xp_logs | The Dark Phoenix

Wanda's attempt to keep reality together finally crumbles.

The sky was bleeding and hell had come to Earth.

Long rents had been torn in the fabric between realities, pulsing energies pushing their way through, the deaths of a thousand worlds visible through the cracks. And with each world that burned, the backlash of all those lives, all those futures snuffed out, their pain and suffering, poured out of the sky.

In comparison to the carnage, the attempts to fix it seemed pitiable in comparison. A small band of four, pooling their resources to hold up the sky.

Standing behind Wanda, his hands on her shoulders, Stephen Strange had poured every mote of power he had into her. And it wasn't enough. It had never been enough. But he would never give up, not while he could stand, even though at this point he was holding himself upright by the grip on her shoulders, his hands white-knuckled with the effort.

God, it hurt. Everything hurt so much and with every breath Wanda was holding back another scream of agony. For every precious inch they regained, another tear opened and bore its weight down upon them. And even her own powers were hurting her and she felt little pieces of herself shudder as a line popped and tore - she had never been intended to use her powers like this and she was near to certain that something was breaking inside of her.

But when the end of days arrived on your door step, and when you'd already lost so much, there wasn't much else you could do but keep pushing until that something actually gave.

~That man won't quit as long as he can still draw a breath~ The snippet of dialogue from a cartoon popped unbidden into Doug's mind. Appropriate in a way, given that it came from a fight between Superman and Darkseid. They could use a Superman about then - something to turn the tide in their favor.

Whatever Strange had done to link them all together was unlike anything he'd experienced - definitely not like Emma or one of the other telepaths creating a bond. He could feel the others, but not hear their thoughts. But it was the only reason they'd succeeded even as much as they had in stemming the approach of the end.

North had his head turned against his shoulder, incapable of speech or thought as teeth gripped the leather of his trenchcoat collar against the pain of his brain moving beyond his control. Blue irises had disappeared behind a thick film of white as visions flashed, sharp and swift. Sharper and Swifter. Things he could not comprehend, understand, or see. He fought against his training to keep from breaking away, even if he would not have been able to. Fingers flexed around Doug’s and Strange's, hard enough to break bones but gentle enough to not. The world stopped making sense to the soldier and the spy's confusion was lost behind the unrelenting waves of pain.

A small voice told Wanda if she stopped now - if she stopped, it would still hurt but she would recover. Wanda opened her eyes and stared up into the broken sky as pushed all of its weight and power on the four. Stop and live ... and never be able to live with herself. Even as the pain increased and more cracks appeared in the sky despite her best attempts at sewing it back together.

There was no stopping now or going back. She'd made that choice the day she'd put on the leathers, the day she'd left for the Brownstone.

Something broke and it was not in the sky but inside of her and she jerked under the hands of Stephen as blood bubbled out of her nose and mouth. It hurt so much but there was also so much she could not feel. Her thoughts were disjointed and broken but she reached out frantically, hands slipping against the two men who bracketed her and she didn't know what she was trying to say until she toppled backwards against Stephen.

But Wanda knew at the last second what it was as she lost sight of their faces and the feel of Stephen against her faded to nothing. One last regret, then, as the chaos that ran through her shuddered and went out.

Strange almost fell as Wanda's dead weight collapsed against him. Then the full force of the energy they'd been trying to hold back struck him, no longer filtered by Wanda's powers. The pain was huge, unimaginable - he had time to briefly think how on earth was she channelling all of that? - but fortunately brief. His system, unused to the punishment he was already putting himself through, gave up. One brief glance at Doug, the boy he'd once helped to fly, blood seeping from his nose and ears, and then he too folded up with a quiet sigh. His hands still gripped Wanda's shoulders.

"No." Doug's denial was barely a whisper. And then it was a howl, bare-throated and raw, with all the force of his power behind it, as if he could command the universe. "NO, GODDAMIT!"

And then the remains of the chaos energy, having lost two pieces of its conduit, whipsawed back on Doug and North. Doug reached toward whatever that tiny piece of magical talent Strange had said he possessed was, but it was like placing a pebble in the face of a tsunami, and he was washed away just as surely as Wanda and Strange before him.

~I always thought it'd be the Courts and the Guilds that'd be the death of me,~ he had time to think as his vision went red.

~Laurie...Angie...Wade...~

~...I'm sorry.~

Doug fell like a dropped weight and the old man clinging to his hand crumpled alongside of him, consciousness long lost to the tempests in his mind.

The sound of two more broken bodies hitting the ground went unheard as Chaos raged war around their fractured circle, sweeping them up and away and burying them beneath the weight of its fury. Like they were nothing.

Even if they had stood for something.