Might behoove her to join the fray. But the combatants were so far across the room and moving too quickly to offer a good knife-throwing target, since she wouldn't want to risk hitting the entangled Wagner. Best wait til the group stumbled within reach.
Okay, they'd fallen over on the bed, the German gamely struggling. He'd rid himself of the one holding his wiry tail, by slithering it out of the moron's grasp to twine around his thick neck. That fellow gasped, collapsed, and slid off the bed; now the tail was free to pummel and slap the one twisting his right arm into what looked like an excruciating position. A reflexive sympathetic wince issued from her throat, but by the lack of reaction she assumed the boys were too involved in their fracas to notice.
While they tussled in the free world, here in Closet-Land a lumpy pressure on her calf reminded Elise of the tool she'd been loathe to lose. But if she had to fight, and every moment increased that likelihood, the first order of biz was to untie the bandana and tuck the nail gun into a corner. Be a good reason to come visiting later on – with Logey, of course; no need to give The New Guy the wrong idea. After they'd been friends awhile and she knew there was no chance of monkey business or misread intentions, then from time to time she might drop by his place alone.
A peek out the door revealed that her defender had dispatched one more of the quintet who'd tumbled into the room attached to his various extremities, leaving two to wrestle with him while stumbling over the increasing pile of forms strewn about the floor. Typical Xavier mansion decor (at least from time to time): Piles Of Bodies In Arbitrary Arrangements Between Furniture In Various Stages Of Destruction. And she used to think life at the convent had been hectic!
One ruffian's huge arms were bent like anchors around The New Guy's shoulders as his teammate wound up for a killer blow. Instead of a sensible expression of dazed dread or frozen fear, Wagner was wild-eyed with the thrill of the match. OOF! That had to hurt: he had slipped out of the tight grasp, flexible as a slinky, leaving the punch to land firmly in the other beefcake's unprepared solar plexus. Bawling like a calf, the thug melted to the ground, clutching his abdomen. The remaining would-be attacker swiveled his head with a look of terror, trying to locate his prey.
Elise, accustomed to Spidey's tactics, instinctively turned her eyes upward. Yup, just as Peeps often did, Nightcrawler clung to the ceiling. Must be second nature to those wall-crawling types. And in four, three, two, one, sure enough, he dropped on the back of the confounded criminal, pulling hair, hanging on with agile limbs while the victim spun and twirled like a carnival ride gone crazy, trying to toss him off.
Should she burst from the closet and even the odds? Not needed; with his signature cloud of malodorous smoke, he disappeared, taking the villain with him. What could he have planned for the wretch?
"No, please, don't –" The voices filtered in, somewhat muffled. They must be at the far end of the suite, near the window seat.
"Give me a reason why I should not." Sounded as if he were about to laugh.
"Because, uh, you'll have to clean up the blood and bones down there if you dropped me now." The big guy was squealing in his attempt to convince the suave indigo mutant.
"Ach, being the most recent addition, I suppose that duty would fall to me."
Elise heard scrabbling noises and a thick thud, then a clatter as if a curtain rod had been yanked down.
"You stay right there, mein Freund, and nothing worse shall happen to you." His voice grew closer. "Sorry to have trussed you like a pig, but I have a feeling I could not turn my back safely on you. Besides, the curtain sash looks quite decorative with your uniform." The grinning blue face, golden eyes glimmering with glee, appeared around the bedroom door's shattered frame.
"Fraulein Stringfellow, you are safe and comfortable?"
Elise spoke through the slats of the closet door. "Peachy keen. Enjoying the break from my exhausting job and all."
The blue man hesitated at her dry tone; then his face lit up. "I hear more of these pests on the way, but do not fret. I will soon have the area cleared so that you may come out."
"That would be great. I'll just sit tight and plan menus in my head or something." She stood and opened the door, moving out of the enclosure. "Not."
Her rescuer gave a startled leap into the room; one more bound and he was close enough to take her by the shoulders and guide the reluctant refugee back.
"Really, now," she protested, "it's getting boring in there. I can fight as well as—"
The doors snapped shut; Nightcrawler's earnest face showed through the louvers. "Bitte, Fraulein, stay you here until the bad people are in check."
"Better check behind you, Mister Know-It-All X-person," she grumbled.
Without looking, he leapt to the ceiling, leaving the enemy to fall face first on the floor, conveniently in front of the closet, while diving to attack. Elise pushed the door open a crack and beaned the fellow with all her strength on the back of his head using the sword pommel. Scabbard cool and smooth in her hands, she hauled it back and leaned it against the doorjamb. Only took a second to lift the dude's eyelid and confirm that he was out.
Another one barreled into the room, heading straight for the unguarded woman, nunchaku spread like a tripwire between his hands. Before he could reach his prey, a lean figure landed on the fellow's back, lanky flegs wrapped around the stout waist, large blue-furred fingers intertwined to make a living blindfold. The martial arts weapon flew across the space over the clutter of bodies and dropped in front of the closet; Elise stuck her foot out enough to roll it in as the hapless villain struck blindly at the grinning X-man on his back. The tail of said X-man coiled around the baddie's throat and constricted. Choking, the mount toppled. The former circus performer rolled off without missing a beat, coming up with arms spread in a victorious flourish.
His look of amusement faded upon noticing the closet door was still ajar. The cook was stuffing the martial arts weapon into a handy pocket, but stopped long enough to pretend contrition. "I know, I know, back into my little box," she sighed, muttering, "I feel like the puppeteer working the Punch and Judy show," as the doors shut again.
The river of enemies seemed to be lessening. Maybe the worst was over. Uh oh, spoken too soon. More bad guys piled in the bedroom – she couldn't help but wonder how many were in the rest of the mansion if this were merely the overflow – but Wagner, although starting to waver a bit from exertion, dodged and lunged and swang punches that always seemed to connect where it hurt the most. They must have known by now that he was shielding her, for the inexorable assault moved him closer and closer to her hideaway. At last her view was blocked by his backside firmly pushed against the doors. Not a bad sight, but not a good sign.
The closet captive nudged at the door with her knee and whispered, "Special Delivery" in the vicinity of his ear. His three-fingered right hand slid the door open enough to receive the sword as his left fist crunched into a villain's jaw, knocking the invader into three guys behind him. As the opponents pitched about in a tangle of arms, legs, weapons, and curses, the mutant reached back; Elise slipped the nunchaku into his free hand. She started pulling the door to, but was arrested by his tail, which he waggled in her face. That inspired her to extricate a knife from its sheath and place it in the writhing coil, which curled about the gator-shaped handle and retracted.
Gotta be impressed with a guy who goes into battle fully loaded.
He closed the door with one foot and plunged back into the melee, a tornado of danger leaving a trail of human wreckage in his wake. But in her experience, even "costumes" needed backup once in a while. Time for a quick inventory of her hideaway: one old poster, some funky clothing, her Hilti nail gun, and the flashlight. There was the bullwhip, but that really didn't need to be exposed to danger and possible mutilation, and one knife which might come in handy later on. The German was doing a fine job of holding his own, fairly impressive considering the short amount of time he'd been an X-person.
Although it might be more impressive if he managed to keep hold of his weapons for more than a couple of minutes. How the heck had that happened when she'd only diverted her eyes for a few moments? Then again, there were eight or nine adversaries vying for the honor of disarming him, all piled around him between the bed and the wall opposite the door to the suite. He couldn't exactly leap up with so many of them holding down various parts of his body. He oughta poof out of the room, but probably thought it necessary to stick close by and keep on eye on her.
His sword was embedded in a wingback chair – that upholstery would be so expensive to repair, but such was life in the X-mansion – and her precious knife was sticking out of the wall about seven feet up. Darn! Wouldn't hurt the titanium blade, but these people had no respect for the craftwork of the wooden handles, and that injured her pride.
"Toss me something!" Nightcrawler aimed a pleading look in her direction. The nunchaku had landed in front of the closet again – but she knew better than to mess with those.
Elise stuck a hand out and pointed to the bed, hoping he'd figure out she had stashed some guns under there. His bewildered look dashed that hope.
"Anything will do, bitte!" he yelped.
The others' attention was focussed on subduing him, not on some silly girl too scared to leave her safe place. "I don't know how to use these," she hissed, scooping up the wooden and rope weapon and waving it.
"I can handle them, Liebchen," he landed a kick on the throat of one unlucky man, before two others grabbed the foot and twisted, "trust me!"
A sense of foreboding (or maybe common sense) skittered though her veins, but she lofted the nunchaku toward her new friend and hoped it wouldn't get intercepted.
The wooden weapon went straight to him alright – bonged him on the head; he stiffened for a brief moment, then slumped. Seems it was 'Crawler's turn to be knocked unconscious. So much for his "Oh you frail little human female! Hide behind me and my Mutant Greatness" type assurances. [footnote 1] Elise gaped, amazed at the irony of it all. If they lived through this, she would have to remind him that throwing the nunchaku had been his idea.
"Now I know why they say these aren't for amateurs," one of the men said, tucking the implement into his crimson sateen waistband. Two of the unnamed crazies carried the flaccid blue body out of the bedroom.
She whispered a hasty prayer. "Saint Michael the Archangel, God gave you authority to kick Satan's butt, and I could use a little help in that area at the mo, thanks!" Like it or not, succeed or fail, now was the time to prove she could protect herself.
At least until Nightcrawler, wherever he ended up, roused again to save the day.
[ To Be Continued ... ]
[footnote 1] This quotation was totally stolen from "Proud To Be An X-Nerd," Wagner fangirl and fabulous ficcer, who also gave me the inspiration for having Kurt k-o'd as a result of his own advice.
[codicil to footnote] RavenHare also contributed to this part of the story -- bless her furry little heart!