Part 8: Despair

D’Spayre reached into the minds and memories of Wolverine and Rahne, and made their every fear come true.

Wolverine dreamed he was in the woods, being pursued by ferocious animals. He was just a kid, abandoned by his people for being small and weak. He ran and ran, running out of breath but getting up each time he heard the rapid approach of their hungry roars and violent claws. He fell one last time as they cornered him. Turning around to see his hunters, he was shocked to find that he was face- to- face with the X-men. They were different now—monstrous, feral. They taunted him and teased him, then tore him to shreds.

He found himself in hell, enveloped by flames and being laughed at from above by God and Jesus. He cried to them for mercy, and they stopped laughing. “Wash your hands,” said Jesus, “and we’ll let you go.” When he looked down at his hands, they were covered in blood. The blood on his hands writhed and struggled, pleading out for vindication. It was the blood of all the people whose life he had taken, and try as he might, it would not come off. “You can gnaw them off, or you can stay where you are,” said Jesus, who was now on a cross. Wolverine bit and ripped at his wrists, but every wound healed before he could make another.

The blood dripped from his hands until it flooded around him and extinguished some of the flames. The remaining flames swirled up and solidified, taking the familiar body of Jean Grey as Phoenix. The Phoenix then turned into Dark Phoenix. She turned to face him, and he saw that her face was now Rahne’s, with a wolfen head. “Is this what ye’d have me become?” asked this Dark Rahne. “Is this how ye’d like me?” She slipped out of her costume and stood naked before him, now a matured and voluptuous woman, part Jean and part Rahne. “Take me, Logan,” she said, “take my innocence away.” He watched in horror as her fair skin was riddled with parallel cuts, over and over, until she was only a puddle of flesh and blood.

Sabretooth grabbed him from behind and threw him to the ground. “Wasn’t that a blast, runt?” Sabretooth ripped Wolverine’s shirt off and cut into his chest, writing into his skin with his claws. “Ya need I.D. here, runt.” Wolverine looked at his chest and read the inscription: MURDERER. Looking back up, he was aware that he was now crucified himself. At the foot of his cross reclined Shaw, enjoying himself with Jean Grey, Mariko Yashida, and Yukio. Shingen stood nearby, having his way with Jubilee, who was pinned to the ground with his katana .

If Wolverine’s torment was bad, Rahne’s was unspeakable.

She dreamed she was in a maze, being pursued by a thousand Reverend Craigs. Some of them were ten feet tall, and some had claws coming from the back of their wrists. Some of them carried the cross of Christ, with Christ still nailed to it, calling out directions to her pursuers. She turned a corner and saw a grave. The tombstone read “Alystraea Sinclair, ungodly whore bitch of Satan, burning in hell forever, soon to be joined by her wicked daughter Rahne”.

She saw an open door and heard a voice within calling her. “This way. It is safe.” She entered and found herself looking at Doug Ramsey, standing with the blank expression of a Genoshan Mutate. “Kill me, Rahne. Please kill me. I hate being a mutate. You killed me before—you can do it again.” She sprinted away, screaming.

“You’ll never make it if you can’t even kill the dead,” yelled Wolverine at her. His throat had a tattoo that read “IN CASE OF CHICKENSHIT TRAINEE, CUT HERE”. He had horns and a pointed tail, and was smoking a human finger like a cigar. “Crybaby! What’s the big deal, it ain’t like God gives a crap about you anyway. I’ll fix ya!” He tilted his head back and let out a wail that never seemed to end, and popped his claws. They grew and grew, racing after her as she ran. The claws cut down everything in their path, getting longer and longer as they danced around one another and nipped at her heels.

She ran smack into Moira, who held her and tried to comfort her. “Shhh, quiet, little one. It’ll be all right. I’ll take care of ye. I have good news! I’m getting married—you’ll have a father!” Moira’s suitor pulled her from Rahne’s arms. It was Reverend Craig, covered from neck to feet in swarming cockroaches. He kissed Moira passionately on the mouth, and undressed her. “Watch, Rahne. This is what you should be doing—all your friends do it.” Moira mounted the Reverend and began humping him like a wild animal, even howling like a wolf. The Reverend was screaming scriptures at them both. Finally, Moira’s head exploded and spilled out thousands of cockroaches.

“Ye will be next,” scowled the Reverend, but he was then struck by a force beam and blown into scattered chunks of human waste. Rahne saw that her rescuer was Havok—Alex Summers. He looked at Rahne and tears of blood dripped down his face and all over his white robe. “Come back to me, Rahne,” he implored, “I love you.”

Alex’s eyes suddenly jutted forth from their sockets, impaled on the ends of metal claws. The third, middle claw then also sprang forth. His limp, lifeless body was then moved around mockingly like a puppet. His clawed puppetmaster spoke from behind him. “I love you Rahne, come back Rahne, wah wah wah Rahne, don’t you want to do what Moira and the Reverend did Rahne, and let’s kill some damn Genoshans Rahne!”

Puppet Alex was then discarded, and his killer stood silently. Rahne shrieked in fright at the apparition of Christ with Wolverine’s claws. “Your fault, Rahne,” he said, and used those claws to crucify himself.

D’Spayre was enjoying the torments of these two much more than he did their companion Cyclops, years ago. They were both prime candidates for his needs. With a little stimulation, either could be persuaded to commit suicide, thereby satisfying his masters and making him the Lord of Limbo.

His laughter brought them out of their dream state. They were trembling. They were weeping. Both had wet themselves. They were alive, but not happy about it.

“I have made my choice, humans. The life I shall keep is that of the clawed man. You, girl, you may go home. I regret that those who offer me Lordship of Limbo demand that one of you must die, and the other be freed…your misery would have provided endless pleasure to me. Leave now, through the same circle by which we came here, and it will take you safely home.”

Rahne’s mind was exhausted emotionally, and her thoughts were primitive and instinctual. She clumsily hurried toward the circle and put one foot in. Then, something happened.

She was suddenly fortified with a new courage. Faith and hope still lived on in her heart, and she hesitated. She was reminded that she was acting selfishly, even if she was in danger of dying at the hands of some horrible monster.

“N-n-no,” she started, “I…I c-c-can’t!” She was shaking all over, with fear, sorrow, and anger, all at once.

D’Spayre did not expect this.

“I c-can’t just…leave him! I…w-won’t do it. I’m no better than him…I cannot go, you…you vile thing!” She put her head in her hands and begged God to make it all go away.

D’Spayre could feel her every emotion, and was sure that she meant what she said. She would die before leaving Wolverine behind. She didn’t trust Wolverine, and was scared of him, but not as scared as she was of everything else she was seeing. Not to mention, Wolverine had just come to her rescue, and she would not repay such valor with abandonment.

“You are a fool, girl! Do you realize what I can do to you?” He quaked with rage. It was not often that a mortal stood up to him. When they did, they usually lost. This time, however, he would have trouble. Her faith gave her strength over her fears. He closed the portal and leered at his two captives.

Wolverine stood up slowly. He was shaken up, but his body had partly healed since they had left earth and his mutant powers were once again functioning. He popped his claws and lunged at the demon, only to be repelled with one swat of D’Spayre’s hand.

“Fools! Then let your final torment be this: you shall endure the rigors of Limbo for one month. When again the moon is full, I shall return to you. Then you must decide for yourselves, which of you will go, and which of you shall die. If one of you does not volunteer to die, I shall slay you both! Though it may cost me the prize I seek, it will be a slow and hellish passing for you both.

“This rift I leave you,” said D’Spayre, and created an opening high above them. “Through it you can see earth’s moon. When it is full, I shall return to hear your decision! If you have not decided by then, I can assure you your deaths will be gradual and agonizing.”

Then the demon left, and they were alone in Limbo.