Twisted Hope (Sinister)

[Warren Worthington]

The night sky had been almost devoid of stars this night. The waning moon hung high, casting its almost melancholy glow upon the city now in the deepest, darkest, loneliest hour of the night. It was almost five in the morning and it had been a fitful night for the one known as Angel of the X-Men. He'd finally evaded the police, just as sleep had evaded him, though reports of his deviation from the norm had spread across scanners and radios through out the city. The billionaire had gone home after escaping from the S.H.I.E.L.D. Operatives, only to find that his own home had been invaded by interlopers, strangers with badges harassing his staff and threatening to rifle through his private things.

Just prior, Warren had lost his shirt at some point, ripped off, shredded in a fit of rage to be exact, after making his escape from Zephr and the Spider Woman. At the time his shoulder had been going numb, tagged by one of her blasts during their confrontation. He'd left the shirt, torn and dirty and sweat soaked, hanging on the nose of a gargoyle even as he perched there above it upon the roof's highest edge. The mutant hero had spent one paranoid hour crouching like some winged beast, clutching his head in his hands, wondering what was wrong with him. He'd all but exhausted himself, flying and fighting his way across the city. The X-Man had been moving since he'd left Doctor Nathaniel's clinic that afternoon almost non-stop.

During the course of the long night, he'd eventually thrown up, felt the fever rise and fall several times and at one point his throat had hurt so badly that nothing he did could ease it. He'd been through every gamut of emotion documented by man, or so it seemed possible that he had. Unexplainable highs and lows. When he'd found his home invaded, he'd landed on his roof top terrace, entered and summarily trashed his own bedroom, his sanctuary. Only the gunfire had caused him to cease what had been so much like a berserker rage that only he himself seemed unaware of the oddity. To everyone else it all seemed strange, foreign, distinctly opposite the Warren Worthington they had encountered previously. He refused help, screaming back at them all as he once again took to the skies, "You don't understand! No one understands!"[/i]

Finally, after almost giving up all hope, he'd flown out to Brooklyn. Took up roost upon the roof of the building across the street from the free clinic. He'd squatted there waiting, like a human version of a falcon, a bird of prey. Only then had he slept at all, bowing his head forward in repose as if hooded by some unseen cloak. Some time later he opened his eyes, his mind as cloudy as ever and yet there seemed to be some clarity as well, "The...Doctor....he can help me. I know he can." Once again, the Angel was making a fateful mistake. Once again, this time from the air, Warren Worthington descended upon the clinic run in secret by one Nathaniel Essex. The Angel was completely unaware that the injection the young Doctor had given him was about to run its course. Like the virus, the serum, that initial dosage, had been temporary. Meant only to prepare his body to accept the full dosage, one that would have killed him if he weren't prepared for it as he was now. Worthington's mind and body were beginning to clear, faster than most because of his healing blood.

His body had fought off the virus in less than a day, it was working its way through the serum as well, fighting a battle he had no idea he might have won on his own if he'd given himself the benefit of the doubt and stayed clear of the clinic. As it was, the Angel was walking into a trap, a dosage of a seemingly benign serum that would now change him irrevocably. As the Angel landed before the same side door he'd exited through earlier, his stomach was beginning to cramp, his muscles tightening, his head felt like it was going to explode. He should have sought help, sought help elsewhere if he were smart. But then, he trusted the young Doctor. A man whom he had placed his hopes upon. Leaning against the brick wall, Warren clutched his aching, burning gut. He wasn't sure where this pain was coming from, he only knew he needed help. Pounding upon the wooden door, Warren Worthington said the words that would change his life forever, "Doctor Nathaniel! Doctor Nathaniel!" He waited for the space of a breath, lamenting, "I need your help, Doctor." He pounded the door a few more times even as another wave of burning, or cramping, overtook him.

[Mr. Sinister]

Even immortal genius’ still need sleep and that is what Sinister had been doing as the thunderous knocks on his clinics door. In his sleep he had reverted back to his natural state and as his red, glowing eyes opened he glared about him. He had fallen asleep at one of the desks he used as his cover persona, Doctor Nathanial, an amateurish move, dangerous for if he was not careful and whoever it was at the door had barged in he would have been discovered.

Something he could not afforded.

In an instant his molecular structure rearranged itself and he again appeared to be fully human, the guise of a man in his late 20s, early 30s at the most, the guise of a young yet very intelligent and wise doctor who was willing to give everything of himself to heal his patience.

Speaking of patience, the knock continued on the door harder and harder. The voice was a familiar one, a welcome one, one that made him smile somewhat knowingly as he moved to the door and opened the flap to look outside. Taking on a look and tone of surprise he backed away. “What can I do for you Mr. Worthington? I know I said come to me any time but this is a bit of an odd hour, the Clinic is more or less closed.” He said through the door then opened it with the slowness of caution till the flimsy chain lock stopped it a crack, enough for him to get a good look at the young mutant and measure his condition in a mere glance.

[Warren Worthington]

“What can I do for you Mr. Worthington?"

It seemed an eternity before anyone had answered the door. Warren knew, somewhere in his mind, that it had not been all that long and yet for the on edge mutant it had seemed to take forever. He doubled over and clutched at his gut, "Help....me." He turned his face toward the door as it opened, his face taking on a grimace as another wave of extreme discomfort ran through his altered body. He reached out with one hand to steady himself, fingers clutching at the frame so that his knuckles grew white. He was virtually pleading now, "Please..."

"I know I said come to me any time but this is a bit of an odd hour, the Clinic is more or less closed.”

"I have no where else to turn, Doctor." Warren gritted out, trying to straighten so he could at least look his caregiver in the eye. He tried to stand, but was met with another wave of pain and the rage that came with it, "They...they are...trying to kill me..." He gritted his teeth, eyes dilated, his anger increasing, the chemical imbalance intensifying rapidly as the drug continued to burn out in his system.

He cried out in agony, confusion mounting within his clouded mind as he crouched before the door slightly, the wings arching outward behind his back as he waited for the door to open. Growing frustrated, unreasonably so, Worthington reached back and punched the door with his fist, almost breaking his hand. But he didn't notice that particular pain. Almost snarling, Warren pushed against the door trying to force the chain holding it to snap beneath his strength, "You...you....have to....help me." Once the door was opened the Angel stood there in the shadows of dawning night his bare hands curled into fists. He was trying to catch his breath as his heart began to race like a freight train out of control. His pupils became tiny specks within his eyes as he asked, "What...what's happening...to me, Doctor?"

[Mr. Sinister]

The pleas of the young hero would have touched the heart of most anyone but the man who Warren pleaded to now was not just anyone. In fact this man had no sympathy or mercy to give the hero, only an analytical eye and an act to beguile and delude the X-Mans mind. “Come in Angel.” Sinister in his guise as the helpful doctor nearly whispered as he unlatched his door and motioned Warren into the clinic.

“What ails you lad?” He spoke gently as he let Warren lean his weight against him while they moved to his examination room. “It seems that the virus has affected you far more than I suspected. This sickness is far more insidious than I imagined. Please forgive me for not seeing it sooner. You must lay down now.” Sinister moved Warren to the table with all due speed, carrying Angel effortlessly with his mutant strength. Truth was he could well see that the newly discovered healing power of Mr. Worthington was steadily combating both the virus and the mutagenic drug he had administered the X-Man. Nevertheless it was also apparent the drug was doing its work as impeded as it was. Warren was changing there was no doubt there. “Warren… Mr. Worthington, focus please.” He quickly moved to a fridge and pulled several ice packs to place on his patients head and neck to bring down his rising temperature. Angel would be useless to him if his body gave out before the drug could complete its modifications for the first stage of the change.

“Mr. Worthington, I am going to give you another injection. It will bolster the last one and help cure you. I will also mix in a sedative and pain killers. Though I still say physical activity is best in this state you are in it would quite possibly get you into far more trouble than you currently are.” He forcefully pulled Warren’s sleeve up and again injected him with the same drug as before to increase the potency within his blood stream, better fight his healing power and process the changes quicker. Additionally he mixed in the other drugs which would sedate the Angel for some time. “Mr. Worthington, you may stay here till you feel better. I will keep you safe and secret. They will not find you here.” He said soothingly then moved to leave the room and let his pawn sleep and complete the First Stage change. His body would change only a little at this point, his strength speed and senses would increase tenfold but his mind would undergo far more serious changes. Some were clearly apparent thus far; his increased aggressive tendencies and his increasing susceptibility to Sinisters will were but a few. These among other neurological changes would be the precursor to Sage 2… the more invasive changes.

The very thought of having the X-Man under his power made Mr. Sinister grin, for one instant as he left the room and closed the door behind him his eyes glowed blood red once more with delight. “Soon Angel you will be mind, body, mind and soul. Sweet Dreams tonight in your sleep you will experience a hell far worse than anything you have yet encountered.”

[Warren Worthington]

He didn't catch that the man had used his code name and not his given name, not immediately anyway. Warren had never felt so horrible in all his life. He was anxious to get to the bottom of this and somehow he knew that this particular Doctor was the one, the only one, who could help him. Worthington accepted the aide, letting his body weight give slightly as they walked, his wing extending to partially fall over the other man's back as well as his own. The sooner they got inside, the sooner he would begin to feel some clarity.

“What ails you lad?”

"Feel....horrible....Doctor. Something...wrong." he answered as he fought the urge to squeeze his eyes shut. He could feel the fever returning.

Oddly though, it seemed with each step, as his body felt more and more ill, that his mind began to feel more and more clear. He blinked and he almost felt close to his normal self, if only for a second. And then he was lifted, carried, into the exam room. It caught him off guard and suddenly his head was swimming within a sea of confusion once again. He was lying down and he couldn't remember how he'd gotten here. He remembered thinking that he'd fly out to meet Magneto, with the intention of discussing his return to the X-Men. The rest of the afternoon and evening was a blur.

"... Please forgive me for not seeing it sooner. You must lay down now.”

"Wait....you called me Angel..." Warren asked, his clearing mind finally connecting the dots as he lay there on the table. He swallowed, asking, "...how did you carry me?" The cool of the ice packs was a suitable distraction, actually feeling really good. He lay there for a second. His mind beginning to wonder into the fog of confusion once again. He took a labored breath, "Trying...to....focus."

“Mr. Worthington, I am going to give you another injection."

He shook his head, the motion causing the room to spin, so he closed his eyes. He muttered, not really wanting any more drugs, "Another? Why...why?"

"It will bolster the last one and help cure you. I will also mix in a sedative and pain killers. Though I still say physical activity is best in this state you are in it would quite possibly get you into far more trouble than you currently are.”

The aggressive way his sleeve was ripped upward was shocking. There wasn't enough time to move to stop the injection. Warren tried to wave it away but it was too late, even as he said, "I...don't want th....this..." the drug was already rushing into his bloodstream. Reacting to the pain, the forced changes within, Worthington's torso arched up off the surface of the table, his face locked in a grimace. His body twisted in pain as the burning sensation tore through his entire body before the pain killers and the sedatives came quickly in its wake.

Sinister was a genius. Warren's muscles began to flex, contract of their own accord, his body no longer able to combat all that it was being bombarded with chemically. He might have been screaming at this point but all that escaped his mouth was a series of groans or moaning non-syllables. The sedative was incredibly strong, able to counter his healing factor. Soon, the Angel was nearly sleeping upon the table.

“Mr. Worthington, you may stay here till you feel better. I will keep you safe and secret. They will not find you here.”

Warren moaned in response. It was all he could do now, but let the drugs do their work upon him. His sleep over the coming hours, if you could call it sleep, would be fitful at best. True rest destroyed by the images, the dreams, the chaos in his mind. His body continued to change as well, by the time dawn would break, he would appear to have spent more than a year in intense workouts, perhaps with the aide of steroids. During his dreams, Warren's face would take on various expressions from anger, to hatred to sorrow to something else entirely. In the space of twenty four hours, his life had literally gone from heaven to hell.

And it was changing him.

[Mr. Sinister]

“Warren??, Wake up Warren…” A soft caress across the young billionaires face and then soft lips against his to urge his waking. “Come on Warren dear, time to get up.” A sexy voice cooed in his ear with a little kiss against the lobe. As he opened his eyes a ravishing red head smiled down at him, straddling his naked body with her own. Her name was Jean Grey, one of his first loves, the one that got away… or did she?

“Come on sleepy head, Professor Xavier is not gonna wait forever for us.” She smiled down at him and lightly fan her nails down his chest. “He wants us to run a training drill with the New Mutants, don’t tell me our wild night caused you to forget.” She growled playfully, jumped off of him and skipped naked towards the rooms double dresser where she used her telekinetic powers to pull both their X-Men costumes out. “Come on Angel Face. Quit dawdling. This is not a good impression for the leader of the X-Men to make!”

“Hey! Come on you two!!” A loud call erupted from outside the rooms door followed by three hard, echoing raps on the solid wood. “The honeymoon was over 3 days ago.” At this Jean giggled as she pulled on the skin tight uniform and rolled her eyes. “It seems the natives are restless this morning but you would think Bobby would be more understanding. I mean how many times did we cover for him when we were students and he snuck his girlfriends in.”

[Warren Worthington]

Warren struggled to wake up. He felt like he'd been asleep for days, almost as if he'd fallen into the deepest depths of dreams and was only now coming out of it. He took a breath, feeling the caress against his cheek and the all too familiar voice, "Jeannie?" “Come on Warren dear, time to get up.” He felt her hand run across his bare chest as he opened his eyes and looked up at her. He blinked, a smile forming on his face as he noticed the position the two of them were in. He felt incredibly relaxed but his mind was a little foggy. He could only imagine what the two of them had done the night before. He grinned, boyish, masculine, "Can't we stay here a little longer?"

He took a moment to take in her magnificent body. She was as perfect as he'd always known she would be. He pulled her down into a kiss, his hand going expertly to caress her breast before she got away from him. He lay there, turning over onto his side to watch her move, "Yeah, well, maybe I did forget. Can you blame me?" He had forgotten it seemed, because he couldn't remember setting up a training session. Come to think of it, he couldn't really remember getting into bed with Jean last night. Of course he was hardly complaining, if nothing else, he'd rather the two of them have remained in bed a while longer.

"Leader of the X...," Warren asked before the idea sank in fully and became part of his reality. He grinned, rising out of bed and moving up behind his lady love and wrapping his muscular arms around her narrow waist, "Someone pinch me. I think I've died and gone to heaven." And he had. This was everything he'd ever wanted. He'd been second best to Scott for so long. Not anymore, never again, would that be the case. As the rap on the door came, Worthington gently kissed her neck and reached for his own uniform.

He slipped each leg into the sleek, tight leggings and pulled them up to let the material bunch just beneath the deep v of his lower torso. Even as she spoke, he called out over his shoulder, "Hold your horses Drake." Honeymoon? Was Jean his wife? He smiled, his blue eyes dancing down the form fitting uniform before he turned and she began to help him with the upper half of the sleek uniform. He slipped each hand and then arm into the one piece get up and flexed his hands as the second skin formed itself over his own. Once his wings were dealt with he turned back to the woman he loved, the one he'd always loved, and smiled, "Let's do this."

[Mr. Sinister]

Jean giggled again at the bewildered look on Warren’s face and playfully slapped at his insistent hands as she helped him ready for the training session. “I say Mr. Worthington, was a full month of near complete fooling around not enough to quell those fiery passions of yours?” She laughed as she opened the door, stepped out and suddenly slipped flat on her butt. Jean screamed with mock rage as she felt herself sitting in an already melting ice slick left as a practical joke by Bobby Drake aka The Ice man. “Bobby you little weasel!!” She shouted in the direction he had gone. “You’re gonna pay for that!” She pouted and pulled herself to her feet slowly.

“When will he ever grow up? He acts like an eternal teenager.” She grumbled, wiped herself off and moved down the mansions hall. “I will meet you in the Danger Room babe.” She shouted back at him and disappeared down a flight of steps to the main floor of the Xavier Mansion.

The Danger Room was prepped and ready to go. Jean stood beside Warren and Bobby staring between him and the New Mutants team. “Any time now hubby, I think the kids want to get this session started… She nudged Angel with her elbow which made Iceman laugh “Yeah preferably before the year is up.”

Wolfsbane, Cannon Ball, Mirage, Magik, Warlock, Cypher, Sunspot and Karma stood in preparation under the watchful eyes of these members of the senior team, The X-Men, and in the control booth Professor Xavier himself. They were young teens eager to learn though they had been such years ago. Did this matter though? Was there any meaning to their seeming renewed youth? No not really… “Sir? Yawl ok?” Cannon Ball spoke up in concern for Angel. “You look pale as the dickens.”

“Yeah, you haven’t looked this bad since Candy… Oh… Sorry… I didn’t mean to. It just slipped.” Bobby had started out in a joking manner but ended somber and apologetic as if he had said something callous and hurtful towards Angel. “Really Bobby hoe could you even think of mentioning that!” Jean snapped scoldingly and sharply struck Iceman on the arm. If looks could kill Bobby Drake could have been dead not only from Jean but some of the New Mutants as well.

[Warren Worthington]

"Jean!" He cried out as he watched her slip and fall. He couldn't reach her in time. Everything seemed to be moving in such a way that he just couldn't keep up. It was odd. It all gave Worthington the sensation of being off balance. It was as if the world was spinning too fast and he was teetering on the edge. It was disconcerting. It was as if the moment his mind began to acclimate to his surroundings things were already shifting or changing.

By the time he ended up standing in the Danger Room, Warren was no longer sure what was real and what wasn't. It took him a moment to figure out where he was and who he was addressing. It wasn't lost on him that several of the faces he was seeing shouldn't be here. I thought they were dead, came the silent warning. This in the same moment he got a nudge from his wife.

"Candy?" Warren's eyes narrowed and a spike of anger rose up within him. Bobby's words felt like a betrayal, as if he had been intentionally trying to cause him harm. Part of Warren recognized that the feeling and his thoughts were irrational but strangely it all made sense within his current mindset. Before Jean's words were out, the normally peace loving, compassionate Angel was leaping toward his close friend. The force of his attack landed Drake on his back. Warren's fist began pounding Bobby's face relentlessly. He couldn't stop himself, the anger, the aggression feeling as natural to him as air and water.

[Mr. Sinister]

What are you crazy?!” Jean shouted in shock as Warren lunged at Bobby and began to beat their friend like an animal. Luckily Bobby had swiftly shifted to his Ice-Man form which lessened the severity of the damaging blows. “Desist immediately Angel!” The voice of Charles Xavier, founder, teacher, mentor and overall leader of the X-Men boomed both over the Danger Room internal communications system and within the winged mutants mind. “Jean, separate them at once!” The professor commanded, stood and descended to the Danger Room where Jean Grey stood over her team mates, focused and pulled them apart quite forcefully with the use of her telekinesis.

“Warren, it is not Bobby’s fault!” Xavier chastised as he stood between the two floating immobilized X-Men . “We were all saddened by your loss and aghast at Scott’s betrayal, we sympathize even now, a year and a half later but you are married now, you are leader of the X-Men and you set an example for other students. You must harness your rage, sharpen it and control it.” Xavier glared at Warren. These were not words Charles Xavier usually used. In the past the founder of the X-Men would have tried to council and caution against anger and aggression all together, not preach on how to hone and direct it. Nevertheless this flowed from the mentor’s lips as naturally as anything else he had ever spoken since the X-Men’s founding. He said this without pause or reservation and motioned for Jean to lower but not release the pair. “With Scotts betrayal, his murder of Candy Southern, Beast, Alison Blair and countless others, his defection to the Brotherhood and Magneto’s, side we must be ready for anything. He knows us, He knows what we are capable of. He has the training and expertise to make the Brotherhood even more dangerous. Warren my boy you must be ready to fight for what is right.”

Charles paused and looked around to all assembled. The New Mutants seemed to stand firm in agreement, Jean nodded to Xavier’s words and though Bobby still seethed angrily from Angel’s attack he too agreed. “It is time you learned what you are capable of, time to take the reins of your destiny Angel and become more then you ever have been.” Xavier finished off and stood back as Jean released Warren and Bobby from their telekinetic confinement.

[Warren Worthington]

There was something oddly satisfying in the blood marking his gloved hands. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew that all of this was wrong, but it was too easy to give in to it all. The passion, the desire and the increasingly feral animalistic drive felt all too natural to the X-Man. That in and of itself should have worried him greatly, but then he was already firmly within the sinister Doctor's grasp by now. Warren looked down at Bobby there on the ground as he transformed from ice to flesh and blood.

As soon as the command came to desist, his arms had dropped to his sides. It was almost as if he were nothing but a puppet dangling upon string for a moment. Warren lifted his hands, half-expecting to have torn the flesh off his knuckles in response to his aggressive attack. Flesh upon ice, the burning and the raw skin, it should have been enough to cause him to stop. But it wasn't. Worthington blinked as the broken flesh covering his knuckles began to heal right before his eyes. It was far from instantaneous, but already the wounds were beginning to close.

He sat there, leaning over Bobby's prone form and listened to the Professor speak. He nodded, doing exactly as suggested. He focused on the rage, the drive, honing them down, channeling them into something darker, something deadly. He looked down at his hands again, half expecting to see blades. he curled his fingers, flexing his hands and arms as he stood now, waiting. He didn't know what he was waiting for as he stood there, but he would soon enough have his answer. His direction.

“With Scotts betrayal, his murder of Candy Southern, Beast, Alison Blair and countless others, his defection to the Brotherhood and Magneto’s, side we must be ready for anything. He knows us, He knows what we are capable of. He has the training and expertise to make the Brotherhood even more dangerous. Warren my boy you must be ready to fight for what is right.”

"Yes, Professor." Worthington took everything the professor said to heart, taking all of it within himself. He frowned thinking of Scott's betrayal, of everything that had happened over the past months. He almost snarled, growling out, "I'll be ready." He took a breath, his muscular chest expanding now as he found focus for his steadily simmering rage, "Ready to fight for our cause."

[Mr. Sinister]

“You truly are perfect Warren…” Xavier nodded and stood proudly looking upon his student. “You can do anything and that is why I chose you.” He smirked, moved behind Warren and placed his hands on the winged wonders shoulders. Warren could not see but the eyes of his long time mentor twinkled for a brief instant as he praised the former X-Man. “Say it, you are perfect… you can do anything.” He released him, moved back and let Jean embrace the man she loved, hold him close and stroke his hair affectionately. “You have much training ahead of you; you need to be made perfect in both mind and body. You will be my hand and will see my will done. Are you prepared?” He knew the answer before he had even asked the question.

The scene shifted again, everything blurred but now it seemed to all involved so natural. Time seemed to pass by so fast and the training began. What would have been months of hard rigorous training occupied what seemed like seconds. Xavier had done something like this before, he had used his mind powers to train the X-Men inside their heads when their bodies were already perfect. It cut down on time when time was of the essence. But was that what was happening here? Or was he really training? These were questions one would ask themselves in this situation. Days were minutes, month’s hours. Jean and Bobby were always near him and so was Xavier. This was natural…

“Teach them Warren; show the New Mutants how it is done lover!” Jean called out as they stood outside on the lawn. The day was beautiful, the skies clear and the sun shining. “You fly your best babe while me and Bobby throw projectiles at you with our powers.” She smiled so perfectly at him, so much love in her eyes. The teen team of novices sat on the grass in their training uniforms and watched, wide eyed in anticipation and across the lawn Xavier stood looking on as always.

[Warren Worthington]

Warren smiled in response to the praise from his mentor. There was something deeply satisfying in knowing that you had been chosen. That you alone were right for such a privileged role. It was what Warren had always wanted, all of this. Or was it? There was still the odd moment here and there where he felt as if something was off, that something wasn't quite right about all of this. In the moments when he wasn't speaking or doing something he had the distinct feeling that he should escape, though the realization that came with that feeling was the confusion that came with not knowing what you desired escape from.

And then the feeling that all of this was right. That this was how life was meant to be. That he alone had been chosen and that he had a specific task to fulfill. Jean...her fingers running through his hair, the feeling of strength that couldn't be denied. And then the question, the demand, so he said it, feeling that it was his right to say it, "I am perfect....I can do anything." I can even kill. His expression darkened, his squared jaw and matinee idol looks becoming more angular as the always present inner drive sharpened and determination became a focused weapon once called rage.

I will be your hand...master...I will see your will done, he thought as the word master and idea of belonging to another sank in and became as natural to him as night and day. The single affirmation crossed his lips...of course there was no other response, "Yes." The scene shifted, his mind bombarded with images that he struggled to follow but then it was all happening too fast. There was no way to discern all of them or to know what he was being taught. He just did his best, following instructions, fighting, putting his everything into this so his mentor would be pleased with him. By the end of the lesson he was dodging the X-Men's attacks, and somehow....he no longer felt as if he belonged with them. He no longer felt as if he was one, an X-Man.

Oddly, this felt more right than anything.

[Mr. Sinister]

Sinister stood over Warren with a cold smirk on his white lips. The conversion process of the X-Man’s body was complete. The Angel’s muscle mass, including his with muscles, had nearly doubled. His eyesight and hearing tripled. Yes all was becoming perfect; his plan was coming to fruition. The last piece of the puzzle was Warrens mind. It needed to be molded, bent to serve him and his masters but the trick was to make his new pawns conversion complete Warren had to make the transition on his own, of his own free will thus the need for the fantasy he had placed the young billionaire in. Though quite advanced the technology implemented in this task was artistic in its simplicity. The X-Man’s body was flooded with a special retrovirus designed to cure individuals of his modified version of the Legacy Virus, less lethal but just as virulent towards mutants, which he had spread throughout the district’s water and food supplies. However this retrovirus was not only chemical in nature but technological as well. The microscopic nanoprobe technology within the serum was designed to flood a host body and execute their intricate programming.

In Warren Worthington’s case his body was now enhanced 50 fold from what it once was. Before the man known as Angel was a mutant, in the eyes of men a super human, now he could be considered a super mutant, a new step in evolution. Besides the physical changes the nanoprobes were also within his brain. An artificial reality indistinguishable from true reality was being electronically pumped into his brain with Mr. Sinister at the controls. In the simplest terms Warren’s neurons were now akin to old VHS tapes, the machines were quickly recording over the old information stored there in. Like tape there would still be the imprint of his former memories, they would not totally be erased but henceforth they would be virtually inaccessible without extreme outside intervention.

[Warren Worthington]

The elaborate fantasy Sinister had placed Worthington in had served its purpose well. As had the serum and the resultant nanoprobes reshaping and rebuilding his every cell. It was several hours, if not days, now since Worthington had come to the Good Doctor for aide, for help in curing him of the virus that same man had been secretly responsible for. The former X-Man was no longer aware of how long he'd been here, or truly everything that was happening to him. In truth, time was not a concept he was able to wrap his mind around. Not given the ever-changing mind-scape he had been immersed within.

It began simply enough, this process. One minute he would seem to be training or even having coffee in a side walk cafe. He'd be presented with a choice, just like he would be in real life. The aggression, the rage, it was difficult to overcome it and more often than not his choices would lead him farther and farther down what some might think was the wrong path. A path leading away from everything he'd stood for and all that he had always been. Each decision made would send the fabricated world spiraling in some new direction, though for Warren, it all seemed completely natural. Soon enough, it was natural to be flying faster, harder, farther and with more deadly precision than ever before. Just as the looming figure in the shadows became his only guide. That figure was no longer Xavier. And he accepted that, just as every experience he was undergoing began to take on more and more importance, to the point that it all began to overtake and dwarf his former life.

The same thing was happening to his body, of course, it also made his former strengths pale by comparison. Mentally, Worthington was growing vaguely aware that something was wrong though he could do nothing to stop it at this point. He'd made his choices, he had reached the next place in his journey. He was no longer an X-Man, he was something and someone new. And with all of that came new memories, new desires, chaos and destruction versus peace and salvation. It was all perception, really, he was assured, as his mind was warped in the same way his body had now been altered.

By the time the Angel would open his eyes to see the inside of Sinister's private lab, the many wires and tubes had been removed. He felt perfect. He felt deadly. And he was itching to stretch his wings and test himself. All for a new purpose. All a part of a new life. There was no shock or surprise when his enhanced eyes fell upon his benefactor, Nathaniel Essex in his true form, there was something akin to gratitude, perhaps. His expression was equally cold now, his voice the same voice, but lacking the warmth that had once made the billionaire Warren Worthington such a welcoming presence to all he met, "Sinister..."