"Revelations Pt. 1"
by Adam Martin

Moira MacTaggert peered down the slope of the jagged cliff, arms wrapped tightly around her waist. The wind howled, as if frustrated, somewhere out over the ocean. Her quaint, brown trenchcoat fluttered madly, and her ears felt completely numb. The weather was typical of a Muir night; constant clouds, stinging drizzle, and fog that drifted not far above the ground. Her visibility was handicapped because of the miserable weather, but she refused to give up and trod back up the hill to the complex. She had seen something out beside the cliff, and she would be damned if she were going to sit and wait for Rahne and Madrox to come back from the movies before she could feel comfortable again. One of her favorite mottos clearly stated: "Confront your fears, or let them eat you from the inside." As of late, this motto was more of a daily reminder.
She sighed and rubbed her weary eyes. Just seven minutes ago, she had seen a towering gulf of flame burn up beyond the cliff, swirling toward the complex as if it were a raging tornado. And then, after it seemed to spread apart and fall to the earth, it vanished. In mere seconds she had seen this peculiar sight, nearly causing her to drop her cup of tea on a week's worth of research. After a couple of moments of standing in wonder, she grabbed her coat, a flashlight, and a stun gun Forge had whipped up sometime in the past that he called the "Ultimate Coma," and staggered out into the cold night to check out the cliffs. And, of course, there was nothing unusual by the cliffs at all. It was the typical view of the raging ocean trying to bash its way through the island.
Suddenly, the weeks of constant research and telephone conference calls with Hank Mc Coy and Val Cooper, (and anyone else who wanted answers for the Legacy Virus), planted itself around her shoulders. She figured she had gone into a delirious state and had imagined the towering flame, the twirling effects and all. Muir Isle was desperately quiet these days, with the absence of Excalibur. Villains didn't show up at the doorstep every other day anymore, looking for a fight or trying to settle a long forgotten score. Her recent times were filled with quiet reflection, and she couldn't figure out if that was a blessing or a curse. At that particular moment, she cared very little for either one.
She trounced back up the hill, trying to keep her footing on the soggy ground and fiercely cursing herself for disabling the alarm system on Muir and sending it to Westchester. Delusions or no, she didn't feel safe tonight, and not seeing anything out by the cliffs seemed to make her unease grow more unpleasant. She figured she would have felt better if she would have seen Sabretooth himself stalking the grounds, flame-thrower in hand. At least then she could unleash some of the aggression built up inside of her for the past couple years, and to see how ultimate a coma the stun gun really provided.
By the time she had reached her study again, she was soaked and irritable. She shut the study door, locked it and sat back down by the window.
"I'm nae going daft, am I?" she whispered to herself, peering back out the window. "Blessed Saints, give me at least o' year left o' sanity. Don't let me go Black Tom, now."
She coughed hoarsely and reached for her tea. She felt completely drained, feeling like she hadn't eaten in days. The virus was literally shredding her genes, while digging its claw firmly into her mental state as well. She had pushed her will to its limits, trying to stay optimistic, and she would continue that route until she was dead and buried in the ground. It wasn't easy living that way, but she certainly had no choice in the matter. She needed a cure, and she wouldn't allow herself to think it impossible. Although stoic, in the back of her mind, a weak, childish voice randomly cried "I quit!" or "Save me God!" or even "I'll do anything to make it go away!"
"Do anything!"
Moira MacTaggert would soon find out if that cry for help was indeed true.

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The old grandfather clock croaked eleven times, and Moira awoke with a quick jerk. She looked about the room, unaware of her surroundings for a second, and then she realized she had fallen asleep at her desk in the study. The room was swallowed by shadows, the only light shining from a dim glowing lamp atop her desk. She coughed again, her throat dry and parched. Her body was covered in sweat. A puddle had actually formulated on the desk. The room felt scorching hot, as if the room had a Bunsen burner heating it from below.
Three quick knocks were suddenly at her door, freezing her thoughts. Her eyes suddenly felt as if they were bulging out of her skull, and her heart was practically erupting in her chest.
"Rahne?" she called, voice cracking. "Are ye home, lass?"
She heard a quiet chuckle outside the door. It was not the voice of a young, wholesome British woman. Nor was it the sound of a slacker who called himself Multiple Man. This laugh held something sinister inside it. It was the sound a hyena would make if it could utter a laugh.
"Who's there?" Moira asked, moving quietly across the room to where her coat hung on a peg against the door. The stun gun was still inside her coat pocket.
Another chuckle. This one sounded somewhat embarrassed and shy, but the lunacy was still eerily present. She quietly pulled the coat from the door, but before she could pull the gun out, the door swung wide open.
"Ah, forget the pleasantries, I've never been bloody good at em!"
A frail man stood in Moira's doorway, blond hair flowing around his head like wildfire. She knew exactly who this man was, though his appearance had changed quite thoroughly since she had last met him. His usual red goggles were present upon his face, but the colors in his mask had darkened to black. He wore a long black coat, buttoned neatly up his chest. She could see large, metallic objects around his wrists underneath the coat. The flames she had viewed earlier in the evening made absolute common sense now, as did his arrival. She couldn't believe she had overlooked that.
"You look absolutely horrible, Moira," the man known as Pyro said, with a sly smile stretched across his face. "A lot worse than usual, I mean."
"For some reason, I can't say the same about you," Moira responded, nearly breathless. Pyro seemed to be in good health, as if he had never lived a day with the Legacy Virus in his life. His skin did seem uncommonly pale, but besides that, Allerdyce seemed completely healed. Moira exhaled, shocked.
"I'm feelin' betta these days, good Doctor," Pyro continued, while gazing and strolling around her study. He seemed to be in complete exultation.
"That's good, Pyro," Moira said, slowly creeping her hand into her coat pocket. She would have the gun in hand, just in case. "Is the virus in remission, or have ye spirits just lifted?"
"You could say somethin' of that sort. My whole life 'as turned around. I feel like a completely different man, Moira. I've turned over a new log, or whatever that expression is. It's a wonderful feeling, it is."
Pyro crossed the room and plopped down at Moira's desk. His smile stretched wider, and Moira could see a flash of teeth in his mouth. The sight sent shivers up her spine, for reasons she wasn't fully aware. They just seemed overly shiny, like finely polished pearls.
"Ye almost sound healed, Allerdyce," Moira said, suddenly irritated at the site of the man. He had given her quite a scare, and she still felt extremely uneasy in his presence Her hand tightened upon the handle of the stun gun beneath her coat. "What's your story?"
Pyro shrugged, his mouth slightly opening with his smile. "There's a story to tell, good Doctor. The question is, lass, do you wanna hear it?"
"This better not be a joke," Moira spat. "If ye are healed, Pyro, give me a little insight. I don't have patience for your inane sense of humor."
"Hold on to your britches, love. I have full intention of tellin' you the whole situation. An' then I'll offer you the same choice that I was given."
"Are ye healed, Pyro?!" Moira shouted, lurching forward. "Be straight with me! Ye know my situation!"
Pyro's lips stretched wide, teeth gleaming. Moira felt, once again, utterly breathless. The answer was inside the man's mouth. His teeth had elongated, finely chiseled at the peaks, each and every one of them. His smile was the smile of an insane crocodile. A venomous rattler. An abhorrent monster. A vampire.
"Blessed Saints......." Moira gasped and took a step back from him. "What......what have ye done, Allerdyce?"
Pyro frowned, appalled by her reaction. "I went an' got meself healed, woman! Don't stare at me like I'm a bloody demon. I did what I had to do! You certainly weren't gettin' anywhere. What the bloody hell do ye expect from me? To die?! To sit there and rot like a fish on a dock?! I had to do it, lass! I had to! How dare you look at me like that!"
Pyro stood up violently, flipping the desk over with a savage jerk. Paper fluttered around the room, and Pyro, with uncanny speed, erupted through them. His hand gripped Moira's neck in the time of a quick breath and another breath later, Moira was pressed against the door, feet dangling.
"I went out of my way to help you......" Pyro hissed, saliva dribbling from his chin.
Moira gasped for air, but nothing came. He was physically crushing her windpipe.
"I'll ask you once," he continued, "and only once. Do you understand me?"
She struggled to nod, but found it impossible. Her face had gone blood red, darkening toward purple. He was killing her.
Pyro smiled, flashing his new, brilliant teeth. "Do you want the cure, good Doctor? The one you couldn't create?"
"Nnnnnnn-"
"I don't like where that answer is headin', lass." Pyro unclenched his fingers, and Moira dropped firmly on her butt. Her fingers grasped her neck, as if she were manually trying to open her throat back up. Pyro chuckled again, and squatted in front of her.
"Ye've l-lost it," Moira coughed, relieved at the feeling of air in her lungs once again.
"Maybe," Pyro responded, temper cooling. "But I don't care. I'm not gonna die. Ever. And guess what, good Doctor....you don't have to die, either. I'm sorry I got a little heated. You just trampled on some bad nerves. But, I'm willin' to give you another chance. You want to hear me out?"
Moira stared reluctantly, not responding. She hoped to God Rahne and Jamie wouldn't walk in on her like this. She didn't want their help, and she didn't want them involved. Pyro had changed. He wasn't the petty mercenary of before, but a cr azy, unpredictable beast. He had gone from manic to fierce anger in seconds. It was best for Moira to face him alone.
"Confront your fears, or let them eat you from the inside." Perhaps, Moira thought, in this case, they'd start chewing from the outside.
"I met a man in Washington, DC, Moira." Pyro began, sounding excited and urgent. "Official man, somehow connected to Bastion, but working undercover. Seems that Bastion discovered a whole nest of what he called "Non-cognizant mutants", and they were claiming they had a cure for the ol' Legacy. So I traveled down south to a town in rural Florida, and guess what I found, Moira? A whole town of bloody vampires. Right outta John Carpenter's horror flicks, they were. 'Cept these guys were smarter, and they were a whole lot more powerful, too. They're no strangers to Chuck's world, if you no what I mean. And you know what? Best part of the deal was the fact that I didn't 'ave to do nothin' for 'em. They just.........well they just came up and bit the fire outta me. Bloody well hurt, too! But eventually I felt nothin', Moira. No more pain. No more burnin' from the inside. The virus died, love. Every bit of it."
"Ye're.....a vampire?" Moira asked, shaking her head. "Lord, I would have never believed it possible. And, of course it healed ye.......Pyro, if legend and myth is correct, it.......it killed you."
"But it didn't!" Pyro insisted. "I'm standin' right here in front of ya! And, best part of it all, I can control my powers again. For the first time in years, I'm whole, Moira. I feel good, I look good, and by God, I can still fry the hair off a pig's butt in a matter of seconds!" Pyro clapped his hand jubilantly, smiling proudly. "Well?"
Moira didn't even consider. She looked at what was left of the man in front of her, and felt a tinge of melancholy sweep over her. The man had been desperate. He had been afraid of death and afraid of the pain. A part of her couldn't blame him, because being free of the Legacy Virus certainly sounded appealing. Pyro had given his entire self to the Legacy Virus and eventually succumbed to its icy grip. Although Pyro would never admit it, the Legacy virus had claimed another victim.
It's last, Moira vowed.
While Pyro had been babbling on about his miraculous "cure", Moira had pulled her coat to her side. She had dropped it when Pyro had her clenched against the wall, and she was ever so grateful that the coat had only fallen at her feet. She found her way back to the pocket, grasped the handle of the stun gun, and pulled it free of the pocket.
"Well?" Pyro asked again.
"I can't, Allerdyce. I'm sorry. It's not the answer. There has to be a better way. I'm......I'm sorry."
A great sorrow seemed to pass over Pyro's face, and it sent another stab of sadness into Moira's heart. The man had thought he had honestly found the cure to the Legacy Virus. Perhaps he thought he had made up for his past sins by forming some nonsensical pact with a horde of bloodsuckers. Perhaps, Pyro had good intentions behind his overzealous attempt at saving the world from the Legacy. Though all of it was actually moot right then, because Pyro snarled, flashed his teeth, and lunged for Moira's neck.
Without a sound, Moira fired Forge's stun gun, and Pyro back flipped through the air, crashing stomach-first onto carpeted floor. The gun only had to make brief contact with the opponent, apparently, before literally shocking the assailant off their feet. Moira delicately dropped the gun on the bookshelf, wary of the thing herself, and turned back to Pyro.
Smoke drifted up from the man's body as he lay unconscious. Pyro's mask had been torn in the merciless surge, and Moira could finally see his face and eyes. Her hands immediately covered her mouth to stifle a scream.
"His eyes...look at his eyes..." Moira gasped and passed out cold.