wings ↣ w. worthington iii

11. dark slimy chambers don't seem very cheery ✓

"May your choices reflect your hopes, not your fears." (Nelson Mandela)

Word Count: 1312

THE YOUNG MAN stumbled into the giant chamber. It was very poorly lit by flickering torches along the high, slimy stone walls. A musty smell filled his nose and he had to do everything in his power to not cover his nose. Squinting, he made out a strange shadow from the depths of the murky moat surrounding the throne in the center of the room. He decided that he didn't want to know what it was.

The cavernous ceiling held squawking bats that hushed when the man entered the chamber. Two bats flew down and the man slightly recoiled as they transformed into two stockily-built, burly men. He hated the feeling of disgust he felt whenever he entered the headquarters of his father's empire, but he couldn't help it. It was dank smelling, dark, and his followers freaked him out.

Even if the young man himself was a follower of his father's empire.

The empire was completely secret, and it was made up of all mutants. Any non-mutant that stumbled upon the headquarters—or any location where the empire operated—was promptly killed. Their last sight would be a flash of white wings—if the young man was present. If not, they were enfulged by hundreds of bats who excitedly performed their powers on the poor human all at the same time, which must've put them in excruciating pain if they didn't die immediately.

There was a large clanking noise that echoed off the walls of the centuries-old chamber, and the whole chamber started shaking. Anyone could've mistaken it for an earthquake, but the young man knew better. As the dust settled and the extra stone stopped falling from the ceiling, the young man looked up to see his father sitting majestically on the throne with his guards flanking him on either side. The man approached the throne and knelt down to one knee.

"Father," he said importantly, his voice bouncing off the slimy walls.

The man nodded in acknowledgment. "I see our last attack did not succeed."

"No, but Frejj completely threw off the telepath. She was not able to detect us and it was a complete ambush." The young man responded, looking up.

"Then, son, enlighten me on why the bodies of the X-Men—" he said this in a mocking tone—"are not lying here in front of me... lifeless." The man's face was set hard, like it was chiseled out of granite. It was extremely intimidating, but the young man was brave.

"Father, they were too strong. We need reinforcements—"

"Nonsense, boy!" The man's eyes flashed and he stood up. "I do not have any time for this. You know I am not only important down here, but also up in the non-mutant world. My billionaire status will not be respected without me being present, and if I am not respected, how will I take over the world?"

"Of course, Father." The young man ran his fingers through his blonde hair and glanced up at the bats watching intently.

"Honestly, boy. I wonder if we are even related. I do not wish to be called that by you any further." The man's harsh words cut through his son like a knife, and he looked sharply back down at his father. "You are no son of mine."

"But—"

"Do not speak!" The man yelled, raising his hand. The young man silenced immediately, not wanted to stray across his father's path any further. "You are dismissed. Next time I see you, I hope to be seeing that Charles Xavier and all his puny little mutants dragged in behind you. Maybe then you will truly be my son."

The young man swallowed back the burning lump in his throat and tried not to care that his own father was saying he didn't consider him anything more than a piece of dirt. He'd tried for so long to make his father proud, and it wasn't working. "Yes, Fa-Emporer Kezing." The young man bowed, and as he was walking out on the bridge that crossed the moat, he stopped short. He was irritated. Against his better judgement, the man turned around and gave his father a sharp look. "The X-Men truly aren't bad. We should join forces to fight Chaos together."

"Did you just talk back to me?" The man asked harshly.

"Yes, actually, I did." The son scowled up at his father, and was confused when an amused look flashed across his face.

"Maybe you are my son after all," he said slowly, but then his face hardened into the same chiseled-from-granite expression. "But if you don't get them killed, you most certainly will not be."

The young man nodded sharply before turning and walking back out. As he climbed the grimy stone block steps, he quickly changed from his natural blonde hair and white wings into his disguised self—brown hair and no wings. With his mutation enabling him to copy the powers of any mutant he came in contact with, the young man was without a doubt more powerful than the redheaded Jean Grey. Yet he had to settle with the ability to know any language. He was always extremely frustrated when the other mutants showed off and performed their powers to their extent and he could only talk in fluent German.

The young man quickly stopped at a floral shop for an excuse to be gone for so long, and he bought a dozen lillies just as he had done every other time he visited his father. He caught a cab to the school, and walked down the ridiculously long driveway. He passed many young mutants, some of which had been hurt by the attack by Chaos. Kezing and his followers hadn't been planning for that to happen, but there had been a celebration after it. Anything that set back the X-Men was gladly accepted.

As Cas entered the break room that the X-Men seemed to live in, he saw Lilli and handed her the flowers. Her face immediately brightened and Cas felt like all his worries about being an undercover spy were swept away. Her light eyes and breathtaking smile seemed to be the only reason Cas hadn't already done horrible things to himself. He was living a double life and wasn't trusted by his own father. Cas actually felt at home with the X-Men, and if he ignored the growing unrest about the intruder, it was his perfect dream life.

Warren moved from his place on the wall and, breezing past Cas, he took Lilli's arm and pulled her out of the room. Cas felt like part of him was being ripped out when he watched Lilli's retreating back. She was the only thing keeping him stable. Cas shrugged it off, though, and went to sit next to Scott. He had to keep up a cool façade. However, as he talked, the only thoughts running through his mind were about Lilli. Yet Cas knew that any weakness would destroy him; any weakness and his father would murder him while laughing gleefully.

So Cas suffered through a full hour of talking to Scott about mundane topics until it was time to eat dinner. And when he saw his treasured Lilli once more, he felt as if the sun was shining a little brighter and the sky was a little bluer. He thought, for the rest of the evening he was with her, that maybe the world wasn't so bad after all.

Lilli was his drug that put him into a peaceful bliss, and he was starting to become addicted.

Anything that hurt Lilli hurt Cas. Since Cas didn't necessarily want to be hurt, he swore to himself nothing would ever, ever hurt Lilli.