AN: Sorry it's taken me so long to update; I've been busy with working, and actually finding a job that my degree's good for….
Chapter 8: Against the Wall
Acting almost on instinct, Logan grabbed the hand whose claws were embedded in his shoulder. With a Herculean effort, he threw the vampire over his head, dislocating its shoulder. But the vampire's mouth never let go of his throat. He felt a fantastic, white-hot pain as a strip of his flesh, over six inches in length, ripped away from his throat. He placed his hand to his throat, hot blood running down his shirt. He stumbled, feeling slightly dizzy, and a little light-headed.
He shook his head, the light-headedness passing just as quickly as it had come. Focusing on the vampire he had just thrown, he saw it had landed on its feet. The flesh that had just momentarily before been attached to his neck was hanging from its mouth like a prize. It smiled evilly, and then with two sudden jerks of its neck, it had swallowed the piece of flesh. Logan shuddered in revulsion; the image of something eating his flesh struck him as being almost … unnatural.
The vampire suddenly stopped, shock crossing its face. Its hands groped at its neck, and seemed to begin choking. It began coughing, almost as if there was something stuck at the back of its throat. The shock gave way to true dread, as the coughing suddenly turned to dry heaves. The vampire doubled over, one of its arms over its abdomen. Suddenly, it retched, a substance that looked almost like tar erupting from its mouth. As the … vomit … hit the pavement, it seemed to be smoldering, almost like a dying fire. The vampire looked up at Logan hatefully. "You're blood … it's toxic," it said, the same liquid dribbling out of its mouth. As the liquid touched the vampire's skin, the liquid seemed to start eating away at the flesh.
Logan realized that the liquid was his blood, reacting with the vampire's body. But, how, or why, it was happening, he didn't know. The vampire rolled over on his back, clutching his stomach. He ripped open his t-shirt, revealing his torso, where his stomach actually seemed to be glowing. "It BURNS," the vampire screamed, writhing in agony. The vampire arched his back in pain, nearly folding himself in half. As the vampire relaxed, the glow that'd been building in his stomach breached his skin. Ash and smoke erupted from the sore that had opened, followed by a slow-moving line of flame. In its wake, the vampire's flesh had carbonized, smoke swirling away, as ash collapsed to the ground. The vampire gave one last convulsion before the fire ate away at his chest, slowly consuming his entire body.
In the ensuing silence, no one dared to move, even to breathe. All sides of the conflict had stopped, watching the death throes of the undead fighter. Logan looked up from the ashes of the dead vampire, to another that had been watching on the other side of the alley. He stepped over the remains of the dead vampire, and with a single movement, stabbed the on-looking vampire in the heart. It exploded in a cloud of black dust, a look of utter surprise etched on its face, with a sound that reminded him of Kurt.
"Who's next," he growled, his claws extended, and his hands out to his sides.
A surge of the new vampires pushed through the Death Dealers, pushing them aside, and killing any who did not get out of the way. They swarmed towards Logan, Jean, Michael, and Selene. "There's your answer," Selene answered Logan.
A group of Death Dealers who hadn't gotten out of the way of the new vampires were fighting fiercely against the newcomers. Among these were Mia and Delacroix. The Death Dealers, though, kept being pushed back, losing almost all of their number. The silver bullets utilized by the Death Dealers didn't seem to have much effect on them. The new vampires were able to shrug off the shots, and kept on coming. As they reached the Death Dealers, they didn't kill them, but rather bit them, spreading the virus that had been blessed by dark powers.
Those Death Dealers that were bitten collapsed from blood loss. But, to the horror of the gathered combatants, the victims became like their attackers, their faces morphing, and their eyes glowing a malevolent red. As they were revived, they joined the newcomers, and began attacking their former comrades, the cycle starting over again.
"These sons-of-bitches are nearly unstoppable," Mia screamed, to no one in particular.
"They ain't unstoppable," Logan growled beside her. She looked over to him in surprise, not knowing he was by her side. She watched, awestruck, as he leapt into a group of new vampires, and with only a few movements, had dusted each and every single one of them.
Jean came fresh on his heels, jumping into the foray just as he had. A vampire jumped, trying to land on top of her. With a single thought, she threw it against a wall, decommissioning it from the fight. Another moved in from her side, but with a single swipe of her claws, she took it out easily. Behind her, Michael and Selene were fighting, trying to take out as many as possible. But, they had already realized that they couldn't kill them with chest shots. Instead, they were tearing off their heads, with merciless brutality.
Taking her cue from Selene, Mia concentrated her rounds at their heads, hoping to destroy enough skull and brains to fell the creatures. The problem, though, was that she didn't have enough ammo to keep this up for long. Each of the vampires took at least five bullets to kill; it had already occurred to her that to kill them, she had to separate the brain from the rest of the body. But, bullets were not exactly the best way to decapitate an enemy.
One of the new vampires landed in front of her, its mouth spread in a wide grin (Mia thought the vampire might've been female, but she wasn't sure). She raised her gun to eye level, and pulled the trigger. Shock spread across her face as she heard the click of a dry clip. She looked at the gun momentarily, angry at it for betraying her, before raising her other gun. Shock turned to abject fear as that gun clicked dryly, as well. The realization that she was entirely out of ammunition flashed across her mind, as her eyes met her adversary's.
The other vampire smiled predatorily, its sharp, deadly teeth gleaming menacingly in the low light. Its eyes glowered victoriously as it stalked her, moving forward painfully, dreadfully slowly. She backed against the wall, holding her head high, ready to die as a Death Dealer. Suddenly, though, a flat, double-edged blade flashed, and with a single, fluid movement, cut off the vampire's head. Thick, dark blood flowed from the wound, the vampire's face a mask of shock, as the corpse collapsed to the ground. As it met the earth, the corpse carbonized, becoming nothing more than a cloud of ash.
"Are you okay," a man asked, his face appearing through the cloud. In his right hand was an old double-edged sword, Norse runes etched deep into the blade.
"Yes," Mia replied. Noticing his face, though, she was startled. "You're a lycan."
"Yes, I am," he replied. He smiled, highlighting his bright eyes. "And you are a vampire."
"Why would you help me," she asked, surprised.
"It seems to me we're all in the same boat," he responded. He reached into his coat, and pulled out a short sword in a simple, leather scabbard. "You might need this," he said, handing her the weapon.
Taking the weapon warily, she unsheathed the blade. The blade was single-edged, and slightly over a foot long. It seemed to her to be a wicked looking machete. "Thank you," she said. And with that, they jumped back into the fray.
Michael and Selene were fighting back to back. The vampiress had resorted to hand-to-hand combat after her guns had run dry. Though she had found she was weaker than the new vampires, she was still an expert at more than one martial art. That, and the fact that Michael, when transformed, could tear off the vampires' heads with ease, had given them an edge. Working together, they had cut a swathe through their enemies.
Michael slowly realized that they had stopped attacking him, and were focusing on Selene. A sudden need swept over his mind; the werewolf part of his mind was telling him to protect his mate. With a sudden burst of supernatural speed, moving so fast that he wasn't even a blur, he swept at one of the vampires. His hand connected with its head, literally knocking it off his shoulders, a long strip of flesh peeling off its back with the head. Moving to the second, he back handed it across the side of the head, crushing its skull in the process. The third vampire's chest suddenly exploded, a clawed hand, coated with gore, reaching through the hole. Michael withdrew his hand, the body falling to the ground.
"Thank you, Michael," Selene said gratefully. Suddenly, from behind Michael, a vampire leapt onto the wall, baring its fangs in their direction. It leapt in their direction with a sudden movement, its arms spread wide. Out of nowhere, a wooden arrow sailed through the air, colliding with the vampire in mid-jump. It clutched the arrow as it pierced its heart; it fell to the ground, and immediately exploded into a cloud of ash.
Following the path of the arrow, Selene was surprised to see the teenage girl from the psychic shop. On her back, a quiver of arrows was buckled, an old fashioned bow in her left hand. Around her right thigh, half a dozen silver stakes were strapped, their points glinting dangerously. Around her waist was a belt with an attached scabbard, filled with a long, curved sword. A small tattoo on her right arm, at her shoulder, glowed with a slight blue iridescence. On closer inspection, Selene saw it was a quarter-circle, point down, enclosing a violently breaking wave.
"These are the nosferatu," the girl explained. A vampire tried to jump on her from behind, but she lashed out with a powerful roundhouse kick. It caught the vampire in jaw, twirling it around in the air twice before it reached the ground. It looked up with a ferocious glint in its eyes, and seemed ready to attack. But, the girl simply held out her hand, and water flowed, as a super-pressurized stream, from her, hitting the creature in the chest. The stream of water cut through the vampire's body like a hot knife through butter, cutting it in half.
"You bitch," the vampire screamed out, painfully. But, even as the girl stopped the stream of water, the vampire seemed to burst into flame, and began writhing in agony.
"The elements created by the members of the Order are divine in origin. As such, if a creature that is … unclean … is touched by flame, water, air, or earth created by Order members, that creature is consumed by the fires of Mount Dar'anath of the Blessed Realm." Michael and Selene looked at each other, briefly wondering what, exactly, the girl was talking about.
"That's good to know," Michael replied, half-sarcastically.
"Perhaps you would take me more seriously if I were to tell you that the easiest way to kill these vampires is to separate their heads from their bodies."
"We already know that," Selene said, almost as if thinking the girl a fool.
"Yes," the girl replied. "But did you know that unless you keep them apart, the vampire's head will re-attach, and it will walk again." Almost as if to prove her point, a vampire with a formerly decapitated head charged her, the wound on the neck still healing. Just as it was about to land on the girl, she shouldered her bow, and unsheathed her sword, slashing through the vampire's neck in the same movement. "In order to remedy this problem, you must throw the head as far away as possible," she continued, standing over the body. She bent, picked up the head by the hair, and threw it onto the roof opposite the shop. "These nosferatu are immune to sunlight, though they are only as powerful as an average human during the day. They have their greatest power at night. Thus, decapitation at night will not kill them outright, unless a magical or blessed weapon is used." She motioned towards her own sword. "Because this is not a magical, or blessed sword, the vampires whose heads I take will be alive, and feel every moment of agony until sunrise. At sunrise, because they have been mortally wounded, their bodies will burn."
"That's not a nice way to go," Michael replied.
"No," the girl answered, "it is not." As she spoke, she sliced off the heads of two more vampires, throwing their heads up on the same roof.
As the girl threw the heads on the roof, a chill, thick white mist suddenly appeared. It flowed over the combatants like a river, enveloping them in its embrace. His sense of sight useless, Logan instinctually relied on his sense of smell and hearing to track his enemies. But, he realized that these new vampires seemed able to not make any noise at all. He was momentarily surprised when he felt a set of claws slash at his shoulder. Recovering, he slashed out blindly, and heard a loud keening; he had apparently caught something. The smell of ash briefly registered before fading. Whatever he'd hit, it didn't stay around long.
Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he saw the mist actually solidify. Turning in that direction, he saw a vampire chare him, its claws spread out, its teeth bared. The vampire lunged at Logan, its eyes glowing red in the night. Logan slashed at the creature, aiming at its chest. He would have connected, except that the vampire exploded into mist just before Logan was able to kill it. Turning, Logan hunched his shoulders, his arms at the ready, and his legs set wide, and bent at the knees. He saw the vampire he'd just tried to kill re-solidify in front of him.
The vampire once again lunged at him, its teeth bared, its clawed hands out at the ready. The feral man stood waiting, his claws at the ready, his teeth bared in a snarl. Just before the creature was about to connect with Logan, it once again, became mist. But the mutant was ready for it.
When the vampire became mist, Logan simply held out his hand. A moving cloud of mist collided with the invisible wall the mutant had created. The vampire re-materialized suddenly, its body lying on the ground. With lightning fast reflexes, Logan was upon the undead creature, his lips pulled back into a ferocious snarl. He ran his claws through the vampire's heart with a singly powerful thrust; the undead creature keening in its death throes.
"Very good, Wolverine," a sinister voice said behind him. "You have single-handedly killed one of my lieutenants. He was one of my greatest fighters. Poor Deacon."
Logan turned, and saw a tall man with black hair, and Mediterranean features. "You are to be commended. However, I think it would be best if you look behind you." He turned, and saw that the mist was lifting. No … not lifting … it was solidifying into vampire after vampire. Beyond where they were solidifying, he saw that there were maybe a dozen Death Dealers still alive. They had stopped fighting, awestruck by the size of the army that had come out of nowhere.
He could tell that none of the Death Dealers had escaped without a scar. Several were sporting broken arms; all were cut on their faces, and their hands. Jean, Michael, and Selene were standing amongst the warriors, panting from exertion. Selene had a gash running across her forehead; her leather jumpsuit was torn in half a dozen places, revealing unnaturally pale skin. Michael had fared better; perhaps because of the supernatural speed at which he could move. But, yet, there were bullet wounds in several places along his chest and abdomen. They were healing, though, not as fast as he or Jean could. And, Jean, he saw, had a distant, almost primal, look in her eyes that must have been awakened during the fighting.
Behind the Death Dealers, there were still the werewolves. He hadn't been anywhere close to them when the fighting had started. But, now, he saw that they had fared much better than their enemies. Nonetheless, he could tell that there were fewer werewolves than what there had been earlier. He didn't know why they were still there, or what caused them to fight, but he knew that had it not been for them, they could've all been dead by now.
As he watched, the vampires that had once been mist started attacking the other combatants. Seeing that they were overmatched, he charged into the ranks of the vampires, slashing, slicing, and cutting at anything that moved. With every fatal strike, the vampires exploded into clouds of black ash. When he sliced off a limb, the part that was cut off also became ash. The stump that was left burned as a smoldering fire wherever his claws had been.
He noticed that Jean's claws seemed to be having the same effect that his were. But, he had noticed that all the others were not able to dispatch their enemies as quickly, or, sometimes, as permanently. The only way the Death Dealers and werewolves were able to kill their enemies was to cut or tear off their heads. And, he saw that it was not exactly easy to incapacitate these newer vampires; he'd already found that if you didn't get them with the first strike, they would make sure you paid for it.
"We're going to need help," Logan said simply. But, even as he said it, more of these undead monsters swept into the alley. He realized they were being slowly and assuredly overrun. He opened up a channel on his communicator, and began the message that Scott would hear several hours later, just before his own battle.
During the transmission, the battle seemed to pick up again. A werewolf suddenly appeared near him, savagely fighting in his (or her; he wasn't exactly sure) lupine form. The lycanthrope lashed out with its claws, decapitating a vampire. At the same time, it grabbed another nosferatu, crushing its throat and spine in its other hand. A vampire leapt onto its chest, but the werewolf rolled with the motion. On its back, the werewolf used the vampire's momentum, and kicked it in the abdomen, carrying the undead creature flying past his head.
Leaping, the werewolf landed on the back of another one of the undead. It snapped its jaws shut on the vampire's head, and with a singular movement, tore it off with a sickening ripping sound. Suddenly, Logan saw a nosferatu pick up one of the Death Dealers' dropped guns. Taking a knee, it opened fire on full automatic, silver hollow point bullets shredding the lycanthrope's hide in seconds. The large werewolf fell the ground, seizing, its teeth shattering as its mouth slammed shut. From each of the wounds, foul-smelling smoke was being emitted.
Dropping his communicator, Logan charged the vampire with the gun. As he closed in on the undead warrior, he screamed, "It'll take more than silver bullets ta keep me down!" With a single swipe of his claw, Logan slashed upward through the vampire's entire body. The movement was so fast, the body fell to the ground in four pieces, before billowing into a cloud of ash.
Suddenly, at his side, Jean, Michael, and Selene appeared. "We're losing," Selene intoned. "There are less than a dozen Death Dealers, and only two or three dozen lycans out of a hundred. We need to find a way out of this alley."
"The four of you are going nowhere," the voice of the apparent leader booming out. He appeared again, less than five yards in front of them. "You will all die this very night, in this very alley."
"Not likely, bub," Logan replied testily. "We've fought yer kind before."
"So I've heard," the vampire responded. "But, I think you will find I am much better prepared than you might think." He held out his hand, to reveal a violet crystal ball clutched in his fingers. "You see, I already knew that you, Wolverine, and your lovely wife, Phoenix, would pose the greatest threat to me. Without the two of you, I can easily convert or kill the entire vampire and lycan population of this city. Even the mighty hybrid Michael could do nothing to stop me." The ball began glowing with a soft light, the color of the crystal giving it an eerie cast. "So, I have come prepared." With that, two beams of violet light erupted from the crystal ball, striking Logan and Jean directly in the middle of their chests.
Immediately, they fell to their knees, clutching their chests in pain. Wounds that had been healing suddenly stopped, and began bleeding out. Around their claws, blood began dripping from their skin. Their eyes rolled into their heads, and their skin became pallid, and cool.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, Michael realized that whatever the crystal was, it had taken away their mutant powers.
- - - -
Now – Jornada del Muerto
"A bigger army," Scott asked, almost unbelievably.
"I think so," Angela reaffirmed. "They're coming from every direction."
The shock being replaced by resolve, Scott's features hardened. "How long can your shield protect us," Cyclops asked Marty.
"I don't know," the physicist replied. "If we were to assume that they haven't learned from last night, a dangerous assumption at best, then maybe five or ten minutes. More realistically, when they realize what it is, they'll probably know how to bring it down in under five minutes."
"So we won't be able to rely on it being able to work," the other man replied rhetorically. He thought for a moment, going over different scenarios in his mind. "A trap," he finally said. He turned to Marty again. "How long can you sustain that fire shield?"
"Several hours, if necessary," Marty replied. "Why? What do you have in mind?"
Cyclops answered with a question. "Did you know that, given enough time, I could theoretically bore a hole through a mountain?"
- - - -
Nearly an hour later, they were standing again in the center of Marty's circle of fire. The first wave of the creatures was within a stone's throw, and was within several yards of the shield. The gathered humans stood in a loose circle, each one facing a different direction. A grim aura had fallen over them; they knew they may be staring Death in the face. But, they had all made a silent oath that if they went down in the fight, they would take as many of the creatures with them as possible.
"I'm going to ask this once more," Cyclops said.
Before he could ask his question, Seraph replied. "And I already told you, Cyke, I'm not leaving. You need everyone here to fight. If any one of us is not ready to fight, the likelihood that one of us, or all of us, don't make it past tonight increases twofold. And I'd never be able to live with myself if I were to go for help, only to find you all dead." She looked back towards the creatures before her, eyes like flint. Her entire body was ready for the fight, her arms hanging loose at her sides, her wings slightly relaxed, and drooping slightly. "Besides," she continued, "the only ones able to help us right now are in New York." She paused, glaring daggers at Cyclops. "Unless, of course, the Hulk is somewhere around here. But, he hasn't been seen in almost a year."
"Fine," Cyclops said resignedly. He turned to the others, and catching their gazes, said, "Be ready, people. Whether this trap succeeds or not, we'll still be inundated with enemies. Watch each others' backs, and don't get separated from the others." He caught each person's eyes, making sure he had their attention. "If you get separated from the main group, there will be little we will be able to do for you."
As the short speech ended, the creatures were pushing against the shield. Those that had been in the first line of the attack had met the fire shield's defenses; their corpses shells of carbonized flesh. But, now, the creatures were all pushing against it, from each side. Though the ones in the front were still being burned to a crisp, the sheer number of creatures was starting to overwhelm the shield. Finally, a single five-foot wide part of the circle collapsed, allowing a torrent of shiny, black carapaces to enter the camp.
"NOW," Cyclops yelled at Marty. Holding his hands wide, the physicist, with but a thought, let down the circle of fire he had been holding. Immediately, the masses of creatures surged forward … and fell into a deep trench formerly hidden behind the wall of flame. As the creatures fell into the trap, Marty re-created the circle of fire; this time behind the trench.
"How long do you think it will hold," Bishop asked Marty. As he asked, several creatures were climbing up the steep bank of the trench, trying to get to the opposite side. But, as they reached the shelf, the touched the fire wall, and immediately were consumed in fiery infernos.
"I can't say for sure," Marty replied. "All I can say is that it'll last longer than the first. But, how much longer, I can't say."
The creatures kept falling into the trench that Cyclops and Seraph had created under the cover of the fire shield. Some were trying to jump over it; but they met the business end of the flaming circle as they did. Their carapaces fell to the ground, becoming clouds of ash before they even hit the ground. Others, after they fell into the trench, started climbing up its side, and coming to their ends the same way as their companions.
"We're going to have to worry about them jumping through the fire wall," Bishop stated, studying how the shield reacted to the creatures. He already knew, from the previous night, that it would give under enough pressure. Now, they only had to hope that it would hold long enough.
- - - -
Nearly thirty minutes had passed before the creatures changed their strategy. They had stopped charging the barrier, and were now seemingly standing just beyond the trench. But, the people in the camp had already noticed that they weren't just standing around. They seemed to be making some kind of guttural sounds. And, Marty had had the dubious honor to inform them that the creatures were speaking amongst themselves.
"What do you think they're talking about," Ana asked Shift.
"I've no idea," the X-Woman replied. "But, we can bet it won't be good."
"They could be talking about what they're going to do with us after they've defeated us," Marty supplied. "They've been known to keep people alive as their eating them. Maybe they'll cut off an arm, and cauterize the wound so you'll stay fresh. They like to do that. Though they tend to prefer newborn children, if they can get them. It's thought…."
"Marty!" Ana cut him off sharply. "Unless you have something to say that won't make us queasy, I advise you to be quiet." Beside her, Shift was giving him a withering stare, daring him to keep on speaking.
"They're trying something new," Lobo suddenly shouted. He pointed ahead of him, where one of the creatures had just jumped into the trench.
"Oh shit," Marty screamed. "I forgot they can dig."
Bishop glared at the physicist. "That would've been nice to know earlier."
"It's too late for that now," Cyclops stated. "Be ready, people. We're not going to get a second chance at this." Ahead of him, a small bulge was coming out of the earth. He raised his hand to his visor, ready to fire at a moment's notice. He waited steadily, readying himself to fire with all he was worth.
A single clawed hand suddenly appeared above the earth, before retreating just as quickly as it had come. This isn't going to be good, Cyclops thought. They heard a sudden rumbling beneath their feet, feeling like a small temblor. All at once, the ground where he'd seen the single hand appear exploded into the air, dust and dirt obscuring his view. But, he didn't have to worry long about his view, as a great wave of the creatures burst through the hole, and into their camp.
Cyclops unleashed his optic blast, ruby energy washing over the creatures with irresistible force. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a stream of sky blue energy aiming in the same direction. Together, he and Seraph were destroying the first wave with brutal efficiency. But, yet, there were several that were able to get past them. Bishop, his guns drawn, started firing at the creatures, aiming for their heads.
A creature that had gotten past both Seraph and Cyclops jumped, aiming for Bishop. It was caught in mid-air by a black, furry blur. Bryan dug his claws into the creature's shoulder blades, the exoskeleton crunching like stale tortilla chips. Holding the creature down with his lycanthropic strength, he bit into the thing's throat, tearing it out with an abrupt, brutal shake of his head.
Bishop raised his fists, and fired a devastating blast at a group of the beasts that were trying to sneak up on Bryan. The blast disintegrated the creatures, as another group took their place behind them. He fired again, just as he felt a creature land on his back. Grabbing the creature by its wrist, the large man threw it over his shoulder. Already running towards the creature before it landed, Bishop fired a concussive blast from his fist just as it landed. The blast couldn't have been timed more perfectly; it imploded the creature's exoskeleton, the blood exploding outward from the sudden pressure.
He stopped to wipe the ichor and clumps of matter off his face, depositing it on the ground with a flick of the wrist. He looked at his hand and what was still on it, his lips curled back in disgust. In that moment, he heard the sound of something unsheathing. Turning, he saw one of the creatures standing behind him, its tusks fully extended. Its teeth were bared in a fearsome snarl; if he didn't know better, he'd say it was an almost victorious smile. It lowered its head, and with a singular movement, it surged forward, roaring loudly.
But, before it could move more than a step, it was lifted abruptly, and violently into the air. Seraph had swooped down from behind the creature, hooking her arms beneath the creature's. She pulled out of her dive, two flaps of her wings sending her well on her way into the air. Ascending to fifty feet, she dove again, descending almost vertically, picking up speed at a terrifying rate. Just as she was about to collide with the ground, she pulled up. Before her speed bled out, she threw the creature with all her worth, their momentum adding to her strength. She watched with a half-smile as the creature flipped through the air, its arms pinwheeling helplessly.
She dove back to the earth, and caught her gaze with Bishop's. He nodded in thanks as she flew past. Half-saluting in response, she banked hard to her right, lining up for an attack run. Targeting a line of creatures, she unleashed with a powerful blast of energy, demolishing their ranks to little more than ash. Below her, Marty looked on with interest. She's the most powerful of her kind, he thought to himself.
Near him, Cyclops was firing blast after blast at the creatures. He was shooting small blasts of energy, targeting small groups of the things at a time. The creatures had started trying to get out of the way of his optic blasts. But, they were largely unsuccessful. If they were able to get out of Cyclops' firing path, they were met with a veritable wall of adversaries. Lobo, Shift, and Nightcrawler were making short work of the few creatures that were able to escape. Bryan and Ana were protecting Marty from being harmed.
But, while they were doing this, none of them noticed one of the creatures get passed all of them. It was almost on Cyclops when he noticed the creature out of the corner of his eye. He turned, just as the creature swiped at him with its claws. They dug into his shoulder, the usually stoic man crying out in pain. If he hadn't moved, though, the claws would have gone through his ribcage. The creature landed, and was on him in an instant. "A little help," he yelled, trying to get the creature off of him.
"No worries, mate," Shift called. Tentacles wrapped around the creature, pinning its arms down, and bending its head upward. Shift lifted the creature off of Cyclops, and with a thought, the tentacles twisted, and pulled the creature in half. Cyclops winced, both from pain, and from seeing the creature's entrails fall to the ground in a steaming pile.
But, despite that, Cyclops was fed up. "Marty," he called. "Let down the shield!"
"What," the physicist asked incredulously.
"Let the shield down," Cyclops repeated. "And duck." The shield died suddenly, revealing the number of creatures before them. Cyclops ripped off his visor, and opened his eyes. The full force of his optic blast flowed like a torrent, washing over the creatures with undeniable force. He turned a slow semicircle, the massive surge of energy clearing a massive area. As he finished the half-circle, he closed his eyes, closing off the unstoppable force. As he placed his visor back on, he surveyed the damage.
"Damn," Ana exhaled, taking in the devastation. Having never met Cyclops, she had no idea how powerful his mutant power could be. For several hundred feet in almost every direction, there was almost nothing. All that was left were hundreds upon hundreds of corpses, all seemingly crushed as if under a massive shoe. "Remind me," she said to Cyclops, "to never get on your bad side."
Directly behind them, the only direction that Cyclops hadn't turned to, a large group of creatures suddenly charged them. Lobo, the first to notice the attack, ran to meet their charge. He jumped into their first line of ranks, raking and slashing at anything that moved. His massive jaws clamped down on the back of a creature's neck. With a single sideways motion of his neck, he'd broken the creature's, and sent it flying into the crowd. He backhanded three of them in the same blow, sending all of them sprawling into the dirt.
The creatures shook their heads, seemingly trying to get rid of the dizziness. They leapt off the ground, and once again charged him. Lobo jumped into their small group, his weight driving the three of them to the ground. With a single blow from his clenched fist, he crushed the skull of one of the creatures. He drew his hand out of the skull, blood, bone, and brain matter matting his fur down. Without thinking, he brought the same hand, his claws extended, into a massive strike against the skull of the one he landed on. Its skull didn't so much split open, as it collapsed, that much more ichor on his hand.
He turned suddenly, catching movement in the corner of his eye. The third creature rushed him, its head lowered, its tusks extended. Before he could react, Lobo felt the tusk puncture his left side, just below his liver, and exit through his right kidney. He roared in pain, the Wolf fighting to gain dominance. He swiped at the tusk with everything he could, his massive hand breaking the bone with a single blow. Breaking off the tusk only caused him more pain, a part of his mind wanting to only kill the creature before him.
He surged forward, jaws wide, claws ready to rend flesh. But, a sudden weight fell on his shoulders, as a creature leapt on his back. It bit into his shoulder, as far as it could manage. A new pain blossomed through his chest, on the edge of losing his sanity. A single clawed hand reached up to the creature's skull. He dug his claws into the monster's eyes, and began to squeeze. The muscles in his forearm, veritable cables of steel, creaked with the effort. The thing's skull suddenly cracked with the sound of a shotgun.
Even as he killed the one on his back, another charged him from the side. Joey fell to the ground, dazed. The same one that had tackled him leapt on top of him, its jaws clapping on air as it tried to get his neck. Joey brought his knees to his chest, and with a Herculean effort, kicked the creature off of him. As it fell away, two more fell on his arms, trying to pin him. Grabbing their chins, he slammed their heads together, blood and brain matter exploding on to his chest.
Two more leapt on him, while his arms were above him. But, instead of trying to pin him down, their claws cut through his exposed underarms. They rent muscle, arteries, and nerves. Joey knew it wouldn't be long for him to heal from the wounds.
But, it would be long enough. He looked up, only to see a creature standing over his head, its arm drawn back, claws spread wide.
I should never have gotten separated from the group, Joey thought, as the claws descended.