DISCLAIMER: I don't own
the X-Men or any of their multiple incarnations. Please don't sue me or
steal my story!
NOTE:
In Italian, Beatrice is pronounced Bee-a-TREECH-eh. Since the great
Dante wrote his Inferno in Italian, I would guess Belasco would say the
name with the Italian pronounciation.
NOTE II: The opening
speech (from "There..." to "What about Kurt Wagner?" ) is quoted
directly from Universe X Volume 2. The descriptions in between those
quotes and everything that follows is mine (except the characters
themselves, of course. Those are Marvel's).
Chapter One
The
sun was shining, the grass was lush and green, and the sound of happy
shouts and carefree laughter wafted through the fragrant springtime
air. The destruction of the earth had been averted, the lives of every
man, woman, and child had been saved. For the first time in too long a
time it finally seemed as though God was in His heaven and all was
right with the world.
Unnoticed by the happy people practicing
their powers in the grassy clearing, a cloaked, shadowy figure grabbed
hold of a thick, rough treebranch with one powerful hand and leaned
forward, looking down at the scene below him with glowing, yellow eyes.
Strangely, his long, red fingers were tied together in twos although
there was no evidence of a wound that would necessitate such crippling
bandages.
As he observed the small group of mutants from his
perch in the tree, his glowing eyes sought out and fixed themselves on
one figure in particular; a tall, slender man with short, snow-white
hair and an imposing air of charismatic power that seemed to swirl
around him like a majestic cloak.
"There..." the shadow
whispered, his low voice barely audible above the rustle of the tender,
new leaves that shielded his malevolent form from view. "There. Magneto
is an ally now. A hero. A friend." He blinked, turning his gaze
from the imposing old man to focus on the group as a whole. "You've
succeeded in redeeming him, X-Men, as you have almost all your enemies.
Magneto...the Brotherhood...Unus...Juggernaut...Sauron. You saved them
all."
With a sudden jerk that ran the risk of spraining his
neck, the shadowy figure tore his gaze from the bright scene below him,
focusing instead on the bandaged red hand that gripped the branch, its
long, claw-like nails digging into the rough bark. His long, angular
face was twisted in an expression of bitter pain, his hard eyes
narrowed in anger.
"But what of a friend's redemption?" he near spat, gripping his
perch harder with his spade-tipped tail. "Why haven't you redeemed me?
What about Kurt Wagner?"
A
powerful shudder ran down his spine as he spoke the all-too-familiar
name, nearly causing his tail to untwine itself from around the thick
treebranch. He knew the answer to that question. He'd known it even
before he'd voiced it.
It was because he had been a friend that
the X-Men were avoiding him now. It was because what he had done to
them had been far, far worse than anything their other enemies had ever
done that they had not reached out to him, offering him their
forgiveness and a place among them once more.
"You betrayed
them," he hissed, his harsh, accusing voice burning in his sharply
pointed ears as he lowered his head in angry shame. "I betrayed
them. I tortured them, tormented them, killed them for no reason."
He
snorted sharply, his golden eyes flashing with a fiery rage. "No
reason," he snarled, baring his fangs though he didn't realize it. "I
had a reason. I did it out of hatred. I did it for spite. The
others--Magneto and the Brotherhood, even Juggernaut to some
degree--they were acting on their own beliefs, twisted and misguided
though they may have been. Magneto truly believed his view was right.
He believed in his ideals as strongly as that fool Xavier and his
pretentious X-Men believed in theirs. When he fought, it was in defense
of those ideals. When Juggernaut attacked, it was out of a personal
hatred grown out of a painful past history with his brother Charles.
But, when I--"
He broke off, leaning back on his branch and clutching his horned head
with his one hand.
"Why
am I here? What am I doing here?" he growled, running his claws
fiercely through his wavy, crimson hair. "I neither need nor want their
forgiveness. I don't need them at all!"
Bringing his
hand to his mouth, he savagely tore the bandages from his fingers with
his sharp fangs, flexing them together, then one at a time.
"I
am not the pathetic circus freak they knew, the grotesquely deformed
mutant who would eagerly forgive any tresspass just in the hopes of
being liked by a group of arrogant fools who were never
worth the effort!" He spat, his narrow, russet features hardened by
hatred.
"Kurt Wagner is dead," he stated, his breath quickening slightly as the
blunt words passed his narrow lips. "I am Belasco. And a demon
has no need for redemption."
Where
a certain blue, fuzzy, elf-like mutant may once have simply teleported
from the treebranch with a soft BAMF of imploding air and a brief,
theatrical flash of sulfur-scented smoke, the dark, cloaked figure who
claimed the name Belasco climbed down to the soft, new grass with
surprisingly nimble movements, given his lack of an arm. Keeping to the
shadows, the proud, malevolent figure left the grassy clearing and the
X- Men who played there far behind. But he knew he'd be back before
long. He also knew why. For, even as he stalked away, his five
unbandaged fingers split themselves of their own accord into a
familiar, tridactal form...