Chapter Seventeen

The demon Belasco sat back on his dark throne, his composed expression masking the burning rage swelling in his heart. His link with the physical body he inhabited was stronger than his enemies seemed to think. Even though the body itself was in a comatose state, Belasco had heard everything, every word of the conversation between his father and the X-Men. And what he'd heard had left him fuming.

Belasco had sacrificed everything to serve Azazel. His home, his humanity, his friends... His love. He had turned his back on the life he had known in exchange for his father's promise that he would impart to him the knowledge of the supernatural, that he would raise him up to the exalted position he had always deserved. But now, after what he had just heard, he was starting to see their pact in a new light. And it didn't look good.

All this time, Azazel had been using him, just as he had used him to get to Beatrice. He cared nothing for his ambitions, he had no appreciation of his talents. To him, Belasco was only a convenient means to an end. And that end involved Kurt Wagner, not Brunetto Donati.

Belasco growled, the sound rumbling low in his throat. To think that he had been so completely taken in by Azazel's smooth words, his easy promises. He'd been convinced his father had revived him as show of appreciation for all he'd done for him, that he had been given a new body and a new position as the Lord of Limbo as a reward. He had been so proud of his position, believing that ruling such an isolated plane of existence was a sign of his father's trust. And it had made sense! After all, if it hadn't been for him, Beatrice's twins Mephisto and Ginniyeh would never have been born and Azazel would have been without his two greatest and most powerful advisors. But now he could see how wrong he'd been.

His exalted position had been nothing more than an empty title. Limbo wasn't a prize, it was a prison! A boggy backwater of a reality plane with no real importance to Azazel's realm. He'd been placed there so his father could keep an eye on him while keeping him out of his important affairs--as though he were a child in a playpen! His entire existence for the past fifty odd years had been nothing more than a farce; his father's sick way of keeping Wagner--the only one of his children he had never been able to dominate--under his control. Belasco himself meant less than nothing to his father. He was just a "poor replacement" for the child he couldn't have. And that's what really stung.

All this time, it had been Wagner Azazel had wanted by his side. Wagner, the Gypsy brat provincial who had no understanding or appreciation of the power he could so easily have held, the power Brunetto had coveted all his life. The power he would never wield...

Belasco ground his sharp teeth together, his glowing eyes narrowing into fierce slits. His father had used him and he had betrayed him. He had sacrificed Beatrice to that cold-hearted monster for nothing. But if Azazel thought he was just going to give up this body to Wagner, he was dead wrong. He had earned this body. He deserved it, and he was going to keep it! Not for Azazel, but for himself. Azazel could go hang, along with whatever plan he had up his sleeve. He wasn't about to sacrifice his life for him again.

"Not quite what you were expecting, am I?" he smirked, crouching down and tilting his head so he could look Kurt straight in the eye. "You were probably hoping to see a redeeming angel all in white, or maybe the famous tunnel beckoning you to heaven? But tell me, my brother," he said, "and speak the truth now. Do you really believe you deserve such salvation after all you've done?"

Kurt was in agony. His every breath was a painful struggle. Still, he managed a hoarse retort.

"I...I am not your brother," he hissed, clenching his teeth against the pain. "Leave me alone."

Mephisto's lips stretched into a half-smile. "Alone?" he repeated. "Yes, you are alone, aren't you. There are no X-Men friends to save you this time. I'm the only person on this world who knows where you are, and why you're here. I know what you've done, Kurt."

Kurt grimaced, his breathing growing sharper and even more ragged. "Go...go away..."

"It's eating you up inside," Mephisto persisted, his smooth voice so gentle, so understanding. "You keep seeing their faces in your mind--"

"Stop it."

"And it's a torture worse than your own pain. The agony of your broken body is almost a relief, isn't it? Each twinge and ache and sting soothes your guilt. You deserve this fate. The beating you received from that mob, the loss of your arm and your powers....it's all God's justice, isn't it."

"...no..."

"The price you pay for killing your team."

Hot tears stung Kurt's eyes, leaking down the scratches and bruises on his cheek and pooling in his ear. Every hitching breath brought a fresh wave of agony to his broken ribs, but the physical pain was nothing to the weeping wound in his soul.

"You killed them, brother. Or, rather, you let that Gargoyle creature kill them. And now, your worst fear has come true, hasn't it. Here you are, lying helpless in a rancid alleyway completely alone. The ideals you fought and sacrificed for, the ideals you killed to defend...they are meaningless now, empty words without substance. You've been abandoned by everything and every one you've ever loved. Now, even by God."

It was as if the demon was reading aloud from words printed on his heart. There was no denial in his tears. Only shame. Shame...and fear.

"I understand, my brother," the demon hissed, snakelike in his ear. "I've seen it so many times. But you're right. I should get going."

Mephisto's warmth vanished from his side as the demon rose to his feet. Kurt opened his eyes, squinting again at the bright light that surrounded his imposing form as he turned and started to walk away.

"Good bye, Kurt Wagner."

Every clack of the demon's shoes brought terror pumping into Kurt's heart. Coldness surrounded him, darkness was closing in so fast...

"Stop!"

The word tore from his throat like a terrified moth desperate for escape. And once it was gone, the rest of Kurt's desperate confession was soon to follow.

"Bitte, I..." He sobbed, an aching, horrible sound. "I don't want to be alone."

The demon paused for a long, tense moment. Kurt held in his short, gasping breaths until, slowly, Mephisto turned back to him, returning to crouch by his side once more. His gentle smile twisted into a smirk as he regarded his broken half-brother through knowing, yellow eyes.

"No," he said. "I didn't think you really wanted me to leave you. At this point, with your life ebbing away with such frightening swiftness, even my company must be better than none at all."

Kurt couldn't answer, too ashamed of his weakness to even look the demon in the face.

"What--" he gasped, his words dissolving into a breathless wince. "What do you want?"

"Believe it or not, I came to help you, Kurt," the demon said, his tone and expression completely sincere. "I wanted to let you know that you don't have to die today. Not like this; a helpless victim of a heartless mob."

He leaned in closer, his golden eyes fixed on Kurt's blood-shot blue ones. "You know in your heart why this happened; the real reason you're lying here in this filthy alley in a pool of your own blood. Your guilty conscience is fighting to deny it, but the truth is that the deaths of your teammates was an accident, a tragedy no one could have prevented. What happened to you tonight, however, was unforgivable."

Kurt narrowed his eyes in confused denial. "I don't--." He took in a shaky breath and tried again. "I don't understand..."

Mephisto shook his head, clearly exasperated at having to spell out the obvious. The expression on his russet face only made Kurt feel worse.

"Your friends died in the line of duty, fighting to protect humanity from itself," the demon explained grandly. "Despite its futility, theirs was a noble cause. You, on the other hand, are the victim of a hate crime. There is no honor in that. It is your death that would be the true tragedy tonight, because it would prove your friends died for nothing."

"What?"

The sound was small, but it had the right tone. Mephisto's eyes gleamed, the smell of victory already titillating his nostrils. He was on the right track. Just a little more time, and Wagner would be his...

"Listen to me, Kurt," he said in his most compassionate tone. "Mutant or flat-scan, humanity is all the same. They're fearful beings, mistrustful of anything beyond their limited range of experience. It takes only the tiniest provocation for that fear to turn to hate, for the defensive to turn violent."

He sat back on his heels with a sigh, his expression somber. "It's a shame that only now your eyes have begun to clear, my brother. All your life you've lived in a cloud, fighting in defense of a dream without substance. Your struggle has been as noble and as tragic as that of Don Quixote himself. But then, you always have been a romantic."

He smiled then, but his golden eyes remained deep with pity.

"I realize it's hard for you to hear this," he said, "but I can tell by your expression that you know what I've said is true. You've been tilting at windmills, Kurt, battling symptoms rather than attacking the core disease."

Mephisto placed a surprisingly gentle hand on his brother's shoulder, his expression soft with false sympathy as he watched the streaming tears pour from Kurt's reddened eyes.

"Listen," he said, his voice intense and sincere. "Don't try to speak. Just listen. You see me and my kind--our kind--as 'evil' because that's what the humans have taught you to believe. From your earliest days with your circus family all the way through your years with the X-Men, people you've cared about have recoiled from you, been afraid to let you get too close. Not because of anything you've done, but because of what you are, of what you can't help being.

"You, like me, are a son of Azazel. Your appearance, if not your actions, marks you as one of us, and that is what your comrades fear. They fear us because we remind them of their shortcomings. The human species are sinners all, and the one thing they hate above all others is to be caught in the act. So, it is our difficult and thankless duty to instill the fear of God into them, as it were, to play on their own guilt to keep them in line. As a result, we are despised by humanity for the same reasons prosecuting attorneys are despised by criminals.

"The devil exists, Kurt, to punish the guilty. To teach them a lesson, just like the lessons learned in Xavier's school. Understand, my brother...you and me, our father Azazel, all our kind...we were made in God's image too."(1)

Kurt closed his eyes, gasping and wheezing, oddly aware that his labored breathing was starting to take on a disturbing whistling sound. But in his mind, drifting and spinning as it was, Mephisto's words were beginning to click. Something about them sounded so familiar, like he'd heard them all before, long, long ago. In Sunday School, when he was a child. Wasn't there a story where Satan was portrayed as an advocate working for God...in the Old Testament perhaps...? He couldn't remember. He was too exhausted to remember. All he knew was that Mephisto's words made sense.

He opened his eyes again to see Mephisto's smile beaming down at him. Almost reflexively, he returned it. The warmth that small action sparked in the demon's golden eyes touched his failing heart.

"That's right," Mephisto said, his voice fading then coming back as Kurt began to flicker in and out of consciousness. "I knew you'd come around in the end. You don't want to die here, do you?"

"Nein," Kurt whispered, feeling warm and floaty and protected, detached somehow from the pain of his dying body. Mephisto's smile broadened into a reassuring grin.

"I can help you," he said. "But you have to come with me of your own volition. Take my hand, my brother. Our father is waiting to welcome you home."

"Home," Kurt breathed, awkwardly reaching into the streetlamp's enveloping light as he searched for Mephisto's outstretched hand...

"Bright Goddess... Get away from him!"

Mephisto spun in place as he jumped to his feet, snarling dangerously as a new figure stepped onto the scene. Kurt blinked in bleary wonder, the bright light from the streetlamp stretching into long rays as his watering eyes struggled to focus. The newcomer was a tall, stately woman with dark skin and gleaming white hair. Her eyes glowed with a fierceness that caused even Mephisto to take a step back. Kurt's heart filled with a marvelous awe as she rose slowly into the air, her slender figure radiant with power.

"Ein Engel!" he breathed, bringing his one hand to rest over his pounding heart. "Ein Engel für mir!"

"Kurt, get us out of here," the angel called to him, ominous lightening flashes brightening the dark clouds gathering above as she raised her arms to the sky. Mephisto growled, fixing her with a glare that could have cut through steel.

"Wagner is mine, witch," he snapped. "You cannot interfere with what has already come to pass."

"Shut up," Ororo retorted, a rumbling boom of thunder lending menace to her words as a lightening bolt whizzed just over his shoulder. "I've had my fill of you, and your slimy master. Kurt!" she called again. "Come on, pull yourself together! You're not dying, Kurt, this is only a memory. You have to concentrate now. Concentrate on getting us away from this place!"

Kurt didn't understand. A memory? What was she talking about?

"Ca-can't move," he rasped, shuddering deeply. "Ca-can't 'port."

"You don't have to, Kurt! Just think! Think yourself someplace safe...like that church! Remember the church? Come on! We don't have much time!"

Kurt closed his heavy eyelids, his spinning brain musing on the angel's instructions. Were they some sort of riddle? Was she trying to test him? He was suddenly frightened, frightened and unsure. She sounded so urgent...but what church did she mean? Weak as he was, there was only one church he could picture with any clarity...

The alley and all the surrounding buildings wavered like a heat mirage in the desert. Kurt closed his eyes tightly to fight down a wave of nausea. Somewhere far away, he could hear Mephisto roaring with fury, but it was a much closer voice that caught his attention as the landscape began to settle once more.

"Thank the Goddess! Kurt? Kurt, are you all right?"

Kurt opened his eyes slowly, surprised to find he was lying on the uneven stone floor of the ancient monastery chapel at Neuherzel with Ororo kneeling by his side, clutching his hand.

"Ororo?" he asked blearily, sitting up and staring at their linked hands; pale, pinkish tan against creamy mocha.

"Oh my God, Ororo!" he gasped, his memories returning in a sudden flash. "I almost...ach, Gott, I can't believe what I almost did! If you hadn't come just then..."

He blinked. "Wait a moment," he said slowly. "This isn't right. This isn't what happened. This isn't right!"

"Kurt, calm down," Ororo said gently. "It was only a memory. It wasn't real."

Kurt shook his head, his blue eyes wide and frantic. "Yes! Yes it was! I-I took Mephisto's hand and there was all this light! And voices...so many voices. And when I woke up..." He slid his hand away from Ororo's and raised russet claws to the level of his suddenly golden eyes. "I looked like this!" he spat, his voice harsh. "It was something in that dart they hit me with back in the Gargoyle's cave. It activated some dormant genes I'd inherited from my mother, allowing Azazel to reshape my genetic code however he wanted. He said it was necessary, that there was no other way to repair all the damage that mob had done to my body..."

He shuddered deeply, his spaded tail lashing the floor as he lowered his head and hunched his shoulders to his ears. "That dart was also why I'd lost my powers after teleporting away from the Gargoyle. Azazel had planned the whole thing just to capture me--the fake warheads, the Gargoyle's attack, the mob--and I walked right into his arms."

He shook his head, his short, red hair shading his glowing eyes from Ororo's view. "I should have died in that cave with my team. I should have let that mob of mutants kill me! How can I have been so selfish, so weak in the face of death? Mephisto was right. I don't deserve redemption. Some actions should not be forgiven."

Ororo frowned, grabbing Kurt's chin and forcing him to look into her eyes. "Don't you dare talk like that!" she glared, her blue eyes flashing a dangerous white. "You chose life, Kurt! That choice does not make you weak. If anything, it is a sign of strength--of faith even! Look at you! You've endured so much, been hurt so badly, yet you're still here."

"But as what!" Kurt demanded, his fangs gleaming in a fierce snarl as he surged to his booted feet, his cape swirling behind him. "I became a demon of my own free will, Ororo. I may have been at the point of death when I took Mephisto's hand, but I am still responsible for the choice I made. And the truth is that I gave in! I let Mephisto's arguments sway me."

Ororo shook her head in frustrated exasperation. "Kurt, you can't keep blaming yourself for--"

"Yes I can!" Kurt cried. "I was terrified, Ororo...terrified of death. If I'd truly had faith, as you say, I would have spat in that demon's eye and given myself up to God's judgment. Instead, I hesitated. I doubted. I failed!"

He took in a deep, trembling breath, no longer able to look Ororo in the eye as he admitted, "I deserve everything Azazel did to me, and more. I'm not the man you think I am, Ororo. I never was. This..." He held up his hand, his golden eyes dull as he flexed his clawed, russet fingers, "...this is me."

Ororo set her jaw, her nostrils flaring as she strode forward, grabbing Kurt's hand and yanking him to her so sharply he nearly lost his balance.

"Fine," she snapped, glaring straight into his eyes. "If believing you're a demon makes you happy, if carrying around all that guilt gives you so much satisfaction, then fine. I'm not going to argue with you."

Kurt glared. "Ororo..." he growled. But Ororo was only getting started.

"Actually," she said, "now I come to think about it, that must be why you stopped Belasco from strangling me on the roof the night I first came to see you, and why you rescued Jean and pulled Charles out of that psychotic mess you call the 'midden mire' before he lost his mind! It had nothing to do with the fact that you care about us! All those years with the X-Men, you were just putting up a front--pretending to be a decent, compassionate man when in reality--"

"That's enough!" Kurt roared, struggling to tear his arm from her grasp. But Ororo only held on tighter.

"But tell me this, Kurt," she said, her eyes boring into his. "If you're a demon, why is it that you always take refuge in a church when things get bad? I thought the damned couldn't stand on hallowed ground. And what about this?" she demanded, pulling him forward and shoving his hand down into the basin of holy water.

"This sacred water represents the truth," Ororo told him, relying on Charles to sort out the subconscious metaphors she was seeing. Kurt recoiled in shock as the clear water turned a deep red the moment he touched it. His shock only deepened when he pulled his hand out again. The skin the sacred water had touched was no longer red, but pale, and the paleness trickled down his arm in wriggly streaks as the crimson water dripped to the floor like droplets of blood.

"You see, my friend," Ororo continued, somewhat more gently than before, "you are no more a demon than I am a goddess. The truth is, we are both of us only human."

Kurt shook his head, his shoulders trembling involuntarily beneath his long cloak. "I didn't want it to be true," he said hoarsely, backing away from the concern in Ororo's eyes. "I don't want it to be true! It would be so much easier to live with the past if I truly was a monster." He looked up then, his fiery eyes dark with anguish.

"Why did you make me re-live those horrors? Why couldn't you have left them buried! What is the good of reawakening such...such pain!" His strained voice hitched as he fought back his stinging tears, his knees as fluid as water as he crashed onto a pew. "Sage, Melinda, Benny...Logan! I was responsible! But there was nothing I could do. Nothing. I could only watch as they fell around me. All of them. I lost all of them!"

Ororo couldn't endure any more. As swiftly and gently as a cooling breeze, she took a place beside him, wrapping his tense, trembling form in a tender embrace. Soothing softly, she ran her fingers through his curls like a mother calming the screams of her cherished child. And for once, Kurt didn't pull away.

He was tired. So tired of holding everything in, of carrying on with the act. She knew everything, she had seen the full extent of his darkness and guilt, yet she hadn't turned from him. She had witnessed his actions in the cave, and instead of accusing him of the murders he felt so keenly, she had approached him with understanding and compassion. She had watched him at his weakest moment, when he had reached out his hand to accept Mephisto's fateful bargain, and instead of turning on him with the disgust and horror he felt in his own heart, she had beaten the demon back and come to his rescue. And as he realized that, the understanding dawned within him that with this embrace lay the redemption he had dreamed of, the wish that had spurred the hope that had kept him alive all the years he'd spent lost and alone in the purgatory of his own mind. Now, surrounded by Ororo's acceptance--by her love--Kurt finally allowed himself to accept the reality of what she was offering him. The proof of her love overwhelmed him, toppling his bitter defenses and kindling a warmth he hadn't felt in decades.

With a choking sob, Kurt released whatever scraps of pride had been holding him together and leaned into her, as desperate to receive her comfort as she was to give it. His hot tears fell unabashedly as she smoothed his hair behind his pointed ears and rubbed his back in calming circles. Safe in her arms, he poured out all his bitterness and anger, all the defensive hatred he had used to keep his pain at bay, and allowed her love to rebuild him from the inside out. The open, weeping wounds at last began to heal. The need to suppress and hide and hurt finally melted away. And when he raised his head to look into her eyes, the man Ororo saw beside her was, at last, whole. Scarred, certainly. But whole.

Ororo's eyes widened and her mouth dropped open in wonder at the change she saw in her friend. There was a new strength in his posture, a new ease in his manner. But his eyes...his eyes held the real change. For rather than shifting and blazing with anger and shame, their golden light met her gaze with open candor. And the emotion she saw reflected there was love. Her breath caught in her throat and she suddenly found herself blushing. The gentle smile on his indigo face was the most beautiful sight she had ever seen.

"Thank you," he said, reaching up with a thick, fuzzy finger to affectionately brush a few unruly strands of hair behind her ear. "Thank you so much, Ororo."

Ororo nearly broke out laughing in giddy delight at the way his familiar accent caused him to pronounce her name. Instead, she caught his eyes with a gleaming smile, taking his three-fingered hand in hers and pulling him close in a fierce hug.

"Oh, Kurt!" Her joyful tears dampened the fur of his neck as she breathed him in, squeezing him tightly as he wrapped his tail gently around her waist. For a long time they sat like that, reveling in the closeness of their shared embrace yet all too aware that the moment could not last. Their fight wasn't over yet. Belasco was still out there, spreading his malignance like a tumor.

Ororo sighed and loosened her hold enough so she could meet his eyes without fully breaking their embrace. It was time Kurt knew the full truth of what his father had done.

(1) Reference from Universe X Vol. 2

Ororo shook her head. "All he would say is that you've earned a full recovery," she said. "And I agree--on that point. Even so, I know he's up to something. Azazel is a patient man. His every action is layered with deceit and double-meaning. I can't help feeling this whole situation is only a part of something much larger, something none of us can see."

"Oh, it is," Kurt agreed. "I have no doubt of that. His plots can span centuries. But that doesn't mean he's infallible. We've managed to foil him before."

"But we knew what he was after then," Ororo pointed out. "You! Even Mephisto said you could have been second only to Azazel in power if you'd given in and taken up their cause. Yet now he seems almost eager to let you go." She frowned. "To my mind, it can only mean he's found someone else to take your place."

Kurt sighed through his nose, sinking down into the pew across from her. "Well, whatever he's plotting," he said, "my first priority is clear. I won't be of use to anybody if I can't reclaim full control of my faculties. You've helped me recover my mind, meine Liebe, and for that I shall eternally be in your debt. But Belasco is still in possession of my body."

"That's why you have to confront him," Ororo told him firmly. "Now, before he has a chance to realize what's happened. He can't use your guilt against you anymore, Kurt. He can hurt you, taunt you, but he will never again be able to overwhelm you. You're stronger than he is. This is your mind, not his. He's just a program--without substance!"

Kurt tightened his lips, uncertain. "Computer virus or whatever he is, he's real here, with real powers." He looked up at her, not even trying to hide his concern. "If he shunts me off to the midden mire again, I will lose everything you have helped me to gain. All my memories will be wiped. I'll be cast adrift again, a ghost haunting my own mind. Ororo, I don't think I could bear it!"

Ororo closed her eyes, her heart aching in sympathy and fear. She'd thought she'd understood the risks he would face if he confronted Belasco again, but now she realized this conflict was far more complicated than a simple battle between good and evil. If Kurt was to stand a chance of winning this battle--a battle for his sanity and his future--he could not approach Belasco as though he were a physical foe. The threat the demon posed was completely internal, and the battleground would be Kurt's entire subconscious.

As she considered this, Ororo was suddenly hit with a flash of insight that wasn't her own. Xavier was telling her something... She tilted her head, struggling to hear...

"Ororo?" Kurt asked, startled and worried by the way she'd tensed up so suddenly. "Liebling, are you all right?"

But Ororo was no longer in the church at Neuherzel. She was sitting on a chair in Cerebro, her eyes fixed on the Professor's wrinkled face.

"This is reality," he told her, his eyes sharp, just before he let her go again, sending her rushing back to Kurt's side. Ororo blinked in dizzy disorientation, accepting the supportive hand Kurt reached out to her. She shot him a weak smile, giving his thick fingers a reassuring squeeze. It was so strange. The last time she'd seen him in the medbay his fingers had been so swollen it had hurt her just to look at them. The slightest touch had caused him pain, despite the medication Hank had given him to keep him asleep--

Ororo gasped and her eyes opened wide. That was it! That was what the Professor was trying to tell her! She knew how Kurt could push Belasco back without fear of the dangers of the midden mire.

In reality, Kurt was unconscious. His mind was still active, but his brain was functioning as though it were asleep. The man she was speaking with here in this ancient church was only a representation of Kurt's thoughts and feelings, not Kurt himself. Everything she was seeing and experiencing here had no more reality than a dream. And that was how she had to get him to approach the situation now--as though it was a dream. A dream he could control...

"Kurt," she said, her bright eyes intense and her posture regal even as her lips quirked into a confident smile. "I have a plan."

Slipping off his obsidian throne, the demon fell into a crouch at the edge of his tall pillar of stone. His one hand brushed against the pommel of the sharp sword strapped to his waist as he tracked the cautious movements of the two X-Men as they made their way through the cave. They just had to come a little closer...

Just then, a sputtering flame flared up, flooding the cave with a brief burst of greenish light. Belasco frowned, a jolt of surprise shocking his heart as he caught his first clear glimpse of his half-brother's face--and the face of his companion. For some reason, he had expected the red-head to return, seeking revenge for the thorough thrashing he had given her before. But this dark-skinned witch...he knew her. Hers was the face that haunted his brother's most secret heart, the face that had kept him from submitting to oblivion. Belasco knew the power she held over him, and he feared it now. For the first time, he felt his assurance beginning to slip. Her presence here was dangerous, and from his brother's physical appearance and confident bearing, it was clear she had already had an effect. How profound an effect, however, the demon could only guess.

"Fool," he hissed to himself, angered by his rising doubt. "Have you forgotten who is the master here? How many alternate versions of this weather witch have you destroyed? How many times have you choked the life from her body? The circus freak was helpless to stop you then. This time will be no different."

At the recollection of his former triumphs, his smirk began to return. If they were seeking to catch him off guard, that strategy had failed. He knew what to do now. He would deal with the dark-skinned witch first. Kurt would be left helpless once again, forced to watch as Belasco--

But wait... He'd been spotted. The blue freak was looking straight at him, calm and confident. Belasco straightened, rising to his full, imposing height, his hand on his sword and his long cape swirling around his blood-red boots. Kurt flashed him a quick smile from far below, then turned to his companion. Ororo nodded once, looking straight into his eyes. Then, she brushed his cheek with her hand and leaned in close, gracing his lips with a kiss that, despite its swiftness, was deep with unspoken emotion. Belasco set his jaw, his heart filling with fury as he prepared to jump--but before he could move, Ororo vanished. No sound, no smoke, no disturbance of any kind. She just...wasn't there anymore. Belasco stretched out with his mind, wary of a trap, but it only took a few moments for him to be certain she was really gone. She had left Kurt to face his demon alone. Belasco grinned. Even better. He would have the circus brat all to himself. It was time for their final showdown. Drawing his sword from its sheath, Belasco fixed his eyes on his foe and jumped.

"So," he sneered, his golden eyes derisive. "I see your witch has taught you a few tricks. But remember where you are, my fuzzy little friend. This is my realm. Here, my power reigns supreme."

Once, such threats from Belasco had filled Kurt's heart with trepidation and doubt. Once, his guilt, fear, and uncertainty had kept him from fighting back. But that was before Ororo had shown him the truth. Now, he could see the distinction between himself and the demon before him. He no longer blamed himself for Belasco's cruelty, which meant there was no longer any reason for him to hold himself back. It had taken him centuries to recover all the fragments of his memories and personality. Now that he had finally reclaimed his identity, he was fully prepared for the fight to keep it intact.

"Oh, I know where I am, Belasco," Kurt assured him, his posture straight and his shoulders relaxed even as his sharp eyes tracked the demon's movements. "And I know what you are. This is my mind, brother. And I mean to have it back."

Belasco bared his teeth, his tail beating against his cloak as he made a forceful slash to Kurt's shoulder. Kurt made a nimble parry, causing the demon to overstep. Spinning quickly, he aimed a sharp kick at the off-balance demon's backside, causing him to fall flat on his face on the ash-strewn ground. Belasco sputtered and spat, his golden eyes blazing with rage as he scrambled for his fallen sword. But the sight of Kurt's blade gleaming barely an inch from his face gave him pause.

"Go on," Kurt allowed, gesturing with the blade's tip to Belasco's sword. "Pick it up."

The demon glared, a threatening rumble starting low in his throat. Kurt just waited, his blade at the ready. But Belasco didn't move. He just closed his glowing eyes, his thin lips set in concentration. Suddenly, the ground gave a violent shake. Barely a moment later, the cave floor gave way under his feet and Kurt found himself tumbling helplessly down into utter darkness. Belasco's laughter followed him, the harsh sound echoing around and through him. It was as though the demon was right beside him, but when he reached out all he touched was the smooth edge of the narrow chasm. Kurt tried to swallow his rising terror, to convince himself that this was just in his mind, but his confidence was fading fast. The horrible rush of falling, the blackness that surrounded him, the acrid dust that choked the air--it was real. And Kurt had no control...no way to stop himself, no place to teleport...

And then, as suddenly as it had started, the freefall came to a jolting end. Kurt stood up slowly, cautiously, blindly holding his arms out in front of him in the darkness. The thick air was hot and reeked of sulfur. The dust filled his nose and scratched the back of his throat, sending him into a fit of involuntary coughing.

"Lovely, isn't it?"

Kurt raised his head at the sound of Belasco's smug voice, his blind eyes stinging and watering in the suffocating blackness.

"Where are we?" he croaked.

"What, do you mean you can't see it?" Belasco laughed in derisive amusement. "So, brother, for all your talk you still don't understand. Perhaps a little illumination is in order?"

A sharp finger-snap sounded right next to Kurt's ear and echoed in the smoky darkness. Almost instantly, the ground around him began to glow with a dim red heat. As Kurt watched, the glow increased and spread until, with a gasp of alarm, he realized where Belasco had dropped him.

Kurt was standing on a small island of charred, black rock in the center of a rushing river of flaming lava. The instant his mind comprehended his situation, a sudden rush of heat from the stone scorched his bare feet and he gave out a pained cry. Belasco's taunting laughter filled the smoky chasm as Kurt leapt from foot to foot in and undignified dance of pain and alarm.

Kurt clenched his teeth, fighting to supress the burning pain scorching his soles so he could clear his mind enough to think. The demon was playing with him, trying to discourage him with a show of power. But Kurt wasn't about to be intimidated. Not this time.

Swallowing his pain for a moment, Kurt forced himself to stand still, focusing his attention in an attempt to pinpoint the direction Belasco's laughter was coming from. The ash and smoke stung his eyes and the flowing lava spat and sputtered around him as he turned in place, casting his gaze up and around the smooth, black walls of the smoky pit.

Finally, just when he was afraid his feet couldn't hold out any longer, he spotted him through a cloud of volcanic dust. The demon was crouched on a long, corroded metal outcropping high above the lava river. It looked like some kind of support structure for a mining tunnel that had long since collapsed. The rotting beams jutted out from the wall about half-way across the smoky chasm. Kurt could tell the structure was unstable, but it had to be better than his rapidly melting island. Besides, Belasco's taunting cackles were really starting to get to him.

Gathering his strength for the difficult upward teleport, Kurt vanished with a resounding BAMF, reappearing just behind Belasco. The corroded metal bent and swayed under his grasping feet, and Kurt had to bend his knees quickly to maintain his balance.

"Nice location," Kurt observed wryly, resting his hand lightly on the hilt of his blade. "Although, if this scaffolding snaps under our weight we're barbequed. You do know that, right?"

Belasco spun around, his sword drawn and his lip curled in disgust. "Your fear is your weakness, fool," he spat, purposely causing the rusted beams to rattle and sway under their feet. Kurt was forced to wheel his arms to keep from falling. Belasco snorted. "If you understood the power I wield, there would be no reason to fear this drop," he scorned. "Face the truth, brother. I am the stronger here. You cannot win."

Kurt rolled his eyes, drawing his sword and spinning it by the hilt like a band leader's baton. "Perhaps you forget, 'brother'," he retorted. "I was raised on the trapeze. When it comes to heights and narrow beams, I'm not the one at a disadvantage."

"We'll see," Belasco said, his glowing eyes narrowed as he made his attack. Kurt jumped to the side, catching hold of a narrow beam with one hand and flipping out of range just in time to deflect the demon's next lunge. Kurt ducked down, aiming an upward slash to Belasco's chest. Struggling to keep his balance, the demon leaned forward with an awkward parry. However, at that moment the scaffolding gave a horrible creak and dipped down several feet. Kurt grabbed the beams with his hands and feet, but Belasco slipped backwards, the shifting of his weight causing the weakened metal to bend even further. The scaffolding sloped like a slide, forcing the one-armed demon to drop his sword as he scrabbled for a handhold. Alarmed, Kurt inched slowly toward him, grasping one of the narrower beams with his tail and holding his sword behind him as he instinctively reached out to his brother with his other hand.

"Grab hold!" he called, loosening his tail slightly in order to stretch his arm as far as possible. And to his relief, Belasco did. Belasco's deadly slip was halted as the demon's talons dug into Kurt's fuzzy arm, drawing blood. But Kurt ignored the pain, focusing instead on his struggle to pull the slightly larger man to safety. His balance became increasingly precarious as he inched upwards, but he didn't once consider letting go, even in spite of the obvious hatred burning in Belasco's eyes. Even so, as Kurt's progress became more labored, the calculating look on the demon's narrow face cracked into an eager smile. Timing his move carefully, Belasco gave a swift, powerful tug on Kurt's arm, raking the flesh and ripping the indigo mutant from the scaffolding he'd been climbing. Now, it was Belasco who was holding Kurt above the flaming brink, his boots wedged securely into the wildly swaying bars. The flash of panic in the mutant's golden eyes sent a rush of triumph surging into the demon's heart.

"So," he hissed through his pointed teeth, "do you still believe this is your mind? That an ungrateful circus brat like you could wrest power from me! This body is mine, Kurt Wagner. I've earned it. I've sacrificed for it. And I mean to keep it!"

And with a fierce, psychopathic laugh, Belasco let go of his half-brother's arm, sending Kurt hurtling head over heels towards the flaming lava that bubbled far below.