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Issue #5 by Brad Horton
November 2016 |
Flames from a torch flickered in the darkness like a whip against the air. Attached to a stone wall with an ancient iron chain, the torch barely illuminated the chamber it inhabited.
Short breaths and footsteps crunching against the sand-laden floor echoed the halls.
Ozymandias had seen things in his time as a warlord during the time of the pharaohs and Rama-Tut. It was Tut’s ship that transformed him into a being of living stone. It was En Sabah Nur—a young Apocalypse—who transformed him into a slave for thousands of years. Ozymandias was forced to inscribe Apocalypse’s journey…
…And that of his family, the Clan Akkaba.
He was free of his former master the minute he perished, but was never free of his prophetic visions—a side-effect of his transformation.
Ozymandias grabbed the torch, revealing a large crack formed down the left side of his face. He knelt down and picked up a handful of sand, applying it to the wound to help patch and heal his face. The sand seemed to harden like cement, the texture of his face gave the impression of form, but yet it was uneven enough for the crack to barely be of notice.
His visions had never caused physical harm to his immortal shell before. Whatever was about to happen to the Clan Akkaba would not be undone.
Ozymandias closed his eyes and extinguished the torch in his hand.
Short breaths and footsteps crunching against the sand-laden floor echoed the halls.
Ozymandias had seen things in his time as a warlord during the time of the pharaohs and Rama-Tut. It was Tut’s ship that transformed him into a being of living stone. It was En Sabah Nur—a young Apocalypse—who transformed him into a slave for thousands of years. Ozymandias was forced to inscribe Apocalypse’s journey…
…And that of his family, the Clan Akkaba.
He was free of his former master the minute he perished, but was never free of his prophetic visions—a side-effect of his transformation.
Ozymandias grabbed the torch, revealing a large crack formed down the left side of his face. He knelt down and picked up a handful of sand, applying it to the wound to help patch and heal his face. The sand seemed to harden like cement, the texture of his face gave the impression of form, but yet it was uneven enough for the crack to barely be of notice.
His visions had never caused physical harm to his immortal shell before. Whatever was about to happen to the Clan Akkaba would not be undone.
Ozymandias closed his eyes and extinguished the torch in his hand.
#5 - "HEAT DEATH"
Previously:
En Sabah Nur—Apocalypse. For millennia, the self-proclaimed Egypt-born first mutant believed that only the strong survive. The Clan Akkaba was Apocalypse’s extended family, Apocalypse’s own contingency plan should his prolonged life fail him. They operated in secret, behind the shadows.
Nathanial Essex—Mr. Sinister. For over a century, he pushed mutagenic research to its limit while plotting against his benefactor, Apocalypse. When a younger, rejuvenated En Sabah Nur finally had the chance, he mortally wounded Sinister. However, he had a contingency plan—his engineered mutant son, Adam. Along with Threnody and Sabretooth, former associates of his father, Adam had been tasked with wiping out the Clan Akkaba at all costs. One such mission mistakenly targeted Enyalius, the fabled First Horseman, one which the team barely made it out alive.
Frederick Slade—The Fittest and leader of the Clan Akkaba. After having his family hunted for nearly a year by Adam Essex, Frederick discovered William Rolfson—the illegitimate son of Apocalypse and Autumn Rolfson (the first Horseman of Famine in modern times). His daughter, Ava, had grown disgusted with the family business and joined Adam’s cause, even after he nearly killed her. Frederick then attempted to mold William (now Genocide, with a similar crystal armor to his doppleganger, Holocaust) to replace the vacant Apocalypse—but not before vaporizing his mother into nothing but a torso, culminating with a standoff between Team Sinister, Genocide, the Clan Akkaba, and Enyalius.
The Domicilium.
“Finally, a proper bloodbath…” Sabretooth retorted.
The large, dragonesque Enyalius growled from the crowd of hooded zealots loyal to the Clan Akkaba, “Creeeed…”
Victor smiled as he held up his regenerated fingers, his middle finger in particular, “I got better. Ready for round two, dicksplash?” *
(* Creed lost a few fingers while protecting Adam and Threnody during their encounter with Enyalius in Greece in issue #2 — Brad)
Enyalius leapt into the air, grabbing and throwing Creed through a stone wall in one swoop. His eyes flashed with yellow as he drove his fist into Adam’s chest, pinning him to the marble and granite floor and crushing his ribcage, even with his pseudo-organic armor protecting Essex.
Before he could deliver a second blow to his skull, the First Horseman was surrounded by pink energy and felt himself slip into a hole—or so he thought—as he was teleported.
Ava’s eyes still glowed from her teleportation signature, “Sorry! I couldn’t teleport him further—his scales bend spacetime all queer. He’s a few kilometers out—he’ll be back!”
Frederick, his face still bloodstained from the Akkaba Guardsmen loyal to Genocide he slaughtered, grinned at the sight of his youngest daughter, “Ava…betrayal? I would have expected it from your brothers or even my niece. Not you.”
“You’re like one of those dads on Facebook, just stop being so bloody annoying already!” Ava shouted as she attempted to form a portal around Frederick’s neck. He smiled as he jammed the portal, the feedback causing both teleporters to be violently repelled in opposite directions.
Threnody crackled with necroplasmic energy, to the point where she felt engorged, “Too much…too many voices…dead things…no-no-no!”
Adam grunted as his ribcage healed, “Spread it out! Distribute it…”
“…where?” Threnody asked, panicked.
Adam got to his feet and pointed to the bodies on the floor, “Make it an even fight, luv!”
Threnody sighed, knowing what Adam meant. Her normally pink-hued energy signature became green. The slaughtered zealots suddenly rose to their feet, with similar green in their eyes—and began promptly attacking their former brethren.
Threnody’s eyes became pink again—but there was enough death energy in the air to keep her amped up, “I really don’t like the Night of the Living whatever aspect of my powers…”
“You’ll do fine…my enhancements will keep you from losing yourself,” Adam reassured as he unstrapped his broadsword from his back and twirled it in his hand. Three zealots leapt at him with their own swords, but he defensively blocked their attacks while grabbing another blade with his bare hand, squeezing and shattering the blade.
“For Apocalypse!” the zealot hissed as she continued to apply pressure on Adam’s sword. Adam gritted his teeth, realizing that some of these zealots were mutants with their own set of powers and skill-sets. His eyes and diamond marking above his forehead glowed, but realized he had to keep his psionic dead zone from expanding for the sake of his own team, otherwise he could make a quick fix out of the entire guard.
A thin beam of pink energy shot through the woman’s head, dropping her in an instant, giving Adam the opening to deal with the other two zealots. With one swipe of his sword, he felled them. He retraced the beam’s origin, finding Threnody standing there.
“I’ll find Sabretooth!” she yelled as she ran off, a small horde of zomboids followed her. Slowly inching their way up, the three zealots—including the two from Adam and the single victim Threnody had just slain—got to their feet as if learning to walk again. They quickly followed the horde.
Adam nodded, “I’ll get Ava—aahhhhh!” A thick metal blade pierced his abdomen, his acidic blood pouring everywhere.
“You’ll do no such thing, errand boy!” Frederick Slade growled, both forearms, including the one currently in Adam’s stomach, morphed into blades.
Adam tried, but couldn’t remove the blade. He tried to speak, but blood filled his lungs.
“I’ve been looking forward to this, Adam,” Frederick laughed. Adam could not hide the shocked expression on his face. “Yes, I know your name,” Frederick yelled. He lifted his arm, carrying Adam with it, causing the blade to slide in further until it exited through Adam’s back.
Slade then thrust Adam into a wall with superhuman force, his acidic blood splattering everywhere, burning and injuring several guardsmen in the process.
“If anything, you did me a favor!” Frederick laughed heartily. “Weeding out the weak and obnoxious of Apocalypse’s bloodline—leaving me and mine as the next in line—hah!”
Adam struggled to speed up his healing, causing a lack of blood flow to his brain, causing a momentary blackout. He awoke seconds later, spitting out blood, shape-shifting his fingers into thickened talon claws. The stab wound was still slow to close, but it was enough to keep him going.
“What about William? Isn’t he next in line? Doesn't he outrank you?” Adam asked with a smirk.
“Like I said, he’s a means to an end…Apocalypse’s line needs a cleanse, and you were just the cure I needed!” Frederick shouted.
“Cheeky choice of words,” Adam said as held up his forearm, the skin and muscles pulling themselves into a small slit, holding a metallic syringe. He grabbed the syringe, but his hand was suddenly gone in a flash of pink light, followed by a rush of pain. He focused on the skin of his forearm to stretch and mold itself over the wound while a new hand regrew.
Frederick laughed, “Did you honestly think I would let someone related to my great-uncle’s geneticist barge into my home with a retrovirus designed to kill me and my family?”
Ava suddenly appeared next to her father via teleportation, still shocked from being flung backwards. Frederick grabbed his daughter and shoved his bladed forearm into her chest. He looked into his daughter’s emerald eyes as she began to fade.
“I should have done this sooner when I saw the signs you would not fall in line with your birthright,” he said regrettably as her abdomen retched with blood.
“AVA!” Adam shouted.
Frederick dropped her lifeless body on the floor with a look of sorrow—her blood had somehow rejuvenated him to his prime—no longer afflicted with Famine’s attempt to wither him away.
Adam’s brow furrowed as he unconsciously engorged his musculature, doubling his size, his teeth elongating into those of an offensive predator’s and his fingers into hardened talons. Spikes of skin shot out from his hide as he accelerated and elongated his arm at the same time—the momentum shot a large spiked appendage through the sternum of Slade at breakneck speed—too fast even for a teleporter.
Frederick looked with shock into the ruby-tinted eyes of Adam as he gasped, gagging on the blood that filled his lungs. Frederick struggled to remove Adam’s arm from his chest, but Adam held steadfast.
“You’re weak,” Adam growled. “Forcing yourselves to be the archetype of evil to appease an outdated Darwinist—drunk on your power, your entitlement, your traditions…”
“My father was driven to do evil things because of me—made a deal with Apocalypse to hide his grief—,” Adam continued as he shortened his arm, approaching Frederick face-to-face. He caught a glimpse of Ava on the floor.
“By creating me to eliminate your family…my father opened the world up to an even greater evil,” Adam whispered with a smile.
“I am evil…incarnate,” Adam hissed. “And the greatest evil of all are the ones who believe they are absolutely justified in all actions.”
Frederick stammered as he managed to wrinkle his face into a smile, “This House is one of many. The Clan Akkaba extends beyond England…you will not wipe us from history.”
“History will not miss you, m’afraid,” Adam said as he ripped his arm out of his adversary’s chest, spraying blood upon him like an unholy baptism. He smiled, high on adrenaline, and grabbed Frederick’s skull with his one good hand—squeezing until he heard an audible crack.
The lifeless body of The Fittest fell. A few feet from the body of his youngest daughter, Ava, no less.
Adam’s knees seemed to give out as he slumped to the floor, arching his back in relief. His vengeance was enacted. He opened his eyes and glanced to the side, catching Ava’s lifeless look of shock and grief. Gutted by her own father.
Her DNA still read as if it were functioning on all cylinders. Adam knew, as any geneticist would, that sometimes in death, certain recessive genes could activate. Perhaps she had some kind of molecular control over her own body—an ability inherited from her ancestor?
One could only hope.
Adam quickly crawled over and checked her pulse, against his father’s programming, which would normally cause him to slit her throat for good measure.
He silently counted, but after two minutes of no pulse, it was foolish to think optimistically. He sighed as he slid his arm under her back and pulled her into his chest, feeling the tears fall from his face.
Between sniffles, Adam barely noticed the hooded guardsmen, but he already sensed their microbial DNA within the air. He barely had any fight left in him.
“It’s alright,” Adam said as he mimicked Frederick’s voice—and his appearance courtesy of his shapeshifting. The true Frederick’s body was face down, covered in dust from the rubble and barely distinguishable.
He wiped his tears and stood up, carrying Ava’s body, “Essex’s errand boy has finally met his end. The fight is over.”
“M’lord,” one of the guards spoke, “the First Horseman and Genocide are still within the mansion—we must prepare the body immediately before it becomes unfit for the ritual of death. There are undead about. A necromancer is afoot.”
Adam stammered as he stopped in his tracks, glancing down at Frederick’s body, “Surely you don’t mean him?”
The guard seemed confused as he exchanged a glance with his brethren, “No, m’Lord. Your daughter, Lady Ava.”
Adam’s lips smacked, “You are correct. I have…tested you.” He handed the body into the arms of the guard, who quickly hurried her away.
A curved scimitar blocked Adam’s path. The hooded guard holding the blade said, “We serve Apocalypse—not a housekeeper—and certainly not one simply wearing his face.”
Adam relaxed his outer dermal tissue to reveal his true form of chalk-white skin and jet black hair, “I have bested your brethren in combat, and you halt me with a mere sword?”
The guard reached inside his cloak and pulled out a small metallic syringe, “On the battlefield or by sheer sense of duty. Set us free…”
Adam smiled as the guard dropped the retrovirus into his still-regrowing hand.
“…emancipator.”
***
A large reptilian-scaled fist pummeled into the side of Victor Creed’s jaw, spewing blood against the stone walls, his nerve centers erupting in fire with every blow due to the venomous oil that covered Enyalius’s dragon-like form.
Dazed, the mutant known as Sabretooth breathed deeply, unconsciously giving his blood the oxygen it needed to keep his body from passing out. The skin around his left eye and cheekbone had puffed up considerably, only able to utilize his good eye. Bloody lacerations covered his shirtless body—the venom in his system made it difficult for him to heal properly, as Adam found out the hard way.
“You…hit like a girl…,” Sabretooth stammered, fighting to stay conscious.
Enyalius’s serpentine lips curled into a sneer, grabbing Sabretooth by the throat, forcing him onto the stone floor. Victor winced, howling in pain as his open wounds burned at the touch of the First Horseman once more.
“The Spartans feared me—even before I was bestowed with my gifts,” Enyalius bellowed in a haunting gravelly octave. “You are a relentless animal with no sense of honor. Yet…you contrarily have a warrior’s spirit. You would have made a fine Horseman.”
“Me? Well, weedin’ out the weak from the strong sounds fun on paper,” Sabretooth chuckled, “but there are good waterin’ holes and titty bars I’d hate to see go. I kinda like the world just as chaotic as it is…”
Enyalius silently raised his opposite fist in preparation for a killing blow. In a strange way, Victor had anticipated he might die helping Adam in his mission. He had accepted his fate.
He had not, however, anticipated the bright flash of pink light that Enyalius was suddenly bathed in. Scales flaked off of his form like embers as the sheer force eventually catapulted him through a wall and falling into a cavern. A few large boulders cracked and then fell victim to gravity after he had plummeted below. A faint splash could be heard, followed by several more large splashes. The First Horseman was out for the count—for the moment.
Sabretooth blinked a few times to get the glowing green out of his vision as a result of the pink energy signature temporarily overloading his eyes. He grimaced in pain as he noticed Enyalius’s hand—still grasped around his throat—but without the rest of him.
Threnody kicked the fist off of Creed with her boot, which crumbled soon afterward. Sabretooth coughed, “Not bad.”
“Do I hit like a girl?” she retorted.
“Heh, definitely not,” Sabretooth groaned as he sat up, spitting blood and teeth on the floor. He sighed, “Thanks, kid.”
Threnody smirked, “I’m sure you had him right where you wanted him, too.”
“I did,” Sabretooth nodded mockingly, “settin’ you up to blast him to hell. Ugh! Is this what a hangover feels like? Been awhile since I had one o’ those…”
“You do look kinda like shit, my friend,” Threnody said in agreement.
Sabretooth glanced upwards with his good eye, noticing several individuals standing behind Threnody like a silent undead posse—all with glowing green eyes, “Yer not just waiting to add me to your collection, are you?”
“You’d be surprised how obedient dead things are,” Threnody smirked. “They’re just following me around for now. Nice insurance policy. This place is surging with death energy…potential death energy is through the roof.”
“It’s going to get higher if that daft bloke in the armor keeps going nuclear,” Adam said as he weaved in and out of the zombified crowd surrounding his friends. He sighed as he held out his hand, revealing the syringe with the retrovirus in it. “I need a living descendant of Apocalypse to get this to work properly.”
Threnody shook her head, “It’s not going to work on him, he’s living energy. I’ve fought his dopplegangar, Holocaust. Dude is not a pushover.”
“I need it to bond to his DNA, regardless,” Adam said. “The current rate of nuclear fusion going on in his body as we speak means his cells are breaking down, so we need to hurry.”
Threnody arched an eyebrow, “I feel like you’re not hearing the ‘living energy’ part.”
Adam suddenly became short in his demeanor (shorter than usual, anyway), “The armor, Ms. Jacobs! It makes his skin and organs translucent—not his bones, which are still visible within the armor, correct?”
Threnody shrugged her shoulders, confused, “Yeah? I guess?”
“Then, by process of elimination, he is not living energy if he still needs a skeletal frame,” Adam said as he crossed his arms arrogantly. “I’ve done my research. My father kept files of millions of mutants—even refugees from other realities.”
“Might even be doing him a favor,” Sabretooth grunted as he stood up shakily. “The armor might be expediting the nuclear process. If we can convince him to get out of it willingly…”
Threnody shot a look towards Adam, “Then we won’t have to blast a hole in some alien crystal armor—wait, did Enyalius knock a few of his screws loose, or is Creed making sense all of a sudden?”
“Is this my penance for you saving my life? The butt of yer dumbass jokes?” Sabretooth wondered.
“I’m just getting started,” Threnody joked.
Adam rolled his eyes, “Let’s go.”
***
“Mom…,” William asked as he stood above his mother, the former Horseman of Famine. Everything below her abdomen had been teleported clean off by Frederick Slade, leaving a torso. Still, Autumn Rolfson survived, barely.
Autumn mustered her strength to caress her son’s face, but her hand sizzled at the touch of his crystalline armor.
Genocide recoiled and stood up, “No! No…I’m sorry.”
“Kill…me,” Autumn said with labored breath.
Genocide grit his teeth as he pointed the large cannon gauntlet on his left arm at his mother’s temple. He began to focus his bio-microwave energies through the cannon as the crystal barrel began to illuminate.
He growled as he lifted his arm, “I can’t. Slade was wrong…I don’t think I can do this.” His armor seemed to open, the various shards of crystal sounded like a chandelier as they shifted out of the way, allowing William to walk out of it. His skin was translucent, revealing a nude figure with only a skeleton barely visible.
Autumn shook her head, “You’ll die, too…you’ll burn out…”
“Then we’ll go together,” William, his face gone, replaced by only a skull, muttered somberly as the room began to glow with radiation. The hooded guardsmen bowed their heads, kneeling while using their swords to prop themselves up.
One of the guards looked up, “M’Lord, Slade has been killed. You are Fittest. Not only that, you are Apocalypse’s direct son.”
“DO I look like I CARE!” he shouted, expelling more energy, vaporizing the guards in a flash of fire.
He swung his body around and saw that the energy had radiated outwards. His mother was charred beyond recognition.
Genocide clenched his fists and shouted to the heavens. He held out his hand and his motionless armor came to life, walking like an automaton towards him. He quickly turned his back as the armor swallowed him whole again—a rush of euphoria as his energies were once more contained.
“Apocalypse wanted to cleanse the world,” Genocide bellowed as he violently and erratically fired his cannon—the focused golden energy punched through the wall, destroying the entire east wing of the Domicilium. “I’ll BURN it to the GROUND!”
“That should do it,” Threnody said from behind, her cybernetic psionic dampers sparking. She held out her hands and a fury of magenta plasma erupted from her body. The tiny imperfections of Genocide’s armor began to crack under the pressure of such extreme force and energy.
Adam, meanwhile, grabbed the strange gem mounted to the wall that seemed to glow blue and yellow at the same time, “Ah, souvenir!”
Sabretooth simply shook his head and shrugged, “Sure, I guess.”
Genocide fought the force and aimed his cannon, firing off a golden beam of energy, punching a hole through Sabretooth’s chest. His ribcage was sprawled open like a Thanksgiving turkey.
Creed had a shocked expression as he collapsed.
Genocide continued to push against the force of Threnody’s death energies, the counterforce eventually caused her to repel in the opposite direction, hitting the wall. Rubble from the damaged mansion fell on top of her, effectively burying her. Her zombified army instantly collapsed.
“Rrrrah!” Adam grabbed the syringe and threw it like a dart, piercing a crack in Genocide’s armor. The heat caused the metallic object to melt, spewing a green gas in his vicinity—causing the virus to go airborne.
Genocide coughed as he lost his footing, his body seemed to flicker for a moment as the virus took hold on him. Crystalline wings formed on his back as his energies propelled him upwards. The rumbling, however, became more and more violent.
Adam tried to remove the rubble on top of Threnody, but his senses could already detect his worst fears. He turned his attention to his mentor, hoisting the massive brute over his shoulder. A bright flash of light and the two were gone as the entire mansion caved in on itself.
The Clan Akkaba was no more—with the virus and their European stronghold gone, there was no telling that their influence would soon be gone from this world.
In the distance, mist crept on the nearby forest floor. A shadowy figure emerged from it. No audible footsteps as the figure approached the former site of the Domicilium.
“Hm,” exclaimed a voice in approval.
Red eyes glared at the devastation as the figure silently retreated back into the forest.
***
Fremont, Nebraska.
One week later.
Victor awoke to the sound of a heart monitor. Last he remembered, he had his chest cavity blown wide open. He darted up and ripped the EKG wires off of his bandaged chest. On the side table, he saw a full bottle of Jack Daniels. He quickly unscrewed the cap and held the bottle over his mouth, gulping down as much burning liquid as he could.
After his extended sip, Sabretooth wiped his mouth clean with the back of his clawed hand. He looked down at his body, seemingly healed of all injuries. He must be in one of Sinister’s satellite labs located outside of Omaha.
He stumbled out of the room, only to see an endless row of incubator chambers filled with a green gelatinous liquid.
“Aw, dammit…” he murmured at the sight of the occupants. They shared his face. They were him—his clones. Had he been a clone this entire time? Was he simply predisposed to take the orders from an Essex? Were his memories continually collected, stored, and then uploaded into a new body each time he died?
Sabretooth sighed existentially as he took another sip of whiskey. It would be a liquid breakfast after all.
***
Wellington, Shropshire, England.
Former Site of the Domicilium.
Clean up had begun in the Welsh March known as Shropshire, where the Clan Akkaba remained hidden for several millennia. No one could explain the unexpected radiation spike a week ago, or why the mansion suddenly collapsed on itself. It was treated as a small scale nuclear explosion. Several residences along the Welsh-English border had to be evacuated. Several people were also infected with a disease some thought to be a mutated bubonic plague—but it was just Adam Essex’s handiwork.
Effectively, it was a ghost town. The radiation from Genocide had already caused the trees and plants to wither and die into dried husks.
One individual, however, was not so afraid of the radiation. Mist again surrounded the figure. Wearing a black cloak like a creature of the night, red eyes peered once again into the rubble, as if searching for something.
Waiting.
Then, a hand punched through the rubble, pulling himself up, holding the lifeless body of Threnody in his arms. He was Enyalius—but he had shed his reptilian form. He was the ageless warrior and nobly carried the warrior who had bested him. He laid her on the ground and brushed the hair out of her eyes.
To his shock, however, her hand grabbed his forearm. Glowing green eyes shot open under her dead eyelids as the invisible life-force drained into Threnody’s body. Her dead skin began to revitalize as she slowly rose to her feet. Enyalius yanked his arm away from her, stumbling away.
“Μπορείτε μάγισσα! Να πάει μαζί σας!” he shouted in his native Greek.
He screeched like a demon as wings shot out of his back. He took one leap and he was airborne. The First Horseman left the devastation of Apocalypse’s family behind to return to his own family.
Threnody inhaled deeply, arching her neck back. It wasn’t every day she died. Resurrecting herself felt like she had been holding her breath.
The figure in the black cloak approached Threnody, dropping the cloak to reveal a chalk-skinned woman with dark circles under her red eyes. She had pure white hair and a gaunt appearance. It had been awhile since she had drained others to sustain her more youthful appearance, but the ancient being was undeterred.
“Daughter…,” she said with her arms outstretched. She wore tattered robes and cloth under her cloak. “I am Selene.”
Threnody clenched her fists, “My mom was Judith Jacobs…”
“I left you with her,” Selene said. “Enchanted her to take care of you as her own, until I could care for you myself.” She paused, smiling with her blackened teeth, “I see you have a taste for life-force, for necromancy. You talk to the dead. Where do you think you inherited such gifts—if not from your mother?”
The cybernetic implants on Threnody’s temples suddenly hummed to life, “Then who’s my father?”
Selene hid a cough behind a labored chuckle, “No one that matters. I have come to you for a reason…and with the fall of the Akkaba, I must be prepared to nurture all of my offspring. Including your brother.”
Threnody glared at the decrepit woman, “Brother…? You expect me to believe the any of this coming from some ancient female Crypt Keeper?”
“Watch your tongue, girl. Fine. Half-brother, then,” Selene said before she was interrupted by a slow, audible clap.
Adam emerged from the forest behind Selene, continuing to applaud. He wore his modified version of his father’s armor, more utilitarian, accented with the red diamond symbol on his chest.
Selene seemed to tremble at the sight of Adam.
“At least the bitch can finally admit to it,” Adam said with a smirk.
Threnody placed a hand on her hip, “Not a moment too soon.”
Selene inhaled deeply, but slowly, “You…knew?”
Adam chuckled, “Don’t get me wrong, avenging my father and sticking it to the X-Men and Apocalypse’s extended family was fun, but you…you’re the golden goose. My father said I was engineered with his DNA and a sort of synthetic DNA of one of Rebecca Essex’s female descendants. But he failed to mention a third genetic donor. A process the Byron Trust no doubt duplicated during my father’s time with their organization.”
Selene held out an elongated index finger, “I warn you, boy—back! You may hold the genetic keys to my gifts, but you know nothing of dark magic. You will have no defense against that!”
Adam smirked as he pulled a glowing blue-yellow gem from his belt, “You mean this thing the Clan Akkaba kept hung up to protect themselves from you? The Gem of Arrama, I believe it is called. Defense against magic. Your magic.”
Selene retracted her index finger and smiled, “Perhaps we should take this opportunity to form an alliance, then?”
“I hold the keys,” Adam warned as he held out the gem. Selene seemed to wince in pain as her son approached her. She eventually stumbled backwards and fell—breaking her pelvis with an audible crack.
“What do you want?” Selene pleaded.
“Short of removing your head from the rest of your body, you are immortal—an External,” Adam explained as he grabbed Selene’s elbow—his skin stretching and wrapping around her arm several times to let the blood pool—and stuck a syringe into the one vein that had any blood left.
“I would very much like to study that,” Adam said as he removed the syringe, holding it up to the luminance of the moon. “And to find any other brothers or sisters I might share with my dear Melody.”
Threnody stood beside her unholy brother, gazing upon their most unholy mother, “What should we do with her?”
“We’ll let the hounds decide,” Adam said with a grin.
Selene’s eyes widened as she propped herself up with all of her might, limping back into the forest as fast as she could.
Rustling in the bushes and distant growls signified the pack of wild, feral creatures—a pack of Sabretooths. They all leapt out of the shadows, past Adam and Melody, to chase the External.
Selene limped towards the forest, but collapsed
The diamond marking on Adam’s forehead, just as it had been on his father’s, was unmistakable.
***
Epilogue.
“The family of En Sabah Nur is no more, they say,” a female voice taunted. “This is a grand victory. But survival isn’t about brute strength or being lucky. Perhaps it’s a tad bit more. Call it…cunning manipulation. Being on the right side of fate means there is a great honor to uphold. History is bound to repeat itself if lessons cannot be learned. A chance to begin anew…”
Ava Slade looked into a mirror — her skin was chalky gray and her lips had formed a disfigurement up her jawline. A Celestial-based armor attached two metallic conduits from her gauntlets to the back of her spine.
Lady Apocalypse clenched her fists and smiled, turning to her audience of Dark Riders, Apocalypse Dawn, and the Akkaba Guard, “So, let’s make it interesting.”
***
Next Issue: For the time being, there won’t be, at least from yours truly. It’s been a fun ride full of bad guys doing bad things to other bad guys. Though, I doubt the adventures of Adam Essex, Threnody, and Sabretooth(s)/Sabreteeth(????) are far from over at M2K. Oh, and it looks like Ava Slade, Blink’s distant cousin, is a new Apocalypse. I’m sure some fun will be had from that.
Brad Horton
October 2, 2016
En Sabah Nur—Apocalypse. For millennia, the self-proclaimed Egypt-born first mutant believed that only the strong survive. The Clan Akkaba was Apocalypse’s extended family, Apocalypse’s own contingency plan should his prolonged life fail him. They operated in secret, behind the shadows.
Nathanial Essex—Mr. Sinister. For over a century, he pushed mutagenic research to its limit while plotting against his benefactor, Apocalypse. When a younger, rejuvenated En Sabah Nur finally had the chance, he mortally wounded Sinister. However, he had a contingency plan—his engineered mutant son, Adam. Along with Threnody and Sabretooth, former associates of his father, Adam had been tasked with wiping out the Clan Akkaba at all costs. One such mission mistakenly targeted Enyalius, the fabled First Horseman, one which the team barely made it out alive.
Frederick Slade—The Fittest and leader of the Clan Akkaba. After having his family hunted for nearly a year by Adam Essex, Frederick discovered William Rolfson—the illegitimate son of Apocalypse and Autumn Rolfson (the first Horseman of Famine in modern times). His daughter, Ava, had grown disgusted with the family business and joined Adam’s cause, even after he nearly killed her. Frederick then attempted to mold William (now Genocide, with a similar crystal armor to his doppleganger, Holocaust) to replace the vacant Apocalypse—but not before vaporizing his mother into nothing but a torso, culminating with a standoff between Team Sinister, Genocide, the Clan Akkaba, and Enyalius.
The Domicilium.
“Finally, a proper bloodbath…” Sabretooth retorted.
The large, dragonesque Enyalius growled from the crowd of hooded zealots loyal to the Clan Akkaba, “Creeeed…”
Victor smiled as he held up his regenerated fingers, his middle finger in particular, “I got better. Ready for round two, dicksplash?” *
(* Creed lost a few fingers while protecting Adam and Threnody during their encounter with Enyalius in Greece in issue #2 — Brad)
Enyalius leapt into the air, grabbing and throwing Creed through a stone wall in one swoop. His eyes flashed with yellow as he drove his fist into Adam’s chest, pinning him to the marble and granite floor and crushing his ribcage, even with his pseudo-organic armor protecting Essex.
Before he could deliver a second blow to his skull, the First Horseman was surrounded by pink energy and felt himself slip into a hole—or so he thought—as he was teleported.
Ava’s eyes still glowed from her teleportation signature, “Sorry! I couldn’t teleport him further—his scales bend spacetime all queer. He’s a few kilometers out—he’ll be back!”
Frederick, his face still bloodstained from the Akkaba Guardsmen loyal to Genocide he slaughtered, grinned at the sight of his youngest daughter, “Ava…betrayal? I would have expected it from your brothers or even my niece. Not you.”
“You’re like one of those dads on Facebook, just stop being so bloody annoying already!” Ava shouted as she attempted to form a portal around Frederick’s neck. He smiled as he jammed the portal, the feedback causing both teleporters to be violently repelled in opposite directions.
Threnody crackled with necroplasmic energy, to the point where she felt engorged, “Too much…too many voices…dead things…no-no-no!”
Adam grunted as his ribcage healed, “Spread it out! Distribute it…”
“…where?” Threnody asked, panicked.
Adam got to his feet and pointed to the bodies on the floor, “Make it an even fight, luv!”
Threnody sighed, knowing what Adam meant. Her normally pink-hued energy signature became green. The slaughtered zealots suddenly rose to their feet, with similar green in their eyes—and began promptly attacking their former brethren.
Threnody’s eyes became pink again—but there was enough death energy in the air to keep her amped up, “I really don’t like the Night of the Living whatever aspect of my powers…”
“You’ll do fine…my enhancements will keep you from losing yourself,” Adam reassured as he unstrapped his broadsword from his back and twirled it in his hand. Three zealots leapt at him with their own swords, but he defensively blocked their attacks while grabbing another blade with his bare hand, squeezing and shattering the blade.
“For Apocalypse!” the zealot hissed as she continued to apply pressure on Adam’s sword. Adam gritted his teeth, realizing that some of these zealots were mutants with their own set of powers and skill-sets. His eyes and diamond marking above his forehead glowed, but realized he had to keep his psionic dead zone from expanding for the sake of his own team, otherwise he could make a quick fix out of the entire guard.
A thin beam of pink energy shot through the woman’s head, dropping her in an instant, giving Adam the opening to deal with the other two zealots. With one swipe of his sword, he felled them. He retraced the beam’s origin, finding Threnody standing there.
“I’ll find Sabretooth!” she yelled as she ran off, a small horde of zomboids followed her. Slowly inching their way up, the three zealots—including the two from Adam and the single victim Threnody had just slain—got to their feet as if learning to walk again. They quickly followed the horde.
Adam nodded, “I’ll get Ava—aahhhhh!” A thick metal blade pierced his abdomen, his acidic blood pouring everywhere.
“You’ll do no such thing, errand boy!” Frederick Slade growled, both forearms, including the one currently in Adam’s stomach, morphed into blades.
Adam tried, but couldn’t remove the blade. He tried to speak, but blood filled his lungs.
“I’ve been looking forward to this, Adam,” Frederick laughed. Adam could not hide the shocked expression on his face. “Yes, I know your name,” Frederick yelled. He lifted his arm, carrying Adam with it, causing the blade to slide in further until it exited through Adam’s back.
Slade then thrust Adam into a wall with superhuman force, his acidic blood splattering everywhere, burning and injuring several guardsmen in the process.
“If anything, you did me a favor!” Frederick laughed heartily. “Weeding out the weak and obnoxious of Apocalypse’s bloodline—leaving me and mine as the next in line—hah!”
Adam struggled to speed up his healing, causing a lack of blood flow to his brain, causing a momentary blackout. He awoke seconds later, spitting out blood, shape-shifting his fingers into thickened talon claws. The stab wound was still slow to close, but it was enough to keep him going.
“What about William? Isn’t he next in line? Doesn't he outrank you?” Adam asked with a smirk.
“Like I said, he’s a means to an end…Apocalypse’s line needs a cleanse, and you were just the cure I needed!” Frederick shouted.
“Cheeky choice of words,” Adam said as held up his forearm, the skin and muscles pulling themselves into a small slit, holding a metallic syringe. He grabbed the syringe, but his hand was suddenly gone in a flash of pink light, followed by a rush of pain. He focused on the skin of his forearm to stretch and mold itself over the wound while a new hand regrew.
Frederick laughed, “Did you honestly think I would let someone related to my great-uncle’s geneticist barge into my home with a retrovirus designed to kill me and my family?”
Ava suddenly appeared next to her father via teleportation, still shocked from being flung backwards. Frederick grabbed his daughter and shoved his bladed forearm into her chest. He looked into his daughter’s emerald eyes as she began to fade.
“I should have done this sooner when I saw the signs you would not fall in line with your birthright,” he said regrettably as her abdomen retched with blood.
“AVA!” Adam shouted.
Frederick dropped her lifeless body on the floor with a look of sorrow—her blood had somehow rejuvenated him to his prime—no longer afflicted with Famine’s attempt to wither him away.
Adam’s brow furrowed as he unconsciously engorged his musculature, doubling his size, his teeth elongating into those of an offensive predator’s and his fingers into hardened talons. Spikes of skin shot out from his hide as he accelerated and elongated his arm at the same time—the momentum shot a large spiked appendage through the sternum of Slade at breakneck speed—too fast even for a teleporter.
Frederick looked with shock into the ruby-tinted eyes of Adam as he gasped, gagging on the blood that filled his lungs. Frederick struggled to remove Adam’s arm from his chest, but Adam held steadfast.
“You’re weak,” Adam growled. “Forcing yourselves to be the archetype of evil to appease an outdated Darwinist—drunk on your power, your entitlement, your traditions…”
“My father was driven to do evil things because of me—made a deal with Apocalypse to hide his grief—,” Adam continued as he shortened his arm, approaching Frederick face-to-face. He caught a glimpse of Ava on the floor.
“By creating me to eliminate your family…my father opened the world up to an even greater evil,” Adam whispered with a smile.
“I am evil…incarnate,” Adam hissed. “And the greatest evil of all are the ones who believe they are absolutely justified in all actions.”
Frederick stammered as he managed to wrinkle his face into a smile, “This House is one of many. The Clan Akkaba extends beyond England…you will not wipe us from history.”
“History will not miss you, m’afraid,” Adam said as he ripped his arm out of his adversary’s chest, spraying blood upon him like an unholy baptism. He smiled, high on adrenaline, and grabbed Frederick’s skull with his one good hand—squeezing until he heard an audible crack.
The lifeless body of The Fittest fell. A few feet from the body of his youngest daughter, Ava, no less.
Adam’s knees seemed to give out as he slumped to the floor, arching his back in relief. His vengeance was enacted. He opened his eyes and glanced to the side, catching Ava’s lifeless look of shock and grief. Gutted by her own father.
Her DNA still read as if it were functioning on all cylinders. Adam knew, as any geneticist would, that sometimes in death, certain recessive genes could activate. Perhaps she had some kind of molecular control over her own body—an ability inherited from her ancestor?
One could only hope.
Adam quickly crawled over and checked her pulse, against his father’s programming, which would normally cause him to slit her throat for good measure.
He silently counted, but after two minutes of no pulse, it was foolish to think optimistically. He sighed as he slid his arm under her back and pulled her into his chest, feeling the tears fall from his face.
Between sniffles, Adam barely noticed the hooded guardsmen, but he already sensed their microbial DNA within the air. He barely had any fight left in him.
“It’s alright,” Adam said as he mimicked Frederick’s voice—and his appearance courtesy of his shapeshifting. The true Frederick’s body was face down, covered in dust from the rubble and barely distinguishable.
He wiped his tears and stood up, carrying Ava’s body, “Essex’s errand boy has finally met his end. The fight is over.”
“M’lord,” one of the guards spoke, “the First Horseman and Genocide are still within the mansion—we must prepare the body immediately before it becomes unfit for the ritual of death. There are undead about. A necromancer is afoot.”
Adam stammered as he stopped in his tracks, glancing down at Frederick’s body, “Surely you don’t mean him?”
The guard seemed confused as he exchanged a glance with his brethren, “No, m’Lord. Your daughter, Lady Ava.”
Adam’s lips smacked, “You are correct. I have…tested you.” He handed the body into the arms of the guard, who quickly hurried her away.
A curved scimitar blocked Adam’s path. The hooded guard holding the blade said, “We serve Apocalypse—not a housekeeper—and certainly not one simply wearing his face.”
Adam relaxed his outer dermal tissue to reveal his true form of chalk-white skin and jet black hair, “I have bested your brethren in combat, and you halt me with a mere sword?”
The guard reached inside his cloak and pulled out a small metallic syringe, “On the battlefield or by sheer sense of duty. Set us free…”
Adam smiled as the guard dropped the retrovirus into his still-regrowing hand.
“…emancipator.”
***
A large reptilian-scaled fist pummeled into the side of Victor Creed’s jaw, spewing blood against the stone walls, his nerve centers erupting in fire with every blow due to the venomous oil that covered Enyalius’s dragon-like form.
Dazed, the mutant known as Sabretooth breathed deeply, unconsciously giving his blood the oxygen it needed to keep his body from passing out. The skin around his left eye and cheekbone had puffed up considerably, only able to utilize his good eye. Bloody lacerations covered his shirtless body—the venom in his system made it difficult for him to heal properly, as Adam found out the hard way.
“You…hit like a girl…,” Sabretooth stammered, fighting to stay conscious.
Enyalius’s serpentine lips curled into a sneer, grabbing Sabretooth by the throat, forcing him onto the stone floor. Victor winced, howling in pain as his open wounds burned at the touch of the First Horseman once more.
“The Spartans feared me—even before I was bestowed with my gifts,” Enyalius bellowed in a haunting gravelly octave. “You are a relentless animal with no sense of honor. Yet…you contrarily have a warrior’s spirit. You would have made a fine Horseman.”
“Me? Well, weedin’ out the weak from the strong sounds fun on paper,” Sabretooth chuckled, “but there are good waterin’ holes and titty bars I’d hate to see go. I kinda like the world just as chaotic as it is…”
Enyalius silently raised his opposite fist in preparation for a killing blow. In a strange way, Victor had anticipated he might die helping Adam in his mission. He had accepted his fate.
He had not, however, anticipated the bright flash of pink light that Enyalius was suddenly bathed in. Scales flaked off of his form like embers as the sheer force eventually catapulted him through a wall and falling into a cavern. A few large boulders cracked and then fell victim to gravity after he had plummeted below. A faint splash could be heard, followed by several more large splashes. The First Horseman was out for the count—for the moment.
Sabretooth blinked a few times to get the glowing green out of his vision as a result of the pink energy signature temporarily overloading his eyes. He grimaced in pain as he noticed Enyalius’s hand—still grasped around his throat—but without the rest of him.
Threnody kicked the fist off of Creed with her boot, which crumbled soon afterward. Sabretooth coughed, “Not bad.”
“Do I hit like a girl?” she retorted.
“Heh, definitely not,” Sabretooth groaned as he sat up, spitting blood and teeth on the floor. He sighed, “Thanks, kid.”
Threnody smirked, “I’m sure you had him right where you wanted him, too.”
“I did,” Sabretooth nodded mockingly, “settin’ you up to blast him to hell. Ugh! Is this what a hangover feels like? Been awhile since I had one o’ those…”
“You do look kinda like shit, my friend,” Threnody said in agreement.
Sabretooth glanced upwards with his good eye, noticing several individuals standing behind Threnody like a silent undead posse—all with glowing green eyes, “Yer not just waiting to add me to your collection, are you?”
“You’d be surprised how obedient dead things are,” Threnody smirked. “They’re just following me around for now. Nice insurance policy. This place is surging with death energy…potential death energy is through the roof.”
“It’s going to get higher if that daft bloke in the armor keeps going nuclear,” Adam said as he weaved in and out of the zombified crowd surrounding his friends. He sighed as he held out his hand, revealing the syringe with the retrovirus in it. “I need a living descendant of Apocalypse to get this to work properly.”
Threnody shook her head, “It’s not going to work on him, he’s living energy. I’ve fought his dopplegangar, Holocaust. Dude is not a pushover.”
“I need it to bond to his DNA, regardless,” Adam said. “The current rate of nuclear fusion going on in his body as we speak means his cells are breaking down, so we need to hurry.”
Threnody arched an eyebrow, “I feel like you’re not hearing the ‘living energy’ part.”
Adam suddenly became short in his demeanor (shorter than usual, anyway), “The armor, Ms. Jacobs! It makes his skin and organs translucent—not his bones, which are still visible within the armor, correct?”
Threnody shrugged her shoulders, confused, “Yeah? I guess?”
“Then, by process of elimination, he is not living energy if he still needs a skeletal frame,” Adam said as he crossed his arms arrogantly. “I’ve done my research. My father kept files of millions of mutants—even refugees from other realities.”
“Might even be doing him a favor,” Sabretooth grunted as he stood up shakily. “The armor might be expediting the nuclear process. If we can convince him to get out of it willingly…”
Threnody shot a look towards Adam, “Then we won’t have to blast a hole in some alien crystal armor—wait, did Enyalius knock a few of his screws loose, or is Creed making sense all of a sudden?”
“Is this my penance for you saving my life? The butt of yer dumbass jokes?” Sabretooth wondered.
“I’m just getting started,” Threnody joked.
Adam rolled his eyes, “Let’s go.”
***
“Mom…,” William asked as he stood above his mother, the former Horseman of Famine. Everything below her abdomen had been teleported clean off by Frederick Slade, leaving a torso. Still, Autumn Rolfson survived, barely.
Autumn mustered her strength to caress her son’s face, but her hand sizzled at the touch of his crystalline armor.
Genocide recoiled and stood up, “No! No…I’m sorry.”
“Kill…me,” Autumn said with labored breath.
Genocide grit his teeth as he pointed the large cannon gauntlet on his left arm at his mother’s temple. He began to focus his bio-microwave energies through the cannon as the crystal barrel began to illuminate.
He growled as he lifted his arm, “I can’t. Slade was wrong…I don’t think I can do this.” His armor seemed to open, the various shards of crystal sounded like a chandelier as they shifted out of the way, allowing William to walk out of it. His skin was translucent, revealing a nude figure with only a skeleton barely visible.
Autumn shook her head, “You’ll die, too…you’ll burn out…”
“Then we’ll go together,” William, his face gone, replaced by only a skull, muttered somberly as the room began to glow with radiation. The hooded guardsmen bowed their heads, kneeling while using their swords to prop themselves up.
One of the guards looked up, “M’Lord, Slade has been killed. You are Fittest. Not only that, you are Apocalypse’s direct son.”
“DO I look like I CARE!” he shouted, expelling more energy, vaporizing the guards in a flash of fire.
He swung his body around and saw that the energy had radiated outwards. His mother was charred beyond recognition.
Genocide clenched his fists and shouted to the heavens. He held out his hand and his motionless armor came to life, walking like an automaton towards him. He quickly turned his back as the armor swallowed him whole again—a rush of euphoria as his energies were once more contained.
“Apocalypse wanted to cleanse the world,” Genocide bellowed as he violently and erratically fired his cannon—the focused golden energy punched through the wall, destroying the entire east wing of the Domicilium. “I’ll BURN it to the GROUND!”
“That should do it,” Threnody said from behind, her cybernetic psionic dampers sparking. She held out her hands and a fury of magenta plasma erupted from her body. The tiny imperfections of Genocide’s armor began to crack under the pressure of such extreme force and energy.
Adam, meanwhile, grabbed the strange gem mounted to the wall that seemed to glow blue and yellow at the same time, “Ah, souvenir!”
Sabretooth simply shook his head and shrugged, “Sure, I guess.”
Genocide fought the force and aimed his cannon, firing off a golden beam of energy, punching a hole through Sabretooth’s chest. His ribcage was sprawled open like a Thanksgiving turkey.
Creed had a shocked expression as he collapsed.
Genocide continued to push against the force of Threnody’s death energies, the counterforce eventually caused her to repel in the opposite direction, hitting the wall. Rubble from the damaged mansion fell on top of her, effectively burying her. Her zombified army instantly collapsed.
“Rrrrah!” Adam grabbed the syringe and threw it like a dart, piercing a crack in Genocide’s armor. The heat caused the metallic object to melt, spewing a green gas in his vicinity—causing the virus to go airborne.
Genocide coughed as he lost his footing, his body seemed to flicker for a moment as the virus took hold on him. Crystalline wings formed on his back as his energies propelled him upwards. The rumbling, however, became more and more violent.
Adam tried to remove the rubble on top of Threnody, but his senses could already detect his worst fears. He turned his attention to his mentor, hoisting the massive brute over his shoulder. A bright flash of light and the two were gone as the entire mansion caved in on itself.
The Clan Akkaba was no more—with the virus and their European stronghold gone, there was no telling that their influence would soon be gone from this world.
In the distance, mist crept on the nearby forest floor. A shadowy figure emerged from it. No audible footsteps as the figure approached the former site of the Domicilium.
“Hm,” exclaimed a voice in approval.
Red eyes glared at the devastation as the figure silently retreated back into the forest.
***
Fremont, Nebraska.
One week later.
Victor awoke to the sound of a heart monitor. Last he remembered, he had his chest cavity blown wide open. He darted up and ripped the EKG wires off of his bandaged chest. On the side table, he saw a full bottle of Jack Daniels. He quickly unscrewed the cap and held the bottle over his mouth, gulping down as much burning liquid as he could.
After his extended sip, Sabretooth wiped his mouth clean with the back of his clawed hand. He looked down at his body, seemingly healed of all injuries. He must be in one of Sinister’s satellite labs located outside of Omaha.
He stumbled out of the room, only to see an endless row of incubator chambers filled with a green gelatinous liquid.
“Aw, dammit…” he murmured at the sight of the occupants. They shared his face. They were him—his clones. Had he been a clone this entire time? Was he simply predisposed to take the orders from an Essex? Were his memories continually collected, stored, and then uploaded into a new body each time he died?
Sabretooth sighed existentially as he took another sip of whiskey. It would be a liquid breakfast after all.
***
Wellington, Shropshire, England.
Former Site of the Domicilium.
Clean up had begun in the Welsh March known as Shropshire, where the Clan Akkaba remained hidden for several millennia. No one could explain the unexpected radiation spike a week ago, or why the mansion suddenly collapsed on itself. It was treated as a small scale nuclear explosion. Several residences along the Welsh-English border had to be evacuated. Several people were also infected with a disease some thought to be a mutated bubonic plague—but it was just Adam Essex’s handiwork.
Effectively, it was a ghost town. The radiation from Genocide had already caused the trees and plants to wither and die into dried husks.
One individual, however, was not so afraid of the radiation. Mist again surrounded the figure. Wearing a black cloak like a creature of the night, red eyes peered once again into the rubble, as if searching for something.
Waiting.
Then, a hand punched through the rubble, pulling himself up, holding the lifeless body of Threnody in his arms. He was Enyalius—but he had shed his reptilian form. He was the ageless warrior and nobly carried the warrior who had bested him. He laid her on the ground and brushed the hair out of her eyes.
To his shock, however, her hand grabbed his forearm. Glowing green eyes shot open under her dead eyelids as the invisible life-force drained into Threnody’s body. Her dead skin began to revitalize as she slowly rose to her feet. Enyalius yanked his arm away from her, stumbling away.
“Μπορείτε μάγισσα! Να πάει μαζί σας!” he shouted in his native Greek.
He screeched like a demon as wings shot out of his back. He took one leap and he was airborne. The First Horseman left the devastation of Apocalypse’s family behind to return to his own family.
Threnody inhaled deeply, arching her neck back. It wasn’t every day she died. Resurrecting herself felt like she had been holding her breath.
The figure in the black cloak approached Threnody, dropping the cloak to reveal a chalk-skinned woman with dark circles under her red eyes. She had pure white hair and a gaunt appearance. It had been awhile since she had drained others to sustain her more youthful appearance, but the ancient being was undeterred.
“Daughter…,” she said with her arms outstretched. She wore tattered robes and cloth under her cloak. “I am Selene.”
Threnody clenched her fists, “My mom was Judith Jacobs…”
“I left you with her,” Selene said. “Enchanted her to take care of you as her own, until I could care for you myself.” She paused, smiling with her blackened teeth, “I see you have a taste for life-force, for necromancy. You talk to the dead. Where do you think you inherited such gifts—if not from your mother?”
The cybernetic implants on Threnody’s temples suddenly hummed to life, “Then who’s my father?”
Selene hid a cough behind a labored chuckle, “No one that matters. I have come to you for a reason…and with the fall of the Akkaba, I must be prepared to nurture all of my offspring. Including your brother.”
Threnody glared at the decrepit woman, “Brother…? You expect me to believe the any of this coming from some ancient female Crypt Keeper?”
“Watch your tongue, girl. Fine. Half-brother, then,” Selene said before she was interrupted by a slow, audible clap.
Adam emerged from the forest behind Selene, continuing to applaud. He wore his modified version of his father’s armor, more utilitarian, accented with the red diamond symbol on his chest.
Selene seemed to tremble at the sight of Adam.
“At least the bitch can finally admit to it,” Adam said with a smirk.
Threnody placed a hand on her hip, “Not a moment too soon.”
Selene inhaled deeply, but slowly, “You…knew?”
Adam chuckled, “Don’t get me wrong, avenging my father and sticking it to the X-Men and Apocalypse’s extended family was fun, but you…you’re the golden goose. My father said I was engineered with his DNA and a sort of synthetic DNA of one of Rebecca Essex’s female descendants. But he failed to mention a third genetic donor. A process the Byron Trust no doubt duplicated during my father’s time with their organization.”
Selene held out an elongated index finger, “I warn you, boy—back! You may hold the genetic keys to my gifts, but you know nothing of dark magic. You will have no defense against that!”
Adam smirked as he pulled a glowing blue-yellow gem from his belt, “You mean this thing the Clan Akkaba kept hung up to protect themselves from you? The Gem of Arrama, I believe it is called. Defense against magic. Your magic.”
Selene retracted her index finger and smiled, “Perhaps we should take this opportunity to form an alliance, then?”
“I hold the keys,” Adam warned as he held out the gem. Selene seemed to wince in pain as her son approached her. She eventually stumbled backwards and fell—breaking her pelvis with an audible crack.
“What do you want?” Selene pleaded.
“Short of removing your head from the rest of your body, you are immortal—an External,” Adam explained as he grabbed Selene’s elbow—his skin stretching and wrapping around her arm several times to let the blood pool—and stuck a syringe into the one vein that had any blood left.
“I would very much like to study that,” Adam said as he removed the syringe, holding it up to the luminance of the moon. “And to find any other brothers or sisters I might share with my dear Melody.”
Threnody stood beside her unholy brother, gazing upon their most unholy mother, “What should we do with her?”
“We’ll let the hounds decide,” Adam said with a grin.
Selene’s eyes widened as she propped herself up with all of her might, limping back into the forest as fast as she could.
Rustling in the bushes and distant growls signified the pack of wild, feral creatures—a pack of Sabretooths. They all leapt out of the shadows, past Adam and Melody, to chase the External.
Selene limped towards the forest, but collapsed
The diamond marking on Adam’s forehead, just as it had been on his father’s, was unmistakable.
***
Epilogue.
“The family of En Sabah Nur is no more, they say,” a female voice taunted. “This is a grand victory. But survival isn’t about brute strength or being lucky. Perhaps it’s a tad bit more. Call it…cunning manipulation. Being on the right side of fate means there is a great honor to uphold. History is bound to repeat itself if lessons cannot be learned. A chance to begin anew…”
Ava Slade looked into a mirror — her skin was chalky gray and her lips had formed a disfigurement up her jawline. A Celestial-based armor attached two metallic conduits from her gauntlets to the back of her spine.
Lady Apocalypse clenched her fists and smiled, turning to her audience of Dark Riders, Apocalypse Dawn, and the Akkaba Guard, “So, let’s make it interesting.”
***
Next Issue: For the time being, there won’t be, at least from yours truly. It’s been a fun ride full of bad guys doing bad things to other bad guys. Though, I doubt the adventures of Adam Essex, Threnody, and Sabretooth(s)/Sabreteeth(????) are far from over at M2K. Oh, and it looks like Ava Slade, Blink’s distant cousin, is a new Apocalypse. I’m sure some fun will be had from that.
Brad Horton
October 2, 2016