Using his power, Tyson willed the demon's mind to perceive both himself and Illyana as nonexistent.

To Illyana, it appeared as though nothing had happened. The demon continued its task, seemingly oblivious to the two mutants mere feet away. She whispered, impressed, "That was smooth."

Tyson grinned back, his relief evident. "Making ourselves invisible is easy," he explained quietly. "I'm not just covering our appearance, smells and such won't be detected either. The only snag will be our footprints once I'm out of range."

Illyana nodded, her blue eyes sharp with understanding. "Makes sense."

With that, the duo proceeded closer to the fortress, using Tyson's illusionary prowess to evade the eyes of the demon horde. The cliffside fortress was a massive labyrinth of stone carved directly from the cliff's face. Its construction was an orchestrated collaboration of demons. Smaller demons tirelessly chipped away at the cliff with their sharp fingers, carving intricate designs within the rock. Their collected rubble was then hauled out by the likes of Omega Red and the larger demons.

Outside the fortress, a single demon stood distinct from the others, overseeing the construction. The creature seemed as if it's body was carved from weathered ivory. Runes and symbols of power etched themselves over its pale, almost translucent flesh. Its eyes glowed an eerie yellow, standing out starkly against its pale form. Horns, smooth and sinister, curled outward from its mouthless head, and each shoulder. An elongated tail was easily twice the length of its body, and it moved as if it had a mind separate from the fiend. 

Tyson locked eyes with the demon, willing his powers to pierce the dark depths of its mind. He attempted to remove the image of himself and Illyana from its sight. Unlike the other demons, Tyson felt a strange sensation creeping into his mind, like icy fingers curling around his thoughts. 

The demon instantly countered his psychic illusions with an ability of its own. 

Suddenly, Tyson was no longer in Limbo. Instead, he found himself within a maze of winding corridors and pathways that seemed to go on forever. The walls were high and unscalable, and every turn seemed to lead to another dead end. The atmosphere was oppressive, and a feeling of dread permeated the air.

"Where am I?" Tyson murmured, taking hesitant steps forward. 

"You are in my mind now," a voice boomed, echoing through the maze. "Here, I am the master, and you are merely a lost soul, trying to find its way."

Tyson knew he had to find a way out, but the maze was unlike any he had ever encountered. Every time he thought he was making progress, he'd end up back where he started. A feeling of hopelessness began to set in, threatening to drown him. As he moved deeper into the maze, he began to hear whispers. Voices from his past, his fears, and his insecurities. "All your strength comes from me. Without me, you're nothing," one whispered, almost a growl. "A boy burdened with extraordinary power, incapable of physical human contact. Likely for the rest of his life," said another, more wisened. The voices grew louder and more insistent, and Tyson felt himself growing dazed.

Just when he was about to give in to despair, a soft voice reached his ears. "Tyson," it said, "Snap out of it, come back to me."

It was the voice of Illyana. Tyson closed his eyes, drawing on the memories of all the battles he had won, and all the challenges he had overcome. The voices began to fade, replaced by the sound of his heartbeat. With renewed energy, Tyson focused on finding a way out. Hours seemed like minutes, and just when he thought he'd been wandering for an eternity, he saw a bright light at the end of a corridor. Racing toward it, he finally emerged back into the real world, gasping for breath.

The demon looked surprised, "How did you escape the Vilsteth's mind?" it hissed. The demon's voice was projected directly into Tyson's head, as it had no mouth to speak.

Tyson grinned, "Your mind may be a maze, but mine is also tricky."

Vilsteth's yellow eyes tracked their movement, sending shivers down their spines. However, it neither attacked nor signaled to the other nearby demons in any way. With no mouth to shout out warnings and no immediate aggressive actions, the pair were left with an uneasy feeling of being watched.

Illyana whispered, her voice edged with unease, "It sees us, but it's not doing anything."

Tyson nodded, never breaking eye contact with the creature. "It already did… Let's keep moving, but stay alert. We don't know what it's capable of."

With cautious steps, the two continued, the weight of the fiend's gaze never leaving their backs. The moment they entered the fortress, they were met with a vast, imposing hallway. Its ceilings stretched high, and it seemed as though it bore the weight of the entire cliffside on its sturdy columns. The air was thick with dust as demons dragged large chunks of stone from deeper parts of the cliff; the raw material to be used to create the exterior structures.

But it was the first room off the hallway that held Illyana's and Tyson's attention. Memories flooded back as they stepped into what was unmistakably a throne room. The last time they'd been here, the centerpiece had been more or less a makeshift seat of power. Now, it stood as an exquisite masterpiece. It was an ornate throne, intricately carved from the very stone of Limbo, every curve and edge spoke of regal elegance. The room was eerily silent and devoid of any demon presence. Torches adorned the walls, casting flickering shadows that danced around them. The walls themselves bore elaborate engravings with writings in a language neither understood. 

As they inspected the room, absorbing the minute details, there was a soft, almost inaudible puff. Both of them whipped around, instantly on guard.

There, lounging casually on the throne with his tail wrapped around one of its arms was Azazel. The red-skinned mutant looked every bit the ruler. His yellow eyes rested on the two of them, "Ah, the Mistress of Limbo, Illyana, and the nameless one," he began in a voice dripping with sardonic amusement, his accent adding to his enigmatic aura. "It's always a pleasure to have unexpected guests in my humble abode. Welcome back to my domain."

Illyana squared her shoulders and replied with her characteristic edge, "I didn't expect you to return, Azazel."

He chuckled, the sound echoing off the stone walls. "There's much you don't know, young one. But tell me, to what do I owe this...unexpected visit?"

Illyana stepped forward, her voice steely and commanding, "You know why we're here, Azazel. Leave Limbo and never return. And take your wretched demons with you."

As she made her demands, the once-empty room began to fill rapidly. The distinctive sound of feet shuffling and wings fluttering reverberated through the chamber. The eeriest of the lot, the ivory-looking demon, with its mouthless face and long, curling horns, inched closer. Its yellow eyes, devoid of emotion, were firmly locked on Illyana and Tyson. Most of the demons became ensnared by Tyson's illusionary influence. They looked around in confusion, sensing Azazel's will, but not being able to see the threat. A few others, including Vilsteth, moved in with clear intent, positioning themselves around the room with their focus on the two intruders.

Azazel, however, appeared unperturbed, a smug smirk playing on his lips. He slowly stood up from his throne, "I think not, Mistress," he retorted, with a hint of mocking in his voice. His tail swayed lazily behind him. "I underestimated you last time. Rest assured, I won't be making the same mistake again."

Illyana's grip tightened on her Soulsword, the blade glowing with a fierce intensity. She was ready, and by the looks of it, so was Azazel. His eyes flickered with a mix of amusement and annoyance as he noticed several of his demonic henchmen glancing around the room, seemingly dazed. Approaching one of the bewildered demons, he ordered sharply, "You, attack them."

The demon turned its gaze to Azazel, looking genuinely perplexed. "Attack who, Lord Azazel?"

Azazel huffed in frustration but retained his signature charm. "Whichever one of you sorcerers is responsible for these illusions," he addressed Illyana and Tyson, a hint of mocking pride in his voice, "understand that my will is not so easily manipulated." With a graceful movement, he gestured towards the mouthless, ivory demon with glowing yellow eyes. "And Vilsteth here," he said, emphasizing the creature's name, "is immune to all such tricks."

But then, a sudden change came over Azazel. His usually stern demeanor gave way to a more tender charm, his eyes locking onto Illyana's. "Once again, I ask you, Mistress of Limbo," he said in an almost coaxing tone, "won't you join me? Imagine what we could achieve together."

For a moment, Illyana appeared lost, her usually fierce gaze growing soft, almost vulnerable as if she were considering his offer. But Tyson, sensing her momentary weakness, quickly grabbed her hand. The sensation of having her essence drained by Tyson's touch was enough to snap her back to reality. The familiar blue hue surrounded them as Tyson channeled her power, and in a split second, they teleported away, leaving Azazel and his horde behind.

~~ Rogue Replacement ~~

Tyson quickly pulled them further into the vast expanse of Limbo, away from Azazel's fortress. As they arrived, the swirling energies of Limbo's landscape were distorted by waves of Illyana's anger.

"That insufferable, arrogant..." Illyana began, her blue eyes burning with fury. "He thinks he can just strut in and claim my realm as his own? Those demons, pledging allegiance to him like he's some king? This is MY dimension!" Taking a few deep breaths, trying to calm the anger within, she turned to Tyson, her voice a desperate whisper. "What do we do, Tyson? He's stronger than ever. And with that...that charm he pulled on me, and your illusions not working..."

Tyson looked thoughtful for a moment. "We're outmatched, for now. With his immunity to illusions combined with his magic, and the demons backing him up… Going head to head won't end well for us." He paused, musing over something Azazel had said. "He called us 'sorcerers'."

Illyana's eyebrows furrowed, "Yea. What are you getting at?"

He looked at her, determination in his eyes. "Maybe that's a clue we can chase, a piece of the puzzle we're missing. I know where we can find some sorcerers who might be able to help."

Curiosity piqued, Illyana tilted her head slightly, "You know sorcerers?"

Tyson grinned, "Correction. I know of sorcerers. Somewhere in New York City."

Tyson drew upon Illyana's power. He took over teleporting and creating portals as they left Limbo. His healing factor and stamina allowing him to maintain the strain indefinitely. Each glistening circle of energy, each flash of teleportation, brought them closer to the distant shimmer of city lights. With every successive jump, the city lights grew closer, until finally, they found themselves at the threshold of a town. The signs labeled it, William's Lake. It was bathed in the soft glow of streetlights, and at its southern peak was a convergence of two significant roads. There like a gift from the heavens stood a Ramada hotel, like a beacon awaiting the weary travelers.

Their breaths were visible in the crisp night air as the duo trudged toward the hotel. The weight of their recent encounters pressed down on them. They needed rest, and the Ramada's inviting lights promised just that. As they pushed open the hotel's glass doors, the warmth inside embraced them.

Inside the Ramada hotel, Tyson and Illyana approached the check-in desk, where a young receptionist with her neatly tied hair sat behind a computer screen, engrossed. Tyson took a step forward, catching her attention. As her eyes met his blue and green ones, he subtly activated his power of illusions. A shimmer passed over the receptionist's eyes for a moment, making them appear slightly glazed.

In her mind, Tyson transformed into a weary businessman who made his reservation days in advance. She saw him handing over his credit card, hearing him explain about an online booking. To her, every detail seemed to fit together perfectly. She typed away at her keyboard ensuring a room was available for him.

"Oh! I'm so sorry, Mr. Smith," she began, clearly buying into the illusion Tyson had planted. "I must have missed your reservation. Just one moment while I prepare your keys to one of our finest rooms."

Illyana, suppressing her smirk, leaned toward Tyson, whispering in a voice laced with amusement, "Mr. Smith? Really? Could you have chosen a more generic name?"

Tyson shrugged, his lips curling up in a cheeky grin. "It was the first name that came to mind. Besides, it worked, didn't it?"

The receptionist, oblivious to their exchange, handed them a pair of key cards. "You're all set, Mr. Smith. Room 412. The elevator's just to the right. Enjoy your stay!"

The pair thanked her, heading toward the elevator. As the doors closed behind them, Illyana nudged Tyson playfully. "Mr. Smith? I won't let you live that down."