[69] The Queen of Limbo

Chapter 69: The Queen of Limbo

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"Me? What does alien boy want with me?"

I exchanged glances with Grandpa and Gwen. There was no way to approach this in a less subtle manner, so I made my decision. "It's about Limbo," I said, and watched her entire demeanor change. The casual amusement vanished, replaced by something sharp and dangerous.

"What do you know of Limbo?" Magik’s hand twitched, like she was considering re-summoning that sword. Colossus put a hand on her shoulder while frowning.

"Not much. I know we’re coming to you out of the blue, but we had no choice but to come to you fast." I said, meeting her gaze steadily. "You're probably the only person capable of taking us there, aren’t you?"

The silence stretched out, heavy with implications. Emma's eyes narrowed with interest. Jean looked concerned. Even Wolverine had stopped pretending he wasn't listening. I’d have to cook up excuses on how I knew about Illyana’s time in Limbo among other things, but I was prepared.

"Perhaps," Xavier said finally, "we should continue this discussion inside. It seems we all have much to talk about."

Grandpa put a hand on my shoulders and nodded. Things were never as easy as running to someone’s door and asking them to help, after all. Even if in these few minutes, Charmcaster might be involved in a fight that’d claim her life.

As we trooped toward the mansion, I caught Illyana studying me with an expression I couldn't quite read. Ah, yes. Another dangerous woman with trust issues and magical powers was looking at me with curiosity. Because that had worked out so well with Charmcaster.

But we needed her. Gwen needed her charms back, and more importantly, we needed to stop Charmcaster before she did something that couldn't be undone. The irony was, doing that meant making a deal with someone who might be even more dangerous than the girl we were chasing.

After all, if this followed the comics, Illyana Rasputin was the Queen of Limbo.

A Demon Queen.

****

The X-Mansion didn't skimp on interior decorating. We were led through hallways lined with what looked like genuine antiques and original artwork. After the Sentinel attack, you'd never know this place had been a battlefield thirty minutes ago. The cleanup crew was efficient.

Professor Xavier guided us to a private meeting room in the east wing. I'd expected something utilitarian - maybe a conference table with uncomfortable chairs. Instead, we entered what looked like a Victorian gentleman's study.

Rich mahogany bookshelves lined the walls, and a massive oak table dominated the center, surrounded by leather chairs that probably cost more than Grandpa's RV. Wait no, nevermind. But I wasn't fooled by the old-money aesthetics. The windows were subtly reinforced, and I spotted at least three security cameras disguised as decorative moldings. This place was a fortress pretending to be a prep school.

"Please, make yourselves comfortable," Xavier said, gesturing to the chairs.

Our little war council consisted of me, Gwen, and Grandpa Max on one side. On the other sat Xavier, Illyana, and her overprotective brother Piotr in his human form - though given how massive he was even without the metal skin, "human form" was relative. Jean Grey stood near the door, arms crossed. And of course, Emma Frost had invited herself, taking the chair at the far end like it was a throne.

No sign of Cyclops, which was probably Xavier's call given our last encounter. Xavier was really trying to impress Grandpa Max, which made sense I guess.

The Plumbers weren't a small organization, and Grandpa had been the former head of the Earth branch. Since mutants insisted on being "different species than humans" so badly, they were practically aliens, which fell under Plumber jurisdiction.

The introductions were formal and stiff. I could feel the weight of multiple psychics in the room and wondered how much privacy my thoughts would have had if the Omnitrix didn't provide me with some natural shielding.

An uncomfortable silence settled over the room. Grandpa Max and Xavier began talking quietly about something – old acquaintances they knew, policy matters, the usual boring adult stuff. I tuned it out when Emma Frost leaned forward in her chair, fixing me with a gaze that made me feel like an interesting bug under a microscope.

"So tell me, Benjamin," she said, her voice honey-smooth but somehow still cold, "when you transform, is it your DNA that changes or merely your physical form?"

I stared at her, finding it slightly difficult to not look lower than her eyes. "Uh, both? The Omnitrix rewrites my genetic code temporarily."

"Fascinating." She tilted her head. "And do you retain full consciousness in all your forms, or do some of the more... primitive specimens affect your cognitive functions?"

"I'm always me," I said, shifting uncomfortably. "Just... shaped differently."

"How does it feel?" she pressed, her questions becoming increasingly personal. "The transformation process itself. Is there pain? Pleasure? Do you experience sensory... disorientation?"

The way she emphasized certain words made me feel like I needed a shower. But given her eye-candiesque appearance, it wasn’t too bad. I stumbled over my answer, not used to someone being this direct about the physical experience. It was like being medically examined and hit on at the same time.

After a few more probing questions, I found my footing. It wasn’t like me to be nervous around women, even if she was a walking bombshell. In my defence, this woman read thousands of men’s thoughts and dressed up in a way that would rile up all of them. She was a woman who knew her beauty and used it like a weapon.

When she asked if the transformations were painful, I couldn't help myself. "About as uncomfortable as those shoes look," I nodded toward her stiletto heels. "Impressive that you fight in them, though."

And when she started asking about my personal life, I fired back: "I'm flattered by the interest, Ms. Frost, but don't psychics usually buy a guy dinner first before getting this deep into his head?"

That broke the tension. Even Jean cracked a smile, and Gwen looked like she was torn between being horrified and impressed.

Rather than being offended, Emma looked delighted by my pushback. "Charming. The files didn't mention a sense of humor." She leaned over, her cleavage threatening to spill out of her impractical white top. "And I wonder what else the files failed to mention... Perhaps we can discuss that in private, my boy?"

Throughout this exchange, Gwen had been growing increasingly agitated. Her fingers drummed against the table, and I could practically feel her frustration radiating off her in waves. Finally, she'd had enough.

"I hate to break up whatever this is between you and this aunty, Ben," she snapped, "but my magical items are currently in the hands of a dangerous sorceress who's probably halfway to unleashing something terrible by now."

The mood shifted instantly. Emma looked comically insulted, while Xavier cleared his throat, looking apologetic.

"You're quite right, Miss Tennyson. Please forgive the digression." He turned to me. "Perhaps you could explain exactly why you need to access Limbo?"

I laid it out as simply as I could – Charmcaster's betrayal, the theft of Gwen's magical items, and our suspicion that she was heading to Limbo or Ledgerdomain to confront whoever killed her father.

"We need to get there," I said, looking directly at Illyana, "and we're told you're the only one who can open a door safely."

Illyana's expression grew distant, calculating. For a moment, she reminded me of a cat deciding whether to pounce or nap.

"First of all, I don’t know from whom you heard of me, but…" she said, her accent making each word sound clear and slightly musical, "Limbo and Ledgerdomain are not the same. Well, they used to be the same, but it's a little complicated. There used to be a single land, dimension, called the dark dimensions, but it was shattered into many smaller pieces a long time ago. They're together called the Archipelago of Anguish and Redemption."

She traced an invisible map with her finger on the table.

"Limbo and Ledgerdomain are very close, practically touching one another, so often people mistake that they're one and the same, since one can simply walk into the other. But they're not. They have different rulers. I rule Limbo. Some weird old turtle rules Ledgerdomain."

"That's... well, whatever," I said, trying to hide my surprise at the dimensional geography lesson. "We can just walk into Ledgerdomain from your Limbo. Can you please take us there?"

"Nah." She shrugged. "What makes you think I would open my realm to strangers?"

Gwen leaned forward urgently. "Because our emotionally fragile friend has stolen magical artifacts of immense power and is about to challenge the killer of her father. She's walking into a death trap!"

"What?" I shot Gwen a look. "Friend? Ten minutes ago you were cursing her existence."

"Well, she's still going to die if we don't stop her!" Gwen snapped back. "Even if she's a backstabbing thief." I was really surprised to hear that. So Gwen had a soft spot, after all...

Something in our exchange made Illyana sit up straighter. A tiny flash of concern crossed her face before she masked it with indifference. She sighed dramatically.

"Haahh... alright, fine. I'll take you."

The reaction was immediate. Piotr stood up so fast his chair nearly toppled.

"Snowflake, you cannot be serious!" he protested, first in rapid Russian, then switching to English. "After what happened last time…"

Xavier leaned forward, his expression grave. "Illyana, I must caution against this too. The last time you opened a portal to Limbo in the mansion, we lost three students for a week. They’re still traumatized. We’re lucky they didn’t receive any physical injury."

"Come on, you guys gotta stop treating me like I'm a child," Illyana cut through their objections with cold authority. "I am the Queen of that place. I have to return someday regardless. Better with people who have reason to watch my back."

"Your control over the demonic forces there is still inconsistent," Xavier pressed. "And the risk of the Darkchilde emerging…"

Illyana flinched slightly at the mention of "the Darkchilde," which reminded me of something important. From context, it sounded like some kind of dark persona or alternate form. It was exactly that. Great, another Jekyll and Hyde situation.

"I- I can maintain control!" she insisted, but there was a hint of uncertainty that wasn't there before.

I watched the dynamic with growing frustration. Despite her obvious power – the woman had been slicing through robots like butter an hour ago – everyone was treating Illyana like she needed protection. From what I knew about her and Limbo from my meta knowledge, she was literally its ruler. A demon queen. Yet here she was, being lectured like a teenager wanting to borrow the car.

The argument reached a stalemate. Xavier and Piotr remained firmly against the idea. Illyana was technically willing but constrained by Xavier's authority at the mansion. And Emma sat back watching it all unfold, occasionally tossing in a pointed question that only intensified the disagreement. Her smile said she really enjoyed her role. What a woman.

Grandpa Max, ever the diplomat, saw the tensions rising and stepped in. "Perhaps we should all take some time to consider our options," he suggested. "This isn't a decision to be made hastily."

Xavier seized the opportunity. "The Tennysons are welcome to stay the night. Perhaps after rest and further discussion, we can find a solution that addresses everyone's concerns. Plus, I’d be glad to show you how we raise these children."

"A night in real beds instead of the RV might help clear our heads," Grandpa agreed, though I could tell from his expression he was just buying time.

Illyana looked frustrated but resigned. As the meeting broke up, she paused beside me. "My realm doesn't wait for committee approval, Tennyson," she murmured, low enough that only I could hear. "Remember that."

Before I could respond, she was gone, gliding out of the room with Colossus trailing after her like an anxious bodyguard.

Jean offered to show us to the guest quarters. As we walked through the mansion, I noticed the X-Men had significantly ramped up security. Extra patrols, students being kept to certain areas, tech being deployed in defensive positions. They were preparing for another attack.

Emma Frost managed to catch me alone for a moment in the hallway, materializing from a side corridor like a white ghost.

"That watch of yours," she said without preamble, "it could change everything in the current climate. Be careful who you trust near it. Even those who wear an X."

"And what about you?" I asked.

She gave me a knowing smile that revealed nothing and sashayed away, hips swaying like she was on a runway instead of in a school hallway.

Once we were settled in our guest room, Gwen wasted no time confronting me. "By the way, that Emma Frost is manipulating you, you know that right?" She folded her arms across her chest.

"Yeah, I'm not hypnotized by her jiggling thighs," I replied, moving to the window. From here, I could see the wing where Illyana's quarters were located, marked by the distinctive balcony with metal reinforcements.

"We don't have time for this bureaucratic nonsense," Gwen continued. "Every minute we waste here, Charmcaster gets further away with my stuff. And… well, putting her own life in danger too. By the way, how did you know about this Illyana girl and her Limbo?"

"...I was looking into any information about dark dimensions I could find on the net with Greymatter, and some other things just happened to connect Illyana with it," I said, checking the Omnitrix as I made my decision. "Get some sleep, Gwen. I think our stay might be shorter than Grandpa expects."

I had a plan forming. It wasn't particularly complicated, but then again, sometimes the simplest plans worked best.

And… well, when you have a watch that can turn you into fourteen different aliens, you tend to have options that most committees don't account for.

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