The Protector Saga, Part I
A New Beginning
Sinister Intentions
Celeste had won the T.V. for the night. It had taken them nearly an hour for the team to decide what to watch. Scott had wanted to watch some kind of craft show. Remy and Rogue had wanted to watch some classic movie, or something. Pete and Hank had wanted to watch something about the mating habits of whales. Apparently, whales were known to have large orgies. She didn't even want to think about it. Logan wanted to watch a fight that was being aired again, because he missed it Saturday. Bobby had wanted to watch some kind of cartoon movie where the all the women had exceptionally large breasts and unrealistic hip sizes. But, she and Kurt had wanted to watch their favorite show, "Boston Public". And, with some help from Joey, they had actually been able to achieve their goal.
Watching the show, Joey's mind began to drift. He had been thinking about what his codename should be. Up until now, he really hadn't given it much thought. Well, he thought, I can turn myself into a wolf or a werewolf at will. As a wolf, I can speak telepathically with anyone I want, and as a werewolf, I have great strength and what not. Maybe Lycanthro? Nah, it's too stupid sounding. Werewolf? Wolf? No! I know. Lobo. Yeah, I like that. His thoughts were interrupted as the Professor entered the room.
"Hey, Prof, I think I finally figured out my codename."
Really? What do you want it to be?
"I was thinking Lobo. An old friend used to call me that."
Really? I hadn't known. Joey caught the knowing smile the older man gave him. Just how much does he know, Joey pondered. The man seemed to know things without even needing to read minds.
"Very well, then, Joseph. Your name shall be Lobo."
"Thanks, Professor," Joey said, his mind elsewhere.
Logan and Jean came into the room a few minutes later, both looking a little ruffled. Remy looked up, and smiled. He had walked past their room on his way to the rec. room, and had heard more than he wanted.
"Remy be wonderin' when de two o' you get done wit' your movie."
"What're you talkin' about, Gumbo," Logan asked gruffly.
Jean placed her hand lightly on her husband's shoulder. Though small, the gesture had the desired effect. It calmed him down. "Logan is taking me up north tomorrow to help me tone my tracking and hunting skills."
"I thought all that stuff comes naturally," Celeste said, taking her eyes off the T.V.
"It does," Jean explained, "but it helps to have practice."
"Practice makes perfect," Bobby chimed in, forced to watch the show.
"It sure does, don't it, Roberto," Jake said, walking in, imitating some kind of southern accent.
"Why the hell do you keep calling me that?"
"Because it annoys you, and until I decide on a proper payback, it'll have to do."
"What do you want payback for?"
"For the room of ice prank you so eloquently performed yesterday," said Betsy, putting her arms around Jake's waist.
"Do I look like the kind of guy that would play pranks?"
"Do not make anyone answer that inquiry, Robert, as it may very well cause irreparable emotional damage," Hank said, hanging upside down from the reinforced chandelier.
"Thanks a lot, Blue."
"'Twas not a problem."
"Hey, Hank," Jake said, "you wanna come with me and Bets tomorrow to that medieval festival that's going on?"
"Inasmuch as I would take pleasure in eating roasted turkey legs, and watch a jousting contest, I cannot. I just have too many things to do in my lab."
"Well, I guess we're gonna go to sleep then. You know we need our energy for tomorrow," Jake said, winking at Betsy.
"If you two are going to sleep early, my name's Shirley Temple," Bobby said.
"Goodnight Shirley," Betsy said, patting Bobby's shoulder.
"Oww. Did you have to hit me so hard?"
"I didn't hit you hard, you crybaby. Goodnight B-. Goodnight Shirley." An aggravated Iceman grunted loudly, resigning himself to watching the show that he loathed so.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Jake woke up, and sighed contentedly. On his right, Betsy was still sleeping quite comfortably. She was so peaceful when she was sleeping. He looked at the clock on the nightstand. It was already ten o'clock. Whoa, he thought. We must have been really tired last night. He smiled devilishly. Kinda makes sense considering all that we did last night. He leaned over and kissed her shoulder ever so slightly. She rolled over almost immediately.
"Morning, love," she said, pulling him close to him, and capturing his lips.
"Good morning, my lovely, sexually insatiable vixen."
"Hmm. Is that what you think of me?"
"But, of course, m'dear," he said, putting his head in her lap. Smiling salaciously, he said, "I kinda like this position, babe."
"You're incorrigible," she said, suddenly standing up. He watched her stand and stretch in her silk pajamas. He smiled. Even in baggy clothes that showed absolutely nothing, she was still incredibly sexy. He looked her up and down, and then got out of bed himself. He stretched, long and slightly painful, wearing only his sleeping pants. He decided it wasn't too late to get breakfast, and starting looking for a shirt to wear downstairs.
"What're you looking for, love," Betsy asked, silently admiring his ass.
"I'm looking for a shirt." He looked around. "Enjoying the view?"
"You know it. Why don't you just go down like that?"
"Because, unlike Logan, I don't really like to be ogled at."
"Who's been ogling you?"
"You know that Melissa kid in the class I'm teaching," he asked, finding the shirt he wore the day before.
"I always thought she was kind of cute."
"Maybe to you. But, me, I can only handle one woman at a time," he said, smiling cockily.
"Well, at least I don't have to worry about you finding some masseuse on the side."
"Nope. I'll see you down there, okay?"
"Be right behind you."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Jake walked into the kitchen and found Bobby reading the comics page of the newspaper. Joey was next to him, reading the sports page. Jake went to the cupboard, and took down a box of cereal. He was about to ask Joey the score of the hockey game the night before, when Bobby spoke up.
"I knew you two weren't going to sleep early," he said, looking up. "I could here the two of you all the way down the hall. You know what that means, don't you?"
"No, what," Jake asked, placing a large bowl of cereal and a large glass of orange juice on the table before sitting down.
"It means that Remy, Rogue, Bishop, Pete, and Kitty all heard you guys not going to sleep."
"Yeah, but they're not going to tell me they were eavesdropping on me," Jake said. He continued eating his cereal for a moment more, before becoming pensive. "I just had an idea." He smiled wickedly, a green light in his eyes matching his smile.
"What'd you just do?"
"Oh, I don't know."
"Jake," Bobby said warningly.
"What," he asked innocently.
"What did you do?"
"Oh, you'll find out soon enough, when you go to your room."
"What did you do?"
"Go to your room and find out." Jake's eyes lit up devilishly.
Bobby huffed off to his room. Several minutes later, there was a loud scream as Bobby walked into his room.
"What did you put in his room," Joey asked, looking over the paper.
"Oh, nothing. All I did was make his entire room a giant fudge-cicle.."
"That doesn't sound that bad."
"Not until you know that it is already melting."
"Will it turn back?"
"Eventually, and there won't be anything wrong with his stuff. But, freezing my entire room the other day necessitated retribution." With that, Jake walked out of the kitchen.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Jake and Betsy were watching a jousting competition. They were sitting on a bench made of hay, just outside the small arena. Despite her reservations, Betsy was actually enjoying herself. Right now, a man bearing the name of Sir Rowan of England was facing a knight named Sir Cameron of Gaul. Sir Rowan was bearing a green and white shield, whereas Sir Cameron had a shield with red and gold coloring. The two men charged each other, their lances level with the chest of the other rider. Both of their lances broke as they struck. The force of the blow caused both men to fall off their horses. They both stood up and drew their swords.
One of the actors in the audience, dressed as a peasant, yelled, "Kill him. Spill his blood. Take his head. Blood makes the grass grow. Kill! Kill! Kill!" The two knights approached each other, and began to swordfight. Sir Rowan's sword broke after taking a heavy blow from Sir Cameron. Rowan looked down at his hands, and then put his fists up. He put his hand out, and taunted Sir Cameron to fight him. Cameron shrugged, and placed his sword in the ground. The two of them began to box, moving as fast as could be expected in the armor they were wearing. Suddenly, Sir Cameron was able to get Sir Rowan behind him, and did some kind of wrestling move.
The same peasant yelled, "Ooh. Stone Cold Stunner! That's got to hurt."
Betsy couldn't help but to smile. She had to admit; this was actually a lot more fun than what she had originally thought it would be. She and Jake got up to leave. "You wanna get a turkey drumstick? They're pretty good," Jake said into her ear.
"Sure. Sounds good."
After buying the turkey drumsticks, the two of them went and sat at a picnic table under a large oak tree. They were talking, though, to anyone watching them, it would appear as if they were having a staring contest. Too absorbed in their own world, they didn't see a corpulent, putrid smelling man sit down next to them. They wouldn't have noticed anything, either, if the troll of a man hadn't spoken.
"You know, we don't take to kindly to your kind 'round here," the man said.
Both Jake and Betsy looked up at the man. He was bald, and had a nose sloping off to an odd angle, a sure sign of a previously broken nose. He wore a faded, grime-ridden shirt with what looked like the initials F.O.H. His underarms were wet with sweat, and were giving off an incredibly strong smell. Jake started to breathe through his mouth to try not to gag.
"I'm sorry, I didn't hear you. What did you say," Jake asked.
"I said that we don't take kindly to your kind in these parts."
"And what type would that be," Betsy asked angrily.
"You already know the answer to that one. Don't ya, you little mutie cunt?"
"Why don't you just find some other place to sit, man," Jake said. Though his voice was calm, Betsy could see the telltale signs of him getting angry. Jake had a temper, with or without magic. It was just that, unlike Logan, you couldn't see it coming. He could be talking and having fun one moment, and then, a split second later, could snap. It was just a matter of pushing the right buttons. She'd seen it more than once in the Danger Room. And the thing was, he tended to be worse when either her or someone other than him was involved. Usually, there would be little warning signs; not much, but once she knew what to look for, they were always there.
Right now, his hands were underneath the picnic table. She could tell by the movements of his shoulders that his fists were already flexing. He was angry, and gleaming some thoughts from his mind, she could tell he was making himself angrier. She was about to suggest that they move when the man responded.
"'Cause I like this seat, and there ain't anything you or your mutie cunt girlfriend can do about it." Not good. Not good at all, she thought. She was angry, too, of course, but not as mad as Jake. She didn't want to get into any kind of a fight; it'd be over in a second. But that wasn't the point. There was no reason to fight the bastard.
"Man, why don't you either shut the fuck up, or find some other place to sit?"
"Now I ain't gonna move, you little sonuvabitch."
"Then I got a good idea for you. Fuck off!"
"Nah. I got a better idea. Why don't you let me take your girlfriend here and show her a good time? I can lick her pussy up and down, make 'er wet, and then fuck her brains out. How's that for an idea?" The man barely had enough time to finish his last sentence. Jake had picked up the three hundred pound man by the throat, and choke slammed him onto the picnic table. Now, Jake had his hand around the man's throat, and had his own face less than an inch away from the man's.
"If you EVER, and I mean EVER, talk about my girlfriend like that again, I will rip your fucking balls off, and ram them so far down your throat, you won't be able to taste anything but your own jizz for a week. Do you understand me?" Jake pounded the man's head into the picnic table, the man grimacing in pain. "Do you fucking understand me, you goddamn piece of mother-fucking, shit-eating white trash son of a bitch?" The man nodded weakly, his eyes full of terror. Jake pounded the man's head into the table again, and let go of his throat. The man started coughing, trying to breathe normally.
Jake stood up, and looked at Betsy. "You all right," he asked, his voice thick and a little raspy.
"Yeah, I'm all right. Why don't we get ready to go?"
"Okay," Jake said.
"Hey," the man said, "I ain't gonna forget this. I'm gonna get you and your little whore, too!" Betsy turned around, and gave the man a stare colder than ice. The man quieted down immediately.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"You didn't need to make a scene back there, Jake."
"I really didn't mean to," he replied meekly. He could already tell he would be in for a major ass-chewing. "I just lost control of my temper for a moment … and I guess it got the better of me."
"In this business, Jake," she said, "you have to have to be in control of your emotions. If you let them control you, you will only get your teammates hurt … or worse."
"I know." He looked ahead, never taking his eyes off the road. "I just didn't want him to keep on talking about you like that."
"I understand that, but you have to remember I can take care of myself just as bloody well as you can."
"I know that. I suppose I'm just … compelled to protect the people I'm closest to. I don't know why; I guess its just in my nature." He waited for a response. Not hearing one, he looked over to her, and saw she was looking out the back window.
"Jake, was there a squad car behind us a few moments ago?"
"N-No. I don't think so. Why?"
"There's one behind us now. He appeared out of nowhere."
"Really?" He looked behind them and saw the car speeding up. It was closing the distance between them incredibly fast. As he watched, its lights flashed and its siren blared. "I think he wants me to pull over." The car pulled off to the side of the road, and began to slow down.
"Be careful, Jake. We don't know if they're mutant friendly or not." The cruiser parked behind them, and the two policemen got out of their car. One came up on the left, and the other on the right. The one on the left motioned for Jake to roll down his window.
"What can I do for you officer," he asked, as politely as he could.
"Sir, would you please step out of the vehicle?"
"Why? Did I do something wrong?"
"Just step out of the vehicle, sir. You too, ma'am," he said, gesturing at Betsy.
Betsy stepped out of the car, and saw Jake with his hands on the roof. She did likewise. Without any warning, the officer opposite her pulled out his Billy club, and hit Jake on the back of the head. Before she could say anything, she felt a sharp pain at the base of her neck. Then she saw only blackness.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
X-Mansion, WestchesterJubilee made her way to the rec. room. She found Bobby and Celeste in the midst of a game of pool. Hank was off to the side, a glass of milk in one hand, and several Twinkies in the other. She made her way over to the big, blue doctor. "Can I have one," she asked, pointing to the Twinkies.
"Most assuredly, friend Jubilation," he said, opening his large paw. She took one of Hank's precious golden, crème-filled pastries.
"You know Blue," Bobby said, looking up from his game, "you're the only one that she let's call her Jubilation."
"Popsicle, you might want to pay more attention to our game. You're losing pretty badly, mate," Celeste called to him, sinking the 12-ball in a corner pocket.
"You know, she's got a point," Joey said. The sound of his cowboy boots on the hardwood floor marked his presence as he stepped into the room. "I played her the other day. I thought I was good, but she cleaned my clock. She's better at pool than anyone else in the mansion."
As he finished his sentence, an alarm sounded. "What the hell's going on," he asked.
"Someone's on the mansion's grounds," Beast said, suddenly standing up.
X-Men! Colossus and Nightcrawler need your help on the front lawn. The Professor's message was incredibly urgent.
The X-Men hurried to assist their comrades-in-arms. Beast, Iceman, Shift, Lobo, and Jubilee were the first to arrive. Behind them came Rogue, Gambit, and Shadowcat, followed by Bishop and Storm. The assembled mutants saw Nightcrawler in the clutches of some tendrils controlled by a woman with wild hair, and serpentine teeth. Colossus was kneeling in front of another woman who seemed to be drawing energy from him into her mouth.
"Ah, the great X-Men," said a man covered in some kind of armor, as Cyclops and Archangel arrived behind the gathered heroes. "From what I have seen of your two comrades here, you are not so great."
"We're greater than you'll ever be," Jubilee said, earning a lifted eyebrow from Bishop.
"Care to prove it, little one," the man taunted, as Colossus fell on his side. Shadowcat was at his side in an instant.
"What did you do to him," the young woman cried, looking at the magenta-haired woman that did this to her lover.
"I simply sucked out some of his energy," the woman replied cockily.
"Vortex loves to suck," said a demonic looking man, who was standing next to an equally demonic looking woman.
"Enough of this," Lobo said, morphing himself into his lycanthropic form. His large frame ran on all fours toward the man who had just spoken. As he leapt into the air, a large red blur cut off his path, and tackled him to the ground. Gored in the midsection, Joey moaned a little as his body healed itself. The lycanthropic mutant stood up, his irises glowing an eerie yellow color, and saliva dripping from his snout. In front of him, a man with the head of a bull and the body of a man stood. His feet had only two toes, and his skin was a dark, brick red.
The two humanoid mutants began a lethal battle. Minos grabbed Lobo by the throat, and lifting him into the air, began choking the life out of him. Lobo's clawed hands ripped into Minos' thick, muscular arms, tearing the flesh to pieces, and unleashing a flow of crimson blood. Minos let go of Lobo with a cry of pain and anguish. Holding his ruined arm, he cried, "Look what you did to my arm, you fucking animal!"
Lobo growled in response, falling to all fours. Baring his teeth, saliva dripped from his mouth as he leapt forward.
- - - -
"My name is Medusa. You have injured my petssss. For that, you shall be punished." She drew her head back, bearing her snake-like fangs, and snapped her head forward incredibly quickly. Reacting almost on instinct, Cyclops unleashed a wide optic blast, entirely obliterating the glob of poison.
"You'll have to do better than that," he cried, keeping his hand close to his visor.
"Oh, don't worry, my love," she cackled. "That was just a distraction." Even as she spoke, Cyclops saw that a veritable army of serpentine tendrils was snaking towards him, with several about to encircle his legs. As he was about to fire on the tentacles, a rapid succession of energy shots rung out, each hitting the tendrils between him and Medusa. Both he and Medusa looked to see who the newcomer was.
"Who are you," the woman asked, her tendrils writhing and retreating with minds of their own.
"Cable," the man said simply, holding a massive, smoking gun. He held out his left arm, and yellow energy flowed from his shoulder, turning what was flesh into an oddly warm metal. Medusa shot one of her tendrils in the big man's direction, but before it could contact a powerful, invisible picked her up, and tossed her into the blue woman.
"Thanks," Cyclops nodded, and went to join the rest of his teammates.
- - - -
Rogue and Gambit were fighting the armored man that was seemingly leading the group. Rogue flew at the man, intending to hit him square in the chest. He dodged out of the way, allowing her to only get an arm. His left arm tore off at the shoulder, but to Rogue's amazement and disgust, the arm in her hands immediately liquefied and leaked through her fingers. "What in the world," she yelled. Turning around, she saw with amazement that his arm was growing back. As if they had minds of their own, his bionic muscles grew back, almost like the intertwining tentacles of a squid. His metallic skin sheathed his arm with a soft blue circle of energy that traveled down his arm.
"You're not going to stop me that easily, girl," Sybre said. "No matter what you do to me when I'm in this armor, you won't be able to stop me."
"Well, we'll just have ta see 'bout that," the southern belle said, flying in again. This time, as she was about to knock his head off, unseen rockets on his back fired, lifting him into the air. Using the force of the blast to add to his own strength, he hit Rogue with an uppercut straight to the chest, sending her spinning back towards Gambit. She landed on her lover, nearly flattening him into the ground.
"Remy," she pleaded, holding his head between her hands.
"Gambit alright, chere," he replied. "Jus' his ego dat's hurt."
"The two of you should really learn not to turn your backs on your enemies," the armored man said. Currents of blue electricity were swarming over the double-edged daggers that had unsheathed from his wrists.
"Truly sage advice for the ages," a cultured voice spoke behind Sybre. Beast landed on the man's back, his powerful legs hitting just between his shoulders. Leaping forward, the blue-furred mutant flipped in mid-air to land on all fours facing the other man. "Though, perhaps it would serve you better to follow that which Sun Tzu so eloquently stated. To paraphrase, one must know both oneself and one's enemy in order to govern the outcome of battle."
Sybre stood up, and appraised how his team was doing. Though the twins, Incubus and Succubus, were relatively powerful, they had grossly underestimated the abilities of the X-Men to pull up mental blocks. It seemed that Xavier trained them well. Minos was having trouble with Lobo, the massive werewolf. Minos' one drawback was that he did not have a healing factor. It was definitely a factor in this fight; the man-bull had dozens of wounds from the wolf's claws. Medusa had become a blubbering idiot after unknown mutant had tossed her into the twins. Though he wasn't sure, he thought one of her tendrils may have been killed.
The only one to still be in the fight beside himself was Vortex, who he had personally trained. She had nearly drained Cyclops and Colossus dry. But, both were now recovering. Judging from the way she was moving, Vortex was now nearly full of energy. She wouldn't be able to take too much more. It was clearly time for backup. "I know myself quite well, Beast," Sybre said smugly. "I also know all of you quite well. The question is 'How well do you know me?'" He pressed a button on his armor, red light emanating from the key.
Suddenly, a loud whine, like a small jet engine, sounded overhead. "Dat a plane," Gambit asked, looking up and shielding his eyes. A slight whistling caught his attention, as if something small was falling incredibly fast from the sky. He suddenly cried out in plain as the whistling stopped. A blue dart, half the size of a pencil, was sticking out of his right shoulder. "What de hell is dis?"
"It is something to make you easier to handle on our trip," Sybre said, as the Cajun stumbled, and fell to the ground, sleeping as soundly as a baby. Even as he fell to the ground, more jet engines were heard, followed by the same whistling noise.
"Why I oughtta …" Rogue began, her left arm pulled back to deliver a haymaker. Before she could move even a little, Sybre unleashed with the electric current from his blades, knocking her unconscious. Beast, too, was about to attack Sybre when one of the darts hit him square in the back.
Sybre watched as the X-Men began to fall, the darts homing in on their positions. The only two that seemed to be a problem were Nightcrawler and Storm. The lithe mutant was either dodging all of the darts, or was teleporting out of the way. The weather witch, on the other hand, was destroying both the darts, and his precious machines. Seeing this, he spoke one word into his radio: "Seraph."
Nightcrawler teleported out of the way of more darts. He was trying to get closer to the armored man, who seemed to be controlling the machines he heard overhead, but didn't see. Each time he was about to teleport close to the man, more darts rained down on him, trying to pin him down. Suddenly, he realized the machines had stopped firing the darts. Looking around, he saw a beautiful woman with long, dark hair held away from her face by a circlet of silver. She had three pairs of wings on her back, slightly overlapping from top to bottom. For a moment, he wondered what a seraph was doing on Earth. His answer came when she looked to Storm, and opened her mouth. An intensely powerful stream of blue energy erupted from her mouth, and connected with Storm, knocking the weather goddess to the ground. Still in his daze, Nightcrawler looked towards the woman once again, and saw a ball of the same energy just before it hit him in the chest, and fell unconscious.
"Get the collars on them and take off their clothes," Sybre said. "Wait to get it on the wolf. I'm going to get Xavier." Then, as an afterthought: "I'm very proud of all of you." He looked directly at the young winged woman when he said this.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Jake slowly woke up. He remembered being hit, and then sudden pain, but nothing after that. I must have been knocked out, he thought. He slowly realized that his wrists were hurting like hell. He groggily looked at his left arm. It was lashed down to a piece of wood with some kind of metal wiring. He looked to his right arm. It was the same. Slowly regaining his senses, he looked down, and saw he was nearly nine feet off the ground.
He was on a white, wooden cross. Someone had crucified him. Who would be crazy enough to do something like that, he wondered. He turned his head to see if he could see anything behind him. He couldn't see anything, but he did smell gasoline. The entire cross was soaked in it. He noticed that there was at least a semicircle of lit torches around him, and directly in front of him, a green tarp, covering something. Looking down, he finally noticed the weight on his neck. Though he had never seen one, let alone worn one, he knew intuitively what it was. It was a Genoshan collar. Someone had crucified him on a gasoline-soaked cross, and had placed an inhibitor collar around his neck. Whoever they are, he thought, they must have connections. He suddenly heard a deep voice speaking in a whisper behind him.
"He's gonna get up soon. What're we gonna do to them," the first man asked, his voice harsh and raspy.
"We're gonna kill the both of them mutie sons-a-bitches. But, first, we're gonna have some fun with that purple-haired whore."
Purple-haired whore? They had Betsy too? Jake looked around. He didn't see her anywhere. Unless . . . He looked down to the tarp. The shape under it was the same size as Betsy. As he began to think of possible ways to get their attention, a short man wearing a red robe and a red, pointed hood came and stood in front of him.
"Hey, boys, he's up." It was Raspyvoice.
"Hey, man," Jake said, looking at the man's robe. "That costume is really original. It's not every day you see someone who wanted to dress up like a Klansman for Halloween. Or, wait, maybe you're trying to make a fashion statement. 'Look at me. I'm so pretty. Oh, I just love what you've done with the robe. It goes so well with your eyes.'" Jake batted his eyes as his voice became much higher, and effeminate.
"You're gonna die, you fucking mutie scum," the man yelled, punching Jake as hard as he could in the stomach. His hand hit the mass of solid, tensed muscle that was Jake's stomach. The short man looked up to see Jake smiling as if nothing had happened. Seeing that his blow hadn't had the desired effect, the man reached behind him and pulled out a previously hidden whip. He pulled his arm back, and was about to bring down the leather weapon on Jake's midsection when a commanding voice yelled at the man.
"Don't hurt him yet, Donnie. We want him to watch," the voice said. Another man came into view, wearing the same type of costume as the other. The difference was that this man Jake had seen before. It was one of the cops that had pulled him and Betsy over. The man smiled. "I bet you didn't expect this, huh?"
"Who the fuck are you, you racist asshole," Jake asked, his temper beginning to rise.
"You really want to know, don't you?" The man paused for a moment, and seemed to come to a decision. "My name is Jonathan Bordeaux. I own Bordeaux Chemicals, one of the largest chemical companies in the world. You see, I was a major contributor to the Friends of Humanity, or F.O.H. When the group went under and Senator Kelly became a mutant lover, I lost quite a bit of money. It was thus that I decided to create my own organization that would follow in the steps of the F.O.H. Though at the moment our numbers are small, we are obtaining any number of new initiates every day."
"How incredibly interesting. I would love to stay for tea and crumpets, but for the fact that you are a fucking racist jackass. And tell me this: why the hell are you guys dressed like that? I mean, you would think that someone would have a little creativity. But, no! I guess being a racist jackass like your self kind of cuts down on the amount of brain cells. Man, you have to be incredibly fucking stup-"
"I don't appreciate that tone of voice." Bordeaux took the whip from Donnie, and lashed Jake viciously across the chest. "As I was saying, we are growing in number. I realized there was a major flaw in the way the F.O.H. conducted itself. There is no way that we humans can win this genetic war head on, something that only I seemingly realized. So, that is why we now do what we do-"
"You know what? I'm really getting tired of listening to your mouth. Do you think maybe you could shut up, and do whatever it is you're going to do to me?"
"Very well, then. Mike, George, please come over here." The two men he motioned to slowly came into Jake's field of vision. The first Jake didn't recognize, but he was incredibly ugly. He had a large wart on his nose, and had teeth that seemed to be rotting away. His lips were chapped, and his eyes were bloodshot. The man behind him, Jake recognized. It was the man from the fair.
"I told you I was gonna get you," the man said.
"Donnie," Bordeaux said, "remove the tarp." The short man moved over to the tarp, and started pulling off the ground. Underneath, as Jake had suspected, was Betsy. She was nude, and was staked to the ground. Her eyes were open, but were glazed. They had drugged her. "Mike, you can go first."
The man that Betsy and Jake had met earlier smiled, and began to walk over to where Betsy was. He stepped over her, and Jake could hear what he was saying.
"I told your boyfriend I was gonna lick your pussy, and make you wet." He backed a little ways from her, and began to undo his pants.
Jake watched as the man called Mike began to take his pants off. He was now beyond being pissed off. He was beyond any anger he could ever remember. He struggled against his restraints, but to no avail. He tried again, but again, nothing happened. His blood began boiling as Mike approached Betsy, now without pants. A slight growl escaped from Jake's bared lips. He could now feel something happening to him. He didn't know what, but it felt like pure power.
George was the only one that was facing Jake as Mike was approaching Betsy. That was why he was the only one that saw what was happening to him. The man's eyes had changed from their normal brown to a glowing, golden color. His canines seemed to have grown also, as well as his hair. In fact as George watched, the man's hair grew from just above his ears down to his mid-back. Claws seemed to grow out of the ends of his fingers, and his body seemed to grow bigger.
A loud growl stopped Mike from penetrating Betsy. He looked up, and saw Jake. But, it wasn't really him. It was some kind of a monster; something resembling the man. He was straining against the metal wires holding him to the cross.
Jake's wrists were hurting even more now, but he didn't notice. His rational mind had left him, and the only thing that mattered now was protecting Betsy. Protecting his mate. He tried again, this time getting angrier. Mike turned back to Betsy, and readied himself to enter her.
"RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWLLLLLLLLLLLLLL!!!!!!!!!!!!!" The man-creature's primal roar echoed through the night, placing the hearts' of those present in the cold grip of fear. It forced itself forward once more. As the metal wires binding it to the cross broke, the whiplash across its chest healed itself. Kneeling on the ground, the creature looked up, its hair partially obscuring its view. It growled at the site: another male trying to overpower its mate. It stood up, and roared, challenging the man to a lethal battle.
Mike stood up, and looked straight into its eyes. The corpulent man had unwittingly accepted the beast's challenge. He began slowly backpedaling, keeping his eyes on the thing before him. As he got nearly twenty feet away, the creature squatted, growling, as if it knew what the fat man was doing. It suddenly jumped, and clearing the distance between it and the fat man, knocked Mike to the ground.
"NO! Please don't kill me! I haven't done anything to you," Mike said, looking at the iridescent golden eyes with terror. The creature looked down, and picked the man up easily. The creature turned him around, and forced him to his knees. The thing plunged a clawed finger into each of the man's eyes, and then, as if it were the easiest thing in the world, it tore the man's head off. Blood began spurting from the man's neck as the beast placed its hands on either side of the wound. With a fantastic ripping sound, the thing tore the man's body in half, annihilating the man's rib cage and spine. The remains of the man fell to the earth, the organs and blood steaming in the cold night air.
The thing turned around, and saw the other three men frozen in horror. It bared its teeth, and growled, beginning to stalk them. George and Donnie, concerned with their own safety, turned tale and ran, leaving Bordeaux standing in front of the gasoline-drenched cross. In his hand, he held the whip he had used on Jake. Frozen by terror, he dropped his whip as the creature now came within ten feet of him.
At ten feet, the being leaped and landed on the industrialist. The man was still in shock as its clawed hand reached into his stomach. Its arm went into the man's body up to the elbow. Its hand gripped the man's heart, causing the man's breath to stop. Suddenly, the creature's hand burst out of the man's chest, bones exploding out of his chest. The thing held Bordeaux's heart in its hand, blood running down its arm to its elbow. The creature stood up, and roared to the sky, spreading its arms, and crushing the heart in its hand.
On the opposite side of the clearing, silently watching, two figures stood. Both were dressed as if they were royalty in a medieval court. The man had a full beard and mustache, and brown hair. On his head was a golden crown, and on his belt was an ornate scabbard with an equally ornate sword. The woman to his right had long red hair past her mid-back, pulled into a single braid. On her head stood a tiara, with a single jewel in the front. On her belt, she wore an ornate sword and scabbard, as well.
"It seems, my queen, that he has discovered his ultimate strength," the man said.
"Yes, husband. It will not be long before she does likewise," she replied.
"They shall have to face their challenges, before long, my love."
"Yes, they shall. Will they be ready," she asked, as the creature, now turned back into Jake, placed Betsy over his shoulder, and leaped towards Westchester.
"I believe so. I hope so." As the man finished, another man stepped behind them and kneeled.
"My Lord and Lady-"
"You need not address us in such a manner, Simenes," the woman said. "We are equals."
"Nay, Lady Guinevere, we are not. I am only your servant, whereas you and the king are Protectors."
"Why have you come to us, Simenes," the man asked.
"Because the presence of you, sire, King Arthur, and that of Queen Guinevere are requested in the Halls of Dardaenon."
"Do you know why, friend Simenes, we have been summoned to the throne room of Lord Archon," Queen Guinevere asked.
"Nay, my lady, I do not. But it does seem urgent."
"Very well then," King Arthur said. The three disappeared in a sudden burst of white light, unseen by all save the moon shining brightly in the dark sky.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
X-Mansion, WestchesterJake was standing on the front lawn of the mansion. He was standing where his friends and teammates had been much earlier that day. The grass had been trampled, a sure sign of something have happened. On one part of the lawn, there was a large pile of clothes. The front door was wide open, and just inside, the Professor's wheelchair was on its side.
Betsy came out of the mansion, clothed in her costume. "There isn't anyone inside. The mansion is deserted."
"Where the hell is everyone," Jake asked, sitting in front of the door.
"I don't know, but I have an idea," Betsy said, running inside.
"What?"
"We can use Cerebro," she called back to him. "Logan and Jean went up north today, remember?"
"So whoever has the others, doesn't have them. They may even be able to tell us who did this." Jake followed Betsy inside.
- - - -
An hour later, the small jet that Logan and Jean had taken in the morning landed. Stepping out, the two were greeted by Jake and Betsy.
"What the flamin' hell were you two talkin' about there bein' nobody here," Logan asked.
"That's exactly the point," Jake said. "There isn't anyone here. No one. Not a soul, except for us."
"You said it looked like there was a struggle," Jean asked.
"Yeah, on the front lawn," Betsy said, motioning them to follow.
Logan and Jean were sniffing the ground, trying to figure out what happened. Suddenly, they both stood up.
"They were all out here. Scott, Pete, Joey, Celeste, and everyone else," Jean said.
"There were five of them. I ain't too sure how they did it, but they were able to get all o' 'em."
"Do you know who they were," Betsy asked.
"No, I ain't never smelled 'em before. But I know where they went."
"Where's that," Jake asked.
"The Savage Land."
A/N: Please, please review!