(I prefer posting on Sundays, so I'll just post today, and then next week I'll do it on Sunday. Ideally I'll get it so that I can post all my stories on Sunday lol.)
— –Alexander Montclair– —
He was tired, bone-deep, soul-weary tired. The kind that sank in past the skin and made even thinking feel like dragging himself through wet concrete.
They had been trapped in that room for days now. No windows. No clocks. Just the same dim, flickering glow of the torches and the silent, suffocating sense of being observed. If before it had felt like there were eyes on him, now it was worse. Now it felt like someone was hovering right behind him, just out of reach, breathing against the back of his neck.
It was maddening. More than that, it was exhausting. And for all he wanted to think of a solution, create something to get him out, he had nothing. No tools, no materials, no freedom.
Even the food that they delivered to them felt like just another way Belasco was torturing him.
He always brought them two meals. A lavish meal, and one that appeared to be some sort of mashed dog food. At first, he and Illyana had tried to split the edible stuff. He figured if they rationed it right, they could make it work. But Belasco, of course, had thought of that too.
"Only one may partake in each plate." A note that had come with the first meal had said, written with some annoyingly perfect penmanship.
Alex had stared at it for a long moment, hoping it was just another mind game. He wasn't sure if it was magic, some sort of mutant trick, or just Belasco screwing with them for sport, but the rule held. The moment Illyana took a bite out of the steak in the first plate, the vegetables in Alex's hand crumbled to dust.
There was no cheating it. No clever workaround. Just a choice, made fresh every time they were fed.
He'd tried the slop that first day, just to see if it was survivable, but part of him wished he hadn't. The texture was like wet cement, and the taste reminded him of mold, metal, and something he couldn't name but really wished he couldn't taste. It lingered in the mouth, long after he stopped chewing.
Illyana had suggested they take turns eating the actually palatable meal. The offer was incredibly tempting, but in the end he had rejected it. Part of him wished he didn't care, but in the end, he didn't feel comfortable letting her eat the wet mush.
At least it kept him going, if barely.
Who knows, maybe one day he would be able to delude himself into thinking that the slop actually tasted good. Or, maybe his taste buds would give up on him. Honestly, he hoped for either.
"And then, boom!" She said with a grin, throwing her hands into the air as if miming an explosion would make it more exciting. "He went flying, like, across the whole courtyard. Rahne laughed so hard she turned back mid-shift."
He blinked, pulled from his spiral of thoughts. She was grinning again, clearly enjoying her own story more than he was. Another tale from her time with the X-Men, training exercises. That's what most of her stories were.
Though still, at least his plan had worked. She had been a mess when he had first arrived, and he thought that getting her talking would help her get her mind out of the situation they were in.
For a moment, he had hoped she would be able to give him a bit more insight as to the world of mutants. Maybe some politics, bigger picture stuff, but she was just a kid. She didn't have access to any of the real important things yet. And with her brother sheltering her… yeah, the most she knew was the gossip in the mansion.
Turns out Scott Summers has a crush on Jean Grey. Crazy, right? Who would have guessed.
"How about you?" She asked suddenly, turning her attention on him with an eager tilt of her head.
"Hm?" He mumbled, glancing up. Her blue eyes were wide, curious. "Not much to tell. Unless you care about science."
"Uh, yeah... I love science." She said quickly, eyes darting to the side. She was clearly lying, but still, he could appreciate the effort.
"Sure you do." He said, smiling faintly. "Alright then, where to start? Maybe I'll teach you enough to build your own bombs when you get back to Xavier's."
"Bombs?!" She asked excitedly.
"Sorry." Alex blinked, then laughed. "I meant batteries. Definitely batteries. Totally harmless, probably school-approved batteries."
For a moment, just one, they both sat in that fragile bubble of something close to normal. The stale air felt a little lighter. The silence wasn't quite so loud.
Maybe Belasco felt that, since it didn't take long for the moment to pass.
A low, rhythmic stomp echoed through the corridor beyond their door. The sound grew louder with each step, deliberate, heavy, like something too big for this place was coming straight for them. Then, with a metallic grind, the door that trapped them inside creaked open.
Standing in the doorway was a hulking, monstrous figure, at least eight feet tall, with purple skin and a single jagged white horn protruding from the center of his forehead.
"Come." The demon ordered as he looked at both of them.
Alex's fists clenched at his sides. Every part of him wanted to resist, to lash out, to spit in the bastard's face just for the satisfaction. But he knew better. Resistance right now would earn him nothing but another beating. Pain for the sake of pain.
So he swallowed it down. Just until he could figure out a way to make it mean something.
Maybe he could earn Belasco's trust, and use that trust to create a bomb so massive that it would blow them all away before he had a chance to teleport it away like before. Something to make the nuclear bombs of his world look like kid's toys.
He stood slowly, Illyana rising beside him. Neither of them spoke as they followed the demon down the corridor.
Alex stayed sharp, eyes sweeping every corner, every hallway, every torch on the wall. This was the first time they'd been outside that damned room since arriving, and he wasn't about to waste it. He tried to memorize everything, the direction they turned, the layout of the stone halls, the faint glow of sigils etched into the walls.
After several minutes, they stopped before a pair of massive, ornate doors, carved with symbols he didn't recognize, probably some infernal language or magic rune. The demon opened them with one hand and shoved them forward.
Inside, Belasco sat lazily on a throne of black stone and bone, perched on a raised dais. The firelight cast flickering shadows across his sharp features and horns. He grinned the moment he saw them, resting his chin on his knuckles like he'd been waiting just to savor this.
"There they are." He said, voice warm and mocking as he waved a hand. The doors slammed shut behind them with a deep, echoing boom. "I trust you two have been enjoying your stay, yes?"
Neither Alex nor Illyana answered.
Alex was angry, scared, hungry, and tired, if he opened his mouth, he might just simply lose it and start shouting at the demon. And Illyana… she was quiet, shrinking behind him, her fingers trembling slightly as they clutched the edge of his sleeve.
Belasco let out a disappointed sigh and tilted his head.
"No, no." He said in that insufferable condescending tone, like he was scolding a child. "Illyana, darling, and here I thought you'd been so well-behaved. What did I teach you?" His eyes glinted. "When I ask… you answer."
Before either of them could react, the purple demon behind them struck their backs.
Alex barely registered the impact before he hit the ground hard, the stone bruising his ribs as Illyana fell beside him. She let out a sharp cry, but then they were both silenced, not by fear, but by the chains.
Crimson chains that burst from the floor like serpents, wrapping around their wrists, necks, ankles, cold and alive, digging into skin. Every movement only made them tighten.
"Wait!" Alex gasped, the word tearing out of his throat. As if in response, the chains pulsed, then loosened, just enough to let him breathe.
Panting, he looked up. Belasco was still seated, still smiling. Watching. Amused.
"Wait?" The demon repeated, rising from his throne with a slow, theatrical grace. "Tsk, tsk. Don't you know? Misbehaving children must be punished. Otherwise, they forget their place."
Glancing at Ilyana beside him, Alex forced himself to speak, chest heaving.
"The food… it was… delicious… thank you, Be—"
The moment the sound of that name left his lips, the chains snapped tight around his throat, crushing the air from his lungs. He choked, gagging against the sudden force. Belasco arched an eyebrow and brought a finger to his ear, feigning curiosity.
"Hmm? What was that?" He asked, voice syrupy with mock offense. "Did I hear you correctly? Were you about to say my name? My name? And tell me, little whelp…"
He descended the steps of his throne slowly, boots echoing against the marble.
"Who gave you permission to speak it?"
The chains tightened instantly. Alex felt the pressure crush against his windpipe, sharp and suffocating. The world began to blur. And just when he thought the darkness would pull him under, the bindings loosened again, suddenly, violently, forcing a ragged gasp from his lips.
"Ah, look at me." Belasco said lightly, chuckling as if it were all some grand joke he was playing at his own expense. "Getting ahead of myself again. That's terribly rude of me." He stopped just a step away from Alex now, his towering form casting a long shadow over both him and Illyana.
With a flick of his hand, the crimson chains hissed and slithered back into the ground, melting into the stone as though they'd never been there at all.
Alex coughed, his throat raw, trying to catch his breath. Illyana hadn't moved from her spot beside him. She was trembling slightly, her eyes flickering between him and the monster that stood over them.
Then Belasco crouched. Just low enough to look Alex in the eye.
"Still." He said softly, with a mock sincerity that sent a chill down Alex's spine. "I must commend you for what you've done. Keeping little Illyana well-fed. Sacrificing your own comfort, your own strength, for hers. Truly touching. It almost melts my cold, black heart."
His smile widened, just enough to show his teeth.
"Now, Illyana." Belasco called out, voice softer now, almost gentle, as if nothing cruel had just taken place. "Why don't you stand up? We have work to do."
He extended a clawed hand toward her, helping the girl to her feet with the care of a doting parent. The contrast was enough to make Alex's stomach twist.
"I did promise to help you grow stronger, didn't I?" Belasco continued, brushing a strand of hair from Illyana's face with unsettling familiarity. "You're no use to anyone as you are now. And I'm sure your dear family is missing you terribly. I, personally, would hate to keep them waiting."
Illyana gave a trembling nod. Her hand clutched the hem of her sleeve as she cast a glance toward Alex, searching for something, reassurance, strength, anything to hold onto. From where he knelt, still recovering from the chains, Alex managed to offer a small reassuring nod.
"Illyana." Belasco said, sounding disappointed. "I helped you to your feet didn't I? What do you say?"
"Thank…. Thank you." She answered with a shaky voice.
"Good." He finally said, turning to Alex with a smile. "Perhaps you'll learn some manners too in due time. Now, you too, come."
At his words, Alex felt the purple demon grab him by the neck, lifting him to his feet before pushing him forward to follow. Alex was still grasping at his neck, where he could still feel the pain left behind by the chains, but he simply followed as commanded.
Even in his haze, he noticed something. A difference.
The way Belasco had addressed Illyana, with patience, with something resembling affection, and the way he treated him like an insect that hadn't quite earned the right to be crushed. Maybe it was just her age. Maybe Belasco was showing restraint because she was still a child.
But deep down, Alex knew better. No demon shows kindness without a reason.
He was grooming her, manipulating her. He could see it in the way Belasco spoke, the cadence of his voice, the false softness. She was young. Vulnerable. Easier to twist into what he wanted. And if Illyana's powers were tied to this place, to magic…
Then maybe she was exactly what Belasco needed. Or worse… maybe she was what he wanted.
He shoved that thought away before it could finish forming. That was a door he didn't want to open.
Belasco turned and made his way toward a black stone altar off to the side of the throne room, carved with arcane runes that pulsed faintly with a red light.
"Illyana." He said, without turning. "There is potential inside you to become a sorceress like me. There is magic, raw, unshaped, and powerful. And this realm is steeped in it. It's in the stone, in the air, in you. I want to help you reach into it."
He rested his hand atop the altar, the runes glowing brighter under his touch.
"You see, the magic of Limbo can do more than empower. It transforms. It reshapes the soul. Once you've been touched by its essence, tainted by it, only then will you understand what real power is."
Ah, there it was.
He couldn't say he understood the magic, he was a scientist, not a sorcerer. But from the way Belasco had spoken it, he was sure that Illyana would slowly become corrupted by this realm.
All magic came with a price.
Alex could only hope that Illyana would be able to resist whatever price that might be.
"Now you." Belasco said, his voice snapping him out of his thoughts. The demon turned toward Alex and took a few slow steps until they were face to face.
Without warning, Belasco reached down and grabbed Alex's face, his clawed fingers pressing into his cheeks and jaw, sharp enough to draw blood if they wanted to.
"Why are you being so stubborn?" Belasco asked, voice filled with irritation. It wasn't theatrical anymore. It was real. Genuine. He was annoyed, for a reason Alex wasn't even sure he understood.
"You're useless to me as you are now." He hissed, his claws pressing in just enough to break the skin. Alex flinched, but didn't look away.
Then Belasco's gaze shifted, his eyes glowing faintly as they dropped to Alex's chest, scanning him, reading him. Something passed across his face. Confusion. Disgust. Frustration.
Then it vanished. The smile returned. That ever-present, smug, predator's smile.
"Kid." He said, almost amused, "you like to play the hero, don't you?"
"No." Alex answered.
"No?" Belasco echoed, sounding truly amused now. He chuckled under his breath, then turned his attention to both of them, Alex and Illyana, before his arms spread in a grand, theatrical gesture.
"How about this?" He said. "Let's make it a little more interesting." He took a slow step back, letting go of Alex's face. "I need to motivate my student. Push her. Make her try. Otherwise, I fear she might just coast through all of this without really giving me her best effort."
His smile stretched wider, teeth gleaming.
"So, tell me, boy. When Illyana messes up… who should I punish? You…" He pointed one clawed finger toward Alex before turning it to point to Illyana "...or her?"
Before answering, he looked at Illyana.
She was frozen, her hands curled into fists, her breathing shallow. The fear in her eyes was plain. Not just fear for herself… but fear for him. She knew what Belasco was doing. She was smart enough to see the trap. That made it worse.
After a moment, Alex returned his eyes to Belasco, whose eyes were almost glowing with delight.
"Me." Alex finally answered, earning a chuckle from the demon.
"You heard that, Illyana?" he said, turning his attention back to her. "Your friend here has volunteered. Such a noble little soul. That means every time you fail, every time you fall short, he suffers in your place."
He leaned forward slightly, eyes gleaming with cruel joy.
"So you'd better try very hard… unless you want to see what happens when I really stop being nice."
— –Tandy Bowen– —
"I already told you, I'm busy." Her mom snapped, not even bothering to look up from where she was rifling through her purse. "Besides, I've already seen you dance."
"That was when I was five!" Tandy shouted, her voice rising before she could stop herself. "You haven't seen me do anything since—"
She stopped cold in her words as she saw her mother glare at her.
'Since dad left.'
They didn't talk about him. It was the line neither of them crossed. A rule carved in stone after their worst fight. After things had been said that couldn't be unsaid.
"Go to your room, Tandy." Her mom ordered as she turned and grabbed her coat off the hook. "I don't want to hear another word about it."
Still, Tandy didn't move.
"I'm leaving. I'll be back in a few days." Her mother added over her shoulder as she reached for the doorknob. "I'll bring you back a souvenir."
With that, she walked out, slamming the door behind her.
"Ahhh!" Tandy let out a cry of frustration, throwing her hands up as she watched her mom's car reverse out of the driveway and disappear down the street.
Same fight, different day.
She stood there for a few long seconds, heart pounding, rage simmering beneath the surface. She wanted to punch something. Break something. Instead, she just stood there, staring at the door like maybe, just maybe, her mom would come back and say she was sorry.
She didn't.
Tandy let out a long breath and leaned back against the wall, closing her eyes.
'Why do I even try anymore?'
Her mom didn't care. Not really. She was always either too busy, too tired, or too distracted by whatever new man had wandered into her life. And her stepdad? He was a ghost. A silent placeholder with nothing to offer but awkward nods and occasional grunts of acknowledgment. No matter how many times he smiled or tried to play dad, it didn't matter. He wasn't him.
He wasn't her dad, the man who left without a word.
She exhaled slowly, then lowered herself to the floor, arms wrapped around her knees. But even in the quiet, one thought pulled her back from the spiral. Alexander.
She thought of him, the one person who never made her feel like she was in the way. The one who listened. Who looked at her like she mattered. Who leaned in when she spoke instead of turning away.
They'd met by accident, two broken people colliding in the street, but now it felt like fate. Like the universe had thrown her a lifeline at the exact moment she was about to sink.
He was unlike anyone she'd ever met.
When he first showed her the stuff he was working on, she couldn't even pretend to keep up. It was all technical jargon, theories that went right over her head. Quantum-this, dimensional-that. He was only a little younger than her, but it felt like he belonged in a lab coat surrounded by chalkboards and Nobel prizes, not sitting in a crumbling city like the rest of them.
But that didn't mean he was perfect, no. If anything, he was a complete dork.
Always overthinking everything, always stressing out over the smallest details in his tech projects, like the world would end if one wire was misaligned. He could ramble for hours about code and circuits and still somehow miss the bigger picture.
Still, as much as she used to dream about running away, cutting ties, living on her own, no one to answer to, being around him made her rethink things. Maybe being alone wasn't all it was cracked up to be.
Maybe it was the size of his house. Or maybe it was the quiet way he spoke about his past. She'd never really realized it, how truly lonely being alone was.
Yeah, she knew, revolutionary stuff. Real groundbreaking.
"Breaking news: Isolation leads to loneliness. Film at eleven."
But seriously… being with him forced her to see it. To actually look at how hollow things had become. She had gotten so used to being ignored, of people wanting things from her, money, favors, silence, her body, that she built walls so high even she forgot how to climb them.
And in that silence, she'd forgotten how good it could feel to be seen. To be heard. To care, and be cared for in return.
It felt terrible to admit, especially knowing everything he'd been through, but sometimes… she was jealous of him.
His parents were dead. That should've been the end of it. But when he talked about them, it wasn't with the same bitterness she held in her chest. There was light there. Warmth.
His parents had only met due to a chance encounter while his mom was studying in America, just two passing strangers in a university.
His mom had been a well-known archaeologist from Egypt, which explained the cat statue outside of his house. He didn't remember much of her, she'd died when he was still small, but he remembered her voice. The way she'd read him ancient myths before bed. Stories about gods, monsters, and kings from her home. Those had stuck with him
And his dad? His dad had been everything.
They'd spent every spare second together, tinkering with gadgets, dreaming up ridiculous inventions. Half the house had probably been rewired or repurposed thanks to their little projects. Every corner had a story behind it, a reason, a memory.
But when his dad passed, Alex had cleared most of it out.
He said it made the silence easier.
Still, even with them gone, there was something different about the way he spoke. Like the past hurt, but it also meant something. And that was what made her jealous. Not the loss, not the loneliness, but the fact that he'd had something worth missing.
She glanced down at her phone, her thumb hesitating just a second before she tapped his name. It rang a few times, but in the end, it went straight to voicemail.
"Hmm…" She let out a quiet grumble, more annoyed than worried, at least for now, as she slipped the phone back into her pocket. Her eyes flicked to the clock on the wall.
He's probably buried in the lab again.
That was usually where he disappeared to when he started ignoring calls. When something got into his head, he could lose hours, sometimes entire nights, just chasing after a problem. Maybe he'd finally gotten that battery design to stabilize. He'd been ranting about it non-stop the last time they spoke.
Still. She didn't feel like waiting around here. Even if he wasn't free to hang out, his house was better than hers. At least she didn't feel like a prisoner over there.
She grabbed her shoes, laced them up, and jogged out the door. The streetlights buzzed overhead as she moved, casting long shadows behind her. The route was second nature by now, so she ran until she reached the big statue of the cat goddess that watched over his porch.
When she got to the door, she didn't hesitate, she had her own key. Nagging him into giving her one had been a process, but worth it. She liked the way it felt, being trusted like that.
Letting herself in, she took a slow, deep breath. The scent of solder and copper still hung faintly in the air, familiar, oddly comforting. It always smelled like he'd just been here.
"Alex?" She called out softly, out of habit more than hope.
No answer.
She made her way through the narrow hallway toward his lab, already half-preparing to be shooed out when he saw her poking around. But when she opened the door, she stopped short.
Empty.
The lab was dark and quiet, the monitors still on but idle. No tools humming, no whiteboard crammed with frantic scrawl. No Alex hunched over a circuit board, muttering to himself like a mad scientist.
She frowned and pulled out her phone again, dialing.
Voicemail.
"Right…" She muttered, more to herself than anything, trying to push away the creeping chill curling at the base of her spine. "Probably over at Stark Tower."
That happened sometimes. Some late project, some emergency test run he forgot to text her about. Totally normal. Right?
Right?
Still wrapped in her unease, she wandered to the couch, grabbing the blanket he always left draped over the back. It still smelled like him, faint traces of coffee, metal, something sharp and electric she could never quite name.
She sank into the cushions, pulling the blanket over her shoulders, and flicked on the TV just to fill the silence.
'He'll come back. He always does.'
But he didn't.
She'd only meant to doze for a bit. Just long enough to stop overthinking. But when she woke up, the sky was already a dull grey outside the window. The clock blinked 3:42 AM, and the house was still empty.
She sat up slowly, rubbing at her eyes, disoriented. For a second, she expected to hear the door creak open. His voice muttering some excuse about time getting away from him. But there was nothing. Just the quiet hum of the fridge and the soft static from the muted television.
She reached for her phone again. Called.
Voicemail.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Her fingers hovered over the screen, unsure if she should try one more time or if that would just make her feel worse.
'He did mention wanting to move.' She thought, the memory creeping in like a whisper she didn't want to hear.
But… he wouldn't have left without saying something.
Right?
He wouldn't just disappear on her. Not like that. Not after everything they'd shared. He'd promised her.
But maybe… maybe he lied.
Maybe he got sick of her and just didn't know how to say it. Maybe all her clinging, all her dumb moods and messes were too much, and this was his way of finally cutting her off. Clean break. No drama.
She swallowed hard. Her stomach twisted.
He had been the first to tell her she wasn't a burden. That he needed her.
But maybe that was just something people said to make you feel better before they left.
The first time he told her he might move, she had overreacted, okay, maybe more than overreacted. She'd blown up his phone, showed up at his door at midnight, barely holding it together. But it wasn't just about him moving.
It was the thought of being left behind.
Again.
But even so… that wouldn't have been enough to make him vanish.
Right?
"No, no…" She whispered to herself, shaking her head. "He wouldn't have just… left."
Her eyes flicked around the room, trying to find something, anything, that proved she was right. And that's when she remembered the lab. All of his gear was still there. He wouldn't have abandoned that. Not unless he planned to come back. Not unless something stopped him.
She let out a shaky breath, forcing herself to her feet. She wandered back into the lab, just to be sure. Just to see it with her own eyes again.
The place was still exactly how it was the night before. Tools on the desk. Notes scattered. Half a sandwich sitting on a plate next to a cooling mug of coffee that had long since gone cold.
She stood there, staring, arms wrapped tightly around herself.
He was coming back.
He had to.
Maybe he fell asleep in one of the side rooms at Stark Tower. Maybe he got pulled into some meeting and lost track of time. Maybe something came up and he forgot to charge his phone. There were so many explanations, normal ones, boring ones.
But the longer she waited… The harder it became to believe any of them.
She tried to sit down. Tried to watch something dumb and distracting. Tried to sleep. But every creak in the walls made her sit up. Every car passing outside made her jump.
And still, the sun rose and set again. Morning turned to afternoon. Afternoon slid into dusk. And then night fell once more.
The house was still empty.
He still wasn't back.
And no matter how many times she called, it still went straight to voicemail.
Beta Reader: @Basilisk.
https://discord.gg/WTgN9J3YgK
~A/N~
Ah, the Tandy crashout begins. I hope nothing bad happens.