7 Arc 1 - Ch 7: Limbo

Limbo was nothing like Earth. The sky, if it could be called that, was a swirling vortex of fiery oranges and deep purples, dotted with sporadic flashes of white lightning. The ground was a jagged mixture of rock and magma, with spires of obsidian jutting into the sky like colossal tombstones. The air was thick, almost palpable, and the scent was an overpowering mix of brimstone and sulfur.

Echoing roars and distant screams punctuated the eerie silence, while grotesque creatures roamed the land. There were patches of dark, murky water that gave off an unnatural green glow, reflecting the apocalyptic scenery above.

Desperation gnawed at Tyson. He needed to get back to Earth, back to the Institute. Drawing upon Illyana's memories, he tried to harness her power, to open a portal that would take him back. He concentrated, imagining the familiar corridors of the Xavier Institute, but nothing happened. He tried again, this time visualizing the faces of Jean, Jubilee, and the others, but still, the portal refused to open.

Panic surged through him as he realized that Magik's power had slipped away. She had only touched him for a fleeting moment, the fall and his subsequent healing had used up all the time he had. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. Every ounce of logic told him that panicking would only make things worse. He was trapped in Limbo, an alien dimension outside of reality. The sky was a tapestry of ever-changing colors, the ground unstable, and the air thick with an almost tangible sense of menace.

He paced back and forth on the craggy surface, hands balled into tight fists. "Think, Tyson, think," he muttered to himself. He only had transient knowledge of Limbo and Illyana's memories, which were so clear moments earlier, were becoming hazy. One thing he knew for certain, was that time passed differently here, and unless Illyana willed it, minutes could stretch into who knew how long. There was no sun, no moon, no reference point to determine the passage of time. He could very well be trapped here for what would seem like eons. That idea was more terrifying than any of the creatures that roamed in the distance. 

Wait.

As Illyana's memories faded, one unmistakable piece of information stood at the forefront of his mind. 

There were no creatures in limbo.

Illyana wasn't certain how time passed, or how long she'd spent in this hellish dimension, but one thing was unquestionable. Limbo was empty. There were no living creatures here, no animals, and certainly none of whatever he was seeing and sensing in the distance.

His options were limited. Waiting for Illyana to come and rescue him wasn't a choice. From their brief encounter, he wasn't certain she'd be in any hurry to come to his aid, especially after he'd inadvertently used his power on her. Tyson wouldn't wait for a rescue that might never come; he would actively search for a way out. He needed to learn more about this place. Perhaps there was someone or something here that could help. "First thing's first," he said aloud, trying to motivate himself, "Time to meet the locals."

The enhanced senses Tyson had acquired from Sabertooth gave him an acute awareness of his surroundings. Amidst the tumultuous scents of brimstone, he distinguished a putrid odor, reminiscent of decaying meat and damp, moldy soil. Guided by the smell, Tyson found himself atop a jagged outcrop, looking down at its source. 

The creature was pathetically wretched in appearance. Short, standing barely above four feet, its body was corpulent. Its skin was mottled blue and gray and hairless, with patches where maggots fed or fluid dripped. It had a round, bald head with a gaping maw, filled with sharp teeth that drooled with hunger. The creature's arms were thin, ending in clawed hands, which it used to scrape at the ground and probe its surroundings. The sight was both pitiable and unsettling. This wasn't some powerful adversary, but resembled a tiny old man, covered in rolls of fat and given claws to make him a threat. It seemed almost feral or lost, its movements were hesitant and uncertain; as if it lacked purpose.

As Tyson watched, conflicting emotions rose within him. Sabertooth's instincts viewed it as easy prey, something to be put out of its misery. But another part of Tyson wondered if it might be possible to communicate with this being. To discover its knowledge or seek its help in navigating Limbo.

Tyson began to approach, ready for whatever reaction the creature might offer. It was unmistakably clear when the wretched creature caught Tyson's scent. It swiftly turned its focus onto him. Its mouth drooled more profusely as it let out a chilling shriek, charging forward.

"Hey, easy!" Tyson raised a hand in a calming gesture. "I'm not here to fight, I just have some questions."

The creature seemed unfazed, oblivious to Tyson's words. Its eyes focused intently on him, and its clawed fingers flexed in anticipation of an attack.

Describing the thing's attack as 'charging' might be an overstatement. Its movements were lumbering, like a bloated zombie roused into action. It took exaggerated swipes at Tyson, every attack telegraphed by its uncoordinated movements. The sight might've been comical if it weren't for the threat posed by those sharp claws.

Tyson easily sidestepped the creature's advances. Every time it lunged, Tyson was already a few feet away. "Last chance, stand down," Tyson said after evading yet another clumsy attack.

But it was clear that communication was off the table. The fat little creature was relentless in its single-minded pursuit, driven by some primal urge that Tyson couldn't decipher. Each failed attack only seemed to spur it on with renewed vigor. Although it posed no real danger to Tyson, he had no interest in dodging the aggressive thing in perpetuity. 

Tyson took a defensive stance regardless of how clumsy and slow the creature appeared. As it lunged once again, Tyson flexed his fingers. Talon-like claws extended from each nail. His attacker's feral nature overpowered any semblance of self-preservation. It screeched, mouth agape, and made another reckless charge. Tyson pivoted, using the creature's momentum against it. With a swift motion, he slashed, leaving a deep gash on its side. The creature faltered, as it tried to regroup, Tyson lunged, plunging his claws deep into its chest. 

The connection was immediate. A torrent of wild, chaotic thoughts rushed into Tyson's mind. Unlike the structured memories of a human, these were disjointed and primal.

Flashes of hunger, rage, and fear. He felt no complex emotions or layered experiences, just base urges. He experienced the cold, relentless drive of an existence where survival was the sole motivator. 

Gasping, he retracted his claws and pulled back. The creature lay motionless, dead. It had been killed before he absorbed its essence. But its influence lingered in the corners of Tyson's mind. Its raw nature left knowledge of an existence without reason, driven only by instinct.

Sitting back, Tyson tried to shake off the unsettling experience. When the thing's memories faded, he continued his exploration. His heightened senses served him well. The distinct, pungent odor of the demon became a familiar note, allowing him to effortlessly avoid the groups they gathered in.

But as he continued his journey, a new scent tickled his nose. It was strong, overpowering even, and unlike anything he had encountered before. It was a mix of burning sulfur and rancid meat. Tyson's instincts immediately went on high alert. Whatever this was, it was different from the fat, little thing he'd easily dispatched.

Following the scent, he soon found himself face-to-face with an enormous creature that dwarfed him, standing around 8 feet tall. It was roughly humanoid but covered in coarse, dark green feathers. Its head was vulture-like, with beady yellow eyes that pierced right through him. In place of its mouth was a large, wickedly curved beak that opened and closed, making an odd clicking noise. From its back sprouted enormous, powerful wings that looked more suited for a dragon than this strange hybrid creature. Muscular legs ended in taloned feet, while its hands, too, were tipped with razor-sharp talons. Around its waist, it wore a belt of bones and skulls.

Tyson tensed, preparing for a possible confrontation. The creature regarded him with a mix of curiosity and disdain, its head tilting as it studied the newcomer to its domain.

They stood like that, in silent assessment, each sizing the other up. Tyson remained firm despite the monstrous visage of the creature before him. He cleared his throat and asked, "Can you understand me?" he ventured, keeping his voice even.

The demon tilted its head, the sinewy muscles on its neck twisting with the motion. For a moment, Tyson feared he'd get no answer or worse, a sudden attack. But then the creature laughed. It was a guttural, raspy sound that sent shivers down Tyson's spine. "Understand? Yes," it croaked, the words dripping with malevolence. Its beady yellow eyes narrowed, fixating on Tyson like a hawk on prey. "But what I see is food. A morsel that has lost its way."

Raising his chin defiantly, Tyson responded, "I might be lost, but I'm no one's meal. So, if you're thinking of trying something, think again." Tyson's claws, though retracted, were ready to spring out at a moment's notice, the tension evident in his stance. His eyes remained sharp and intent on the demon before him. For a fleeting second, he felt out of his depth, but the resolve won over. "Listen," he said, his voice dripping with a challenge. "You can answer my questions willingly and for every question I ask, I'll answer two, in turn... Or I'll pry the answers forcefully from you. Your choice."

Tyson tried negotiating under the assumption that this creature was a demon. He might have believed the first creature he encountered was undead given its appearance and actions, but this bird creature was unmistakably alive. Many demons in mythology were associated with making deals with mortals, and he attempted to lean into that stereotype; even offering a deal that was in the demon's favor.

The demon gave a malicious laugh, its eyes glinting in the dim light of Limbo. "Such bravery from a snack," it sneered. The muscles on its massive wings flexed, revealing their full span and sending an unmistakable threat. "Do you think you can force anything from me?"

Without waiting for a response, the demon lunged at Tyson, its talons extended, ready to rip and tear. But Tyson was quick on his feet and thanks to his mutant reflexes, narrowly dodged the creature's attack. He could almost feel the rush of wind as the claws just missed his face. The demon was undeterred by its missed strike and came at Tyson again, this time with a sweeping kick from one of its clawed feet. But Tyson was ready. Using his agility, he ducked and rolled, evading the demon and positioning himself for a counter-attack.

~~ Rogue Replacement ~~

The moment Illyana stepped out of her portal into Limbo, she shook off the daze of Jean's compulsion. Limbo was her domain, her dimension. She was stronger here; able to draw on the very dimension as an extension of herself. Strong enough to resist the commands of an outsider. Though Jean's missive was powerful, she dismissed the command as a request from a distressed friend. Even with the resistance granted by her will and Limbo itself, Illyana didn't recognize that she'd been controlled. She would still seek out Tyson, believable of her own will spurred by the pleading of Jean and Professor Summers.

But there was a problem. Limbo was a part of her. She should be at peace here, as she had always been. It was her sanctuary. Yet something felt unsettlingly wrong. The usually dim and eerie light of Limbo seemed to flicker menacingly and she felt a shiver run down her spine. She could feel the realm was filled with unfamiliar presences. Something that has never happened before. Something that should be impossible. Only Tyson and herself should be in Limbo. But she sensed other strange and foreign beings. 

And the intrusion angered her.

Zeroing in on Tyson's distinctive aura, she made a portal beneath her feet. Within seconds, she arrived at his location.

The sight that met her eyes was one of chaos. Tyson was locked in combat with a massive creature, its twisted form vaguely resembling a giant vulture, with a beak-like snout, leathery wings, and grotesque, clawed talons. Large plumes of feathers covered parts of its body, giving it an even more menacing look. It screeched and lunged at Tyson, who was skillfully evading its every move. Every time the creature swiped or bit at him, he dodged. When he couldn't and it landed a blow, his mutant healing ability ensured that every wound closed up almost instantly. His agility made him a difficult target, allowing him to land heavy hits on the creature, leaving it snarling in pain. She watched as Tyson dodged behind the creature. With one swift move, he jumped onto its back, using his claws to hold onto it. The creature thrashed and roared, trying to throw him off, but Tyson's grip was iron-tight. With an almost brutal elegance, Tyson in a single, swift motion, ripped the creature's throat out. The beast stumbled, a guttural sound escaping its beak-like mouth, before collapsing heavily to the ground. Its massive body convulsed momentarily, its claws scraped the earth, before it lay still, lifeless.

Illyana, having seen enough from the shadows, stepped forward, her boots crunching softly on the gravelly surface. She had to find out how these creatures had invaded her dimension and eliminate the threat. But as she neared Tyson, a gasp escaped her lips. He had transformed. While he was undoubtedly still the huge man she recognized, now there was something... different.

His once human face was now more avian, with a prominent beak-like structure. His fingers had elongated into sharper, more vicious claws, much like those of the creature he had just felled. But what struck her the most were the leathery wings spread out from his back, their span casting an impressive shadow on the ground.

Illyana's brow furrowed, confusion and concern evident in her eyes. "What the hell is that thing? And what happened to you?" she demanded, her voice echoing slightly in the vast expanse of Limbo.

Tyson, his new wings flexing unconsciously, met her gaze with eyes that seemed darker, and wilder. "You sent me here," he replied accusingly. His voice carried a rough edge, "You don't know?"

Illyana could only stare in awe as the grotesque features that had overtaken Tyson began to recede. The avian beak shrank back, reshaping itself into his familiar chiseled jawline. The elongated, menacing claws returned to their human form — fingers that she had seen many times before. Most strikingly, the wings that spread from his back seemed to dissipate, melting away into his back. Within moments, the transformation reverted, and the Tyson she knew stood before her.

His once wild eyes, now a beautiful shade of amber, met hers. "Illyana," he began, his voice carrying a hint of hesitancy. "My powers... they're not like others. I can absorb memories, skills, even physical traits and powers just by touch." Tyson's voice grew more distant. "It's always on. I can't turn it off. I can't control it. Every touch, every handshake, every accidental bump... Creates a flow of memories, emotions, and abilities." 

Tyson gave a further explanation of his powers to Illyana. She took a moment, her blue eyes clouded with contemplation. The very essence of Limbo hummed around them, echoing her silent thoughts. "I understand," she said softly. Tyson could see the haunted look in her eyes. She shook her head. "Each of our powers is part of who we are. And we learn to deal with it." A moment passed before she added, "I accept your apology." 

He replied, "Uh… Thank you?"

She gestured to the now motionless body of the demon. "You said you absorb memories, did you learn anything from that creature? Anything that might explain why they're here?"

Tyson frowned. The memories he'd absorbed were fleeting, but he'd learned enough. "Yes. That thing," he pointed to the dead demon. "Is called a Vrock. They usually moved in small packs, but this one was alone. They followed someone here. A... leader, I think. A demon or a devil. He found this dimension and saw it as a realm to conquer. His presence drew in other demons." Tyson's face darkened. "His name is Azazel."

Illyana's eyes widened. "Azazel?"

Tyson clenched his fists. "And I know where he is."