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Issue #5 by William Sinclair
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“SEED OF EVIL – Part Five”
Avalon, Earth Unknown...
Today...
She was barely more than just a child.
Young Gwynn had lived for sixteen summers, by her best count, the elfin girl with vibrant hair and butterfly wings a pixie in the halls of Avalon. The Captains had rarely noticed her fleeting presence, the guardians of the Multiverse both tall and proud, their sights too high for the girl who lingered at Roma's side, the quite apprentice who had yet to earn her right.
She studied, usually in silence, and performed her many duties, usually in private, watching always in quite awe as the very nature of reality was protected by Sentinels of Might. By mortal men and women who wielded awesome power, by the Defenders of Every Realm.
Sometimes she was noticed, a friendly mention here and there, a kind word and a moment of encouragement, sometimes her company was cherished. Sometimes one would make her feel more special than she had previously thought was possible, one who was now laying on his deathbed, one who was now just moments away from silence.
She was barely more than just a child, shivering in the chilling wind, the elfin girl staring out across deserted Avalon, the battlements ravaged by a civil war, its Captains almost entirely absent. It was freezing as she stood upon the balcony, the wind washing inwards from the salty sea, chilling her to the bone as she cradled both her arms, her wings fluttering nervously in the foreboding calm.
"I don't want to go..." she admitted with a trembling breadth, peering warily across the abandoned fields of Sacred Avalon and towards the wall of fog that surrounded them "...I can't..."
"You must!" Captain Vigilant announced with vibrant gusto, clenching his heavy fist with a dramatic flourish to exemplify his point "The need is great, and our day is dire!!"
The look young Gwynn gave her giant of a companion was lacking in conviction, the elfin girl staring upon the machine made in the form of man with seeds of doubt. He was of peculiar creation, his mismatched parts and protruding gears clumsy and ancient built, and yet his movements were still as fluid as any dancer, his gestures as grand as any actor.
His confidence was not infectious.
"It's too far..." she insisted, looking back to the sea of fog that blinded them from the unknown world.
"Balderdash!" Vigilant swept his hand in yet another dramatic fashion, the piston upon his shoulder hooting with exuberance "'tis but a mighty jump, naught beyond the realms of any servant of Beloved Avalon, the Heart of which fears no fury!"
"We don't know what's beyond..."
"Salvation!" Vigilant declared with impossible bravado.
The mechanised creation slowly paused for but a moment, the tilting of its metallic head allowing its ruby eyes to peer upon the shaking of the elfin wizard, the girl who was barely more than just a child, the apprentice thrust fearfully into a violent world. Almost tenderly he lay a hand upon her shaking shoulder, its digits large enough to swallow her arm entire.
"We can not aid our fallen brothers..." his booming voice was lowered by several tones, a sombre echo from his metallic torso "...I can not save your friend, we must find aid in our dire plight...you must find us aid, somewhere beyond the veil".
Gwynn looked down for just a heartbeat, trembling in the chilling wind, the elfin girl who yesterday was just a child. She was afraid, fearful of what had happened, fearful for what was happening, fearful of what might happen. Fearful of anything that may lay beyond the veil.
Fearful that the world beyond would be even worse.
Fearful that Captain Flagship may die regardless...
Summoning her reserves of strength she looked upwards towards the far horizon, gazing deep into the unknown, she took a single breadth and closed her eyes, listening to the sea as she blinked out from existence, disappearing into the great unknown.
Fearfully, yes, but she went regardless, barely more than just a child, the only hope in all of Avalon.
# # # # #
Earth 616, British Airspace...
Today...
Steve Rogers was no stranger to turbulence.
It took a while for the rattling of his seat to wake him, the gentle shimmies that had preceded it nothing compared to what he had previously experienced. Under fire, flying low, packed shoulder to shoulder in the cramp confines of a helicopter, listening to the whispers and quite prayers of his fellow soldiers, only hoping that when the bullets penetrated the battered hull they wouldn't pierce the air where he was sitting.
It had been a dangerous way to fly.
Poor weather was not a fair comparison.
Something had changed, Steve Rogers alert within an instant, casting aside the grip of sleep and lingering fatigue as though they were a barely considered hindrance. The Cabin was beginning to shake violently, the outer hull groaning from the pressure, his fellow passengers whispering with urgency as the entire world dipped and jolted and shook with hostility all around them.
The pilot was making an announcement over the intercom, polite and clipped and clearly under pressure, but Steve was barely listening, filing the words away within his subconscious as his senses were focused towards more pressing matters. His hand snatched out with lighting quickness, seizing a stumbling hostess with strong arms before she tumbled, helping to keep her upright with the minimum of effort.
"Perhaps you should have a seat..." he suggested with the kindest of blue eyed smiles, regardless of the violent shaking that surrounded them "...I'm sure the refreshments can wait". She nodded a little sheepily and more than a little fearfully as the floor beneath her feet became increasingly unstable, the young hostess eagerly strapping herself down in the row behind him.
There was a chorus of panicked yelps, a choir of fearful shouting as the entire aircraft lurched dangerously to the side, rocking people in their seats as an elemental fury battered the outer hull, as the howling winds roared their enraged fury. Steve Rogers gripped his armrest tightly as he stared grimly out the window, gazing with blue eyes deep into the vengeful maelstrom, the blacks and purples of a dying sky.
The storm had just been starting when he had left London, a brief stop in Britain on his way back to America following an incident with the Juggernaught. Nothing then had seemed amiss, and yet now the sky was falling, now the sky was screaming, now the sky was dying.
He stared out as far as he was able; gripping his armrest with a growing sense of frustration and impotence, knowing that he was being forced to fly away from the impending danger, unable to change his course. He was being forced to leave Britain and its people to its fate.
Unable to even begin to aid them.
The Island Nation drowning beneath a sky of hate.
# # # # #
Earth 616, London...
Today...
Young Gwynn recoiled in terror almost from the moment she reappeared, blinking into existence amidst a burst of starlight and finding herself materialising in the eye of Hell. She was airborne, spiralling blindly downwards from the sky, the wings of a butterfly beating frantically as she was buffeted savagely by the howling winds from every corner. She tumbled, unable to find her bearings, plummeting from the air as she was lashed by boiling rain and blinded by the shrieking cracks of lightning.
Finally she pivoted, her petite frame colliding with a wall and bouncing towards an alleyway, her tiny body trying to find some grip within a violent world. Her heart was beating frantically; her wings were flapping wildly, the young girl hitting the flooded pavements with a painful tangling of limbs.
She found her hands and knees and retreated quickly, the elfin girl with vibrant hair hiding behind a dumpster, whipping out her tiny blade and holding out the dagger with shaking fingers. It seemed so dark it was impossible, the world itself drowning in eternal shadow, the rivers of burning tears rushing past her hands and feet. The hostility was in the air, overwhelming in its malice, the hate was palatable with every breadth she took, to her every fearful look.
She held her blade a little tighter, young Gwynn breathing deeply as she peered outwards from her place of hiding. She shouldn't be here, she wasn't ready, Avalon had brought them to this world for a purpose, but the rationale of such ancient magic was beyond her understanding, she couldn't do it.
There was no-one else...
Gwynn closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, whispering her words as carefully as possible as she gripped her dagger tightly. She cursed herself for every fumble, starting again and persistent, repeating silent sounds that were not English, words that were not from any language, words that formed the very core of magic.
Suddenly her blade lit up, a tiny glow in the forbidding darkness, a beacon in the night. She took comfort from its presence, daring to summon the smallest smile, the light penetrating a world of violence, the screams from up above howling their discomfort.
She began whispering once again, young Gwynn now a little braver, gripping the pommel of her tiny blade with both hands as she focused on her attentions. The words were ancient and beyond her understanding, incantations she should not have learned and were beyond her current studies, words she whispered on regardless, words to help her find a Captain.
# # # # #
Earth 616, London, The Black Library...
Now...
Brian Braddock was less than pleased.
He kept his quite counsel as he was lead into the Gallery, the heart of the tower that was called the Black Library, the centre of what was MI-13. Agent Baynam marched silently before him, pristine within her suit and her eyes hidden behind dark glasses, opening the path into the single room, the entire floor converted into a single chamber. It was vast, surrounded on all four sides by glass windows by way of walls, the structure doing nothing to hide the raging storm that was just outside.
He was seething just beneath the surface, his broad frame barely containing his displeasure, his broad shoulders taunt and barely moving. The craftsmanship did not escape him, the architecture that was new, the carvings etched across the ceiling in maddening contortions, distorted images that could not be real. He found it painful to look upon them.
Within the centre of the Gallery was the podium, carved from alabaster and as black as sin, the curves and distortions upon its surface grinning into the shapes of faces, screaming and lamenting their collective torment. Just above it was the Sphere, the seed of night that filled his gut with venom, every atom within his body recoiling from the object, the eye that hovered in the air, a miasma of pestilence sweeping across its surface.
He could feel it slowly breathing, with such open malice, silent with its vengeance, deafening with its violence.
"I said this thing was to be destroyed!" Brian spoke as calmly as he could through clenched teeth, his hands forming into his fists behind his back as his suspicions were confirmed. He glared upon the Sphere of Night, feeling the sightless eyes that were staring back, the thing that had been unleashed upon his family.
Upon his Country.
"It couldn't be destroyed..." Agent Baynam confirmed almost idly, pacing slowly to the other side of the Sphere and trailing a pale finger along its pulsing surface "...so it was instead contained".
"This is not...contained!" Brian's anger was becoming palatable, his sapphire eyes boring into Michelle Baynam, trying to fathom the changes in her demeanour.
"I said it was contained!" the Agent suddenly snapped extremely tersely, venom in her features as she glared upon the former Captain. It was fleeting in its presence; passing like a crack of lightning, furious in its passing "Our priorities have changed".
"Was? This is not a game..." Brian found himself stepping forward, his footsteps echoed by the thunder, his shadow silhouetted by the storm, the former Captain straying closer to the Sphere "...this thing is dangerous, I know it!"
"Yes!" her excitement was explosive, the woman removing her dark glances to reveal those amber eyes, one now milky white and blind. Brian was briefly taken back, caught off guard by the burst of energy and the scar that tore down across her pale features, one that was smooth and fierce, still bleeding at the edges. Her mood shifted within a heartbeat, turning sombre and unhappy.
"It is dangerous, but you are wrong..." she returned a trailing finger to the Sphere and its mournful surface "...you don't know...you no longer know..."
"Baynam!" Brian seized her by the shoulders and forced the Agent to look upon him, the women with amber eyes like a china doll before him "Michelle...this is wrong..."
"No..." she shook her head, a sneer forming upon her features "...the Director couldn't see, but she's gone now, left to wither and be forgotten in the care of your own sister. This is right Captain!" she was filled with righteous conviction "This is the way it should be! You would understand that, if you had ever agreed to help us, but it will be ok..."
The sneer faltered as she pulled back, Brian letting her step away from within his grasp.
"We couldn't recruit you to be our Captain...but we found another who is more than willing..."
# # # # #
Earth 616, Braddock Manor...
For perhaps the first time in her life, Elizabeth Braddock could see with perfect clarity why her brother loved his wife.
Psylocke pivoted and spun, her own blade of midnight black piercing the torso of a slavering phantom, one of many who had leapt outwards from the surrounding swarm. It blubbered with a piercing shriek, flaying its scything limbs as she slipped her katana free, preparing to strike down another as they kept on coming. Her shoulders brushed against those of Meggan and Alex Kent, the trio of them back to back within the Hall of Heroes, a besieged Island in the middle of a maelstrom, a hurricane of shrieking phantoms who sought to drag down the purest of their number.
She could see Meggan out the corner of her eye, brief flashes as they protected one another, Elizabeth finally seeing the woman for what she truly was. Her radiance was almost blinding, the elfin woman with a flowing mane of golden hair, wielding a blade of the Braddock bloodline, one forged from light and singing the sweetest song, grasping a shield of right, forever protective of her future child. Even the nightgown she was wearing now appeared to shine like the brightest armour, linked with gold and rare medallions, as beautiful as the warrior who wore it.
She was a Paladin, a child of the Natural World, a Champion put on this Earth to protect the rest of us.
It seemed so clear; she could not believe she had not seen it sooner.
Just being this close to her was intoxicating, something stirring within her core that had been buried beneath months of corruption, a butterfly of mental creation, one struggling to be free. Something fluttered within her torso, her heart missing several beats as she swung her blade and struck down another foe, a passion that she had been lacking.
A soul that was relighting.
She cried out as a scything talon sliced across her open thigh, the telepath stumbling to her knees in a moment of discomfort. It was an opening that would be the end of her, falling for just a heartbeat within the Hall of Heroes, surrounded by her family, the silent sentinels and eternal armour that were her bloodline. It would be the end of her, Psylocke staring upon the phantom that would slay her; it would be the end of her, just moments from her rebirth.
# # # # #
Earth 616, London, The Black Library...
It had been seven years since Bran Bardic had last seen Brian Braddock, the twins from separate Earths battling amongst the graves of his own worlds Genosha, brother turning violently against brother. Seven years and so much had changed, seven years and the enmity Captain Albion nurtured towards Captain Britain had not faltered.
The hatred had not dimmed.
He slammed the doors open as he entered the Gallery, marching triumphantly as the sacred blade Excalibur swung against his hip, a scowl upon his features, the smallest smile upon his lips.
"Brother!" he announced, swinging one arm out wide as though greeting an old friend, the frown that was forever etched across his golden faceplate betraying his true intentions "It has been too long!"
"Albion..." Brian Braddock returned with the smallest nod, the wariness clear within his posture, the suspicion in those sapphire eyes, the tautness in his shoulders.
"Come now!" Albion grinned with a distinct lack of true sincerity "Is this any way to greet another Captain? Surely you have not lost your sense of comradely Captain Britain of the Captain Britain Corps?" it was a battle to completely hide his sneer as he marched past, circling the Sphere beneath the twisted ceiling.
His eyes bore into Braddock, intense and fierce behind the bloodied visage of a lion, his counterpart from this world drenched from the sin that was plummeting from the sky, looking like half the man without his suit, without his armour. No, Bardic decided with no small amusement, he looked like just a man...and nothing else.
"Remind you of anything?" Albion questioned with bravado as he spread his arms out wide with a dramatic flourish, the Gallery lighting up with a terrific blast of lighting, casting his armoured form in all its brilliance, echoing his every word with violent thunder. "It makes me think of home!"
The clenching of Brian's hands was now more than obvious, the Captain of this world no longer bothering to hide his fists behind his back. "Is this you"re doing?" he demanded to know, thrusting a hand out towards the windows, towards the sickness and pestilence that was raining down outside "Is this for Genosha? You were responsible for that, you killed those people!"
The laughter that erupted from Albions torso was so violent it was almost an assault, both crude and mocking, ending as quickly as it had started. "The Genocide of one Nation?" Bardic laughed again, his black merriment shifting swiftly into scowling.
"This is about more than just one Island, one pathetic, dead end species..." Albion sneered as he leaned forwards, his hands tightly clasping either side of the podium, the Sphere of Night casting his sneering visage in ghastly shades of blacks and purples "...this is about his sin Braddock, this about what he did, what precious Merlin built his entire dream on!"
"SPIT IT OUT MAN!" Brain Braddock lost his patience and demanded as he stepped forward, frustration clear within his features, anger building within his fibres, the answer that was elusive, the memories that were beyond his reach "What is it? What is this about, what is that DAMN SPHERE!?!"
For just a moment, for just the briefest heartbeat, Albion almost pitied him, a man who did not know his own actions, a man who couldn't remember what he had done. It was a moment that passed quickly.
“You really should remember, Braddock," Baric sneered with satisfaction.
"You were the one who created it..."
# # # # #
Earth 616, Braddock Manor...
Every life she took was a wound upon her soul.
Meggan had to stop herself from crying as she slammed her shield against the features of a beast that was here to slay her, the features of the slavering phantom shattering across its surface. The thought of ending the existence of another creature was abhorrent within her mind, but she knew she could not still her hand as the blade of the Braddock Bloodline pierced the air and sliced a wailing beast clean in two, its broken halves falling and degrading into a cloud of sickly vapours.
She found herself hating them, the elfin warrior retreating half a step and swinging her shield around, the slashing scythes of yet more demons ricocheting from its gleaming surface, but it wasn't because she knew them to be unnatural. It was not because they had broken into her home or threatened the lives of her loved ones; it wasn't because they were here for murder and to slay her unborn infant. It wasn't because everything within her fibres was repelled by their very existence, by the pestilence that they oozed.
No, she hated them because of what they made her, she hated them because of what she was being forced to do.
She hated them because she had to slay them.
The sword she carried was singing, down the blade and through the hilt, along her fingers and into her heart, the ancient sword lamenting with her own internal turmoil. It soothed her mind as it cleaved arms from torsos and heads from shoulders, it whispered to her soul, it understood her conflict, it carried her with its own experience, it promised her that it would be ok.
It was a sweet melody of forgiveness and understanding, one that whistled through the air as she held the pommel tight, as she gripped her shield more firmly, as she fought to her last breadth to protect her family. To do what must be done.
To warn her of the coming darkness.
Elizabeth stumbled to her left, her sister through a loving marriage falling as a wound was struck across her body. Meggan reacted within an instant, her mane of golden hair swirling like the ocean as the elfin maiden pivoted and swung out her arm, the shield strapped across her forearm slamming down towards the creature that sought to slay her family.
There was a blaze of almighty light as mythic steel connected with corrupted flesh, the shrieking demon spitting as its face was crumpled, as its jaw was broken and its features smeared across the entire room. The impact was like a roar of thunder, a mighty bellow from across the ages, a Braddock that was long gone releasing a terrific roar in the face of evil, a guiding hand to protect some distant kin.
The Hall of Heroes was alive around them, the circle of armour standing silent and yet chanting with reverent fever, the Knights from another time lending strength to their decedents. It filled her, Meggan at the centre of a maelstrom of unrelenting violence, the target of misery and decay, the elfin maiden fighting to protect her loved ones.
It filled her and made her stronger, granting her the will to carry on, granting her the strength that was needed.
Granting her forgiveness in the face of sin.
# # # # #
Earth 616, London, The Black Library...
Brian Braddock released a sigh of palatable frustration as his shoulders remained tight and rigid, his eyes as hard as steel as he glared intensely upon the mocking form of Captain Albion. He stood there, in his armour and gleaming mask, the flag of his people cast eerily with dark reflections that emanated from the hostile Sphere. He looked sick, standing there behind it, one hand forever upon the pommel of his sword, his flesh both taunt and pallid, his vigour slowly wasting and forgotten.
His eyes remained the same, piercing and cruel, uncompromising in any way, a man who had no doubt in his convictions. A man who could not be swayed.
There was no love lost between the two of them, not since they had battled upon the shores of his worlds Genosha, not since they had fought amongst the graves of the people that had been slaughtered. And yet his own eyes continued to wonder to the Sphere, upon the pedestal of phantom screams, listening to its whispers and knowing full well the influence it had on men, the sickening touch of its intentions, the manner in which it slithered into your soul.
The way it which it destroyed everything it touched.
Michelle Baynam was lingering just in and out of sight, the Agent of MI-13 shifting wildly between fits of giggling and broken sobbing more dramatically the longer she remained within the chambers walls. The more she lingered with them, the more she stood beneath the perverse carvings, the longer she listened to the whispers, the more of her that slipped away, her senses drowning in a wave of ecstasy and despair.
He should never have left the Sphere within her care.
He should have destroyed it when he'd had the chance, the seed of evil he had apparently created.
An act he simply could not remember.
The Final Moment...
"ENOUGH!" he finally gave voice to his overwhelming frustration, Brian Braddock stepping forward and disregarding any further attempts to unlock the secrets buried beyond his reach. His voice was echoed by the thunder, his steps followed by the shaking of the glass, his breadth repeated by the hissing of the Sphere.
"I don't give a damn about the cause!" he insisted with a dismissive wave of one open hand, marching upon the instigator of his nations turmoil, upon the would be architect of its destruction, his shadow twin and the ball of sickness, the sphere of night and shadow.
"I'm ending this insanity if I have to..."
"I'm sorry Brian..." Michelle Baynam barely whispered as she slipped around the back of the former Captain, grasping a small blade in hand and sliding it smoothly into his back.
Brian forgot to even breadth as pain suddenly erupted throughout his system, his sapphire eyes wide and disbelieving as a dagger was plunged into his back, a blade of ebony night slicing through enchanted flesh and burying itself deep into his organs. He sputtered for a moment, looking down as disease spread throughout his system, an infection that was not of mortal means burning throughout his fibres, blinding all his senses.
Almost dumbly he fell to his own knees, not quite believing what was happening, not quite able to comprehend the truth, staring blindly at the Sphere, its malice echoing throughout the ages. There was clarity, for but a moment, within the mocking of the storm, his father standing upon the shore, his mother whispering from beyond, the armour and the sword...
"...I truly am..." Michelle Baynam was still behind him, the girl with one amber eye now weeping freely, a bloodied blade held fiercely.
"...I never should have stopped you..."
# # # # #
Earth 616, Braddock Manor...
Within the midst of violence, one's life was measured within a moment.
Elizabeth didn't even have time to blink as Meggan suddenly appeared across her vision, the warrior maiden with golden hair slamming her shield down across the features of the phantom that sought to slay her. It's features were obliterated, the eyeless face smeared like rotten fruit, pestilence and decay leaking into the air as it unleashed its final, pathetic wailing.
There was no time to think, no moment in which to utter any kind of thank you, the former X-Man already forcing her ailing body back into its feet with a fluid spinning of her lethal limbs. It become almost impossible for her to breadth, the iron will of the Braddock bloodline the only thing that kept her going, it was the only thing that granted her the strength to continue standing.
To continue fighting.
She struck out with her phantom blade, whirling and striking beneath the guard to the woman who had saved her life, protecting a flank that had become exposed. There was no resistance as it plunged deep into the torso of the wailing creature, a brief fluttering filling her own heart as it seemed the impossible was soon to pass. Even as she was fit to drop, bleeding from her many wounds and her skin as white as ash, the circle of violent phantoms that ripped and tore into the world was slacking, their numbers were thinning, the siege was faltering.
Hope, it was a feeling that had not filled her in several months now, as fragile as a butterfly, as fleeting at the beating of its wings. They could do this, back to back, the three of them surrounded by the history of the Braddock Bloodline, exhausted and alone, they could break the spine of this attack and ensure their survival for another day.
They could win...
Suddenly the ground shook, an almighty heaving that rippled the very earth beneath their feet, which shook the thick foundations of the ancient Manor. The creature exploded into the world, heaving into reality as a fat, bulbous mass of sickening decay, an oversized, pathetically mewling infant wrapped in rolls of blubber that dwarfed everything else within the room. It flopped onto its side with a pathetic flapping of its pudgy limbs, crushing its smaller brethren beneath its grotesque and massive mass as it floundered beneath its own ungodly weight.
There was a moment's pause in the attack, the wailing creatures with scything arms scattering as the grotesque and obese beast appeared behind them, the trio of defenders, exhausted and startled, stepping back from the horrific sight. Meggan released a gasp that was mixed with both horror and pity, compelled to answer the grotesque infants wailings and held back only by the warning hand of Elizabeth.
The gelatinous mass of the massive infant shuddered and rippled, the folds of its overwhelming fat flapping as its entire body convulsed, it's pathetic wailings growing only louder. Elizabeth knew what was happening almost within an instant, panic gripping the former X-Man as a palatable cloud of gas erupted from the monsters mass, poisoning the air and ready to ignite.
She was almost dead; every atom within frame ready to give out, and soon his brother's wife would be joining her. There were no options left, not within the fragile heartbeats that still remained, although the choices she now made would no doubt condemn her soul if not take her life. With lighting quickness she snatched out and seized both Meggan and Agent Kent, not even waiting to hear shouts of surprise or asking for permission, as the viper from the deepest dark wrapped tightly about her heart and gleefully smothered the butterfly within.
She fell, as she called upon its power, the will to drag herself from here and take the others with her, the three of them tumbling into the shadows and towards oblivion, slipping perilously from the world as the blubberers and horrific infant wailed one last time and erupted.
The ensuing explosion ripped throughout the entire Manor, obliterating walls and turning stone to dust, wood to tinder and wiping the heritage of the Braddocks from the face of the earth. The inferno was like a star, bursting into life and consuming everything around it, a burning blast of light that lasted for but an instant, a horrific flash beneath the violent storm.
A maelstrom for violence until there was only silence...
# # # # #
Earth 616, The Black Library, Now...
His hands were burning as Bran Bardic, Captain Albion of Earth Thirteen-Two-Eleven, grasped The Sphere of night between his fingers, the orb of unrelenting malice releasing a howl of unrepentant rage. It filled him, the fury that shattered boundaries, which eradicated life, which exploded outwards and filled the Gallery with a storm of screaming phantoms.
They swarmed around him, shattering the glass and warping the nature of reality, a great explosion of clawing hands and wailing voices, of terrible singing and awful screeching, erupting upwards as a devastating stream of the darkest light, a physical tide of violence. It smashed upwards through the tower, released from its confines and tearing apart the nature of reality, bleeding through the cracks and launching upwards into the burning sky, a beacon of pestilence that pierced the heavens and intensified the already horrific storm.
Captain Albion, wrapped in the armour of his own homeland, was drowning in the intensity, grinning manically as the power rushed throughout his system and swallowed up his soul, as he felt the power of raw destruction and the righteousness of conviction. He was a part of it, a single atom within its universe, a vessel to be channelled, a key for its lock, the instigator of this destruction. He could hear them, the whispers and the singing, the tower and the secret, he could see the final moment buried beneath the surface.
The memory that was drowning.
He could barely contain his laughter as the world was shaking, as the barriers were breaking, as the boundaries were being torn a sunder. Brian Braddock was there before him, kneeling upon the floor, paralyzed by the hand of death that was eating away within his system.
It was over, the sickness of this world would die and soon they would be ready for the next, an endless sea of dominos until nothing else was left. Nothing but that moment, the first moment, the final moment, nothing but the mockery of laughter and the eternal presence of despair.
"TELL ME BRADDOCK!!" he roared above the violence that would obliterate a Universe. "DO YOU STILL BELIEVE IN ANNIHILATION!?!"
TO BE CONTINUED... ?
Today...
She was barely more than just a child.
Young Gwynn had lived for sixteen summers, by her best count, the elfin girl with vibrant hair and butterfly wings a pixie in the halls of Avalon. The Captains had rarely noticed her fleeting presence, the guardians of the Multiverse both tall and proud, their sights too high for the girl who lingered at Roma's side, the quite apprentice who had yet to earn her right.
She studied, usually in silence, and performed her many duties, usually in private, watching always in quite awe as the very nature of reality was protected by Sentinels of Might. By mortal men and women who wielded awesome power, by the Defenders of Every Realm.
Sometimes she was noticed, a friendly mention here and there, a kind word and a moment of encouragement, sometimes her company was cherished. Sometimes one would make her feel more special than she had previously thought was possible, one who was now laying on his deathbed, one who was now just moments away from silence.
She was barely more than just a child, shivering in the chilling wind, the elfin girl staring out across deserted Avalon, the battlements ravaged by a civil war, its Captains almost entirely absent. It was freezing as she stood upon the balcony, the wind washing inwards from the salty sea, chilling her to the bone as she cradled both her arms, her wings fluttering nervously in the foreboding calm.
"I don't want to go..." she admitted with a trembling breadth, peering warily across the abandoned fields of Sacred Avalon and towards the wall of fog that surrounded them "...I can't..."
"You must!" Captain Vigilant announced with vibrant gusto, clenching his heavy fist with a dramatic flourish to exemplify his point "The need is great, and our day is dire!!"
The look young Gwynn gave her giant of a companion was lacking in conviction, the elfin girl staring upon the machine made in the form of man with seeds of doubt. He was of peculiar creation, his mismatched parts and protruding gears clumsy and ancient built, and yet his movements were still as fluid as any dancer, his gestures as grand as any actor.
His confidence was not infectious.
"It's too far..." she insisted, looking back to the sea of fog that blinded them from the unknown world.
"Balderdash!" Vigilant swept his hand in yet another dramatic fashion, the piston upon his shoulder hooting with exuberance "'tis but a mighty jump, naught beyond the realms of any servant of Beloved Avalon, the Heart of which fears no fury!"
"We don't know what's beyond..."
"Salvation!" Vigilant declared with impossible bravado.
The mechanised creation slowly paused for but a moment, the tilting of its metallic head allowing its ruby eyes to peer upon the shaking of the elfin wizard, the girl who was barely more than just a child, the apprentice thrust fearfully into a violent world. Almost tenderly he lay a hand upon her shaking shoulder, its digits large enough to swallow her arm entire.
"We can not aid our fallen brothers..." his booming voice was lowered by several tones, a sombre echo from his metallic torso "...I can not save your friend, we must find aid in our dire plight...you must find us aid, somewhere beyond the veil".
Gwynn looked down for just a heartbeat, trembling in the chilling wind, the elfin girl who yesterday was just a child. She was afraid, fearful of what had happened, fearful for what was happening, fearful of what might happen. Fearful of anything that may lay beyond the veil.
Fearful that the world beyond would be even worse.
Fearful that Captain Flagship may die regardless...
Summoning her reserves of strength she looked upwards towards the far horizon, gazing deep into the unknown, she took a single breadth and closed her eyes, listening to the sea as she blinked out from existence, disappearing into the great unknown.
Fearfully, yes, but she went regardless, barely more than just a child, the only hope in all of Avalon.
# # # # #
Earth 616, British Airspace...
Today...
Steve Rogers was no stranger to turbulence.
It took a while for the rattling of his seat to wake him, the gentle shimmies that had preceded it nothing compared to what he had previously experienced. Under fire, flying low, packed shoulder to shoulder in the cramp confines of a helicopter, listening to the whispers and quite prayers of his fellow soldiers, only hoping that when the bullets penetrated the battered hull they wouldn't pierce the air where he was sitting.
It had been a dangerous way to fly.
Poor weather was not a fair comparison.
Something had changed, Steve Rogers alert within an instant, casting aside the grip of sleep and lingering fatigue as though they were a barely considered hindrance. The Cabin was beginning to shake violently, the outer hull groaning from the pressure, his fellow passengers whispering with urgency as the entire world dipped and jolted and shook with hostility all around them.
The pilot was making an announcement over the intercom, polite and clipped and clearly under pressure, but Steve was barely listening, filing the words away within his subconscious as his senses were focused towards more pressing matters. His hand snatched out with lighting quickness, seizing a stumbling hostess with strong arms before she tumbled, helping to keep her upright with the minimum of effort.
"Perhaps you should have a seat..." he suggested with the kindest of blue eyed smiles, regardless of the violent shaking that surrounded them "...I'm sure the refreshments can wait". She nodded a little sheepily and more than a little fearfully as the floor beneath her feet became increasingly unstable, the young hostess eagerly strapping herself down in the row behind him.
There was a chorus of panicked yelps, a choir of fearful shouting as the entire aircraft lurched dangerously to the side, rocking people in their seats as an elemental fury battered the outer hull, as the howling winds roared their enraged fury. Steve Rogers gripped his armrest tightly as he stared grimly out the window, gazing with blue eyes deep into the vengeful maelstrom, the blacks and purples of a dying sky.
The storm had just been starting when he had left London, a brief stop in Britain on his way back to America following an incident with the Juggernaught. Nothing then had seemed amiss, and yet now the sky was falling, now the sky was screaming, now the sky was dying.
He stared out as far as he was able; gripping his armrest with a growing sense of frustration and impotence, knowing that he was being forced to fly away from the impending danger, unable to change his course. He was being forced to leave Britain and its people to its fate.
Unable to even begin to aid them.
The Island Nation drowning beneath a sky of hate.
# # # # #
Earth 616, London...
Today...
Young Gwynn recoiled in terror almost from the moment she reappeared, blinking into existence amidst a burst of starlight and finding herself materialising in the eye of Hell. She was airborne, spiralling blindly downwards from the sky, the wings of a butterfly beating frantically as she was buffeted savagely by the howling winds from every corner. She tumbled, unable to find her bearings, plummeting from the air as she was lashed by boiling rain and blinded by the shrieking cracks of lightning.
Finally she pivoted, her petite frame colliding with a wall and bouncing towards an alleyway, her tiny body trying to find some grip within a violent world. Her heart was beating frantically; her wings were flapping wildly, the young girl hitting the flooded pavements with a painful tangling of limbs.
She found her hands and knees and retreated quickly, the elfin girl with vibrant hair hiding behind a dumpster, whipping out her tiny blade and holding out the dagger with shaking fingers. It seemed so dark it was impossible, the world itself drowning in eternal shadow, the rivers of burning tears rushing past her hands and feet. The hostility was in the air, overwhelming in its malice, the hate was palatable with every breadth she took, to her every fearful look.
She held her blade a little tighter, young Gwynn breathing deeply as she peered outwards from her place of hiding. She shouldn't be here, she wasn't ready, Avalon had brought them to this world for a purpose, but the rationale of such ancient magic was beyond her understanding, she couldn't do it.
There was no-one else...
Gwynn closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, whispering her words as carefully as possible as she gripped her dagger tightly. She cursed herself for every fumble, starting again and persistent, repeating silent sounds that were not English, words that were not from any language, words that formed the very core of magic.
Suddenly her blade lit up, a tiny glow in the forbidding darkness, a beacon in the night. She took comfort from its presence, daring to summon the smallest smile, the light penetrating a world of violence, the screams from up above howling their discomfort.
She began whispering once again, young Gwynn now a little braver, gripping the pommel of her tiny blade with both hands as she focused on her attentions. The words were ancient and beyond her understanding, incantations she should not have learned and were beyond her current studies, words she whispered on regardless, words to help her find a Captain.
# # # # #
Earth 616, London, The Black Library...
Now...
Brian Braddock was less than pleased.
He kept his quite counsel as he was lead into the Gallery, the heart of the tower that was called the Black Library, the centre of what was MI-13. Agent Baynam marched silently before him, pristine within her suit and her eyes hidden behind dark glasses, opening the path into the single room, the entire floor converted into a single chamber. It was vast, surrounded on all four sides by glass windows by way of walls, the structure doing nothing to hide the raging storm that was just outside.
He was seething just beneath the surface, his broad frame barely containing his displeasure, his broad shoulders taunt and barely moving. The craftsmanship did not escape him, the architecture that was new, the carvings etched across the ceiling in maddening contortions, distorted images that could not be real. He found it painful to look upon them.
Within the centre of the Gallery was the podium, carved from alabaster and as black as sin, the curves and distortions upon its surface grinning into the shapes of faces, screaming and lamenting their collective torment. Just above it was the Sphere, the seed of night that filled his gut with venom, every atom within his body recoiling from the object, the eye that hovered in the air, a miasma of pestilence sweeping across its surface.
He could feel it slowly breathing, with such open malice, silent with its vengeance, deafening with its violence.
"I said this thing was to be destroyed!" Brian spoke as calmly as he could through clenched teeth, his hands forming into his fists behind his back as his suspicions were confirmed. He glared upon the Sphere of Night, feeling the sightless eyes that were staring back, the thing that had been unleashed upon his family.
Upon his Country.
"It couldn't be destroyed..." Agent Baynam confirmed almost idly, pacing slowly to the other side of the Sphere and trailing a pale finger along its pulsing surface "...so it was instead contained".
"This is not...contained!" Brian's anger was becoming palatable, his sapphire eyes boring into Michelle Baynam, trying to fathom the changes in her demeanour.
"I said it was contained!" the Agent suddenly snapped extremely tersely, venom in her features as she glared upon the former Captain. It was fleeting in its presence; passing like a crack of lightning, furious in its passing "Our priorities have changed".
"Was? This is not a game..." Brian found himself stepping forward, his footsteps echoed by the thunder, his shadow silhouetted by the storm, the former Captain straying closer to the Sphere "...this thing is dangerous, I know it!"
"Yes!" her excitement was explosive, the woman removing her dark glances to reveal those amber eyes, one now milky white and blind. Brian was briefly taken back, caught off guard by the burst of energy and the scar that tore down across her pale features, one that was smooth and fierce, still bleeding at the edges. Her mood shifted within a heartbeat, turning sombre and unhappy.
"It is dangerous, but you are wrong..." she returned a trailing finger to the Sphere and its mournful surface "...you don't know...you no longer know..."
"Baynam!" Brian seized her by the shoulders and forced the Agent to look upon him, the women with amber eyes like a china doll before him "Michelle...this is wrong..."
"No..." she shook her head, a sneer forming upon her features "...the Director couldn't see, but she's gone now, left to wither and be forgotten in the care of your own sister. This is right Captain!" she was filled with righteous conviction "This is the way it should be! You would understand that, if you had ever agreed to help us, but it will be ok..."
The sneer faltered as she pulled back, Brian letting her step away from within his grasp.
"We couldn't recruit you to be our Captain...but we found another who is more than willing..."
# # # # #
Earth 616, Braddock Manor...
For perhaps the first time in her life, Elizabeth Braddock could see with perfect clarity why her brother loved his wife.
Psylocke pivoted and spun, her own blade of midnight black piercing the torso of a slavering phantom, one of many who had leapt outwards from the surrounding swarm. It blubbered with a piercing shriek, flaying its scything limbs as she slipped her katana free, preparing to strike down another as they kept on coming. Her shoulders brushed against those of Meggan and Alex Kent, the trio of them back to back within the Hall of Heroes, a besieged Island in the middle of a maelstrom, a hurricane of shrieking phantoms who sought to drag down the purest of their number.
She could see Meggan out the corner of her eye, brief flashes as they protected one another, Elizabeth finally seeing the woman for what she truly was. Her radiance was almost blinding, the elfin woman with a flowing mane of golden hair, wielding a blade of the Braddock bloodline, one forged from light and singing the sweetest song, grasping a shield of right, forever protective of her future child. Even the nightgown she was wearing now appeared to shine like the brightest armour, linked with gold and rare medallions, as beautiful as the warrior who wore it.
She was a Paladin, a child of the Natural World, a Champion put on this Earth to protect the rest of us.
It seemed so clear; she could not believe she had not seen it sooner.
Just being this close to her was intoxicating, something stirring within her core that had been buried beneath months of corruption, a butterfly of mental creation, one struggling to be free. Something fluttered within her torso, her heart missing several beats as she swung her blade and struck down another foe, a passion that she had been lacking.
A soul that was relighting.
She cried out as a scything talon sliced across her open thigh, the telepath stumbling to her knees in a moment of discomfort. It was an opening that would be the end of her, falling for just a heartbeat within the Hall of Heroes, surrounded by her family, the silent sentinels and eternal armour that were her bloodline. It would be the end of her, Psylocke staring upon the phantom that would slay her; it would be the end of her, just moments from her rebirth.
# # # # #
Earth 616, London, The Black Library...
It had been seven years since Bran Bardic had last seen Brian Braddock, the twins from separate Earths battling amongst the graves of his own worlds Genosha, brother turning violently against brother. Seven years and so much had changed, seven years and the enmity Captain Albion nurtured towards Captain Britain had not faltered.
The hatred had not dimmed.
He slammed the doors open as he entered the Gallery, marching triumphantly as the sacred blade Excalibur swung against his hip, a scowl upon his features, the smallest smile upon his lips.
"Brother!" he announced, swinging one arm out wide as though greeting an old friend, the frown that was forever etched across his golden faceplate betraying his true intentions "It has been too long!"
"Albion..." Brian Braddock returned with the smallest nod, the wariness clear within his posture, the suspicion in those sapphire eyes, the tautness in his shoulders.
"Come now!" Albion grinned with a distinct lack of true sincerity "Is this any way to greet another Captain? Surely you have not lost your sense of comradely Captain Britain of the Captain Britain Corps?" it was a battle to completely hide his sneer as he marched past, circling the Sphere beneath the twisted ceiling.
His eyes bore into Braddock, intense and fierce behind the bloodied visage of a lion, his counterpart from this world drenched from the sin that was plummeting from the sky, looking like half the man without his suit, without his armour. No, Bardic decided with no small amusement, he looked like just a man...and nothing else.
"Remind you of anything?" Albion questioned with bravado as he spread his arms out wide with a dramatic flourish, the Gallery lighting up with a terrific blast of lighting, casting his armoured form in all its brilliance, echoing his every word with violent thunder. "It makes me think of home!"
The clenching of Brian's hands was now more than obvious, the Captain of this world no longer bothering to hide his fists behind his back. "Is this you"re doing?" he demanded to know, thrusting a hand out towards the windows, towards the sickness and pestilence that was raining down outside "Is this for Genosha? You were responsible for that, you killed those people!"
The laughter that erupted from Albions torso was so violent it was almost an assault, both crude and mocking, ending as quickly as it had started. "The Genocide of one Nation?" Bardic laughed again, his black merriment shifting swiftly into scowling.
"This is about more than just one Island, one pathetic, dead end species..." Albion sneered as he leaned forwards, his hands tightly clasping either side of the podium, the Sphere of Night casting his sneering visage in ghastly shades of blacks and purples "...this is about his sin Braddock, this about what he did, what precious Merlin built his entire dream on!"
"SPIT IT OUT MAN!" Brain Braddock lost his patience and demanded as he stepped forward, frustration clear within his features, anger building within his fibres, the answer that was elusive, the memories that were beyond his reach "What is it? What is this about, what is that DAMN SPHERE!?!"
For just a moment, for just the briefest heartbeat, Albion almost pitied him, a man who did not know his own actions, a man who couldn't remember what he had done. It was a moment that passed quickly.
“You really should remember, Braddock," Baric sneered with satisfaction.
"You were the one who created it..."
# # # # #
Earth 616, Braddock Manor...
Every life she took was a wound upon her soul.
Meggan had to stop herself from crying as she slammed her shield against the features of a beast that was here to slay her, the features of the slavering phantom shattering across its surface. The thought of ending the existence of another creature was abhorrent within her mind, but she knew she could not still her hand as the blade of the Braddock Bloodline pierced the air and sliced a wailing beast clean in two, its broken halves falling and degrading into a cloud of sickly vapours.
She found herself hating them, the elfin warrior retreating half a step and swinging her shield around, the slashing scythes of yet more demons ricocheting from its gleaming surface, but it wasn't because she knew them to be unnatural. It was not because they had broken into her home or threatened the lives of her loved ones; it wasn't because they were here for murder and to slay her unborn infant. It wasn't because everything within her fibres was repelled by their very existence, by the pestilence that they oozed.
No, she hated them because of what they made her, she hated them because of what she was being forced to do.
She hated them because she had to slay them.
The sword she carried was singing, down the blade and through the hilt, along her fingers and into her heart, the ancient sword lamenting with her own internal turmoil. It soothed her mind as it cleaved arms from torsos and heads from shoulders, it whispered to her soul, it understood her conflict, it carried her with its own experience, it promised her that it would be ok.
It was a sweet melody of forgiveness and understanding, one that whistled through the air as she held the pommel tight, as she gripped her shield more firmly, as she fought to her last breadth to protect her family. To do what must be done.
To warn her of the coming darkness.
Elizabeth stumbled to her left, her sister through a loving marriage falling as a wound was struck across her body. Meggan reacted within an instant, her mane of golden hair swirling like the ocean as the elfin maiden pivoted and swung out her arm, the shield strapped across her forearm slamming down towards the creature that sought to slay her family.
There was a blaze of almighty light as mythic steel connected with corrupted flesh, the shrieking demon spitting as its face was crumpled, as its jaw was broken and its features smeared across the entire room. The impact was like a roar of thunder, a mighty bellow from across the ages, a Braddock that was long gone releasing a terrific roar in the face of evil, a guiding hand to protect some distant kin.
The Hall of Heroes was alive around them, the circle of armour standing silent and yet chanting with reverent fever, the Knights from another time lending strength to their decedents. It filled her, Meggan at the centre of a maelstrom of unrelenting violence, the target of misery and decay, the elfin maiden fighting to protect her loved ones.
It filled her and made her stronger, granting her the will to carry on, granting her the strength that was needed.
Granting her forgiveness in the face of sin.
# # # # #
Earth 616, London, The Black Library...
Brian Braddock released a sigh of palatable frustration as his shoulders remained tight and rigid, his eyes as hard as steel as he glared intensely upon the mocking form of Captain Albion. He stood there, in his armour and gleaming mask, the flag of his people cast eerily with dark reflections that emanated from the hostile Sphere. He looked sick, standing there behind it, one hand forever upon the pommel of his sword, his flesh both taunt and pallid, his vigour slowly wasting and forgotten.
His eyes remained the same, piercing and cruel, uncompromising in any way, a man who had no doubt in his convictions. A man who could not be swayed.
There was no love lost between the two of them, not since they had battled upon the shores of his worlds Genosha, not since they had fought amongst the graves of the people that had been slaughtered. And yet his own eyes continued to wonder to the Sphere, upon the pedestal of phantom screams, listening to its whispers and knowing full well the influence it had on men, the sickening touch of its intentions, the manner in which it slithered into your soul.
The way it which it destroyed everything it touched.
Michelle Baynam was lingering just in and out of sight, the Agent of MI-13 shifting wildly between fits of giggling and broken sobbing more dramatically the longer she remained within the chambers walls. The more she lingered with them, the more she stood beneath the perverse carvings, the longer she listened to the whispers, the more of her that slipped away, her senses drowning in a wave of ecstasy and despair.
He should never have left the Sphere within her care.
He should have destroyed it when he'd had the chance, the seed of evil he had apparently created.
An act he simply could not remember.
The Final Moment...
"ENOUGH!" he finally gave voice to his overwhelming frustration, Brian Braddock stepping forward and disregarding any further attempts to unlock the secrets buried beyond his reach. His voice was echoed by the thunder, his steps followed by the shaking of the glass, his breadth repeated by the hissing of the Sphere.
"I don't give a damn about the cause!" he insisted with a dismissive wave of one open hand, marching upon the instigator of his nations turmoil, upon the would be architect of its destruction, his shadow twin and the ball of sickness, the sphere of night and shadow.
"I'm ending this insanity if I have to..."
"I'm sorry Brian..." Michelle Baynam barely whispered as she slipped around the back of the former Captain, grasping a small blade in hand and sliding it smoothly into his back.
Brian forgot to even breadth as pain suddenly erupted throughout his system, his sapphire eyes wide and disbelieving as a dagger was plunged into his back, a blade of ebony night slicing through enchanted flesh and burying itself deep into his organs. He sputtered for a moment, looking down as disease spread throughout his system, an infection that was not of mortal means burning throughout his fibres, blinding all his senses.
Almost dumbly he fell to his own knees, not quite believing what was happening, not quite able to comprehend the truth, staring blindly at the Sphere, its malice echoing throughout the ages. There was clarity, for but a moment, within the mocking of the storm, his father standing upon the shore, his mother whispering from beyond, the armour and the sword...
"...I truly am..." Michelle Baynam was still behind him, the girl with one amber eye now weeping freely, a bloodied blade held fiercely.
"...I never should have stopped you..."
# # # # #
Earth 616, Braddock Manor...
Within the midst of violence, one's life was measured within a moment.
Elizabeth didn't even have time to blink as Meggan suddenly appeared across her vision, the warrior maiden with golden hair slamming her shield down across the features of the phantom that sought to slay her. It's features were obliterated, the eyeless face smeared like rotten fruit, pestilence and decay leaking into the air as it unleashed its final, pathetic wailing.
There was no time to think, no moment in which to utter any kind of thank you, the former X-Man already forcing her ailing body back into its feet with a fluid spinning of her lethal limbs. It become almost impossible for her to breadth, the iron will of the Braddock bloodline the only thing that kept her going, it was the only thing that granted her the strength to continue standing.
To continue fighting.
She struck out with her phantom blade, whirling and striking beneath the guard to the woman who had saved her life, protecting a flank that had become exposed. There was no resistance as it plunged deep into the torso of the wailing creature, a brief fluttering filling her own heart as it seemed the impossible was soon to pass. Even as she was fit to drop, bleeding from her many wounds and her skin as white as ash, the circle of violent phantoms that ripped and tore into the world was slacking, their numbers were thinning, the siege was faltering.
Hope, it was a feeling that had not filled her in several months now, as fragile as a butterfly, as fleeting at the beating of its wings. They could do this, back to back, the three of them surrounded by the history of the Braddock Bloodline, exhausted and alone, they could break the spine of this attack and ensure their survival for another day.
They could win...
Suddenly the ground shook, an almighty heaving that rippled the very earth beneath their feet, which shook the thick foundations of the ancient Manor. The creature exploded into the world, heaving into reality as a fat, bulbous mass of sickening decay, an oversized, pathetically mewling infant wrapped in rolls of blubber that dwarfed everything else within the room. It flopped onto its side with a pathetic flapping of its pudgy limbs, crushing its smaller brethren beneath its grotesque and massive mass as it floundered beneath its own ungodly weight.
There was a moment's pause in the attack, the wailing creatures with scything arms scattering as the grotesque and obese beast appeared behind them, the trio of defenders, exhausted and startled, stepping back from the horrific sight. Meggan released a gasp that was mixed with both horror and pity, compelled to answer the grotesque infants wailings and held back only by the warning hand of Elizabeth.
The gelatinous mass of the massive infant shuddered and rippled, the folds of its overwhelming fat flapping as its entire body convulsed, it's pathetic wailings growing only louder. Elizabeth knew what was happening almost within an instant, panic gripping the former X-Man as a palatable cloud of gas erupted from the monsters mass, poisoning the air and ready to ignite.
She was almost dead; every atom within frame ready to give out, and soon his brother's wife would be joining her. There were no options left, not within the fragile heartbeats that still remained, although the choices she now made would no doubt condemn her soul if not take her life. With lighting quickness she snatched out and seized both Meggan and Agent Kent, not even waiting to hear shouts of surprise or asking for permission, as the viper from the deepest dark wrapped tightly about her heart and gleefully smothered the butterfly within.
She fell, as she called upon its power, the will to drag herself from here and take the others with her, the three of them tumbling into the shadows and towards oblivion, slipping perilously from the world as the blubberers and horrific infant wailed one last time and erupted.
The ensuing explosion ripped throughout the entire Manor, obliterating walls and turning stone to dust, wood to tinder and wiping the heritage of the Braddocks from the face of the earth. The inferno was like a star, bursting into life and consuming everything around it, a burning blast of light that lasted for but an instant, a horrific flash beneath the violent storm.
A maelstrom for violence until there was only silence...
# # # # #
Earth 616, The Black Library, Now...
His hands were burning as Bran Bardic, Captain Albion of Earth Thirteen-Two-Eleven, grasped The Sphere of night between his fingers, the orb of unrelenting malice releasing a howl of unrepentant rage. It filled him, the fury that shattered boundaries, which eradicated life, which exploded outwards and filled the Gallery with a storm of screaming phantoms.
They swarmed around him, shattering the glass and warping the nature of reality, a great explosion of clawing hands and wailing voices, of terrible singing and awful screeching, erupting upwards as a devastating stream of the darkest light, a physical tide of violence. It smashed upwards through the tower, released from its confines and tearing apart the nature of reality, bleeding through the cracks and launching upwards into the burning sky, a beacon of pestilence that pierced the heavens and intensified the already horrific storm.
Captain Albion, wrapped in the armour of his own homeland, was drowning in the intensity, grinning manically as the power rushed throughout his system and swallowed up his soul, as he felt the power of raw destruction and the righteousness of conviction. He was a part of it, a single atom within its universe, a vessel to be channelled, a key for its lock, the instigator of this destruction. He could hear them, the whispers and the singing, the tower and the secret, he could see the final moment buried beneath the surface.
The memory that was drowning.
He could barely contain his laughter as the world was shaking, as the barriers were breaking, as the boundaries were being torn a sunder. Brian Braddock was there before him, kneeling upon the floor, paralyzed by the hand of death that was eating away within his system.
It was over, the sickness of this world would die and soon they would be ready for the next, an endless sea of dominos until nothing else was left. Nothing but that moment, the first moment, the final moment, nothing but the mockery of laughter and the eternal presence of despair.
"TELL ME BRADDOCK!!" he roared above the violence that would obliterate a Universe. "DO YOU STILL BELIEVE IN ANNIHILATION!?!"
TO BE CONTINUED... ?