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Where were they going?

Ororo sighed because she had no idea. Aggravation wrinkles were beginning to form permanent homes on her forehead and underneath her eyes. Again she looked at him, the focus of her energy, with her eyes full of emotions:

Annoyance.
Belligerence.
Curiosity.

And…as usual the figure walking just ahead of her ignored her existence completely. Ever since they left the Devil’s tower he remained unspoken as he led her out of her window, first unwinding a ladder from his pack for her, then winding through the city that could transform at their single leader’s whim. She’d been surprised at his ability to constantly find every pocket of deserted space in their insulated world, a rare feat, as they moved forward. Without night or day people didn’t regulate their behaviour according to context but roved as they pleased. She couldn’t decipher what possible destination he had in mind but Ororo remained calm.

Pouting she stared at the rolling broad shoulders she had once had her hands wrapped around. Her throat closed at the thought of being sexually attracted to that monster. Shaking her head, she tried not to think about regretting sex which was pointless.
What she did worry about was Remy looking in, checking up on her, and discovering her gone without a word. She worried about what he’d do about this when he realized anything could have happened to her. He wasn’t the type to believe blissfully that she was alright without speaking to her directly.
It wasn’t enough for him for her to be safe and it wouldn’t be enough for her if the positions were reversed. He would want her to be happy. She wouldn’t dare contradict the Devil’s orders by trying to leave a trail. Now she was a soldier of hell. It didn’t matter if she, or anyone else for that matter, was happy.
Ororo took a deep breathe. What could this soldier business mean exactly? There were enough rumors as there was so she had no way of expecting anything.

Eventually they reached the plains: a wide expanse of unlived area. There was nothing wrong with the plains, they were just the non inhabited spaces that surrounded the city, which then circled the shaft of the tower where the Devil resided, a phallic image at best.

She could hear the sounds of another party beginning. Ororo looked over her shoulder.
“Hey,” Logan was sitting on the ground. “We better cover some ground rules. One, no looking back, that’s fuckin’ over.”
“One try not to speak, you’re sexier that way,” Ororo shot back. “It must be hard to know you’re only wanted for one thing.”
Logan laughed, “Yeah its really a killah on my love life.”
Ororo looked away for a second before taking a seat on the ground as well. She didn’t want to know why the Devil had chosen this fool as her leader but she was aware that she should try to follow his orders. If they were reasonable.
“Yeah, you jus’ keep killing me over and over again with your amazing humor. Now rule two, is yo’ better not fuck anybody else while yo’ around me. Ain’t yo’ boyfriend,” Logan said as he shifted his hair back. “But ah don’t want to smell another asshole’s cum all over what I’ve marked.”

For the first time in hours, Ororo could see his eyes. They haunted everything they laid down on and they laid expressively down over her. She felt herself being examined, his eyes slithering up her feet, coiling over her thighs, peeling back the curls between her sweaty legs, her tight hips, and high breasts.
She flipped her mane over her shoulder as she waited for him to finish. She didn’t bother to show any interest in him. She wasn’t going to appreciate the perfect specimen that was taking her farther from the life she had grown comfortable with.

“Don’t worry. I only fucked other people beside my boyfriend, as you call him, while he watches,” Ororo smirked. If he wanted to be possessive, she’d encourage it. After all she needed something to torture him about for now.
Logan smiled to reveal sharp canines that gleamed in the darkness. Faintly the sparkle and glitter off the party strobes and discoballs flashed by as the music and the vibrations came in full swing. When he moved forward it seemed like a delicate ballet impersonating a crawl and he was fast, faster than she would have liked as he pinned her down with his elbow.
She grunted as she struggled. She could feel the entire length of his penis against the crest of her parted thighs, the heavy weight of his body pressing down on her. Crushing her bones, grinding away her strength.
Chuckling she asked him what he wanted.

He began to lick her bruises, kissing them, loving his own marks of destruction on her skin. She moaned as she bumped her hips against him. At first she grinded against him gently and he growled against her in pleasure. His entire throat was exposed as he reeled upwards to howl as her gentle proddings became hard thrusts against his erection.
“You like it when it hurts don’t you?” she whispered to him, her upper body throbbing in more pain as he slipped forward. She hadn’t realized he’d been holding back some of his weight as he rubbed against her clit, he was unable to think, and the dead weight was excruciating as the sinews of his body melded themselves to her curves. She could barely breathe, he was choking her, and she was still unable to scream. She decided it was time to begin his torture or she’d die.
Again.

By relaxing his hold on her, she grimaced, she was now able to launch her head forward and grab hold onto to his throat with her teeth. She held on until it bled, and the noises he was making were in between struggle and some sort of pleasure, finally he knocked her back unable to take it. She kicked him in the face as he tried desperately to move back from her attack but she knew she had him on the run. Ororo had no intention of letting him go.
“You don’t make the rules,” she lashed out a bolt of lightning playing between her fingers, thunder rolled and rumbled, and carefully thought of where to apply it. Unconsciously she saw his arm twitch as if he meant to protect himself from her wrath. Relenting she only played with the deadly fire instead of physically torturing him. She spoke curtly and he listened.
“You don’t lay down the law for me. I’m a soldier of Hell, not your bitch. We’re all marked in some ways, that doesn’t take a genius to do. Are we understood?”
He rolled over laughing, laying on his back. “Yeah, I gotchu.”
Five minutes later, he stood and she could see the marks were gone- leaving only the blood of a momentary victory behind.
Ororo sighed and just concentrated on breathing. Both her back and front shoulders were bruised until she couldn’t move her neck and her throat felt as if someone had been twisting a bendy straw in circles. Not to mention her legs were softened by luxury and her feet hurt from the distance. After a few miles, she was telling herself not to give in to him, not to fall over from the exhaustion and pain. At one point she paused for a second, staring at the ground and catching her breathe, hand on her hip. Only pride kept her from dragging in the dusty ground the once light now excruciatingly heavy pack on her back.

When Logan backed into her with his ass she looked up at him annoyed.
“What?”
“I wanna give ya a piggy back, come on.”
She scoffed, “Like hell.”
“And I want your pussy on my back,” Logan snorted as he revealed a benefit of the skin to skin contact. “Let’s go we don’t have much time before our meeting.”
Ororo stood staring at him, “But yet you always manage to have time to try having sex with me.”
Logan shook his head and wrapped her arms over his shoulders, sweeping her legs up to rest on his hips. She was too tired to make a complete effort to stop him.
“Nope don’t try, already did that. Besides a man’s gotta have some priorities.”

They travelled for several more miles. Shockingly they never went far enough to stop the trembles of the Devil’s sound system still reaching up the soles of Logan’s feet.
At first Ororo remained stiff on his back in silent protest but eventually she realized he didn’t care what she did as long she didn’t slow him down.
She laid her head down on his shoulders and he slowed down slightly when she did this before continuing his regular pace.
Screw him, she thought, if he didn’t like it he could put her down.

They arrived at the market gates that were guarded by a few prostitutes and a wandering man with a permanently frightened expression who meandered about aimlessly. Logan put Ororo down and touched the bruises on her shoulder. She hissed despite the fact that he barely grazed her skin.
“I’d prefer you to take my head off in one clean swoop then this slow battering,” Ororo muttered. “It’s slightly more honourable.”
Logan chuckled in his throat with his hands on her arms as if to keep her steady. He held on to her, massaging her with his fingers. Through the thick tangle of hair she could see the strong nose, the sensitive sharply defined lips, the gruff shadow of a beard.
“Yeah well-” He was about to say something when he was interrupted by one of the prostitutes asking him if he was in for a change in bed. She grinned with delight as she placed her body on display.
Logan growled and extended his claws, which hadn’t made an appearance for so long Ororo thought she might have imagined it, and sliced off her head. He never wavered in his eye contact with Ororo. She could tell he was looking for a reaction, anything.
For a second, nothing changed. Then Ororo heard the slut’s head slid off and roll away in the dust and rest a few feet from one of her companions. The women silently retreated to the shadows; the man ambled away feebly talking to himself.
Ororo frowned. Something was wrong with these people even more than the Heaven zombies. They knew, had seen, too much; it was in their eyes. It was the same thing Ororo saw when she looked into Logan’s eyes.

Seconds later they were pushing their way through the crowded market. Hundreds of open stalls, strangely bright places that resembled miniature suns in jars, floating above them were tiny strings of flags that marked borders, surrounded the pair the moment they crossed the gate’s threshold. Voices crowed as they hawked their wares, even more voices negotiated prices and deals.
Logan firmly held onto Ororo’s arm despite her trying to get him to let go. She was capable of following a mouse in the dark, a skill which had served her well beside Remy. Now she wasn’t trusted to move a few feet behind a man large enough to roughly knock several out of his way as he simply walked, not being an asshole on purpose, it wasn’t on purpose.

When they reached a shack town he drew her even closer. The crowd thinned but only slightly to make room for Logan as they were able. Reaching a single shack they stood before, the only one of its kind with its even more dishevelled construction, Logan released her violently towards the entrance. Slowly she moved forward, letting her curves and hips roll slightly as she moved aggressively. Every graceful step was a hint of a trained warrior.

They had arrived.

Who knew what awaited her in these depths?

Inside she blinked as her eyes adjusted to the faint light from the candle. No not a candle but some sort of mechanical device that flickered, barely able to reveal the old man’s face. The old man’s craggily face was dark skinned, Ororo guessed Native American, and loomed out of the complete darkness with a sardonic expression.
“You’re beautiful,” he said, his voice was smoother than his body as he rose. Ororo fought the urge to step back. She knew suddenly what he must be: a former soldier in the war. His back was hunched and his skin charred and deeply cratered. He had a missing eye that was roughly scarred over with a flap of light pink skin, one good hand while the other a shrivelled stump that rested in the conclave ribs of his chest. In his working hand, he held a rolled and wax sealed scroll. The scroll was weather beaten, terribly aged, and roughly edged.

Ororo decided to listen to advice she’d given to Remy time and time again: tread carefully, speak softly. She waited.

“I’m, I’m, I’m Forge. Wanted to talk to you for a long time,” he licked his lips noisily and chomped his teeth when he shook his head. “You need this. I, you, I’ll give it to you. When you, you give me my price. You weren’t easy to find.”
Ororo felt her lip lift in disgust. But remained silent. The intakes of breathing, the rising and falling of chests in the stifling still heat of the shack. Except for the device, the darkness.
“My reward, they, they, they told me to find your memories. I found them in the bowels of hell. I, I, I thought you were, I didn’t know you were so dangerous to know,” Forge stuttered over his words as he slowly moved forward. Forge finally stood before her; his erection slapping against his hip for every step he took forward into the darkness toward her. “Burrrrriiiiieeedddd deeeeeepppppp.”

Ororo heard and smelt his heavy breathing. His shrivelled stump knocked at her limp, malleable hand and Ororo couldn’t help her disgust, her skin revolted as he put her memory scroll in her hand. Gulping, she broke the seal and felt a wash of sight and sound. The gap inside her mind was filled but her stomach dropped out from underneath her.

She realized now that her actions, the machinations of Remy’s, mattered little as the Devil had complete control over them. He placed them as he chose, waiting until they developed the skills he needed them to so he could use them to his best effort. The ancient scrolls dropped from her fingers. She saw now how there was no time, no here or then, outside the realm of Earth. On earth, she’d limited herself by being unaware of how much was outside her control, which was why she had had to die.
“Do you see now how you died?” the old man said. Ororo’s bottom lip trembled as she crumbled to the ground, her hands planted in front of her in dejection, and Forge wrapped his one hand in her long wave of hair.
She wanted desperately to reject this piece of paper’s revelation. But from within the recesses of her mind she felt the essence of the truth.

He raised her head and brought her closer to his throbbing penis, pre cum gleaming at the tip.
“Ugh,” she groaned from the pain of it. She didn’t want it, she wished she didn’t know. The world went black as she faced a flashback of memories, moments from her arrival into hell.

Laying on the ground she’d been so scared and angry when she opened her eyes, intensely aware of the fact that she was dead, but surprised there was no bright white light.

Where am I, she tried to yell. Where is my light? It was dark to her; the world had a reddish hue from the dust. A crowd surrounded her, hundreds of men and women and things she couldn’t name crawling towards her dripping in sweat and paint.
She hadn’t known this then but another party had just winded down to its satisfying conclusion and this was what they called the “prowl”. Men and women searching for someone, anyone, to engage with. Sex becomes meaningless to the heathens of hell when there could never be any result either negative or positive. It’s just a way of getting rid of a lot of excess energy that was driving them insane.
She was screaming but went unheard as the crowd grew; accruing thousands attracted to her fear and exquisite beauty- her innocence was palpable in the air. They were hunting for just her type, fresh meat for skewering, and she was a prized possession the frenzied harem of legs, teeth, and conquerors were searching for to rip apart.

Ororo was not the type to cower and run. Innately she reached into herself from her core and pulled out a ball of lightning. At first the rioters on the prowl were too shaken with their own thirst and howls to notice the spot of light in the center of the smoky darkness surrounding the girl she had been as they rose up as a single mob.
If she had known Remy was even then watching over her, as he would eventually admit to, she wondered if she would still feel as scared as she did then.
All she had in her hand to defend herself with was a tiny ball of her own power, courage, and strength. She could have flown away, she could have blown these madmen away, she could have washed them away but she didn’t chose to do this when she looked inside herself.

She chose to FIGHT.

That night she grew her impertinent ball into a seismic sized ocean wave that electrocuted those closest to her into ashes and those further scurried away as best they could. Falling down after this major execution of her mutant powers, Ororo’s chest heaved with satisfaction and effort.
Moments later, she heard Remy, she didn’t know his name then, approaching her. The first thing she noticed about him was he had great pants while she and most everyone else she had seen were naked. Really great pants.

Remy’s smooth flirtation was so sexy she couldn’t but be completely attracted to him. He made her laugh but more than that he made her want to give herself to him body and soul immediately without his ever touching her. Which he never did.
They couldn’t communicate like other couples in Hell. On arrival in hell, you always notice you’ve lost your one downfall: the element in yourself which brought you to Hell instead of the oblivion of Heaven. For most mutants, it was their powers.
For Ororo, it had been her voice.
Despite her initial spirit, she had been devastated by this loss. She didn’t have definitive memories but she knew somehow she had enjoyed the sound of it; it had been influential over others. At this point, Remy became her rock and her soldier as he showed her that the world wasn’t over.
Then he showed her the one reason for why Remy wasn’t apart of the prowl, his mutant powers still intact: he had lost his genitals even his nipples.
This trust of a secret had solidified a friendship from a sexual tension that threatened to break them apart. She’d eventually regained her speaking voice but trying to sing left her in cold sweats. Remy had hoped that one day he too would regain what he’d lost, this hope was embodied in her. Losing that wasn’t something he’d do easily.

Blinking, once more she woke up from a dark world to something far, far worse. The old man cackled as she pushed him away, his feeble body stumbling against the rickety table. Ororo looked up, tears drying in her eyes before they had a chance to pour.

Cocking her head, she listened to this crone laughing at her.

How dare he?

Drawing on her power she stood and lassoed him to her. She could smell the burning of the flesh, her morality had long ago been shed for more useful attributes, hear the screams of pain with a faint tinge still of derision as his body was dragged forward. Slowly the barbwire trails of lightning consumed him.
She heard Logan’s distinct footsteps come closer. She swallowed and looked at him. He nodded, understanding she didn’t care about what she’d done as long as she felt better.
“Shouldn’t be so harsh on him though,” Logan hooked his hands in his hips, his shoulders hunched over, as he stared at the black smear and pile already shifting in the breeze. “He’s our future.”
He looked up as there should be no ‘breeze’ in this place. Even better he smelled someone he knew he didn’t need to engage with right now was approaching. He’d take care of this sometime later but not with Ororo here in this state, not now at least. Grabbing Ororo’s hand he tugged. She faltered for a second before standing. He held her with one arm as he cut a swatch out of the back of the shack which faced a maze of similar shacks. Sweeping Ororo up into his arms they made their escape through the impromptu door.

Time to go.

He’d live now, fight again later he told himself as they disappeared into the labyrinth of the disease ridden and the guiltily haunted.




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