A New Beginning
The Great TransformationAll of the X-Men were seated in the War Room. Dr. Steven Strange sat at the head of the table, about to begin speaking. Kitty Pryde sat at the far end of the table from him, lost in her own thoughts. She had been next to Betsy when she was struck by the lightning, and she was still trying to make out what had happened. She was at a loss to explain how it had hit them. It hadn't come through any electrical outlets, or any electrical device for that matter. It had come straight through the ceiling, where there was no scorch mark. Given the time that Jake and Betsy were being electrocuted, they should have both been almost pure ash. She, also, shouldn't have made it. Instead of the intense heat and smell of ozone, there had been no temperature change, and some sweet smell she could not place. There had also been an ethereal, soothing sensation emanating from both Betsy and Jake as they carried them to the med-lab. Her thoughts were interrupted as a renewed roll of thunder hit the mansion.
The storm kept pounding against the walls of the mansion. Thunder echoed in the sky as if the Titans and the Ysir were challenging the Olympians and the Aesir. It rolled massively out of the heavens once again, shaking the very foundations of the earth. The sound reverberated throughout the mansion, shaking the foundation as if an earthquake had struck. Rain kept pouring down in buckets, drenching everything in the open, making small rivers of muddy water. The small rivers gradually flowed together, a deluge forming in low places. Lightning struck the earth in a beautiful, deadly dance, fires beginning to break out where the rain had not been able to touch. Throughout all of this, the X-Men were gathered in the War Room, waiting restlessly for Doctor Strange to begin speaking.
"I would like to begin by explaining that I have come here out of the utmost importance. Though I am sure that none of you know it, we are on the very brink of a war that has been in the making for eons."
"What are you talking about," asked Bobby, anxiety clearly in his voice.
"Yes, Steven, we are curious as to what you mean. As far as current events go, there are no new matters for either mutants, or our country that would necessitate force. I do not foresee any other military conflict than those in which we are currently involved, my friend," Hank said. Though he knew this to be true, he an odd feeling that what his friend was about to say would have nothing to do with political affairs.
"You are correct, Henry. However, I believe that for all of you to fully understand what is going to happen, I should start from the beginning." He picked up the glass of water sitting to his right, and took a sip. "Nearly five thousand years ago, a man was born in ancient Egypt. Born ugly and malformed, he was left for dead. He was found by a band of nomads, who named him En Sabah Nur, which means "The First One". The Pharaoh at the time, Rama Tut, knew that En Sabah Nur would someday become a very powerful man, and would be known as Apocalypse. The Pharaoh tried to persuade Apocalypse to be his heir, but Sabah Nur refused. He fought Rama Tut, and won, thereby becoming the next ruler of Egypt."
"You mean to tell me this Apocalypse guy I've heard so much about was nearly five millennia old," asked Celeste, incredulously.
"Yes," answered Strange calmly. "The high priest of Rama Tut offered to be Apocalypse's high priest, but Apocalypse refused. He, instead, forced a man by the name of Carak, the leader of a cult that believed Ra was not the most powerful god. They believed this more powerful deity was named Archelon. They also believed that he ruled from a place they called the Other Realm."
Strange took a look around the room. "As it turns out, this cult was not far from the truth."
"What do you mean," asked Professor Xavier. He suddenly felt an odd feeling in the back of his mind. He had an idea of what Strange was about to say.
"What I mean to say is that this "Archelon" does exist." He paused, for effect. "However, he is now called Archon. And, though Carak and his followers believed him to be a deity, he is not. He is beyond godhood. Gods, such as Thor and Odin, only have abilities over one planet, or one universe. Archon, however, rules in a kingdom all his own that is the crossroads for all universes."
"What is this place," asked Peter. He was curious, but not only that, he still wondered who was in his memories between his death and subsequent resurrection.
"It is known as many things. It has been called the Kingdom of the Dead, as many who die go there. It has been known as Asgard, as well as Olympus. It is the Kingdom of the Gods, and the Realm of the Supernatural. Today, it is known by its given name. It is called Avalon."
"If Arthurian legends are true, then what you're saying is that Arthur's grave is in a world of dead people," Celeste said. "Care to explain that?"
"Suffice to say that there is a relatively large human population there," answered Strange. "Now, I would like to try and explain what is happening to your friends, if I may." He sat in silence for a moment, contemplating how to explain what he was about to say. "Archon has a brother, whose name is Brakran." A sudden darkness filled the room, and a chill swept down their spines as the name was said. "I will not say that name again, and will, instead, refer to him as the Dark One, or Evil One. Archon learned that his brother, burning with jealous hatred, had decided that he would someday march from his own world known as Hedran, and attempt to conquer Avalon. Therein, however, lay the problem. In order to attack Avalon, the Evil One needed to find the one universe where the portal to Avalon opened. You see there is no direct link between Hedran and Avalon. In the end, Archon's brother found the universe and the planet. Ours.
"Knowing that his brother would find the portal if he was allowed to search, Archon decided to create the Protectors. When the time came, he would send forth two mortals, armed with incredible power, to defend our world. One would always be male, and the other female. He, however, knew that at some point, things would come to a head. This would be when his brother decided to make an all out invasion on our world. At that point, Archon would send forth the last, and greatest of the Protectors. Though they would die, if they were ever needed again, he would resurrect them. Believing earthly weapons to be too frail to undertake the protection of the portal in the invasion, Archon created two blades. The first, he named Echeliron, and would be given to the man. The second, he named Ichí-nalá, which would be given to the woman. Each would possess a small amount of Archon's magic, and would increase the abilities of the owner." He paused again to collect his thoughts.
"Excuse me, but what does this have to do with Betsy and Jake," Jubilee asked. "You don't really think that they're these protecting people," she said, disbelievingly.
With a slight smile Strange answered, "Yes, I do."
"Why da ya think Jake an' Betsy are these guys," Logan asked.
"To answer that question, I have to go back to Carak," answered Strange. "Sabah Nur, one day, sent Carak to Hamunaptra, the legendary City of the Dead. There, he received several visions; that we know for sure. However, afterwards, he simply disappeared, seemingly perishing in the Sahara."
"How can you be certain he received visions, as you call them, if he disappeared," asked Hank.
"Two reasons. The first is that Apocalypse received Carak's first vision. This vision was that he would be defeated many, many years into the future by a man half metal and half flesh."
"Nathan," whispered Scott.
"Yes, your son, Cable. The second reason is that a papyrus manuscript was found in the Sahara approximately one thousand years ago. It had the seal of Sabah Nur, and described, in vivid detail, many events that would occur in the five thousand years following its initial transcription. It spoke of the ascension of power of Julius Caesar. It spoke of Attila the Hun, Genghis Khan, and the fall of Rome. It even went so far as to describe World War I and II. However, it also spoke of the Protectors.
"It described who each of them was. One of the first was Alexander the Great, but the name of the woman who was his equal has been lost. Others have included King Arthur and Sir Lancelot, who was actually the Queen Guinevere. The manuscript stated that each wielded a facsimile of one of the swords created by Archon. It stated that only the last Protectors would actually have the blades." He paused again. He now came to the most difficult part.
"Each time that the Protectors inherited their destiny, they were struck by lightning from a powerful, magical storm sent by Lord Archon, himself. And, each time, they underwent a change."
"What do you mean by change, Steven," asked Hank. The amount of information he had received thus far was incredible. Now, he had a feeling that whatever his friend was about to say, it would affect them all personally.
"They undergo a physical change that results in them being in incredible shape. They receive new abilities, which are absolutely phenomenal. However, there is one other thing. After they receive their new abilities, other things may also change. For most, their abilities are only magnified. However, in some instances, usually with couples, abilities are added from another."
"What are you saying," asked Professor Xavier.
"I'm saying that if this were to happen to say, Gambit and Rogue, the both of them would retain their own abilities. However, they would also attain the other's abilities. So, for example, Rogue, beyond her current abilities, would be able to charge objects with energy, and Gambit would be able to absorb others' abilities, fly, and have superhuman strength." All the couples in the room shared a glance with each other: Logan and Jean, Rogue and Remy, Jubilee and Bobby, and between Henry and Ororo, though only Professor Xavier saw this.
"There is no way to stop it, then," Hank queried.
"No, to my knowledge, it is inevitable."
"Steven," said the Professor, "you said before that these Protectors have a great amount of power." He looked around the room. "What exactly do you mean by that?"
"The manuscript said that the Protectors would have numerous powers, and it has taken quite a long time for sorcerers and such to interpret what it means. However, this is what we know for certain. Carak wrote that the last Protectors would be the most powerful beings on the planet. Until the last ten years or so, no one could have guessed the ramifications of that statement.
"Carak wrote that they would have the greatest physical and strength of any man, and that combined, they would have greater magical abilities than all of the Asgardians and Olympians combined."
"Care to explain that in lay man's terms," Jubilee said.
Strange spoke slowly, his voice very grave. "Simply, what it means is that they are incredibly powerful. But, before I explain it any further, this is the power they would have when they are at their peak levels. Physically, they would each be stronger than the Incredible Hulk. Mentally, they would each be more powerful than Nathan Grey, X-Man. And together, their magic would be powerful enough to destroy the universe and recreate it as they wished."
Morning had now come, and the X-Men were still awestruck by what they had learned. They had found out that two of the three people in the infirmary were the two most powerful beings in the universe. It occurred to Celeste that they made even made Onslaught look like he was nothing. No, she corrected herself, less than nothing. Naval lint. They were more powerful than Galactus. They were even more powerful than the Phoenix. Hell, they were more powerful than Galactus AND the Phoenix. The sheer thought of that amount of energy sent a shudder down her back. But, Strange had said that they would only be that strong at the peak of their abilities. He had also told them that they would only experience it when it was needed, whatever that meant.
Somehow, Celeste found that she had walked into the med-lab. She saw Jake and Betsy both lying in their beds, apparently dreaming peacefully. She turned her head, and saw Joey's bed completely empty, with the sheets rustled around. She searched for him near the bed, but found nothing. She was about to call Hank down, and tell him that Joey had disappeared when she heard a toilet flush. Turning around, she was just in time to see the door to the bathroom open. Out of it stepped Joey dressed in a hospital gown.
"Joey," she said a little too loudly.
"Cel?" He looked up just in time to see her charge and give him a strong hug. She had run at him so suddenly, and hugged him so hard, that she had nearly knocked his two hundred ninety pound frame back into the bathroom. With her face buried in his heavily muscled chest, she said something he couldn't understand.
"What'd you say, Cel?"
"I said I thought I lost you."
"Nope," he said, looking into her violet eyes. "It takes more than one of those damn robots to keep me down." He bent down a kissed her. And, for that moment, all their worries, all their problems seemed to vanish.
It had now been a month since the night that the storm had passed over them. Since then, Strange had been receiving many odd bits of information concerning the storm that had passed over Westchester so long ago. Most of the X-Men had already changed, or were in the process of the change. After the storm had struck them, it had gone south, to New York City, where it apparently affected the Avengers, Daredevil, and Spider-Man. With Daredevil, there now was often seen a woman with black hair dressed in red, who, it was believed, possessed the same abilities as Daredevil. Logan had confirmed that she was Elektra, an assassin, and former lover of Daredevil's. And, with Spider-Man, there was now seen a woman, who apparently had the same abilities as he. Logan didn't know who she was, but he knew her scent. Logan said that they at least had to have been lovers at one time. The storm had headed west then, afflicting the Hulk, and a host of others. Currently, it was believed to have headed to Britain, though Strange was not sure.
But the X-Men had now changed, though. The only ones who had not thus far were Logan and Jean. Betsy and Jake had undergone at least a physical transformation, to a certain degree. When they had awakened, three hours after Joey, they had retained their same abilities, except that Betsy could no longer create her sword. When Betsy woke up, the mark of the Crimson Dawn, the red, blade-shaped tattoo over her right eye, was gone. Jake, on the other hand, had gone through a complete makeover. He had only been five foot five when he had arrived at the mansion, and now he was six foot three. His face remained the same, except now it appeared more weathered, and more battle hardened. The muscles in his arms and legs were much more defined. In fact, his body was so powerful, he was comparable only to Peter. Jake had also found, to his utter amazement, that he could walk.
Now, though, the X-Men were all gathered in the Danger Room. They were here, for the most part, to test their magnified, and in some cases, new abilities. Dr. Strange was in the observation room with Professor Xavier, Logan, Jean, Jake, and Betsy. He had come and gone throughout the last month, and had seen most of the new things they could do. He was looking through the files when they ended their exercises.
Joey was the first to be affected by the magic. It was probably due to the fact that he had been so close to both Jake and Betsy. It had hit him the night after he woke up, which had happened to be a lovers' moon. He and Celeste had gone out to dinner and to see a movie. They had been walking towards the car under the cloudless night, when Celeste's purse was stolen. Joey had run after the guy, his irises glowing yellow: wolf's eyes. Celeste would report later that she had thought she heard a growl from Joey just before he took off. A few moments later, she heard a high-pitched, bone-chilling scream. She ran in the direction Joey went, and found a sight she would not soon forget. The mugger was on the ground face up, with his chest torn wide open. His partner, or so she guessed, was being held two feet off the ground by a clawed hand covered in gray fur. Her eyes followed the heavily muscled arm to a creature nine feet tall. It had the head and legs of a wolf, and the torso and arms of a man. Its entire body was covered in a heavy coat of gray fur. It wasn't a werewolf, though; it was Joey. When he saw her, he looked to the man he was holding, who had weighed down his pants quite a bit. Then, he looked at the man on the ground, and immediately let go his hold. He turned human almost at once and fell to his knees, crying aloud, "What have I done?"
In the end, Celeste had to pull him away, trying to convince him what was done was done. Since then, they had discovered all his powers. The werewolf was only a transition between his wolf and human forms. However, they had discovered that in the werewolf state, he could lift nearly ten tons, and had a powerful healing factor. They had also found that his jaws could bite down with nearly 5,000 pounds per square inch.
The others had followed suit, beginning shortly after. Celeste, whose malleable form could take on any shape, size, and color, found that she was able to sling globs of herself, in whatever shape she wanted. The surgery Sinister performed on Remy seemed to reverse itself, causing his true power to come forth, plus some. He found that he was immune to Rogue's skin, and that he could charge a card so much that it was equal to ten sticks of dynamite. Rogue's great strength was increased, as was Colossus'. Hank was faster, stronger, and more agile, while Bobby was so powerful, he could freeze the entire city of New York. Bishop could absorb more energy; Archangel could now move at near supersonic speeds, and much greater strength. Cyclops, though he still could not stop his optic blasts, could now control the strength of them. Nightcrawler and Shadowcat could now both make themselves invisible, besides their own powers. Storm had gained her sorceress' inheritance, while Jubilee could now create fireworks so hot that they could easily penetrate a tank. Last, but not least, Professor Xavier's telepathy had increased enormously; so much, in fact, he no longer needed Cerebro to find anybody on the planet.
Hank had taken DNA samples of all of them, and had confirmed that these abilities were, in fact, genetic. He had also looked at the four remaining mutants whose powers had not changed at all. Logan and Jean's respective DNA sequences had appeared normal. Jake and Betsy's though, were incredibly odd. It seemed as if they no longer just had their original abilities, but rather an amalgamation of abilities. He still wasn't quite sure what they were, though.
As the X-Men relaxed after their "exercise", they sat in the giant living room watching some movie about aliens. Peter and Bobby were sitting next to each other, waiting for their respective girlfriends, Kitty and Jubilee. They were going to see some movie.
"Hey, Pete," Jake began. "What movie are you going to?"
"I'm not too sure, comrade. But it was Jubilee's idea, so it is probably some teen romance movie."
"What's wrong with teen romance movies," asked Jubilee as she came in.
"I have nothing against romantic movies, nor anything else romantic. Teen romance movies tend to be uninteresting, though."
"I bet you'd rather see a movie based on The Hunchback of Notre Dame, huh?"
"Yes, in fact, I would. The book is tragic, but yet, romantic."
"How can it be tragic and romantic at the same time, huh, Pete," Jubilee countered.
"At the end of the book, Quasimodo d-," he said, before he was interrupted.
"Well, we're off," said Jean, walking down the stairs, wearing a tank top and leather pants. Several steps behind her was Logan, wearing his customary black T-shirt, jeans, and an old pair of boots. They were going to a bar somewhere. It seemed like they had begun to hang out more at Logan's old haunts.
As they walked out the door, Peter continued. "As I was saying, at the end of the book, Quasimodo goes to Esmeralda's "grave" in the catacombs where he dies by her side."
"Hey, I thought they both lived."
"Well, everyone has to live in the Disney version, Jubes," Jake said facetiously. When she glared at him, he just smiled innocently, as if to say, "What did I do?"
Logan was sitting at the bar next to Jean. There were currently in a biker bar that, to his knowledge, didn't have a name. The entire place was pretty much beat up. The bar itself was dingy, the wooden floor looked like a barn, and the glasses were just barely clean enough to drink from. Throughout the room were numerous whores, most with gaudy make-up applied in excess. Some of the people seemed to be at least partially respectable, but most looked like the average assortment of rednecks, thugs, and rough truck drivers.
He loved it. But, he was still surprised that Jean had wanted to come here, of all places. He had noticed, though, that her personality had been slowly changing over the last month. Instead of what she had been like before, she was actually acting a little like him. He was taking it in stride, though. Besides, he hadn't had a good bar brawl in a long time. He was actually kind of hoping for a fight.
"Jeannie, why'd ya wanna come here," he asked.
"I don't know, Logan. It just seemed like a good idea," she said, smiling, and drinking the last of her beer. That was another thing he had noticed: she could now drink like a fish. She could drink more than anyone else in the mansion, save him. But, he thought, no one could drink as much as he could. He could drink so much solely because of his healing factor; it made the liquor have no affect on him. He could drink so much that he could register as dead with a Breathalyzer, and still be completely sober. He finished the last of his own beer, and paid, surprised they had been left alone.
They both stood to leave, the only person noticing being the bartender. He gave them a slight nod as they stepped out the door into the night. The skies were completely clear, the cool air seemingly brightening the stars. The moon shone eerily as they walked into the alley that led to the small parking area. Despite its brightness, the moon did little to light the small alley, which had only two, small pole-mounted lights on either end.
"Logan," Jean said, looking into her husband's eyes. "Something doesn't feel right. Do you smell or hear anything?"
"No," he replied. "But, yer right. Somethin' doesn't seem right." He inched his way forward, his nostrils twitching as he sniffed for any danger. She followed closely, her mind scanning for anyone that might be in the shadows. But, like Logan, she didn't sense anyone. Maybe that's why you're looking for something, a stray thought flashed through her head. Was it something, she wondered. She wasn't sure. Someone or something was there. They both felt it.
Suddenly, the lights shattered, and out of the shadows, pairs of arms grabbed them both, yanking them off the ground. The arms slammed them both into the wall, forcing the air out of their chests. Jean heard Logan roar, the sound almost deafening in her ear, and then the unmistakable sound of his claws unsheathing. She felt a pair of hands against her body, holding her just under the arms. The hands were almost crushing her chest, the fingers digging into skin like daggers. She tried using her telekinesis to forced the hands off of her, but found she couldn't. That was when she felt the weight on her head, and manacles on her hands, holding her in place on the wall.
"There is no use struggling, dear heart," a rotten voice said. "That weight on your head is made to specifically block your abilities." That was when the people holding them turned on lights. Seeking out the source, Jean found that it was coming from white gems mounted on a pair of staffs. Looking around, Jean saw Logan pinned against the same wall as her, his hands bound in manacles embedded in the wall, with a heavy looking circlet of metal on his head. It was the same thing she had on her head, she realized. Then she noticed the blood. He was bleeding from open wounds on his hands, where his claws extended. Blood was running down his arms, and dripping on the ground beneath him. "You aren't going to get away."
Her and Logan's attention was turned to the man speaking. He was easily six and a half feet tall. He had dark hair pulled into a braid, and a dark goatee, accentuating his face. He was a very handsome man, except for his eyes. There was something … something evil in those eyes. They were pure black, and shone with an almost gleeful malevolence. As he smiled, Jean felt her stomach turn, and her skin crawl. Somewhere, in the deep recesses of her mind, she knew that had she been pregnant, had she been with child, she would have surely lost it. The man's teeth gleamed in the torchlight, the impeccable whiteness almost drawing her attention away from his eyes. His smile, she realized, was there to take focus off his eyes. But, whatever benefit it did for him was ruined; all of his teeth seemed to come to points, like the gaping maw of a great shark.
"Now, let's get down to business," the first one said. He motioned to one of the other three men, who gave him a black clipboard. "Let's find out who you are." He started flipping through the pages, looking at Jean and Logan, comparing them to printed pictures. Finally, he came to the pictures he was looking for. Walking towards Logan, he said, "So you would be the great Wolverine?" He grabbed Logan's lower face, turning his head back and forth. "Not very impressive if you ask me."
Logan lunged against the manacles holding him, trying to throw off the man's iron grip. But, his hands were too strong. Had his skeleton been normal, the man's hand would have crushed his face. The man pushed his head into the wall, crushing the brick behind him. Blood began oozing out of the cut, flowing unhindered without his healing factor. "I'm gonna kill ya, bub," Logan said, his voice low and menacing.
"I don't think so, Caríl Talúk. You and Casa Nareph over there are going to die by our hands this very night," he said matter-of-factly. He motioned to one of his compatriots, who gave him a long blade, black as obsidian. It was in the shape of a snake, the dark metal curving back and forth, coming to the serpent's head. "This is what we shall kill you with."
As Logan watched, he felt his temper raging. His teeth were gritted into a snarl, and his eyes boiled with barely controlled anger. But, despite the anger, despite the red haze of fury descending over his mind, he could feel something creeping inside his brain. Invisible tentacles were slowly inching their way into his consciousness, trying to make him aware of something … new. The invisible tentacles slowly began coalescing, making him, somehow, more aware. He could sense Jean to his right. But, something was wrong with her. Suddenly, she screamed out in pain, the bloodcurdling cry echoing in the night, and haunting his ears. "JEANNIE!!!"
When the man's attention had been focused on Logan, Jean began to feel an odd weight on her hips. Looking down, she didn't see anything, other than the manacles holding her legs. It took her a few moments longer to realize the weight wasn't on her hips, but was inside her hips. But, the weight seemed to vanish after a moment, though she still wasn't sure what it had been.
And then, what had to be an even odder sensation began creeping down her legs, and up her back. Before she could take a breath, a sudden, sharp pain spread out from her hips, like a jackhammer to the spine. She screamed at the top of her lungs, as the creeping sensation continued, followed by the same intense, searing white pain that began traveling the length of her body. As if her very muscles were being torn from her joints, the pain continued, following the creeping, as it slowly made its way up her back, and down her legs. And, just before passing out, she could have sworn she saw the flaming image of a bird of prey against her clenched eyelids.
The man who gave the leader the clipboard walked over to the unconscious Jean, his face full of wonder. "Leave her alone, bub," he heard the human male say. Ignoring the savage, he looked back at the woman. She was quite beautiful, in her own way. And, though he was loathe to admit it, he had always had a thing for female red-headed humans. His desire was indomitable; he had not had a woman in nearly three centuries. Stepping forward, he raised his hands to ravage her breasts –
"Hesta!" The leader turned the man around with but a flick of the wrist. "You may molest her as you wish, but not until both of them are dead. Do you understand me?" The man nodded quickly, scared of his leader's wrath.
"Tell me, though, lord: Was she supposed to scream like that?"
"No … I do not believe so."
"Then, my lord, what caused her to scream so?"
"I don't know," the leader said, closing the distance between him and Jean.
"Leave her the fuck alone," Logan said, watching helplessly as the man approached her. "Get away from her!" He struggled against his restraints, blood beginning to flow from underneath the manacles.
"Lareth," the leader said to one of his men, "spit on the ape's claws." The man moved towards Logan, braving the intense, animalistic rage shining from his eyes. "This is Lareth", the leader said. "He is of the race of the Akruthen, who spit the most powerful acid in the universe. Let's see how you hold up against concentrated spit without you precious healing factor, you fucking chimp." The man drew his head back, and snapping his head, spit a stream of viscous, crimson fluid on Logan's claws.
He writhed in pain as the concentrated acid dissolved away at his claws. Acid flowed down his arms, leaving streaks of flesh burnt to the bone. His hands, drenched with the corrosive liquid, looked nothing more than stumps of bloody, rotten flesh, white bone showing beneath the adamantium. Logan struggled against the manacles, rage washing over his consciousness, drowning his vision in white hot fury. And then, something just clicked inside his head. The rage almost instantly dissipated, replaced with intense puzzlement. He did not know what happened; only that something was different.
"Look at the fucking chimp," Lareth said. "He's lost in thought." He looked back to Echrin, their leader, questioningly, who nodded. Smiling sadistically, Lareth drew his head back once more, and spit more of the viscous fluid on Logan's knees. The pain hit him like a tidal wave, bringing him back to reality. Screaming in rage, he threw his head against the wall, trying to get leverage to pull out the manacles. But, as the pain ebbed, and his vision cleared, he saw Lareth standing before him, with a demonic grin plastered to his face. And while focusing all of his attention on budging the manacles, somewhere in the dark recesses of his mind he realized that was what they were.
As Lareth was standing before the angry Wolverine, he heard metal hitting asphalt from where the human bitch was hung up. Walking over to her, he was surprised to see one of her legs free. She was a telekinetic, right? But she was unconscious, and had the power dampener on her head, which was specifically designed for her genetic structure. So, how …? Suddenly, he felt he was being watched, almost as if he was being hunted. Turning his head, his eyes met the terrifyingly intense stare of Wolverine. In his eyes, Lareth saw menace, and … victory? And then he understood. "Look out-", he began, just as a manacle hit him in the temple with the force of a speeding Mack truck. He was dead before he hit the ground, green blood and brains coating the opposite wall.
"Soreth," Echrin bellowed, "what happened?"
"Lareth is dead," the fourth man replied. "He's lying next to the human bitch with half his head hanging out."
"How did this happen," Echrin asked as he walked over to the body. That was when the heard metal hitting asphalt, and Hesta crying out in pain. Turning around, they both saw Wolverine on his injured hands and knees, and Hesta, with a manacle sticking half out of his forehead. In horror and fascination, they watched as his bone claws began regrowing. And then, almost as if it was chasing the bone, metal flowed down over the claw, almost as if it were mercury.
"Kill him," Echrin ordered. Soreth, obeying his leader's order, drew his sword, and with a roar of anger, bore down on Wolverine like a medieval soldier. As Soreth lowered his sword to take off his head, Wolverine reared on his knees, and cut cleanly through both the sword and Soreth. Watching in rapt fascination, Echrin muttered, "How is that possible? That sword was pure adamantium." Focusing on Wolverine's claws, he murmured, "There are only two things stronger than adamantium: adamant, itself, and …. Oh, shit."
Determined to end this now, Echrin took out the dagger from his pocket, and raised it high. But, before he could move, he was swung around, and came face to face with the bitch. "Leave him alone." Before he could react, she let out with a hook that would have done Joe Louis proud. He shook his head, and stumbled; he didn't think she could hit that hard. Raising his dagger, she gave him the uppercut to end all uppercuts, starting from the ground, and hitting his chin with all of her strength.
As it landed, she was surprised the pain in her fist; she didn't think he had a chin that hard. But, as he hit the ground, she did not hear the satisfactory thump she was expecting. Instead, she heard four distinct, heavy squelching noises, as if someone had water in their shoes. Following the sound of the fall, she saw that instead of the single body, he was now tetrasected; his body was four messes of black blood, and gore. Looking down at her right hand, she saw three metal claws coated with thin black blood. "Jeannie, you okay?"
"Yeah," she said. "I'm okay." It was not lost on him that she said it a little too matter-of-factly