*Thanks out to Q.B., who challenged me to write a story involving some of my favorite characters, and to 'PC,' who beta read this puppy and pestered me to finish. Special thank you's to thechairmanh2k, luba, wyannick54, and to blue angel, who were kind enough to review ADAM'S RIB. Thank you again. I hope you will like ISAAC'S BLOOD as well.

**I started this several years ago, so please forgive any inconsistencies with present storylines.

***Last warning...this story is rated 'R' for many, many reasons (language, violence, innuendoes, ect.). 'Kay? Still cool with this? Alright then. Let's go.

****

1. Flagellation
 

THE SUBWAY TUNNELS, NEW YORK CITY, Dec. 11, 1999 4:28pm

Sinister pondered upon the recorded images on the screen.

Like a fond owner watching his purebreds at a championship match, he reviewed the tapes of the super-solider children's battle in the Morlock tunnels.

Fast.

Sleek.

Deadly.

He reached out a hand and caressed the images with a fierce gleam of satisfaction.

His.

Oh, yes. His. Sinister could see the marks of his artistry on them. Too subtle for the undisciplined eye to see, of course. But he saw. To him they were obvious. These younglings were masterpieces in genetics, the apex of Homo Sapien evolution.

Of course they were his.

They were perfect.

Yes, Sinister very much looked forward to their imminent creation.

There was one annoying problem though.

He frowned again, as he had when he first saw the odd energy flashes fly from Captain America as Magik hurdled into view. He paused the tape and steepled his fingers to his lips, the crease in his brow growing deeper.

Energy flashes? Mutant ability? Sinister severely doubted that. After some eighty odd years, even after being exposed to the bizarre as often as he was, if the dear Captain had any mutational potential, it would have made itself known long before now.

Little Rasputin's dabblings in the arcane, then? Sinister's lips curled in distaste. An unfortunate possibility.

He spun out of his chair. Intolerable, he thought, sharply pulling his cape around in a snap. I will not allow any degenerate so-called 'craft' soil the purity of my culture stock! I WILL have the Captain AND HE WILL BE CLEANSED! If I must run that witch-child through with her own blade---

Sinister abruptly stopped.

...that cursed blade...

Of course.

Slowly, a smile spread across his pale, pale face.

Languidly, he turned to another screen, where the security cameras showed the Captain and his compatriots vanish in a flash of white. Pointed teeth shone as he leaned forward, stroking a lingering finger on the screen where the old solider had been. "Oh, yes. I have it now. It will be soon now, my Isaac," Sinister whispered. "Soon you will be clean for Science's altar...soon, I will take your late Father Abraham's place. Soon," he hissed, his eyes glowing with anticipation, "your blood will purify this nation that you love so well. Oh," he cried, throwing his arms open wide, "the delicious irony! That the epitome of flatscan perfection will be the key -- my key -- to their utter destruction!" He threw his head back and laughed.

Let Magneto have his Genosha of sub-mutants culls. For now. Long after these so-called world leaders and crimelords were dust, Sinister would remain...and it would be Sinister who saw to it that Homo Superior takes their proper place...on the bones of their pitiful ancestors, kneeling to him.

MORLOCK TUNNEL, NEW YORK CITY, Dec. 11, 1999 4:29pm

So there they were. The wall-crawler in Captain America's clothing, two of Cap's future kids, a weather witch, a sorceress, and several decapitated or molten sliver remains of what was once a Warwolf pack.

Oh yes.

Mustn't forget the patriot bleeding in a puddle of his own blood and vomit, iced over.

All things considered, Spidey was managing the situation well. "Cap? Cap! Manohmanohmanohman! Storm, he's going into shock. We gotta get him outta here, gotta get him help---"

"Magik," the windrider snapped, "get us to the school!"

The young sorceress, pale and speechless at the sight of the steadfast solider trembling in his own fluids, instantly obeyed. A pure white circle opened under their feet.

A familiar electric tingle raced across Spidey's skin. "Something's wrong," he said tensely. Talk about stating the obvious. What else was going to go wrong?

Captain America's eyes snapped open, sightless and glowing.

A blood-curdling scream rent the air. Back bowed nearly in half, his hand spasmed as it pulsed with bloated arcana, the wounded warrior thrashed as he gave voice to heart-stopping agony.

"Stop the disk," Storm yelled, horrified.

"I can't," Magik shrilled.

"Oh, shit," A8 managed to mutter just before they were swallowed into the Limbo realm.

THE LIMBO DIMENSION,??????????????????

Phoenix shrieked in unison with the tortured mind hurtling into Limbo. Filled with the man's pain, she collapsed, tears of agony running down her face. Cypress green eyes could see the return of the motley crew, but in her mind she saw... she saw...

"Holey--- RACHEL," Spider-man gasped.

"Rachel! Goddess--- child, shield your mind," Storm ordered.

Too late. With a cry, Phoenix was sucked into memories lashed in unstable arcana:

___Paris set aflame--

--a buzzbomb on the plane aimed for London--

--Nazi SS marching her out before the firing squad--

--mad scientist unmasking him and his partner--

---the mission---

---the mission is all___

___Run faster, Allies troops laying down cover fire--

--drive the bike, catch the plane--

---faster---

---faster___

---A woman screams---

---the boy jumps---

---reach for her---

---jump after him---

---Reach---

---Reach!---

=FIRE!=

themissionisall themissionisall themissionisall

toolatetoolatetoolateToolatetooLatetoolateTooLatetooLateTooLate TooLate TOO LATE!

themissionisall themissionisall themissionisall

The geas-bound memories Phoenix had scanned mere hours ago became voracious with pure need. It drank in the mystical nature of the Limbo Dimension greedily, entangling itself tighter to the Captain's physical body like a tapeworm.

And Phoenix, empath that she was, could feel the spells strangling the Captain's very soul.

"Goddess," Storm exclaimed, horrified at the sight of the Captain writhing in agony and of Phoenix locked in his pain.

"Fuck," A8 yelled. "What's wrong with them?"

"I-I will make this right," Magik stuttered. The scraping ring of bright metal filled the air. "I'll release him---"

Anything Magik was going to say was drowned out as the spells erupted in the soul-sword's aura.

The Captain screamed again as his arm began to glow from the bones out.

"Magik," Storm shouted, "drop the sword and get us away from here!"

A small white flash and the sword was gone again. "I can't leave her like this," Magik shouted back.

"'Yana, go," Phoenix managed to gasp. //"GO!"//

XAVIER'S INSTITUTE FOR HIGHER LEARNING, SALEM COUNTY, Dec. 11, 7:23pm

Beast was lumbering towards the kitchen in the hopes of drowning his worries in caffeine when a white light spiraled into existence right under his proverbial nose.

"Wha---" was about all the locquitious mutant managed to utter before a burst of heatless flame shoved a jumble of bodies straight out of the energy portal. Beast caught one glimpse of a woman's silhouette wreathed in dying flames before it vanished.

The bewildered biochemist blinked in the sudden darkness.

Wha---?

"Och," Spider-man moaned. "Anyone catch the number of that Mac truck?"

"I didn't mean for this to happen! It was not supposed to be this way," a young voice wailed.

Illyana? Beast felt his jaw drop.

"Oh, shut up! Where the fuck are we?" a strange but familiar looking young gargantuan snarled.

"Beast! Captain America is hurt," Storm snapped. "Stop staring and come quickly. Now!"

THE LIMBO DIMENSION,??????????????????

The Captain's dream-self remained, curled around his left arm, the exposed piece of his soul. From what little Phoenix could see of that arm, it sparked a deep gold and a strange angry red that did nothing to comfort her panic. She tried to get to her feet, but her legs would not co-operate for long. "Dammit," she hissed, blinking back the tears and the frustration. "Captain," she called out, crawling painfully over the blasted rock plain. "Captain America? Please. Say something. Anything. Captain!"

Captain America moaned as he managed to roll himself onto his back.

Phoenix stopped and bit her lip.

Eyes once as blue as the summer skies now looked at her blindly through a wash of gold power.

"Oh, Captain. What have we done?" She closed her cypress green eyes and buried her face against her arm. "I'm sorry. I am so sorry..."

"...angel..."

That snapped her head up. "Angel? Angel! Do I look like an angel to you," she demanded, furiously scrubbing her swollen eyes with the back of her hand. "Does this look like anyplace an angel should be?" she continued, trying to stay angry. If she was angry, she could move, even if it was only by crawling slowly to the Captain's side.

"...angel...?" He inched out his good arm, stretching as much as he could towards her voice.

"Stop calling me that," she screamed, halting her painful progress towards him. "I'm not an angel! I'm... I am so far removed..." Phoenix bowed her head, once more feeling her anger dissolve into guilt. She knew the fallen warrior still reached for her, but she couldn't find the strength to close the distance anymore. Not when she was at least partly responsible for his plight. She helped Magik do this to him, helped to reduce the proud Avenger to this mess of incomplete spells that infected his soul with such wrongness! She should have made Magik remove the spells, convinced the sorceress that there was another way to help Piotr. She shouldn't have supported Magik's plan. She should have... done something!

The Captain had trusted Phoenix.

Worse, he still trusted her.

"I'm no angel," she whispered. "Just a screw-up."

FISK TOWER, NEW YORK CITY, Dec. 11, 8:02pm

The Kingpin bit back a sigh. "Yes, Mojo. I realize that you are quite anxious to start your new breed of stars, but these things do take time. To speed the process up would require a large effort on my part. Very costly indeed..."

A smile bloomed across the big man's rotund face as he calmly listened to the hysterical babblings on the line. "Why, yes, I suppose that would be adequate compensation for the expenditure needed for this operation." Suddenly he slammed a fist into the hardwood desktop. "No! Do not send me more of those incompetent Warwolves! The remainder of this operation requires... a delicate touch." He brushed the splinters from his hand and resettled his bulk comfortably into his leather chair. "Sinister has the right of it. A man of the target's nature will bow before paternal instincts. He will protect his children in anyway he can, but... if it means dealing with the devil, he may require some prodding." He picked up his gold pen and began to jot down some notes. "I have people in various agencies who may be of use to us. Oh, yes. It will make his life quite hard." Small, bright eyes narrowed shrewdly. "Hard enough so that he will have no choice but to submit to us. Yes. Just ensure that my return more than makes up for any loses. Excellent. There will be no problems then."