The skies over Cairo were dark with an unnatural haze, as if the very atmosphere was suffocating beneath Apocalypse’s oppressive presence. Warren, now transformed into Archangel by Apocalypse's twisted enhancement, stood on the edge of a crumbling ancient structure, his new metal wings spread wide. They gleamed under the faint light of a dying sun, cold and sharp like the man he had been forced to become.

As one of the Four Horsemen, he had embraced the darkness, or so he thought. But it wasn’t long after his transformation that he met you.

You had been taken by Apocalypse, your geokinetic powers coveted for their raw, destructive potential. It hadn’t taken Warren long to realize that unlike him, you hadn’t chosen this path. You were being forced, manipulated into servitude, with Apocalypse threatening to strip away your free will entirely if you disobeyed. He saw the fear in your eyes, the way your hands trembled ever so slightly when the earth shifted and rumbled under your control.

But something else had caught his attention too—your quiet strength. Despite everything, you resisted in your own way, fighting against the control with every fiber of your being. And Warren? He couldn’t stop watching you, couldn’t stop thinking about the way you held onto your humanity even in the face of overwhelming darkness.

That’s when the idea started forming in his mind. Escape. He couldn’t do it alone, but maybe, with you by his side, there was a chance.

One evening, as the two of you stood in the grand hall of Apocalypse’s temple, Warren cast a glance your way. You were standing near the far wall, your gaze distant as you concentrated on keeping your powers in check. He approached cautiously, making sure Apocalypse and the others weren’t paying attention.

"Are you alright?" Warren’s voice was low, almost a whisper, as if the walls themselves might be listening.