64 Chapter 64: Legacy, Evolution, Death.

"Bronte….. you've grown since i last saw you." Just like Remus, Romulus spoke in an accent that blended history and culture. Something English and German with hints of Japanese. Hinting at where he reigned— where he stalked.

Flames bloomed around Bronte's head like a crown. His dreads fluttered like steaming snakes. His claws turned hellish shades of red on his hands and from his knuckles.

Romulus opened his arms as if waiting for a hug. "What? No welcome? No bow in respect to your greatest catalyst for progress? That's fine. Lacking manners is in our blood."

Brontë didn't hear anything but the blood coursing through his veins.

He charged, ripping through the sound barrier like it was another Lupine.

With a snarl, he ran his claws into the man's organs, sending them both down the alley and through a building. They rolled like dogs, roaring and snapping at eachother before skidding to a halt.

Brontë stood over Romulus's, the titan of a Mutant looked like a tipped over statue as he lay on the ground, freshly dosed with death spores Bronte incinerated him just from their closeness. His muscles looked sculpted and thick enough to fight fire. Not his fire….

He was weak— he didn't have the power Bronte commanded. He didn't have the savagery— he was a monarch. He led armies and conspired in the shadows. That was his game. He was all talk.

Brontë stomped in his ribs with a wet snap. The flames dancing on his Vibranium mesh suit grew. He lunged in with his claws, aiming to melt the brain and end everything. The running. The fear. The—-

Romulus grabbed hold of his foot and leaned right, letting Bronte's outer most claw run through his sharpened ear.

He grinned. Immediately, Bronte saw Sabertooth. Back at the Xavier Institute— enjoying the battle Bronte was barely surviving. Back then, Sabertooth was on his feet, outnumbered bloody and still so confident.

Romulus was on his back, healing factor compromised and burning alive…. Grinning — observing Bronte as if he was a dog doing a cool trick.

He could almost hear the phrase again.

"My turn—"

"NO!" In a blast of wind and kinetic energy he was gone, away from Romulus grip. Hyperventilating in the skies as he eyeballed the crater shrouded in dust and rubble.

His hands were shaking. Water filled his eyes. But he'd been there before. And the sky was close enough to touch.

He sent a focused lightning shower into the crater, ignoring the battles around him. Shutting off the part of his brain that wondered how Laura and his siblings were doing. Why the ocean was so chaotic. His world was currently hobbling off in a speedy blur.

Back to the shadows.

Brontë dove.

He re-entered Wakanda's walls, cutting through the alleyways and over buildings with heavy wind gusts to sweep up anything and everything.

On his way out of a rather thick alley, he swept up a dumpster, sending it for the frothy spinning river splitting through the city. As it spun with its top opening, Romulus burst out amidst the trash, slamming into Bronte.

He got his claws into the man's throat, but not before Romulus did the same with his teeth.

The sound of the rip told him everything before breathing became impossible.

His hair went white as he called to the skies. Romulus smashed his palm into Bronte's left ear, smashing the ear muff and cutting out the music.

He leaned in as they fell— he was heavier than anyone Bronte had faced, "ENOUGH!"

The yell was like an explosion. And many other things.

The flames went out. The sky quieted as if he owned it.

Brontë hit the ground like his previous namesake before flipping onto his feet in a disoriented stumble.

Romulus was on him.

"Focus! Watch the stance, defend until you regain your advantage." Bronte told himself.

Romulus stopped his advance. "You know…. I feel you'd be in different spirits if you fully understood the scope of why I'm here. Why I do this."

His ear still rung. His eyes still shook, "I don't give a dam—"

Romulus stomped his foot through the streets and kicked a barrage of shrapnel and stone into Bronte. It shattered against his suit and cut into his exposed left cheek.

"Stop." Romulus walked in a circle as if he was respecting some dojo boundary line in a sparring match. His black pants ruffled in the winds letting of smoke and embers.

Brontë followed just to keep distance and formulate his attack.

"Think for a second. Do you really think— I'm just here to torment you? Do you think I harbor ill intent towards you and your siblings? Answer me honestly."

Brontë didn't speak. He eyed him for weaknesses, favored hands or stepping patterns that might speak of a favored fighting style.

"You're thinking of how to kill me. What move I'll make next— ultimately it doesn't matter. If you're my Successor you'll do it anyway."

Brontë huffed, "Alright I'll bite. What's the successor bullshit? If you just want to die why don't you roll over right now. Let me take your head off so we can get this over with."

"Do I look like a lamb to you? Do you know the ideology I follow?" Romulus replied.

Brontë was silent. Still planning. Still watching. Still shaking.

"Every brand of the Mutant Gene that determines your abilities falls into one class or another. The Telepaths…. The Telekinetics…. The Warpers… We aren't human. We're walking into godhood, James."

"My name is Bronte."

"Think about it! We can't just be regular Mutants forever! Look at you. If Wolverine was half as gifted as you he wouldn't be where he is now."

Brontë froze. "….The hell does that mean?"

"Mutants continue to splice their powers and combine into something more— to evolve. Soon enough there will be a pantheon of beast gods. Started and cultivated by me. James… you could be my Zeus… my Jupiter."

"It's all ego. You could've said that in way less words."

Romulus laughed before going serious. The silver highlights in his wild hair reflected the mid day sun splitting the shadows, "No. it's the foodchain. Human society and its insecure bigotry has interrupted natural order. Wolves don't have to worry about identity politics…. Equity…. HAIR COLOR.. thieves of lower power.. Government oversight. They worry about the bear. In that same vein as our power grows, we soon won't worry of that either. As will the humans. And when that day comes, my progeny will be at the helm. But first I need to be bested. I need to be bested to know that when Mutants reach their peak, we're ready to fall behind a leader of my blood. Worthy of the throne."

"So you have a sacrificial death fetish."

Romulus smiled, "You patronize your ancestor?"

"You play me like a dumbass?!" Bronte's blood pumped. He wasn't about to stand around forever. But he had words, "You're telling me you had a Wakandan level scientist getting busy in these walls when you could've had him back with you… with all the other black ops organizations to help YOU evolve yourself in your weak ass power fantasy?! YOU fucked up my …..and my brothers and sisters lives because you think I'm gonna be your Mutant overlord? For what? Supremacy bullshit? For twenty years?! How's that any different from the humans and their bigotry you speak on? Sure you don't hate us but you've made our lives just as tough."

Romulus sighed, "Not all adversity is bad. Especially twenty years of it….A short time really. But I knew Wolverine was infatuated with his Queen of the Storms. I awaited your birth. Created challengers. You see it's not about me, Bronte. When you live as long as I have, death calls to you. There's something to life I still haven't tasted, the end. She's beautiful. I will go out shifting the world as I shift my successors. As for the scientist. I couldn't have brought him to me. He was here long before my plans. There is no focus of me other than how I meet my…Unbecoming. Will you bring it to me, James Monroe?"

"No doubt. And then I'll do the exact opposite of what you want. I got smoke for any Mutant that starts moving like you because were not Nazi's and because fuck you. I'm not getting rid of an oppressor just to be one."

Romulus flexed his hands. Adamantium claws burst from each knuckle as long as daggers, "Then you aren't my Successor. Not yet."

Romulus charged Bronte with his terrifying claws.

Brontë missed the swing and spit a wind blast into the massive brute. He flew. Brontë gave chase, sinking his claws into his ribs and throat.

Romulus grabbed his arm, locking his claws into his ribs and twisted as they fell.

Bronte's claws did something they never have.

They snapped.

"AHHHHHH!" The pain was like nothing he'd ever felt before. It rippled down his fingers and up his wrist in a searing white hot blast of stinging….. pain. That's all it was. Pain.

The fight continued. Brontë worked his magic— but with his mind in the state it was in, and the music gone, it wasn't the same. He wasn't losing, but it wasn't the same.

He stuck to his training. Romulus' healing wasn't fast. Not like his. He cut deep with hot claws and bit hard with hot teeth trying to keep his stamina lowered. His power, even.

The fight ripped and rumbled them through the city and into desert and shore.

Brontë wasn't paying attention until they skidded to a halt in the sandy landscape. Blood in the air. Bodies on the floor. Ocean chaos on the horizon.

"DAMNIT JAMES! It could be so simple!" Romulus got to his feet.

Brontë did as well.

A Warrior of Talocan charged them both thinking they were Mutant allies. They were, for obviously different reasons.

Romulus caught the man by the face and crushed his skull. Brontë called a lightning bolt, leaving only ash where he stood.

Everyone stilled for the first time.

Brontë could smell Sabertooth. He could see him in his peripherals, covered in entrails. Laura faced him. Gabbie and Raze faced his followers. Daken…. Unknown.

"Look at them! They're pitiful! PITIFUL!"

He could feel Gabbie's eyes on him. Smell her terror. He must've looked worse than he thought. He was their golden goose. Their saving grace.

"It's simple, James."

"I gotta tighten up…." Bronte felt the wind in his hands. He was going for the throat and head the whole fight for no reason, "It really is that simple."

Romulus wasn't as fast as him. He couldn't intercept the grappling maneuver.

As soon as Bronte had him, they were off. Flying for the sky. Beyond the sky. For the things that illuminated night and darkness alike.

He took Romulus to the stars.

The word below shrunk.

"There you go, James. KILL ME! TAKE MY SEAT! You say you'll do the opposite of my wishes but you can't fight nature— it's connected to you more than any of us! TAKE ME TO THE END!"

The rising Ocean littered with enemy ships on fire and submerged became dots. Like ants on cement. His family disappeared. Only visible in memory as the pressure began to squeeze like the hand of a god.

"I'm not you." Bronte could feel the vacuum pulling his breath away as they flew higher. The cold caused bits of frost to collect on his broken suit.

"No. You're more… because of me. Like I said, I will go out shifting the world as I shift my successors…."

Romulus' claws shrunk back beneath his skin covered in ice. Slowly the entirety of him was freezing as Bronte pushed spaces cold further. Even so, with his hands, he grabbed Bronte's arm wrapped around his neck, pulling it out so he could grab hold and bite him.

His fangs sunk deep. The saliva entered his bloodstream like fire on a gasoline trail. Immediately he remembered the feeling. Like that day in the alley against the Lupines.

His bones shifted. The hairs on his arms stood on end.

A metamorphosis gripped him in the black expanse of space, and they both fell.