Cable

Anchored in a form that was a combination of the genetic material of both himself and Scott Summers, Apocalypse unleashed a powerful burst of crimson energy from his large eye. The blast took out several followers of the Clan Akkaba.

“Either make a path or I will go through you,” said Apocalypse. Not one of the combatants moved an inch, only tensed up, preparing for the coming battle. Apocalypse scowled. “I will not ask twice.”

The massive form of Armageddon rose and took a step towards Apocalypse. “After all this time, you’re finally here. I’ve waited my entire life for this moment.”

“And why is that?” asked Apocalypse.

“Because I’m your son. Everything I’ve done has been in preparation for your ascension. I’ve come here so we can finally rule toge—”

An optic blast knocked Armageddon from his feet, thrusting him against the wall. When the blast subsided, Armageddon fell to the ground and looked up at his father in shock. “Father? Why did you do that?”

“Because you are weak,” said Apocalypse, his eye crackling with solar energy.

“But everything I’ve done, all this work, it’s all for you!” said Armageddon. “Why can’t we rule together as father and son?”

“Family is but a weakness and the very idea you would need my help to rule shows how worthless you are. A true son would have not wasted the effort you have in attempting to bring me back—your desire for conquest should be so great that you would kill any who stand in your way of absolute rule. Myself included. You are no son of mine.”

Armageddon’s shock turned to anger. He rose to his feet, his own eyes beginning to glow brightly. “You know nothing! I will show you what true power is and I will prove to you I’m not weak!”

Telekinetic energy erupted from Armageddon’s temple, which caught Apocalypse off-guard and knocked him back a few paces. He recovered quickly and countered with another powerful optic blast. Armageddon canceled it out with a psionic blast and called out to Decibel and Anais.

“Kill them all!” he shouted. “But leave my father to me!”

Decibel opened his mouth and unleashed a sonic scream, tearing a streak of destruction through Quietus’ lab. The mad scientist cursed and jumped into the fray. His own mouth opened, but rather than a sonic scream, a thunderous belch emerged from his throat, powerful enough to knock Decibel back.

“Do you have any idea how much this shit costs?” he asked as he moved towards Decibel.

Anais shifted into her animalistic form and lunged at Underhand. Quietus’ henchman rolled with the attack and kicked her off him, then sprung back to his feet, emitting gas from his mouth that encircled Anais as if it had a life of its own. Underhand noticed his master struggling against Decibel and leapt over to his aid. As Decibel opened his mouth for another scream, Underhand filled the man’s lungs with mucous, which then flew back out courtesy of the mutant’s sonic scream.

Prosh reached a hand out for Cable. [Nathan, this has spiraled out of control. We need to restrain this situation.]

“See if Quietus has anything we can use,” said Cable. The handheld blasters flew from the straps on his legs and into his waiting hands. “I’m taking out Apocalypse.”

As Cable joined the battle, Prosh turned his attention to Sinister. Nathaniel Essex had been calmly observing the battle raging in the lab with an icy gaze. He turned that gaze now to Prosh’s techno-organic form. “What do you want?”

[We have to stop this. Does Quietus have anything we might use?]

Sinister offered a smile that would have chilled Prosh to the bone had he possessed any. “I believe he does.”

APOCALYPSE TOMORROW

Part IV: Parent Issues

By Hunter Lambright and Dino Pollard

Egypt

Hondo Akhtoy stared out the window as storm clouds gathered over the city. Rain was uncommon here, and it would surely be met with plenty of praise throughout the city. Still, Hondo felt a growing sense of dread well up inside him.

He was an old man, his skin tanned and wrinkled from years of labor. He had worked hard to get to where he was, and he was damn proud of what he had accomplished in the time he had been on this earth. Yet, for some reason, he began to wonder if that time was drawing quickly to a close. Had he worked all his life just for it to end so suddenly? Yet the doctors were mystified, chalking his worries up to the paranoia of an old man. He was not physically ill, nor was he mentally handicapped in any manner. He was healthy as a horse.

And yet, as the first lightning strike lit up the sky, Hondo made his peace with the gods and broke the label on a bottle of imported scotch, and prepared to die.

Armageddon was blasted from the lab out into the Siberian fields. He stood as Apocalypse came forward, towering over him. En Sabah Nur had clearly been prepared for a killing blow when a burst of energy struck him from behind.

Cable stood behind him, his blasters in hand. “Did you think I’d let you come back into this world without a fight?”

Apocalypse grinned. “Nathan, my old friend. How has my time away treated you? Have you finally discovered how pitiful your existence is without me to fight?”

“No, but that’s something I could easily learn to live with,” said Cable.

Apocalypse chuckled and fired another burst of optic energy. Cable erected a telekinetic shield that blocked the strike. He released his guns and they hovered in the air, continuing to fire as Cable drew the Psimitar. He lunged towards Apocalypse with the spear in hand, the blade channeled his psionic energy and dealt a powerful blow to the ancient mutant.

Cable moved in and thrust with the spear, slicing through Apocalypse’s side. En Sabah Nur had not only been without form for a long time, but he was also not used to his new body. It allowed Cable to gain the upper hand over his old foe.

From the sidelines, Cable could hear Armageddon’s laughter. “Who is the weak one now, Father? Who is the one that will fall? You don’t seem to be doing so well, perhaps you are the one who aren’t fit for your world!”

“Perhaps,” said Apocalypse. “And perhaps I was hasty, my son. Perhaps I should give you that which you desire—an alliance.”

Armageddon turned to Cable and fired a psionic blast of his own that threw the soldier back. “For now, Father. But don’t think this is over between us.”

“I would expect nothing less from my son,” said Apocalypse.

Armageddon looked at Decibel and Anais. “You heard him.”

Anais smiled as she leapt first, growling and snarling. She slashed at Cable’s body, who used his TK to deflect most of her strikes as well as his own agility to dodge them. He bent backwards, her claws passing right over his body and when he brought himself back up, he did so by head-butting her. Cable brought the blunt end of the Psimitar behind her legs and knocked them out from under her, then plunged the psionic blade into her chest. Anais roared in pain and passed out. Cable removed the Psimitar—no physical damage was present on her body, but the mental damage would be quite severe.

Decibel was another matter entirely. His sonic scream was powerful and while Cable’s shield protected him from the concussive force of the attack, it could not shield his ears from the high frequencies Decibel was able to hit. That assault combined with a psionic attack from Armageddon and the optic blasts of Apocalypse. Cable fell to his knees under the force of the three mutants, clasping his hands over his ears, his eyes and teeth clenched tightly.

“ENOUGH!” When he opened his eyes again, his left one crackled with immeasurable power. Cable’s telekinetic field expanded rapidly, combined with a psychic attack that was able to both repel and temporarily incapacitate his foes. He staggered to get to his feet, the strain of that last attack combined with the earlier assault beginning to show its toll. “As long as Apocalypse walks, nothing will stop me.”

[And he is not alone.]

The quartet heard Prosh’s voice and looked over. He, Sinister, Quietus and Underhand stood there. Behind them were several clones created by Quietus’ twisted science. Unholy amalgamations of different mutants. One crouched low, a demonic creature with metal skin. Another had six bone claws protruding from its knuckles, hovering in the air with the aid of large, feathered wings. A third had half its body composed of ice, the other half composed of fire. The fourth had bone protrusions all over its body, two of which sat in its hands and glowed brightly with kinetic energy.

The clones charged into battle with Apocalypse and the forces of Clan Akkaba. As they raged, Quietus and Sinister stood back, marveling at the abilities each of the clones possessed. Sinister rubbed his chin and said, “I must admit, my distaste for your rough science notwithstanding, you’ve done quite a marvelous job with these.”

“Unfortunately they’re unstable,” said Quietus. “I was trying to perfect them but as it stands, they have a shelf-life of a few days, perhaps a week or two tops.”

Prosh moved over to Cable’s side, who leaned against the Psimitar. [Nathan, you cannot keep going like this. You’re pushing yourself too far. Even you have limits, my friend.]

“Don’t need a pep talk right now, Prosh,” said Cable. “We got what we wanted—Apocalypse in a physical body. Now we need to proceed with the second part of the plan.”

[I think I know how,] said Prosh. [When I abandoned my old Phalanx body, I bottled up some of the more dangerous qualities and was able to weaponize them in ways the Weaponeers never could.]

“What do you have in mind?” asked Cable.

Prosh raised his arm and it transformed, elongating into a massive gun barrel. He steadied it with his other hand and took careful aim at Apocalypse, then fired. The bullet was large, and like the rest of Prosh, composed of techno-organic material. It struck Apocalypse in his chest, causing his fluid body to begin shifting as the virus spread through it.

Cable rushed forward, jumping in the air and raising his Psimitar, and bringing it down. He slammed it right through Apocalypse’s chest. “You are a shame to my father’s genes!” he screamed. Psionic energy flowed through the two of them as Cable used his telekinesis to tear apart Apocalypse’s body, molecule by molecule. The two old foes locked eyes, both pouring with their respective energies. In those last moments, Cable could have sworn he saw Apocalypse even smile.

An explosion of energy occurred with the pair at the epicenter. Once the smoke cleared, Prosh was the first to inspect the area and was instantly met with a surprise—there was no sign of either Cable or Apocalypse.

Miles away, a man was almost driven off the road by the bright light and roar of an explosion. He skidded his truck to a stop and climbed out, running into the open field. In the center of it was a giant crater and a naked man sat at the bottom of it, with silver hair and a prosthetic arm of some sort.

The man stirred and pulled himself out of the crater just as the trucker came to his side. <“Are you okay?”> he asked in Russian.

The naked man stood to his feet and grabbed the trucker by the neck with that prosthetic hand. A flick of his wrist and the trucker’s neck was broken. The man began to laugh as his eye crackled brightly with golden energy.

“Now comes the Apocalypse!”

Armageddon’s hand tightened around Sinister’s throat. “Where are they?” he demanded, stretching Sinister’s limbs away from his torso with his telekinesis.

The geneticist smiled despite the pain. “Do you treat everyone…nh…that you need…with such barbarism?” Sinister grunted.

“I have no need for the likes of you,” Armageddon said, squeezing tighter.

Sinister rolled his eyes. “You want to know where they are. I can figure that out for you. My personal involvement in this is finished, my loyalties severed. I already have everything that I want here.”

“My father’s presence out of your head, yes,” Armageddon said, releasing his telekinetic grip on Sinister’s body. “Speak, then. Where are they?”

“I suspect that Cable and Apocalypse are somewhere in the vicinity of that rising pillar of dust,” Sinister said, indicating the location of the airborne debris with his eyes. “That’s just my humble guess, of course.”

Armageddon huffed in rage, throwing Sinister into the fields. The geneticist slumped in the tall grass and did not get up. “Clan Akkaba, with me!” he shouted, charging toward the pillar of dust in the distance. Decibel and Anais were quick to follow, and soon the area around Quietus’ lab was quiet.

Prosh righted himself. [Nathan!] he shouted. [Where are you?]

The response came in the form of a belch. Quietus sat over the unmoving form of one of his mutant clones, hunched in a pose of mourning. “Clan Akkaba ran off that way, an’ I’ll bloody well be headin’ after ‘em. Nobody—nobody—kills my babies and gets away with it. Lead the way, an’ Underhand an’ me’ll be on your tail.”

Prosh noticed the dust pillar. [Then we will go.] He looked to Sinister. [I will assume you are not joining us?]

Sinister smiled. “As I told Armageddon, my stake in this has been withdrawn. Exit stage left, if you will.”

Frowning, Prosh glanced back at Sinister once before leading Quietus and Underhand in the vicinity of the pillar. Who knew how Cable was holding up?

As soon as the three were gone, Sinister hunched over Quietus’ hybrid clones, taking particular interest in one with bright, red hair emerging from the back of its spandex mask. Then he stripped a handful of locks of hair from the dead clone’s scalp. There, he thought, a grin spreading on his face. Now I’ve done better than break even.

“You will fight me again, Father,” Armageddon said, reaching the crater where, even now, dust was still settling. “I will prove myself your better.”

“So much posturing,” said the voice of Apocalypse, though it was tinged with another presence. “No child of mine would waste the time with words when his actions would speak louder.” Armageddon grunted in pain as Cable’s Psimitar lanced through his chest, setting his mind on fire.

“He has infected the mind of the Askani’son!” Decibel shouted, but his warning did not reach Anais before she received a second dose of the Psimitar herself. Decibel screamed, rattling the metal of Cable’s arm, but his voice was his only power. Apocalypse dug Cable’s feet into the ground and stomped, slowly, toward Decibel. Realizing that he was losing ground, Decibel attempted to step back, taking a breath in the same instant. Apocalypse seized his chance, lancing through Decibel with the Psimitar. Decibel’s limbs shook out of control before crumpled to the ground unconscious.

Apocalypse was rewarded for this small victory with a fist to the back of the head. “No more,” Armageddon said. “This ends on this spot.”

The Psimitar flew a hundred feet away the instant Apocalypse looked at it. Armageddon allowed himself a smile. “Telekinesis. Your genes yielded a few surprises, did they not?”

“So did Summers and Grey’s,” Apocalypse said, pointing a finger at himself. “The Askani’son was created by combining two of the most powerful mutants of this century, and yet his mind was conquered by my new form. What hope do you have, then, if it is your body I wish to inhabit?”

Armageddon’s eyes opened wide as Apocalypse tackled him. Pinning him to the ground, however briefly with the surprise attack, Apocalypse stared into his son’s eyes. “Never forget that being my son means you’ll only ever be half the man I am.”

Then both Armageddon and Apocalypse’s fields of vision flashed white.

Astral Plane

“Where…?” Armageddon stood up, only to find that the only ground in sight was his perception that there should be one.

Apocalypse, back in the blue and grey guise he used before his death, also climbed to his feet. “We’ve been relocated to a place that I have only heard of, but never encountered. I had thought it to be the nonsense all telepaths carry around with them.”

“The Astral Plane is not a joke, and it’s something you’ve been on before,” Cable said, announcing his presence. “Apocalypse, when you jumped out, you gave me a chance to take the fight to my arena before you could jump into your son. I think the fact that you were tethered here in Sinister’s own mind helped out a bit, gave it a foothold on you.”

“So this is where it ends?” Apocalypse asked. “I emerged from death a psychic virus. All I have to do is infect this place, and then we will remain where we stood before—with myself as the fittest.”

He posed in a manner that suggested something of great proportions was about to happen. Nothing did.

Cable shook his head. “My playground, my rules.” He hefted a giant, futuristic gun on his shoulder. “Be gone from this place, En Sabah Nur.”

Psychic bullets ripped through Apocalypse’s astral form. Though a great and powerful mutant in his life, Apocalypse had no training on the Astral Plane. His “body” fell to the invisible floor and reduced itself to ash, scattering as if by wind.

The Astral Plane faded to black.

When Armageddon opened his eyes, Prosh stood over him. [What have you done with the Askani’son?] he demanded, his right arm technomorphed into a scythe. Prosh brought the scythe to bear over Armageddon’s neck.

A voice coughed weakly from the crater. “Prosh?”

[Nathan?]

Cable crawled over the edge of the crater. “It’s over. Apocalypse’s psyche is out of my head and discorporate. He’s not dead, not in his viral form, but he’s not here anymore—and what’s more, he’s weak. It’ll be awhile before our never-ending battle begins again.”

Armageddon made a move to get away, but he was blasted to his back by a belch. “Not so fast, y’miscreant! You’ll betcher ass you’ll be paying for killin’ me beauties!” Quietus grabbed Armageddon by the faux-hawk and prepared another blasting belch. Underhand stood over Anais and Decibel, who were on their knees gagging on his noxious gas.

As Prosh supported Cable on his way back to their transport, he turned to his friend. [Should we have left those loose ends?]

Cable forced a weak smile. “Sometimes, loose ends take care of themselves.”

Egypt

Hondo Akhtoy’s eyes stared out the window as the first drops of rain came down on the sand, but Hondo was no longer there. His mind, his soul, his presence had fled his body the moment another entity had taken up residence there.

Only Apocalypse remained.

 

 

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