PALE REIGN OVER GESHEM - CHAPTER 32
by Abyss <LAbyss@hotmail.com>

DISCLAIMER: ideas, characters and concepts used
herein that belong to marvel comics are used
without permission for no profit, so put that
super-charged lepton blaster away.
     This story may be archived with the
permission of the author, who retains all rights
to any original concepts contained herein, cuz
he's bad that way.

     The author is also know to respond
favorably to feedback about his
work...hinthinthint.
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      And what am I to do with you,
outworlder?'
     Prelate Summers stared through his one
eye.  It was Sinister... Essex..., the man who
had raised his brother and him from their
ignoble beginnings at the orphanage to
eventually stand amongst Apocalypse's elite. 
The resemblance was perfect, from the beard to
the red mark on his forehead.  The man stood a
full head above him, wrapped in a long black
cloak.  His eyes had the same pupiless red glow
as the Sinister he knew... and deep inside the
depths of his very soul, something inside him
demanded he obey the man.
      You appear in my world, cause all sorts
of difficulty, make my men chase you about the
city, and then show up in the castle itself...'
     *Chase me?  What's he talking about?*
      And why?  Though you look like the late
Lord Summerisle, and even possess a similar
magic, you are clearly not he.  You have no
loyalty to this place.  I can even send you home
if you tell me where it is.'
     Prelate Summers' mind raced.  He was
helpless in the Pale Man's grip.  Some spell
kept him from moving beyond where he stood, and
worse of all he couldn't move his fingers enough
to trigger the visor on his mask to open.  The
cybernetic trigger wasn't working either.  He
could see, he could speak, and that was all.
     They were in a large cave formed out of
crystal and rock.  On the ground a huge altar
was raised from the ground itself.  The altar
was in the shape of a crucifix.   A young woman, 
beautiful, with short brown-red hair  and very
pregnant, lay on the centre.  To either side lay
two men he knew must be the Mage and the Shaman. 
Both seemed unconscious, both sheathed in a
sickly yellow field of energy.  The Prelate had
lost all track of the Nightcrawler doppelganger
after he had teleported them down here and
deposited him, nearly unconscious from being
strangled by a tail, before the Pale Man. 
     He needed time.
      Home?  No thanks.  Home was in the
process of being blown up when I was pulled
here.  If that's your best offer, just kill me
and stop wasting my time.'
     But some part of him was tormented even
so... his world was the only one he had ever
known...
     *So what?  Jean's dead, Alex as well...
there's nothing left for me there...*
      Then stay in this dimension,' the Pale
Man offered, his tone insidious, prying at the
Prelate's mind,  be my right hand, and you can
have more than you ever dreamed possible.  This
world is mine, and its future mine to shape. 
Become a part of
that future.'  
      What do I have to do in return?  If you
want info on the resistance, I'm afraid I don't
have any.'
      The resistance?  A pitiable rabble with
some feeble magic.  In moments, I will have
enough power to eliminate them where they stand. 
As we speak, my preyers and my soulsworn descend
on the city... every life they take brings me a
fraction closer to omnipotence.  All you need do
is obey me.  Swear your soul to me.  Simple
enough?'
      Tempting.'
      I allow you a moment to think about it,
as I deal with some other business.'
     The Pale Man gestured to the huge opening
at the far end of the cavern.  The Prelate's eye
could shift just enough to look where he
pointed.  They were in a large, high cave of
rock and a strange crystal that seemed to
generate all the light in the place.  
     At the Pale Man's sign, there was the
sound of beating wings and a rush of wind, and a
dragon flew through the opening.  Prelate
Summers had seen many things in his service to
Apocalypse, and the sight of the massive
creature didn't really startle him.  The
monster's captives, however, were fairly
shocking. 
     For an instant, Stephanie's eyes met his,
and he saw hope fade from them.  He understood. 
Cyclops was captive as well.  The Mage's gambit
had failed, and so had the Mage's Hunter.
     The dragon dropped its captives from a
good distance in the air.  Lustre landed hard,
but the Hunter and Cyclops landed on their feet. 
The Prelate's heart jumped at what happened
next.
     Stephanie whirled, a cloud of powder
flying from her hand into the air before the
dragon.  The powder exploded in a burst of light
and flame.  The creature threw its head back and
roared, the sound causing the floor to shake.
     Cyclops cried out  Sinister!', and his
optic blast crossed the distance to the Pale Man
with the speed of thought.  The Pale Man didn't
flinch.  He waved his hand as if to brush aside
a gnat, and the optic blast shattered into a
thousand splinters of crimson light against a
shield of yellow energy.
     The sorcerer waved again, and a wash of
sparkling light, so like that emanating from the
crystals about the cavern, spread from his hand
to engulf the three.  Lustre raised her hand and
the glimmering tide was held back for an
instant, but the Pale Man closed his fist and
with a gasp, she dropped to the floor.
     The glow surrounded them and vanished, and
all three were left standing where they were,
unmoving.  The Pale Man moved closer to the
three, his red gaze resting longest on Cyclops,
then turning back to the Prelate.
      Fascinating.  The two of you are
essentially the same, and identical again to
this world's late Lord Summerisle.  You said
your world was gone...', the Pale Man's hand
extended towards Cyclops, who suddenly gasped
and strained backwards, as if in the grip of
incredible pain, his head thrown back, his fists
clenched, but still unable to move,   perhaps
you would care to help me conquer his?'
     The Pale Man turned his hand, making a
beckoning motion with one finger.  Cyclops'
visor came off, passing through the air to rest
in the black gloved hand.  Cyclops, his eyes
squeezed shut in pain, head thrashing slightly
from side to side, seemed not to notice.
     The dragon, which had recovered from the
Hunter's attack, settled to the floor and
watched, mouth stretched wide in a grin.
      Such curious magic you have in your
worlds.  It seems this one's protects him from
harm far better than your own.  His let him keep
both eyes.  I will give it to you, if you vow to
serve me.'
      What do you need me for?  You seem to
have everything well in hand.'
      You know of worlds that interest me...
and it amuses me to have the Mage's would-be
savior as a thrall.'
     A decision was slowly forming in the
Prelate's mind.  He avoided looking at
Stephanie.
      Why not just kill me and have done with
it.  How do I know you won't anyway?'
      You don't, but the alternative,' he
gestured again, and a barely suppressed scream
forced itself from Cyclops' teeth,  is to fall
as all Lord Summerisles seem to.  Wouldn't you
prefer to be victorious for a change?'
     The Prelate was silent.  All his life,
everything before coming to Geshem, seemed
meaningless.  Everything since he had arrived
had been out of control, one long battle in
other people's struggles.  He was as tired now
as he had been on that bridge, when Jean and
Alex had both died and the bombs had been
falling...
     ...there had been no hope then...
     ...no dreams, just a nightmare.
     He took a step forward, surprised to find
he could.  He walked over the where Cyclops
thrashed in the grip of the Pale Man's magic. 
      Well... Scott..., you were right after
all.  You should never have trusted me.  I
should have killed you in the tunnels.'
     He heard the Hunter gasp, fury and pain
evident.  He ignored the sound.  He turned back
and walked to stand less than an arms length
from the Pale Man.  The red eyes looked down at
him, reaching for his soul.
     Prelate Summers dropped to one knee before
the Pale Man, his head down to the ground.
      I'm yours.'
      His hand came up and touched the visor,
with its one red lens. 
      Give me his visor.  I want his power. 
Then I want his life.'
     The black gloved hand came down, and
Prelate Summers reached out to take the visor...
and locked his hand around the Pale Man's
wrist...
      CYCLOPS, NOW!'
     ...and all hades broke loose.
          *         *         *
END CHAPTER 32