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X-Men: The Raid (Part 3)
🕑 Added 2021-07-23 03:05:49 +0000 UTCIt had been inevitable that the stealthy ambushes in the stadium erupted into a full-scale battle, in no small part that Wolverine wanted it that way.
On the field, Shadowcat and Psylocke fought close to each other , watching each other’s backs and using their powers to complement each other. Both were quick and elusive, Shadowcat using her powers to make sure any area attacks passed harmlessly through them while Psylocke used her telepathy to distract, create illusions, and sometimes even make her enemies attack each other. With the two of them working together, none of the Morlocks’ desperate attacks had a hope of landing home.
Wolverine, on the other hand, didn’t need any of that crap.
Although her “father” had never been particularly tall, Laura, the new Wolverine, was even shorter, yet her stature was more than enough for the group of Morlocks attempting to corner her… and paying the price.
Quartz cried out in shock rather than pain as the adamantium claws took off one of his hands at the wrist. Frantic, terrified, the giant hugged the stump to his chest before turning his back and running, already bearing numerous twin cuts. Whatever his body was made of didn’t bleed, but Wolverine’s claws went through it like it was nothing more than ice cream.
“Oh my god!” the crystal behemoth’s deep voice reached its shrillest pitch, “My hand! My hand!”
“Giant fucking crystal pansy!” Wolverine spoke in a teenage voice rough with rage, “Get your rock candy ass back here! I’m not done with you!”
Bending her knees, the compact young berserker was about to pounce on the giant’s back, when a fire ball struck her in the back of her shoulder. It stumbled her and burned a patch off the blue shoulder pad of her uniform.
The Morlock that had thrown it was delighted at his success, until the X-Man whirled around to face him.
The new Wolverine wore an outfit inspired by her predecessor’s, her cowl flared out like wing-shaped blades, matching a similar flare at the tops of her boots. She had as protruding of curves as any of her teammates, but had less height to fit them, causing her slim waist to widen dramatically into wide hips, her breasts seeming larger in comparison to the rest of her. Her thighs were thick, doubly so as she coiled to spring, her muscles flexing beneath the blue and yellow spandex, baring pointed canines as she snarled at her hapless attacker.
“Shit…” the fireball hurler squeaked, quickly forming another projectile in his hands.
A tentacle stretched out to grab at Wolverine. She sliced it off with a swipe of her claws, the Morlock’s scream of pain harmonizing with her own roar as she sprang.
Meanwhile, Miasma swaggered towards Psylocke and Shadowcat, hands clasped innocently behind his back. As they thrashed numbers of his comrades he just grinned, feasting his eyes on the two very different, but beautiful women.
Psylocke was like a male fantasy brought to life. Her lips were plush, her exotic eyes shaped like almonds, violet hair shining and loose, always seeming to fall perfectly despite how she twisted and struck. She had long legs and decadent curves, accented by the grooves and nooks of martial arts trained muscle. Her body itself was displayed in blue ninja garb that was so light and snug it more closely resembled a leotard with a red sash around the waist, her boots more like ringed stockings that painted her from mid-thigh to her feet. Every move she performed was done with a dancer’s grace, each blow momentarily highlighting her bombshell body, sensuality blended with lightning-fast combat.
Beside her, Kitty was of similar height to Wolverine, but softer, somehow more girlish. Her uniform was similar to Siryn’s, a yellow leotard over blue rather than green, with a yellow belt that hung about her hips. The body underneath wasn’t as dramatically curving as Psylocke’s, her face pretty but unremarkable, more wholesome and approachable. Yet, having learned to fight from the original Wolverine, the physical blows she landed were a violent contrast, bruising and brutal, her tom boyish features curled in a snarl.
“Hm… the cutie pie, or the sexy ninja?” Miasma’s eyes narrowed with lust, “The age old dilemma! How do I choose?!”
Seeing the others back away at his approach, Shadowcat and Psylocke turned to face him, settling into fighting stances.
“Hmmm…” the Morlock giggled to himself, “Decisions, decisions…”
While Miasma took his time looking them over, the two X-Men eyed each other askance. Meeting eyes, they shared a knowing smirk, then relaxed before turning back to their mutual foe. Psylocke lazily cocked a hip, while Shadowcat crossed her arms under her breasts, eyeing him back and waiting for him to make his move.
“I think…” Miasma outstretched his arms, palms towards the two women, “Both.”
Kitty and Psylocke stared back, unconcerned.
“Nighty night, ladies…” the villain cooed, calling on his powers to release a mist to relieve the girls of their consciousness.
Smiling broadly, Miasma waited for the X-Men to begin staggering, blinking and drooping. He bet they would both look lovely struggling to stay awake, wilting bit by bit, eyes staring at him in shock, then fear, then resignation as sleep claimed them…
… but nothing happened.
It took several seconds of nonactivity for his smile to fade. Blinking, he reached out more intently and curled his fingers. His brow lowered and he gritted his teeth. Gradually, he even made a small straining sound, as if constipated.
No yellow mist formed from his hands.
The two X-Men looked at each other again, communicating with a glance. After a moment, Psylocke shrugged and Shadowcat sank down into the ground. She disappeared into the grass like it was quicksand, vanishing from sight.
Beginning to pant, his yellow eyes bulging with shock, Miasma clenched his entire body, groaning as he tried to force his powers to work.
Psylocke fought to keep from laughing and after another second of strain, the Morlock gave it up with a wheeze.
“What the—what the HELL!?” Miasma shouted, glaring at his hands at their betrayal, “Why isn’t—why won’t it--?!”
“Because you can’t remember how to do it.”
The villain looked up from his hands to see Psylocke grinning crookedly at him, her eyes lidded and smug. Her hip was still rounded to one side, proudly displaying her body, her scant clothing only augmenting her confidence.
“I’m hiding the memory of how to access your powers for the moment,” the British/Asian called to him, “Sorry, were you planning on using them?”
Someone tapped Miasma on the shoulder.
Cringing, he turned to see Shadowcat standing behind him, her fist pulled back.
“We’re the X-Men, bub.” Kitty growled.
A haymaker punch spun Miasma’s head around and he collapsed bonelessly to the grass.
“We don’t lose to 5th rate chumps.” The brunette glared down at him, hands on her hips.
------
A burst of fireworks flung a Morlock off his feet and he splashed into a fountain. He sank down, stunned, then splashed to the surface after a few seconds, choking and floundering. Having never learned to swim in the sewers, he flailed about in a panic, but was saved by a bubble of pink telekinetic energy that picked him up and lifted him out of the fountain.
Any relief the mutant raider felt would have been somewhat dampened when the telekinetic bubble placed him against a nearby bronze statue, then bent its arms around him, trapping him upside down and at a height. Cursing, he struggled, but not as violently as he might have for fear of being dropped on his head.
“Hey, that one was mine!” Jubilee protested, “I’m counting him! That’s eight creepy sewer schlubs for Jubilee!”
Directing her outstretched hands towards another charging Morlock, the petite teenager let loose another barrage of her powers. The plasma sprang forth from her fingers in cascades of sparkling color, accompanied by what sounded like the whistles of hundreds of fireworks singing into the sky. It was cheery, even decorative, but the blast not only stopped the incoming Morlock, it threw him in the opposite direction. He bounced off his shoulder, skipped across the grass, then landed on his stomach and didn’t get up.
“Nine-o-rama!” the girl pumped her fist, “Beat THAT, Domino!”
Domino snapped a kick into the head of one Morlock, then whirled and fired her submachine gun from the hip. A second Morlock, who had been lining up a harpoon on her back, was knocked off his feet with a cry of pain. Luckily, the fall threw his aim up and the harpoon, fired from his arm, whizzed just over her shoulder.
“That’s five direct ones for me!” she called out, “Four indirect!”
Turning back around, she rested her weapon on her shoulder. Then she blinked in surprise.
Yet another Morlock, who had been sneaking up on her with some sort of cloaking ability, was now gaping at the harpoon sticking out of his shoulder. The chameleon-like mutant was clearly in pain, but so shocked he didn’t cry out, gaping in disbelief at the enormity of his bad luck.
To compound his misfortune, the harpoon also appeared to be poisonous. He looked from his wound to his leather-wearing intended victim, then his eyes rolled back, and he collapsed in a heap.
Domino beamed, puffing out her chest, “Correction! Five indirect!”
On the other side of the fountain, Dazzler clapped her outstretched hands, but instead of sound from her palms came a focused blast of glaring light that hit every spectrum of the rainbow. The blast, technically a very powerful laser, took care of the last nearby Morlock.
“I haven’t been counting,” the starlet shrugged, dusting off her hands, “What about you, Miss Marvel?”
Jean sighed and shook her head, though she allowed herself a small, amused smile. Her team was probably the most laid back of the group, either innocent or devil-may-care. It might have seemed like they were being overly cavalier with this situation, but she didn’t have to read their minds to know they had taken Storm’s speech to heart.
“I haven’t been counting either, Miss Dazzle,” she drily misnamed her teammate in kind, “I’ve been a little busy.”
Which was nothing if not an understatement.
Her team regrouped by the fountain, Jubilee invariably exuberant and excited, letting herself get drawn into a playful argument with Domino about whether indirectly taking Morlocks out with luck powers counted. Dazzler scoffed at both of them, playing at being mockingly superior while posing in a melodramatic butt shelf, like she was shooting her latest album cover. They bantered and teased, appearing completely at ease.
Jean, on the other hand, was in several places at once. She was on the football field with Kitty and her team, watching as they expertly handled their poorly organized opponents. She was on the other side of campus with Storm, Rogue, and Siryn as well, her thoughts gently connected to every member of the X-Men, and more. She had an overview of the entire, wide-spread battle, even as she scanned for more pockets of enemies and battled those in her immediate vicinity.
Yes, it was safe to say Jean Grey was slightly distracted. And now that the immediate danger was past, she closed her eyes and focused on her telepathic senses, seeking out more Morlocks and, hopefully, Callisto as well.
The battle was going well for the X-Men. There were more Morlocks on the perimeter of the campus, but they were largely noncombatants, tasked with the retrieval of loot and captives. The largest pockets of enemies were being overwhelmed by Storm and her team or picked apart by Kitty and her team. It wouldn’t be long before Callisto was forced to make a desperation move, and then the X-Men would converge and…
Jean paused in her train of thought as something like a blip popped up on her telepathic radar. Behind her yellow mask, a small frown pinched just above the bridge of her elegant nose. She narrowed her focus on the anomaly.
The disturbance was… nothing. A big blob of nothing, a blank spot on her mental scan. If it been smaller, she would have dismissed it as simply an area where there were no minds for her to read, but there were too many people on campus for there to be that large of an empty area. Someone was blocking her, creating an umbrella that shielded the surrounding area from her telepathy.
And the umbrella was moving. It was moving towards her and her team.
Jean snapped her eyes open, her expression suddenly intent, hardened.
The other three X-Women noticed the reaction and stopped their banter, even Jubilee, Jean noted. She reminded herself to be proud of the girl, for growing in maturity and situational awareness, once this crisis had passed.
Domino dropped the magazine from her compact machine gun, then slapped in another, snapping the charging handle back with a clack of metal parts.
“Incoming?” she asked, her voice deceptively cool.
Jean nodded, “Yes, I would say so. I think we’re about to be ambushed.”
“How many?” Dazzler arched her back, stretching her arms over her head.
Jean was about to respond that she didn’t know, that she wasn’t even sure how close they were, when her world ignited in agony.
From years of training her mind, the woman known as Phoenix, Marvel Girl, or Jean Grey thought she was prepared for most kinds of pain. A telepathic attack she could have defended against, physical pain she could have resisted, but this made it feel like her soul was being torn in half. It felt like the stabbing pain of rejection and the cataclysmic grief at losing a child, but turned up to blinding levels, like a tooth ache next to being burned alive.
Her other senses lost to her, she screamed without hearing it, arching her body out in an almost orgasmic rictus unbidden and unaware. She lost all sense of herself and her surroundings. The pain was her entire world and it bled through the mental link to the other X-Men.
----------
In the stadium, Shadowcat’s team was in the midst of battle when Jean’s pain reached them.
Wolverine ducked under the swipe of a dragon-like Morlock and the villain stumbled, off balanced. The savage heroine was about to slash her opponent’s scaley ribs, when sudden pain made her clench. She snarled and reflexively squeezed her eyes shut, jerking as if struck.
Not noticing the young woman’s distraction, the dragon man turned back and swung his other massive fist. It connected, knocking Wolverine off her feet, and he laughed aloud at his success, thinking he’d gotten the better of her. Emboldened, he lunged after her, intent on being the one to take her down.
Nearby, Psylocke and Shadowcat cried out as well. Recognizing the pain was coming from the mental link, the former staggered but brought a hand to her temple, calling on her own psychic power to defend herself. The latter could only clap her hands to her skull and sink to one knee, doubled over in pain.
“Aah!” Psylocke cringed, “Jean! What in…?!”
Around them their Morlock combatants froze, startled by the sudden unexplained exclamations of pain from the X-Men. Already intimidated almost to the point of flight, they weren’t sure what to think of the abrupt display of weakness. They couldn’t be sure it wasn’t a trap.
-------
On the other side of the campus, Siryn stumbled and cried out, her voice suddenly less dangerous. She staggered until she thumped into the side of a sorority house, leaning against it for support as she gripped her skull, like it was being crushed in an invisible vice.
Above her, Rogue cried as well and fell out of the sky. She slammed into the grass nearby, protected from physical harm by her powers, but writhing with mental pain to which she had no defense.
Storm’s sudden onset of agony made her lose control of her powers, lightning lashing out and striking random buildings, winds pealing shingles off nearby roofs. She managed to stay aloft, gritting her teeth, her intense willpower keeping her from wilting like some of her teammates.
As their comrades on the football had done, the nearby Morlocks stared at the agonized Rogue and Siryn, seemingly crumpled. Mere seconds before, the pair had been lambasting them, driving them to flee or hide with more power and coordination than they’d thought possible. The X-Men’s vulnerability was such an abrupt change that they couldn’t immediately wrap their heads around what was before them.
However, gradually their eyes began to narrow, their body language becoming more assertive. Despite the sheer impossibility of the X-Men being in trouble, they knew weakness when they saw it, like all predators. They dared to draw closer, coming out of their hiding places, surrounding the stricken superheroines as if by unspoken agreement.
It didn’t take long before their growing confidence boiled over, turning into action.
“The screamer is mine!” one of them roared.
That voice cued a chorus of others, crying out with savage glee.
They stampeded towards the hampered X-Men, eager for revenge. They were no longer a frightened pack of sewer-dwellers, they were raiders and pillagers once more.
--------
Although standing right beside her, Jean’s team had no more idea what had just transpired than any of the other X-Men. They saw no attack, no enemy, their team leader had simply screamed and in the next instant they were on their knees, joining her.
If any of them had been looking in the stricken telepath’s direction, they would have seen Marvel Girl with her chest bowed out, the curves of her breasts and stomach flexing the green spandex of her uniform, while her arms locked, hands grasping at empty air. Her eyes were clenched shut behind her mask, elegant features strained with grief, her cool control completely shattered.
There were few signs of an attacker, only a distortion of the air around Jean’s lewdly arching figure. It looked like a mirage or heat rising from a hot skillet, barely noticeable if it weren’t also in the vague shape of a woman and appeared most distinctly on the helpless X-Woman’s temples.
If the shared pain could have held the X-Men in its for very long at all, the entire team would have been taken down before they could defend themselves. In a way it was fortunate that the attack finished Jean off in only a handful of seconds.
As if the juice had just run out of the battery, the attack stopped and Jean’s arms flopped to her sides, bare legs buckling. She slumped with a whimper of relief, but something held her up, the air distortion looping around her chest, squeezing up into her heaving breasts. Her head fell back, utterly slack, eyes open to slits, her strength used up but still in too much shock to pass out yet.
“Yesss!” a feminine voice rasped, “So much power!”
Jean groaned faintly, beyond thought and completely helpless. Darkness closed around her and she welcomed it, only wishing it would swallow her faster.
After a moment, her wish was granted. Her sad eyes drifted shut and her body relaxed entirely, her head lolling to the side. The last of the tension within her was released in a long, almost grateful sigh, signaling her surrender to unconsciousness.
The shimmering air became tangible. It filled out into an arm, clad in wispy white, looped around Marvel Girl’s stomach, a head of sleek black hair, and an elf-like, porcelain-pale face. The figure floated just off the ground, tattered skirts fluttering about her ankles without much of a breeze.
Holding the slack Jean against her chest, Lilith cackled in sheer exhilaration, the sound breathless. Her eyes gleamed as she looked over her victim, every movement nearly frantic, trembling with adrenaline. Even after she finished laughing, she was still panting gently, her grin spread wide, glee tinged with incredulity. Had she just defeated one of the X-Men?!
With her free hand, she took one of Jean’s wrists and lifted the arm. Lilith shook it, giggling in hysterics as the hand flopped about, limp as a dead fish, then let the arm go. The limb had only just bounced against Jean’s side when the girl let go of her altogether.
The X-Men’s most powerful member fell. Her skirt fluttered on the way down and she bounced off the grass, limp and splayed.
Staring down at the prone figure, Lilith ran her tongue, a shocking red, over her pale lips.
“My powers come from the soul, X-Man,” she gloated at the unconscious woman, “But they can affect flesh and minds. They work well on telepaths, don’t you think?”
“Hey, girl from the Ring!”
Lilith didn’t have time to look up from her defeated victim before a lotus of neon light exploded in her face, knocking her off her feet. Thrown back, she hit the dirt and tumbled over several times before coming to a stop. Stunned, she instinctively tried to climb back to all fours, but another blast hammered her back down, taking her out of the fight.
As Dazzler glared at the fallen Morlock, prepared to give her another taste of power if she tried to rise, Domino ran towards their fallen teammate.
“Jean!” Jubilee cried out, following on her heels.
Domino baseball slid on her leather hip then came to a stop beside Marvel Girl. Careful not to move her, she checked the redhead’s vitals.
Jubilee skidded to a stopped behind the older women. Not knowing what else to do, she bounced and wrang her hands.
“Is she…?” the teenager cringed, afraid of the answer.
Domino placed her fingers on Jean’s neck and waited, checking the pulse.
“She’s alive,” the mercenary said, “She’s just—”
A beam of energy struck short of its intended target, throwing up a cloud of dirt and grass. Domino’s luck powers were most likely to thank, as it both alerted the X-Men they were under attack and created a temporary screen between them and their attackers.
The X-Men cried out in surprise, turning to face the assault and immediately the air was filled with colorful beams or strange projectiles. Many of them were poorly aimed, the Morlocks firing blindly into the cloud of dirt, but their sheer volume alone made them dangerous.
Domino yanked Jubilee’s legs out from under her, then threw her body across the girl as she screamed. The mercenary’s mutant luck shielded them both, every energy blast or dart or glob of acid mucus missing, sometimes by inches.
Dazzler, on the other hand, took a blast in the chest that knocked her flat on her back with a surprised grunt. The wind knocked out of her, she blinked up at the swirling clouds and the colorful light display passing over her. She was stunned, dizzy, but had enough sense not to try to get up yet.
When the cloud of dirt cleared, Domino and Jubilee found themselves facing ranks of Morlocks in a Napoleonic era battle line, every single one of them letting loose with every long-range ability at their disposal. This wasn’t the disorganized bull rush that usually characterized a Morlock attack, it was focused, well led, with a clear objective.
With her own paramilitary experience, Domino recognized a tactical maneuver. She also had a good idea what it meant.
While Jubilee squirmed beneath her, the spot-eyed mercenary clapped a hand to her X embossed belt buckle, keying her mic to the team’s communicator channel.
“Storm, Shadowcat!” she yelled over the varied whines and hisses of different energy blasts, “Callisto is here! Jean is down! We need reinforcements!”
“Get off me, Domino!” Jubilee yelled, frustrated.
A blast hit the ground right in front of them, throwing another cloud of dirt into the air and burning a hunk out of the ground.
No response came over the channel.
“Anybody read me?!” Domino tried again, “Callisto is at my location! We need help! Everybody get your X-butts over here!”
“I said, get OFF!” Jubilee suddenly bucked.
Surprised at the girl’s assertiveness, the leather clad mercenary fell off her and rolled onto her shoulder, coming up into a crouch. She turned back to snap at the younger X-Man for her foolishness but stopped when she saw the determined look on the girl’s face.
“I got this!” Jubilee snapped, “Stay down!”
Domino blinked in surprise. She’d thought the teenager was acting out at being juvenilized, but Jubilee wasn’t even looking at her anymore. Instead, the girl was directing her scrunched up, mall rat glare in the direction of the Morlocks, drawing in a deep breath to focus her powers.
The girl wasn’t pitching a fit, she had a plan of action. A plan, any plan, was better than what Domino had at that moment. The only option she could see was to stay pinned down until help arrived.
“Uh…” Domino dropped back to her stomach, “Aye, aye, cap’n!”
Colorful light flickered in each of Jubilee’s gloved palms, becoming swirling balls of energy. They were the usual glitters of the girl’s powers, but now contained, swirling in spheres that slowly grew as she charged them up. The singing and whistling sounds of her powers rang out frantically, building in frequency and tone until it sounded like one solid shriek.
Her face screwed up with furious concentration, a pugnacious glare on her decidedly cute features, she quickly pushed up to one knee. She quickly slapped her visor down over her eyes, then held the dual volleyball-sized build ups of plasma energy in the direction of the Morlocks. Her arms quivered, body clenching with the effort it took to both create that much energy and hold it back at the same time.
“You might…” Jubilee forced out between gritted teeth, “Wanna, like… look the other way…”
Domino turned her face away and shielded her eyes with her arm, “Got it!”
Even as attacks flew past her and she strained to keep her powers at bay, Jubilee grinned at her attackers. She wasn’t just some girl anymore; she was an X-Man now. And she was about to show these creeps why.
“So!” she yelled at them, “You wanna light show, huh?”
With that, she released the energy she’d built up.
With a scream like dual jet engines, blindingly bright plasma exploded towards the Morlocks in a massive wave. The blast was so widespread and powerful that it enveloped every tangible projectile and turned back any energy the Morlocks were throwing out, if not dissipating it altogether. Then it continued on towards the mutants themselves.
The quicker Morlocks cried out and dived for cover, while the slower ones were sent flying. Their ranks were scattered almost instantly.
“Suck on that, douche nozzles!” Jubilee snarled at them.
From where she lay, Domino blinked at the girl in surprise and growing admiration. She’d known the teenager had grown more powerful, but this was intense. The kid had just single-handedly stopped a fusillade from dozens of Morlocks at once.
After the initial explosion of power, the spread of Jubilee’s attack narrowed, but it was still wide enough to cover plenty of space. The scattered Morlocks tried to return fire, but Jubilee stood up and kept pouring it on, her hair blown back by her own energy. Any that tried to get up or come out from behind cover had to dive back down or were knocked flat by the teenager’s shrieking onslaught.
“Woohoo!” Domino jumped to her feet, “Negotiation through superior firepower! Keep it up, kid!”
Several Morlocks popped up outside the spread of the colorful beam and Jubilee had to turn it towards them to force them back down. She grunted with effort, keeping up a constant stream.
“Th-that’s the idea, spot!” Jubilee rasped, “Now freaking hurry up and grab Jean and Dazzler! We need to vamoose and this isn’t as easy as it looks!”
Nodding, Domino slung her submachine gun and sprinted towards Dazzler, who was clumsily trying to get to her feet.
Still dazed, part of the starburst design on her chest burned black by the energy blast, the heroic starlet sat up, struggled to rise, then abruptly fell to her hands and knees. She blinked and shook her head, trying to force away the waves of dizziness. Her own energy powers had protected her somewhat from the attack, but it felt like she’d been punched by a heavyweight boxer.
She sat back for a second, spandex-clad rump resting on her heels, then tried again. She got most of the way up before Domino took her arm and helped her the rest of the way.
“Can you run, superstar?” Domino steadied her, looking into the other woman’s eyes.
Dazzler shook her head again and fluttered her blue eyes. Lying down and closing her eyes until the world stopped spinning sounded like a much better option. But being an X-Man meant she wasn’t often spoiled for choice and even though she had another life, she knew how important their mission was. She wouldn’t let the team down or let the Morlocks wreck their work.
“Y-yeah, just…” the starlet had been about to say ‘just give me a minute’, but stopped herself, “Yeah. I can run.”
“Good answer,” Domino grinned, “I can carry Jean, but Jubilee will probably need some supp—”
“MORLOCKS!” a female voice roared, “ATTACK!”
Another force of Morlocks boiled out from behind a large building, charging at them. Callisto was in the lead, followed by all the mutants at her command with powers more effective at close quarters.
Domino gaped in horror. It was the most basic combat tactic: pin the enemy down, keep them focused in one direction, then attack from the flank with a second force while they were distracted.
“Shit…”
Dazzler brought her hands up but had to focus for a moment to make her hands glow with colorful light, still weakened by her injury. Domino whipped her pistols out of their holsters and both women opened their respective varieties of fire on the rapidly closing swarm. A few fell, but their attacks weren’t nearly enough to hold off the mass of charging mutants.
Backpedaling as she fired with one hand, Domino slapped the buckle on her belt again.
“Storm, Shadowcat, freaking jehovah’s witnesses—anybody?!” she shouted, “Converge on my location! We are in serious trouble here!”
--------
Neither of the other teams received Domino’s transmission. It was just as well; they knew something had gone wrong.
Rogue, who had found herself dogpiled by Morlocks, bent her knees, then burst into the air. She exploded out of the pile of mutants, carrying a groggy Siryn under one arm, both of them a bit the worse for wear.
Their attackers wouldn’t let them go easily. A tentacle shot out and looped around Rogue’s ankle, while others fired up at them with whatever powers they had or simply shouted in fury.
Rogue weaved as best she could to avoid the blasts and projectiles. She was hit with a glancing shot across the shoulder that made her cringe in pain as she dragged the tentacled Morlock into the sky, a reluctant passenger.
“What in the sam hill was that?!” the southern belle cried out, “Felt like—UNH!”
Her upward flight jerked to a sudden stop, the force almost jarring Siryn from her grasp.
Looking back, she saw what had stopped her. The squid Morlock, still holding onto her ankle, had now looped another tentacle around a bronze statue to anchor himself. His face was just eyes above cthulu-like mouth tentacles, yet she could tell he was grinning by the crinkling of his eyes. The Morlock wasn’t as strong as her, but he was strong enough to hold her for a moment.
A moment is all the other Morlocks needed. Now that their target was simply floating a dozen yards above their heads, no longer swerving and dodging, she made a perfect target.
An explosion struck Rogue in the back, jarring her to one side and causing another pair of beams to miss, but a fourth struck her in the chest, causing her to cry out in pain. She let go of Siryn and more blasts came in, faster and better aimed. They came from everywhere, sometimes striking and burning her costume like a heated laser, other times erupting in an explosion, other times simply barbs or darts that broke harmlessly off her invulnerable skin. There were too many to dodge and they knocked her about like a rag doll, disorienting her and leaving her less capable of defending herself. She could only cry out over and over again as she was battered under a barrage of various energy attacks, target practice for the Morlocks.
As Rogue was engulfed in a deluge of mutant distance attacks, Siryn managed to call on enough of a scream to slow her fall and clear herself landing space. She landed on her feet, but wobbled and sank down to one knee, panting raggedly. Her wild hair was wilder than usual, part of her costume torn open to reveal a bra strap and her bare shoulder, while other rips formed circular holes in the stretched spandex over her legs, stomach, and arms. She was bruised, had a nasty chemical burn on her left shin that peeled away the spandex, and was still dazed from the blows she’d taken before Jean’s shared agony had stopped.
Still, her young features screwed up with determination and she forced herself to her feet. She stumbled, swayed for a moment, but shook it off, ready for any comers.
She didn’t have long to wait. The Morlocks who didn’t have the capability to fire up at Rogue quickly spied the screaming Irish girl and converged with snarls of aggression. They closed on her from all sides, stampeding, even pushing each other aside in their eagerness to reach her first.
Siryn drew in a deep breath, her breasts perking up as her chest swelled. There was no time to fill her lungs as much as she would have liked, but she let loose with her scream anyway. It blasted a section of her onrushing attackers back, then she turned to sweep the sound waves in a wide U shape, ward more away. Morlocks stumbled back, crying out in pain, not blown away like they would have been if struck by a full power scream, but buying the X-Man precious moments.
Keeping it up, she turned in a circle, almost managing to keep off her attackers.
Almost.
Before she could complete her 360-degree turn, a large figure lunged forward and clamped his hand around her throat.
Siryn’s piercing scream was cut off with a strangled squeak.
The brute grinned down at her, his head misshapen, his face like a Picasso painting. His thick fingers easily wrapped all the way around Siryn’s neck.
“Heh,” the massive mutant sneered, “Scream for me now, X-Man!”
He slowly squeezed and Siryn’s eyes widened. Her gloved hands clapped onto his grip but looked tiny compared to his lunch pail-sized fist; she might as well have been trying to pull apart solid rock.
She struggled, twisting and jerking at the shoulders and hips but her well-trained body was no match for his supernatural strength. He held her with ease, even chuckling with amusement, then lifted her into the air like she was a doll.
The young X-Man’s feet pedaled, face clenching as her neck was forced to support her body weight. She beat at his wrist and hands, choking, her fair features reddening. She would have loved to cry out, even in pain, but she couldn’t make a sound. She couldn’t even breathe.
The other Morlocks laughed as Siryn thrashed. Unable to use her vaunted scream, she was nothing more than an athletic young woman, and they enjoyed watching her wriggle. Not only because of the interesting ways her body moved in the yellow and green spandex but seeing one of the X-Men helpless as a kitten.
Above them, even Rogue’s invulnerability had limits. After being hammered from all sides for several seconds, she finally fell out of the air and landed in a heap with a cry of anguish.
Morlocks roared in triumph and swarmed on her, beating, blasting, hitting her with everything they had. They didn’t know how much it would take to stop her, but they weren’t going to give her a chance to pay them back. They were simply going to continue punishing her until she stopped moving, perhaps even stopped breathing.
Their enjoyment was fettered when winds began whipping at their faces, pulling at their hair and stinging their eyes. In their frenzy they ignored it, but it continued to grow stronger, pulling some of them upright. Once a few of the Morlocks started to get lifted off their feet, the group looked up.
A tornado was stretching down from the dark clouds above, the whistling funnel centered just above them. By the time the Morlocks looked up, several of their number were sucked up inside it, screaming as they spun away in the towering maelstrom. Others quickly followed, yanked into the cyclone, sometimes grabbing their comrades in desperation and dragging them along. The roars of triumph became wails of despair as they were whipped helplessly around, carried up into the sky.
In the heart of the tornado, a curving female figure was carried with the winds, her white hair whipping about madly, her onyx spandex gleaming as if from fresh rain. Arms thrown wide like a conductor at a crescendo, Storm’s eyes glowed, her exotic features hard with menace.
“Away from them, cowards!” she roared, the winds carrying her voice louder than a crash of thunder.
A few Morlocks tried to fire at her, but they were quickly sucked up to join their comrades. After that, the rest scattered and fled, though more still failed to escape and were yanked into the sky.
The only one that neither fled nor flew was the giant holding onto Siryn’s throat, his girth and strength keeping him earth bound. Dropping his victim reflexively, he dropped down and dug both hands into the dirt. He might have understood that by anchoring himself and lowering his silhouette, it was harder for the tornado to get hold of him; more likely, judging by the panicked look on his face, he was trying to dig himself a hole like a dog might to escape.
Regardless of the brute’s intention, it worked; Storm couldn’t intensify the tornado any further without sucking her teammates inside it as well. Instead, she thrust her hand and a blinding white bolt of lightning arced down and knocked him flat with a crack of thunder and a hail of sparks. His entire muscular body locked up due to the electricity, he made a strange whining sound, then sank down and stayed still.
Rubbing her throat, Siryn hugged herself to the ground, knowing to stay out of Storm’s way and let the weather goddess unleash her power. She coughed, keeping her eyes closed to avoid being blinded by bits of tiny debris.
A short distance away, Rogue lay on her back, head spinning, skunk-streaked hair whipping past her face as it was pulled towards the tornado. She smiled somewhat dreamily, in her daze finding herself appreciative of the tornado’s sublime power.
“Dang…” she laughed, “Ah-ah think you Morlock boys’ve gone and pissed Storm off a little…”
With her teammates out of immediate danger, the leader of the X-Men lowered her arms and simply let the funnel cloud disperse. Morlocks fell out of the sky, some letting out fresh cries and others, who had been spun around too violently to tell up from down, fell soundlessly until they struck the ground.
Storm floated towards the ground as Morlocks rained down around her, landing with thuds and grunts of pain. More often than not they broke or dislocated something, but she coldly ignored their anguish. She touched down and marched past their groaning bodies towards her comrades, her wrath momentarily faded; her only concern was her team and the predicament she believed she had placed them in.
“I have erred, my friends.” she called, her brow furrowed with worry, “Are you all right?”
Siryn climbed back to her feet, rubbing her throat and coughing.
“Aye, more…” she coughed again, “More angry than hurt, Storm.”
Storm nodded, “Rogue?”
The southern belle took a few seconds longer to rise than Siryn. She sat up with a faint groan then had to turn over onto all fours, the world still bobbing and swaying.
Her teammates looked at each other and hurried towards her to help, but Rogue waved them away.
“Ah… Ah got it…” she laughed, “Just like Siryn… more angry’n hurt…”
She planted one foot, then placed both hands on her knee and pushed herself upright, popping her shoulders and neck to work out the kinks. She swayed for a moment, a bit unsteady, but shook it off and brushed some grass from her thighs.
“Takes more’n a few cheap shots to take down little ol’ me!” she grinned, adding a jaunty cock to her hip, “Let’s get back to business.”
“Aye, let’s get back to it!” Siryn smacked her fist into her palm, “I’ve a mind to pay these maggots back for whatever mental attack they suckered me with earlier!”
Storm sighed and allowed herself a small smile. Splitting up the team had been a tactical mistake on her part and she blamed herself for the punishment Siryn and Rogue had taken. Still, she looked at them now, saw their confident stares, their smug, even sassy posture, and reminded herself they were X-Men. They had been through worse before and would do so again.
“Come, then,” she gathered the winds around her, “We must get to Marvel Girl and her team. I fear they are in peril.”
As Storm floated back up into the sky, her second home and where she felt she truly belonged, Rogue and Siryn followed. They turned, leaving the remnants of their defeated Morlocks behind and flew back the way they’d come.
Storm tapped the red jewel centered between her breasts, keying her communicator.
“Marvel Girl, this is Storm. We have lost the telepathic link and assume you are in danger. We are en route to your aid, give us your location.”
There was no response.
As her team swooped over the campus, doubts nagged at Storm. As powerful as Jean was, as unlikely as it was that the Morlocks could overwhelm her, was it possible she and her whole team were already down? Was the battle unsalvageable? Was her team on the verge of being defeated?
She stamped those thoughts out with the same force of will that allowed her to control the elements. The X-Men weren’t invincible, but they would always come through in the end. They had faced intergalactic threats, gods, and villains of the highest order; she refused to believe they would lose to Callisto and her Morlocks. The X-Men would find a way to win.
Thus reassured, she keyed her communicator again, calling out to anyone on Jean’s team.
Still, no response.
---------
From the opposite direction, Shadowcat’s team moved towards the same goal, through greater resistance than the fliers. On foot, they fought a running battle, pursued by Morlocks from the stadium and any other groups that saw them along the way. However, as Wolverine had quickly pointed out, they were running a lot more than battling.
Something that looked like a glowing boomerang whistled towards the small team, but Kitty took her teammates’ shoulders and focused her powers. The projectile passed harmlessly through them, allowing them to continue running without slowing down. The Morlocks already seemed unreasonably angry, and this seemed to incense them even further, their yells and occasional ranged attacks chasing the small team across campus.
Staying to the back of the trio, Kitty threw a derisive sneer over her shoulder.
“Was that even aimed at us?” she called, “Give us your A game, chumps!”
Her mockery drew more wild attacks from the pursuing Morlocks, some of them even throwing rocks in sheer frustration. None of them came close. Even though the three X-Men had been running a longer distance and at a faster pace, they were in phenomenal shape. The Morlocks, with almost no physical training of their own, were forced to eat their dust, Shadowcat’s canary yellow, spandex clad rump waving and taunting them as she ran. If something hadn’t been keeping them so intent on catching the young women, they would have given up the pursuit a while ago.
As Psylocke’s graceful legs pumped, a violet locus of energy flared out from her temples. She could have been using her telepathy to cause the Morlocks to not notice them, allowing them to reach their destination much easier, practically invisible. However, they didn’t want to slip away and allow their enemies to scatter, they wanted the Morlocks to follow. When they rejoined with the rest of their team, the reunited X-Men would wipe the floor with all their weary pursuers.
Therefore, instead of nudging their enemies’ minds to ignore the trio, the purple-haired kunoichi did the opposite. She fanned their tempers, pricked their aggression and even their lust, focusing them intently on herself and her teammates, even as she telepathically scanned for the other X-Men.
“Not many treadmills in the sewers, huh?” Shadowcat called, enjoying her part in keeping the Morlocks’ attention, “You want us to slow down?”
Psylocke’s brow beaded with sweat, more from telepathic than physical exertion. The task she was performing would have been easy for Marvel Girl, but her own psychic abilities weren’t nearly that advanced. Running and focusing on so many minds, while groping around for the minds of her friends to boot was a juggling act she strained to keep up. Making it doubly frustrating was she hadn’t even managed to pick up the aforementioned Marvel Girl, whose powerful mind should have stuck out like an erupting volcano.
Several darts whizzed towards their backs and Shadowcat phased the group once more. The small spikes passed harmlessly through them and clattered off a nearby building.
Wolverine, less accustomed to Kitty’s powers, flinched, then growled in annoyance at her own reaction. It didn’t help her temper that she didn’t like running from a fight, particularly from this group of scum bags.
“Find them yet?” she grumbled to Psylocke, “Even a tingle?”
Psylocke glared, “Yes, I know exactly where they are. I just thought it would be funny not to tell you.”
At the sharp return, Wolverine’s head jerked towards her taller teammate, her eyes narrowing.
“Watch it, ninja Barbie.” the young berserker growled.
“This isn’t like going for a stroll in the park,” Psylocke ignored the warning tone, “So make yourself useful and snarl at something else. Or at the very least, stop distracting me.”
Wolverine tensed, curling her upper lip. Having been raised to be an assassin from birth, she was more used to handling confrontations with violence than trading barbed words. She had enough control that she would never attack Psylocke for something as innocent as an insult, but the instinct was there and her blood was already up.
Aware of this, Kitty stepped in before either of them could say more.
“Cut the chatter, X-Men!” she snapped, sounding very much like Wolverine’s predecessor, “Laura, stop distracting Betsy! Betsy, stop acting snooty! We’re on mission!”
Wolverine growled faintly and let the moment pass, but Psylocke flushed slightly, realizing she’d just been scolded. She opened her mouth to say something back, but stopped, admitting Kitty was right.
“Hmph,” the ninja grunted instead, “Remember when you were younger and you’d cry every time Logan looked at you? I miss those days…”
Shadowcat smirked and looked Psylocke up and down.
“Yeah, I remember those days,” she replied, “Back then you wore clothes.”
Psylocke couldn’t help but grin at that.
In the midst of their ambulatory banter, the three X-Men didn’t notice a glistening puddle on the ground in front of them. Even if they hadn’t been running, focusing on other attackers, and talking amongst each other, it would have been difficult to spot, little more than a patch of sidewalk with a slight shine to it. It could have been a rain puddle or just a trick of the light on a hot day.
“Touche—eey!”
Psylocke’s reply became a yelp as her lead foot struck the puddle and slipped out from under her. Kitty followed suit immediately afterwards, both women falling into the puddle of grease-like goop with grunts of pain.
Only Wolverine had fast enough reflexes to turn what would have been a spectacular fall into a slide. Snarling in surprise, she squeaked across the puddle on her heels, then stumbled to a stop on the opposite side.
“Make way!” a shrill voice cried, “For the magnificent Toad!”
Wolverine whirled towards the voice even as she regained her balance, but not fast enough to defend herself. A pair of almost clownishly large feet slammed into her chest, driven by lean, supernaturally powerful legs. The young X-Man was thrown away with a deep thud of impact, while her attacker back-flipped off her and landed in a low, bug-like crouch.
Psylocke and Kitty, tangled with each other and winded, struggled to get up in the slippery trap that had been left for them.
“Yuck…” Psylocke groaned, “Tell me… that’s not who I think it was…”
“I’d love to…” Shadowcat agreed.
Deciding to get up the easy way, Kitty simply phased herself, floated out of the tangle of limbs, then set herself down outside the puddle. She leaned down to help Psylocke up then they both faced their ambusher, their costumes and skins unfortunately shining with the transparent mucus he’d left for them.
Still crouched, an impish, unimpressive little man grinned at the pair of them, wearing the leggings and jerkin of a court jester. He had a cartoonishly wide mouth and beady, cunning eyes, giving him a somewhat demonic expression of glee, particularly as he eyed over the beautiful women before him. He had a squat torso but wiry muscle in his arms and legs, his posture hunched, doing everything he could to imitate his amphibian namesake.
The Toad, weakest and slimiest of the X-Men’s foes, ran his tongue over his lips as he stared at the X-Men. The green, supernaturally long appendage slurped over the entire lower half of his face before he snapped it back into his mouth.
“Pretty Kitty and sexy Psylocke,” he giggled, “You should be honored! Today you will be taken by the terrible Toad!”
“So gross,” Kitty wrinkled her nose, “And he’s not even a Morlock.”
Psylocke merely sighed, “Was only a matter of time, really. If anyone’s a disgusting sewer dweller, it’s the Toad.”
Cackling, the Toad sprang at them as the rest of the Morlocks caught up to join the battle.
