One of the properties of dimensions is the smaller the dimension, the quicker time passes in relation to larger dimensions. This fact means that time passes much quicker in Limbo than – say, for example – on Earth. But the rule is the same for all dimensions. For example, a small dimension conjured from Limbo would experience its time passing faster than Limbo’s. A skilful sorcerer could create a small dimension that’s existence could exist for mere minutes in its home dimension, but could exist for decades, if not centuries in its own time.
Once she had discovered this, it had become a favoured method of punishment and torture for Madelyn Pryor – the ruler of Limbo as the demon half-breed sorceress known as The Goblin Queen. It amused her to banish enemies or those who displeased her to pocket dimensions she created, only to pull them out hours later – where for them years could have passed.
But Limbo is a special dimension. Those who find themselves there cannot help but be tainted by it. Some say Limbo itself is alive and sentient – the fragmented essence of one of the great Elder Gods which existed long, long before mankind. And that it takes its own delight and amusement from corrupting those who find their way there. All but the most skilled of magicians are doomed to absorb both demonic traits and appearances.
Thus Madelyn Pryor had become the Goblin Queen, initially a toy of others, but now, after her shaking turning on those who sought to user her, she had shaken off the mental shackles of Mr Sinister and gained dominance over the demon Sym, who tried to trick and use her for his own purposes. Indeed, this Madelyn Pryor had conquered the former ruler of Limbo, the mutant known as Magik – and now she was ruler.
Since conquering Limbo, she had taken on a slightly more demonic appearance, with large, curled horns resting on her forehead, blood red eyes and long, thin claw-like nails.
She gazed into the scrying water, held in large silver bowel in front of her throne. Reflections from the glowing water danced over her face. Dark shadowed forms faded in and out of focus in the water within.
She turned to the large blue creature behind her. “He’s there, at the Mansion. Bring him to me.” The creature – who was once a version of Nightcrawler, but was now known as simply Bamf Dragon, disappeared with a smell of sulphur, and reappeared seconds later, with a (smaller than expected) person held in its large white claws.
“Drop” she said, patting the dragon’s bulbous head. With a screech the shape was dropped onto the floor, where it slumped, inert.
There was no doubt this was not Scott Summers. The initial disappointment was matched by a feeling of anger. “You cretinous fool,” she yelled at the dragon making it retreat into a corner, “you’ve brought me the wrong man. This is nothing but a boy… a…”
She stopped, as the shape looked up at her. Like Scott, the boy was wearing a metal eye visor, and dressed in some form of… uniform, emblazed with an “X”. And she could recognise Scott in him. Was this some previously unknown Summers relation? Another brother? His child…? His child?
She felt an emptiness inside her as she wondered if this boy is what her own child, Nathan would look like in his mid-teens. It was the kidnapping of Nathan which had set her on her path of darkness, the loss of her child – a child she was genetically programmed to conceive – filling her with a powerful anger that couldn’t be denied. And yet here, on his knees before her, was an impossible person. Somebody who reminded her so much of her former lover and her child, and yet was not. It couldn’t be. Not only had she had her child stolen from her, but his childhood too – he had grown up in a dark, apocalyptic future. And her former lover, Scott Summers, was in his mid-thirties now, not this… boy. This boy was not be the one she wanted. He couldn’t be. But he was.
But she could see his soul. See it was the same. She rose from her throne and sauntered over, delighting in his discomfort. She held his chin, tilting his head upward. She could sense no magic on him, apart from the residual from his transport.
“What happened to you?” she asked, “one of Sinister’s ploys?” Much as she hated the genetacist, she couldn’t help but admire his skill and ability, as well as his ability to play the long game and weave intricate plots and schemes.
The young Scott Summers seemed confused as first, gasping for words before calming down. “Jean? You.. you.. you look like somebody I know.” He said, tailing off lamely.
Maddie’s eyes flashed dangerously. That accursed name. Even now she was dead, Jean Grey still mocked her. “Never say that name again, or I’ll burn you to ashes.” She hissed. “I’ll ask one more time, and if I don’t get a satisfactory answer, I’ll torture you until I do. What happened to you?”
Scott sighed. He was used to this by now, especially as most of the people he met seemed to want to kill his older self. This creepy but hot witch was probably the same. “I’m not the Scott Summers you know, I’m him from the past. I time travelled here. Whatever he’s done to you, I haven’t done it. Yet. And won’t do it. Wouldn’t do it. Probably. Whatever.”
“Oh I’m sure you would.” She smirked. “Protect the world. Save the mutants.” Her face darkened. “I’ve played this game. We all have our destiny, its futile to fight it.” She pointed to the scrying water. “See, this is what you’ll do in the future.” The waters showed the wedding of Scott and Madalyn. “You’ll marry looking to fill a hole that can’t be filled, and then abandon your wife, take her child away from her. Leave her to rot and die.”
“I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t do that. It’s cruel.”
Her voice rose, full of anger. “You would and you did. All because of Her. Jean Grey. Once that Bitch gets her claws are in you, you’ll never be able to escape. Not even if you wanted to. She only has to snap her fingers and you’ll go running back, no matter what the consequences.” She leant forward, spent, the waters once more forming the image of where the young Scott Summers was kidnapped from.
“Take me back. I’m not who you want. He’s dead. And I can see my friends. Take me back.”
“I don’t think so. Your soul is so pure. It will be so delightful to corrupt it. His soul wasn’t pure when we first met. I didn’t know at the time, but he had already set-upon the path that killed him, even then. His obsession with mutants and with Her”, she spat the last word, “It already made him think it could bend the rules.” Her nails traced down his left cheek, “And you are untouched. You don’t know what evil the universe holds do you? You still believe in honestly, sacrifice and love.” She laughed, “He would never listen to you, not after what he did because of Her. And soon you’ll change into him anyway, See the world like he did.” Her other hand traced her nails around his lips. “Open wide little Scotty, I have something I want to give you.”
He tried to force his lips closed, but they opened on their own accord. “Good boy.” She hummed, popping a cold, soft object into his mouth, “Now swallow.” Again, try as he could to resist, he found himself swallowing.
He coughed, but it was too late. Whatever it was was inside him. “What was that?” he shouted, scrambling back. “Did you poison me?”
She laughed. “Only your soul my dear. I’ve given you part of the Darkchilde, the ruler of Limbo before I absorbed her. And now a little is inside you. Ready to bloom. Like a fine wine, you’ll age well.”
His visor flashed, the beam knocking the Bamf Dragon back. “Enough of this madness” he yelled. “Take me back”.
“It’s always the same with children isn’t it?” she asked, “the punishment is you ground them.” She placed her hands together and whispered, crating a glowing portal in the air behind him. He just had time to turn around to look before she gestured at him stating in a bored tone “We’ll see if a few years in isolation will improve your temper.” Screaming the boy disappeared.
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She had forgotten about him. She only meant to exile him for an hour or so Limbo time. That should have been a few months his time. Time for him to calm down and learn how to behave. But… well, circumstances change, and it was only towards the end of the next day she remembered.
Cursing to herself, she re-opened the portal and used her magic to locate and retrieve him.
His outfit was like her own. She still didn’t know how Limbo worked, how some individuals were more easily corrupted, and how so many of the corruptions reflected their own personalities or traits. Perhaps this was just a way of Limbo acknowledging their destiny. After all, she was created to bond with Scott Summers by Sinister. Maybe this was part of his trait… his destiny to bond with her. The thought made her skin tingle.
His clothing, like hers, it was mostly made from scraps of flayed demon skin, tanned to leather and dyed. Dark, navy blue leather boots with cloven soles clung like a second skin to his calves, stopping at the knee. The coloured material appearing pitch black apart from in the brightest of light.
The same flayed skin made the loincloth that hung down from his waist; a deep, tattered “V” shape draped over his crotch and between his muscular thighs. Tiny imp skulls and bones formed a belt/chain that was resting around his waist on which the leather was attached.
The adornment of his upper body differed from hers though in that it was mostly bare. Thin strips of the same leather formed a harness, which crossed over his chest – forming a dark “X”. The Goblin Queen smiled, it was almost as if his top was a parody of the “X” he wore so often on his uniforms when being a do-gooder adventurer.
But it wasn’t just his outfit that had changed, so too had his body and demeanour. The lithe, slim body he possessed as a teenager could still be detected in his adult form. But now he sported a taller, more muscular frame that was still deceptively slender. The hard-rounded bulges from his muscles looked as if they wanted to break free from his otherwise lean body.
A dusting of chestnut hair covered his legs, forearms and torso; his chest covered by a wide manly spread, erupting from a tall thin trail rising from below his belly button. Tufts of dark hair emerging from beneath his loincloth teased a greater treasure beneath.
But it was perhaps his head that had undergone the biggest transformation. His jaw was covered by a thick beard, while the hair on his head was trimmed to a tight crew-cut. His visor was gone, a scar split his forehead in two, the cut intercepting his left eyehole, which was now empty. He had become a Cyclops in more than just name. His remaining eye glowed a deep crimson.
She tilted her head as she drank in his form. Like the now departed older Scott Summers, he stood with confidence, yet this time there was more too his stance. He carried an air of arrogance about him, the air of a man undefeated. A man who had had to earn his survival and had not only earned it but taken control of it.
She walked forward, the heels of her boots clinking on the cold, stone floor. “An improvement, no doubt. How old are you now, boy?” she asked him.
“Twenty-Four” he replied, his voice cracked and horse.