The Evil That We Do
"Do not go gentle into that good night but rage, rage against the dying of the light."
Hanks laboratory 10.00 pm
"So now thou know my story and why thy death is necessary. Thou know that I take no pleasure from the kill and thou must think me the worst of monsters, vampire, succubus, thou would be right," there was a hint of self-loathing in Maeve's voice.
Hank didn't know which emotion was uppermost in his mind, hatred for Maeve or pity for her. The sheer number of victims of her feeding over the years was horrifying and almost beyond comprehension, tens of thousands, enough to fill a large town. Yet she claimed to have loved them all and she could remember each and every one of the faces. She would live forever with the memories of her deeds haunting her for all time. She was an External but unlike some she needed to feed of the life of others to sustain her own. Without feeding she rapidly weakened lapsing into a coma such as the one McCoy had released her from. A hundred years of hell had nearly cost her sanity and she fad felt overwhelming love and gratitude for her savior. She wanted to make him happy and killing Hank, removing his better half so to speak would be the best way to ensure his lasting happiness.
"Are thou would like to speak yes, very well then I shall hear thy words noble Beast," she smiled wondering whether he would praise her beauty.
"They love not poison that do poison use," gasped Hank.
"Thou understand thou art indeed the gentleman that thou seem and I am undone. This changes everything. I need not take thy life for I have already sated the raging thirst within me. Give me thy word that thou shall not interfere with mine plans or the machinations of thy counterpart and I will grant thee mercy."
Hank felt the psychic tendrils probing through layer after layer of his mind sifting through his memories, dreams, fantasies, hopes, desires and secrets. She knew that he would not stand by and allow her to continue killing innocent people that he was her enemy and she should kill him but she did not want to do this. Names were coming into his mind, Keats, Mozart, Shakespeare, men she had impressed with her beauty, who had immortalized her in poem or music or play. She was thinking of Keats, the man she had loved most of all dying and asking a final boon of her, a quick and painless death. She had come to a decision, one she knew was perhaps not wise but that she thought was right.
"Thou shall live another day Hank, what in the world?"
There was the sound of crackling and hissing and the door flew open with loud explosion like fireworks. Framed in the doorway was a young woman of Oriental appearance, blue eyes sparkling with anger. Not pausing for a second Jubilee fired off another burst of her fireworks hitting Maeve in the chest and bowling her over.
"Get away from Hank you creepy vampire. I know what you did to Nick and for that you're going down big time," yelled Jubilee.
"Thou hast ruined mine favorite dress mortal fool. For that thou shall perish!" hissed Maeve and the lightning began crackling around her fingertips as she unleashed an intense burst of psychic energy towards her brash young opponent.
"Stars and garters," whispered Hank in dismay.
The two women began circling round each other looking for an opening both waiting for the other to make the first move. Maeve couldn't believe that she hadn't detected this young woman's presence and even now it was hard to read her. Could she be shielded somehow from detection? Still she would find a way, slip past any meager defenses and her enemies mind would be her playground and Jubilee a toy for her amusement. Nobody messed with her clothes and lived to tell the tale.
McCoy's Mansion 10.00pm
McCoy gritted his teeth as Fatale finished applying the bandaged to his wounded arm and placed it in a sling. It was going to take some time for the torn muscles and tendons to repair themselves even with his quick healing and the regen pack she had applied. A cracked jaw, broken nose, deep gash in his side, cracked rib, all in all he'd gotten off lightly. It had worried Pitch Black and Salamander half to death when he'd collapsed but he was strong, he would survive and soon he would be as good as new. He healed quicker than most although of course nowhere near as quickly as Logan. Still Logan had received by far the worse of the punishment really.
"I wonder how long it will take him to regenerate an eye Fatale?" mused McCoy.
"I should worry about your injuries McCoy. You're lucky to still be breathing, if he'd been anywhere near top form you wouldn't have lasted five seconds. All he would need would be one good blow and it would all be over for you. Why did you need to engage in such a display of macho crap and try taking him on in a stand up fight? You've got minions to do your fighting for you," Fatale seemed half angry and half concerned for him.
"I love the fighting dear and it's something at which I excel. I've stood my own against Sabretooth in the past, nearly killed Vargas when we clashed, I've survived by making sure I take every advantage I can, fighting with my brain as well as my claws. Still there's just something immensely satisfying, primal in using the weapons my mutation has provided me with. After all these claws and fangs were made for ripping flesh so why shouldn't I use them? Besides any battle you survive is a victory," said McCoy.
"Look I just don't like seeing you get hurt. I care for you and don't you forget that you furry gray fool. Now just promise me you'll take things easy at least for a day or two," her voice was tender now.
"Of course I will my dear," for a moment his face softened and then he rose to his feet stumbling slightly as he did so.
Fatale offered him her shoulder to lean on and with her assistance he managed to limp to the door.
Hanks Laboratory 10.05 pm
Jubilee's senses were screaming at her that this was no ordinary mutant she was facing. There was something ancient about her and a terrible darkness, the same feeling one got when in the presence of an External, that they had already grown old long before you were born and that they would be here long after you were dust on the wind. There also seemed an almost palpable aura of death around the woman. Jubilee was reminded of Sean telling her about the banshee the spirit that was his namesake. Sometimes an old crone but at others a beautiful woman who came just before death and wailed mournfully foretelling of impending doom.
"I'm taking you down witch," snarled Jubilee firing off another burst.
"I am no witch child though I have been known by many names, banshee, Leanan-Sidhe, faerie queen, Mab, Morrigan, Titania, La Belle Dame sans Merci, Queen of Air and Darkness, Lilith. I was all of them and more child and thou art as nothing before me. What hope do thou have against me?"
Maeve was circling slowly around her bobbing and weaving, almost dancing and Jubilee found she was unable to take her eyes of her. It was like a cobra hypnotizing its prey with its swaying just before it struck. The long dagger-like nails suddenly struck with blinding speed and Jubilee only just managed to whip her head away in time earning a gash on her cheek. Maeve paused to lick the blood from her nails and struck again, a cobra-like jab in an attempt to put out her foe's eyes. Jubilee thought back, leaping and driving back Maeve with a kick. The External staggered back and suddenly it was as if mist were filling the room.
Jubilee's fireworks lit up the room as she fired burst after burst in Maeve's general direction. The lightning came in reply striking her, nearly stopping her heart and making her cry out in agony. Another burst of fireworks, another shriek of pain from her enemy and then they were upon each other again. Pounding fists and feet against slashing nails, Jubilee fought dirty slamming her forehead into Maeve's jaw and following it up with a sweep kick that nearly tripped her enemy.
Suddenly where there had been one of Maeve there were now six. Obviously some sort of illusion but which one was real. Jubilee fired fireworks of at random trying to hit something, anything but more and more enemies were appearing. Laughing, violet eyes were glittering with mirth, too sharp canines showing in delighted smiles, raven hair whipping as if in a breeze, it was too distracting. For a second, only a second Jubilee dropped her barriers trying to clear the pain in her head and that second was all her enemy needed. Psychic tendrils extended into her mind and Jubilee screamed in horror as the first image came into her mind. Her parents dying all over again only this time she was the one who pulled the trigger. Then Logan as she first saw him crucified and left to die by the Reavers but this time Lady Deathstrike flayed him alive with her adamantium talons while she was forced to watch.
Jubilee's horrified screams filled the room and Hank watched unable to move a muscle to help her, paralyzed by Maeve's power. Beak watched also wishing he could gather his courage to help her but memories of Cassandra Nova and what she had forced him to do make him helpless. What could he do anyway; he was just an ugly freak with no real power.
"Thy end is nigh child!" laughed Maeve triumphantly.
McCoy's mansion 10.20pm
It was easier to walk now though he was still limping and McCoy consoled himself with the thought that wherever he was now, Logan was probably feeling a whole lot worse. Anyway he only had to make it as far as the bathroom so he could wash his hands and get rid of the rather nasty substance still clinging to his claws. McCoy was startled out of his thoughts by the familiar rattling of spines.
Looking up McCoy saw a concerned Mantichora looking him over, the usually fierce yellow eyes now displaying an uncommon emotion, worry. So unusual to see that in the cocky young man but there was pride in there as well. He approached cautiously sniffing at McCoy's hand. The nostrils flared and a rough tongue licked across Mantichora's lips as he caught the scent of blood.
"As you can see Connor I am somewhat battered but I survived my little clash with Logan."
"Yeah I wanted to say that I'm proud of you, you're stronger than the Wolverine and the Beast, even stronger than Sabretooth. Would you mind telling me something though?"
"Yes?"
"What's that on your claws?"
"What's left of Logan's eye after I tore it from its socket? I imagine it was most painful. Why thank you Mantichora, you are a good boy," purred McCoy as Mantichora handed him a handkerchief.
Mantichora's spines rattled as he accepted the pat on his head. The claws which had so recently closed around his tender throat now ruffled his shaggy hair affectionately. Mantichora felt his tail thumping against the floor as he wagged it.
"Now be a good boy and go and join the others for a while. I really must go and wash my hands, get rid of the dried blood. I'll join you all later, alright."
"As you wish sir," purred Mantichora still blessed out.
Hanks laboratory 10.25pm
Jubilee was nearly at the breaking point, she doubted she could withstand much more before she gave in to blessed insanity. She was huddled on the floor; eyes screwed shut, hands clamped over her ears in a vain attempt to make herself blind and deaf to the torment. She wailed piteously as in her mind Emplate's long proboscis was forced down her throat as he began to feed on her, draining the life out of her and it would never stop. Maeve knew her every fear, all her dirty little secrets and she was using every last one of them in an effort to break her.
"How could thou ever have thought that you could stand a chance against me? Thou art nothing, thou art nothing."
Beak suddenly came to a realization. He had been overlooked all the time by Maeve considered too insignificant to bother with. Maybe she was right, he wasn't brave, he didn't have any fancy powers and maybe he was just an ugly freak like she thought. Still he couldn't stand by any longer and just watch Jubilee being slowly tortured to death with that madwoman running roughshod through her mind. Beak thought quickly trying to come up with anything that might work against her. Then his beak gaped open in a grin as the perfect thought came to him.
If there was one thing about Maeve it was her vanity, she held her beauty as the most important thing about her and in the long speech she made to Hank there had been frequent references to it, especially that long lustrous black hair of which she seemed inordinately proud. Now he could just reach behind her clamp his beak on her hair and tug with all his might!
Maeve let out a horrified shriek as many of her long tresses were pulled right out. She turned seeing Barnell spitting out the hair and sent him toppling with a most unladylike blow of her fist. In doing so she ceased concentrating on Hank and Jubilee releasing them from the grip of her power. Hank sprang forward with a roar and Maeve let out another shriek and stumbled back into the path of Jubilee.
Jubilee released all the force of her anger into one colossal blast that sent Maeve smashing through the wall and into the corridor outside. She lay groaning, hair ruined, pale skin marred by soot and bruises and clothes tattered and shredded. She glared up at them, violet eyes flashing with rage.
"Thy deaths shall be most terrible for thy temerity, thou have mine word on that," she hissed.
Before they could do anything she seemed to dissolve into mist which flowed about them chilling them to the bone. The mist cleared and off Maeve there was no sign.
"Did we just win Mr. McCoy," whispered Beak.
"We survived Barnell but she will be back and you know what they say. Hell hath no fury like a woman shorn," said Hank wearily.
"I think I need a shower," moaned Jubilee.
Trish Tilby's apartment 11.00 pm
"Eleven deaths in the past two weeks alone, all of them involving young men found as withered husks. Now that's just weird even for this crazy town. Yeah you're right this is definitely worth investigating. Yeah Reed I'll get in touch with Hank, he'll probably be able to help me out with this. Oh and give my love to Susan and Franklin, bye," said Trish.
She put down the phone and poured herself a whisky. It seemed there was some kind of serial killer there and the weird thing was the strange woman seen with the men shortly before they were found dead. Like some kind of elf or faerie queen, beautiful like an angel of death.
"She's probably a mutant and a deadly one at that. Still Hank will know what to do. Now I think it's time for bed. I'll ring him in the morning," sighed Trish.
She was going to have a busy day ahead of her tomorrow doing everything in her power to track down that mysterious and deadly woman, find her and stop her before anyone else got killed. Still Hank would know what to do.
Xavier Institute for Higher Learning 11.30 pm
Hank heard the knock and opened the front door unable to suppress a shudder of horror as Logan practically collapsed into his arms. The man's clothing was in tatters and he was still bleeding slightly although his wounds were mostly healed. Through the smell of dried blood a familiar scent of a person who Hank knew only too well lingered. Coughing weakly Logan looked up and Hank gasped in horror as he saw the bloody gaping hole where Logan's eye should have been.
"Oh my stars and garters, I'll get you to the infirmary immediately. Oh your eye," whispered Hank.
"Don't ya worry about that fuzz-ball, it'll grow back eventually. Ya know I'm going ta have ta start wearing my eye-patch again until then," Logan laughed feebly at his joke.
He clutched Hank's arm roughly and the furry mutant bent forward so that Logan could whisper in his ear. The craggy face was twisted into a worried grimace and he was practically pleading when he spoke.
"Promise ya won't let Jubilee see me like this. I don't want her ta be worried, don't want ta spoil her day till I'm looking decent again."
"Her day has already been spoiled I'm afraid by a visit from a most unwelcome guest," said Hank grimly.
McCoy's mansion 11.45pm
"It's good to see you again Mantichora, dear friend," sighed Salamander as the mutant nodded a greeting.
Mantichora smiled a fang filled grin and allowed his friend to touch him, the only one he allowed to get away with it. The elegant fingers scratched him behind the ear, rubbing the fur just the way he liked it. Mantichora rubbed his head against his friends face like a cat, marking him with his scent telling all that this was his friend and daring anyone to harm him.
"Yeah I heard the boss beat the living daylights out of Logan and that you helped to put him down. I'm proud of you brother and I hope you know that," purred Mantichora.
Salamander nodded, bright blue hair a curious contrast to his tanned skin, almost the same sandy brown as his friends fur. He was a tall man but delicate, almost frail but he whatever he lacked in brawn he made up for in his ability to generate and control plasma. Salamander smiled indolently and held out his hand palm up, a crackle and a green plasma ball formed turning into a rose that he pretended to sniff. That drew a chuckle from Mantichora as it always did.
"Anyway how about we have a game of chess? You never know maybe you'll manage to defeat me this time," growled Mantichora.
"Hardly likely but then I'm the eternal optimist. Maybe this will be my lucky day," said Salamander with a grin.
McCoy smiled amused by the friendly banter between the two. He was resting now in his favorite chair, already halfway through his six pack and feeling much better for the beer. He managed to resist the urge to scratch at his wounds despite the itch that always came when the regen pack was doing its work.
"My dear McCoy thou have been hurt grievously, my poor heart, let me soothe the pain," whispered Maeve.
Her gentle touch and the telepathic signal to boost his production of endorphins provided welcome relief from the pain. Looking up he saw the sad disarray of her garments and shook his head in sympathy. She gave her best tight smile, the kind that promised slow death for those who had dared to desecrate her beauty and turned to head to her room.
"Rough day my dear? Never mind, we will kill someone tomorrow and that will make you feel better," said McCoy.
Maeve smiled happily and headed for a shower and a change of clothes. Yes a little bloodshed and some slaughter on the side was just what she could do with at the moment.