Authors note: missed my monday update last week so this week's is twice as long. The Creature gets loose and things get bloody at the end.
Quetzal woke up as the sun started to peek above the horizon. She felt a little bit bad about setting up Toad, but not too bad to smile and greet the dawn. For the first time in a week she took an easy breath. She morphed into a partial saurian form and submerged herself in the water. Lazily she made her way downstream towards town, propelling herself by her tail, good aerodynamics gave her pretty good hydrodynamics too. All she had to do now was keep out of sight until nightfall and make her way to civilization. There was a town that supported the compound about fifteen miles away. No sense in getting there early enough to be spotted by the natives.
She dilly-dallied in the water, taking her time to get a full meal of fish and a few turtles. She found a colony of alligators sunning themselves and basked for a little while with them. Eventually in the late afternoon she got out of the water and found a place to bed down for a few hours. She buried herself under the detritus of the swamp, covered her brilliant red hair with her shirt, and went to sleep.
"Did you hear about Quetzal?" Scott asked Hank. "Toad took her over the fence. They say he killed her."
"Why would Toad try to escape with her?"
"Maybe Logan was right. Maybe she does – did - have loyalties we didn't know about."
"You think Toad really killed her?" Beast frowned thoughtfully. "I mean, do you really think he could? She's more than able to defend herself without her powers. I'm not sure he'd be a match for her without his mutant abilities." He went silent as he thought.
"What are you thinking about?"
"Maybe the cuckoo just left the nest. Maybe she took Toad over the fence."
"There's a lot of assumptions there. That she's been faking her brain damage, that she found some kind of weakness in the system that we haven't been able to find, and got Toad to go along with it before he killed her."
"Or didn't kill her. She can hibernate," Beast said. "Maybe she's gone for help."
Scott shook his head. "I think you're grasping at straws Hank."
Quetzal woke up in darkness. She started the hike towards town. It was about an hour away at a fast clip. When she reached the edge of civilization she was careful to remain in the shadows and unseen. She prowled around looking for payphones and had no luck finding one. So much for calling the Avengers.
Now she was looking for a pharmacy.
When she found it, it was an inelegant break-in; a smash and grab with a well-thrown brick taking out the security camera. The alarms were going off as she finished her shopping. She grabbed a box of hair dye, a t-shirt, and a manicure set then leaped the counter to the pharmacy. She grabbed as many containers of painkillers as she could hold and disappeared back into the night. All told it took her less than a minute. She retreated back to some shadows and was well away by the time the cops showed up.
She buried the bottles of pills deep in the trash of a dumpster. The theft of drugs was just to cover the theft of the hair dye. The t-shirt covered her prison guard uniform. Now she needed to find a place to dye her hair.
A restaurant that had been closed and abandoned for the night provided the answer. Her break-in was much more skillful this time. "Who would've ever thought dad was right," she muttered as she used the manicure set to disable the security system. "Turns out someday I did need to know all this stuff."
In the ladies room, Quetzal applied the dye to her hair. It would hide her scarlet hair under a heavy black color. She even smeared the stuff over her eyebrows. If she kept her hands out of sight and her eyes low then it would be difficult to mark her as a mutant.
As the dye soaked into her hair, she wandered through the dark kitchen. Quetzal was careful not to pick at too much of the food. She picked up a pair of shears and walked to the manager's office.
She was lucky. Someone left a pair of slacks hanging up. They were too big on her, but nothing a tightly tied piece of kitchen twine wouldn't hold up and nothing an untucked t-shirt wouldn't cover. It would be enough until she could get some decent clothes. She'd look shabby and suspicious, but not like she'd recently gone over the wall.
After thirty minutes, Quetzal rinsed her hair out in the big sink in the kitchen. After scrubbing out all the dye she went to the ladies room again. Wincing slightly, she took the shears to her long hair, cutting it to the point where it barely brushed her shoulders. When she looked at herself in the mirror, she was satisfied with the dramatic change. This was a matter of survival and getting back to rescue her friends. There was no time for vanity.
Quetzal quickly cleaned up, removing all traces that she had been there. She slipped out of the back and dumped the muddy, bloody clothes in the dumpster, burying them deep along with the cut hair. Satisfied, Quetzal wiped her hand off and set off into the night. She still had a long night ahead of her and a lot of preparations to make.
Overall, Quetzal's luck that night had been lousy. After the stroke of good fortune in finding the slacks it had been all downhill. She could not find a single way to quickly get a message back to New York. All outgoing phone calls were monitored and internet usage was censored to a few sites. Even if the mail wasn't searched then it would take days, maybe weeks to get a letter out. Her best bet to get through would be to go back into the compound. Some ranking official there was bound to have open access. And as long as she was going back, she'd bring the wrath of Asylum with her.
So Quetzal made preparations to get back into the compound, without the damned collar. She toyed with the idea of sailing in on wings, but would leave her vulnerable. Scarlet red feathers looked pretty badass and intimidating, but for practicality the color was a nightmare. It would be easy to go in as a soldier, but that would almost surely mean killing whoever she got the fresh uniform and ID from. She couldn't have them reporting the theft for at least 36 hours and that would be very hard to do without snuffing them. Every part of Quetzal balked at the idea of snuffing another person, especially because it seemed so very unprovoked.
That pretty much left the delivery trucks or risking her neck by flying in. And since she didn't like the vulnerability of flight, the choice was easy. Subterfuge was the way to go.
Now she needed to find a hardware store. She'd need explosives.
Quetzal breathed slowly, trying to remain both calm and alert. She was excited and terrified. The box she was hiding in was barely big enough for her to curl around her satchel of tools and explosives. Mainly she was counting on the soldiers being far more lax about vehicles coming onto the base than they were going off it. It was a good risk she thought.
The truck stopped. She heard the door open and assumed the truck was being searched. Her breath froze in her lungs; otherwise the dog might have heard her. She knew from experience that the coffee grounds she had scattered over the floor of the truck would trash the dog's ability to scent for a little while.
If her luck held then she could get inside the complex without killing anyone.
Getting out will be a different story of course.
Quetzal shut her eyes and faded out a little to conserve energy.
She waited for a hundred molasses-slow heartbeats before she sliced the lid of her box open. She put her ear to the side of the truck and heard nothing. She opened the back of the truck in one smooth go. If there was anyone to hear the noise they'd hear it whether she opened the door just a bit or all the way open.
Still no one around.
It was a few hours until nightfall. She snuck to the laundry. The compound went through scads of linens and wasn't about to risk sending them out to be cleaned. Quetzal hid herself and her satchel under a pile of dirty sheets that wouldn't be touched now that the work shift was over. She closed her eyes and waited. She was really good at waiting.
After six hours she opened her eyes. She'd taken the time to thoroughly plan her route. The first stop was the kitchen. She was hungry and they used gas stoves.
Slipping into the abandoned kitchen was easy. She still had her manicure kit for disabling the alarm and picking the lock. The walk in fridge was unlocked so she went in and helped herself to a few uncooked steaks. It took less than twenty seconds for her to gulp them down. It was going to be a strenuous night and she'd thank herself for having the foresight to protein-load ahead of time.
Quetzal disconnected the hose that fed the gas stoves. She took out one of the extra slow burning fuses and closed it in the fridge door. It wasn't necessary to have very precise timing here. She just wanted a big boom to divert resources after she set her primary explosion. She couldn't get out fast enough after she lit the fuse. Quetzal snuck out through the window and sealed it before she started towards the triple-max compound. She wanted to get Wolverine out first. If the triple-max locked down before anyone could get to him it might be impossible to unseal.
Quetzal dug into her satchel and took the first of the explosives she'd made out. Like dad always said, if you can't break in quietly, make as big a boom as you can. And this thing would make a big boom. She wedged it against a window and lit the fuse. Opting for speed over stealth, she slipped around the corner.
The explosion was deafening. Her ears were ringing and acrid smoke stung her nostrils. She counted to ten and then tossed a pipe bomb towards the first explosion. It was a vicious mixture of fertilizer, diesel gas, nails, and rat poison. The fuse was so short she barely had time to duck around the corner. The second explosion hit all the first responders.
Quetzal stopped long enough to raid a pair of handguns from the bodies on the ground. She tried hard to keep from looking too long at the mutilated forms. They'd have done worse to me if given a chance. The gas in the kitchen must have reached the fuse because it exploded with enough force to make the earth shake under her feet. The compound was rapidly turning into a crazed anthill.
She charged through the entrance she had made herself. She fired at the soldiers who blocked her path and one "doctor" who came at her with a scalpel.
Quetzal helped herself to the slightly bloodied lab coat. Even with the satchel she figured she'd look more like one of the besieged and the attacker. She scrambled through the offices, yanking out drawers, overturning furniture, looking for keys.
In the third office she found a key to unlock collars.
She trotted down the hall to the cells, yelling at the soldiers she passed. "We're under attack! Get out there and do something about it!"
So far her plan based purely on her dad's old war stories (and hours spent building explosives together in the garage) was actually working. She wasn't quite sure she'd get this far. This only had to hold together for another minute or so. Once she sprung Wolverine then he'd take care of the rest.
Quetzal arrived at Wolverine's cell, bypassing a few soldiers who didn't give her a second look. He was strapped to a gurney and a few IVs were feeding into his arms. His eyes were closed and it didn't look like he was breathing. She opened the cell and ran over to him.
He was still breathing, it was shallow, but he was breathing. Quetzal picked up the medical chart and scanned the drugs and dosages. Everything she recognized from her dad's vet clinic (about a quarter of the list) was sedatives, downers, and anesthetics. She whistled through her teeth. "Flipping heck," she muttered. "They got you on enough here to drop Elvis – twice. I'm surprised you aren't on a respirator." She pulled out the IV feeds and opened the collar. "Let's give you a hand there."
Quetzal leaned down to check his pulse. It was racing. "Oh flipping heck."
His eyes snapped open.
She smiled. "Oh good, you're awaaa-yaaaak!" He knocked her to the ground and wrapped his hands around her throat.
"I knew you were one of them!" he was practically frothing at the mouth. His knees straddled her arms and he drew back a fistful of claws, ready to impale her.
Quetzal snapped back at him. "I'm the flipping rescue you dolt! How do you think the collar got off? Now get off of me before I break your nose."
"Why should I believe you?"
"Like I would take of your collar off and wake you up if I were one of the bad guys." She was more pissed than scared. "Even if I were a bad guy do you honestly think I'm that flipping dumb? Now get off of me!" She glared back as she contemplated how best to break his nose.
After a few moments Wolverine's grip loosened and he let her up. "I still don't trust you. Where are the others?"
"I don't like you either," she growled as she rolled to her feet. "But we're on the same flipping side. We have to go get them." Quetzal slung her satchel back on her shoulder. "I'm the only one who got loose."
"And I wonder how that happened. Did they let you go?"
She barely resisted the urge to slap him. "No. Look, we don't have time for you to give me the third degree. We have to get out before they seal this building." Quetzal checked to see how many rounds there were left in the handguns. She thumbed the safety on one of them and dropped it in her satchel.
"What do you have in there?"
"A lot of explosives. Mostly pipe bombs. A few flash bombs too."
"Where did you-"
"I made them. I was in the wind for about 24 hours and I robbed a hardware store." She showed one to Wolverine.
He turned it over and tried to figure out why he was having déjà vu. "How does a kid like you know this stuff?"
Quetzal started moving. "Ever hear of a little thing called the internet? Full of instructions for stuff like this." She rolled her eyes and left. Wolverine did follow behind her. She peeked around the corner into the corridor. "You want to get these guys?" Quetzal asked.
"Ladies first."
"Says the guy with the healing factor." Quetzal muttered and pulled out one of the flash bombs and lit the fuse. "Cover your eyes." She tossed the packet around the corner, squeezing her eyelids and protective membranes shut. After the 'foomf' and the bright flash, Quetzal rounded the corner.
She closed her eyes. With her heat vision it was easy to pretend she was target shooting, that they weren't real people. Five shots, five kills.
"Good shooting."
She just grunted. She didn't want to think about how good her shooting was.
Quetzal and Wolverine quickly cleared the way to the front of the building. He had a lot of rage to work off and Quetzal was more than happy to lag back. All this blood was leaving her with a bad taste in her mouth. Literally and metaphorically.
She shook her head to clear it. This is life and death baby. Do what you have to do to get out with your skin and your friends intact. Do what you need to do to survive. Snuff them before they can snuff you. She promised herself she could have a nice little mental breakdown when this was all over. Preferably in a sauna at a nice spa.
Once they were outside Quetzal filled her lungs with the clear air. She felt infinitely better with the open sky above her. She turned to Wolverine. "So now what?"
"What do you mean, 'now what'?"
"I mean this is all the further my plan went."
"You don't have a way out?"
"I barely flipping got a way in. I've been lucky so far, it's gonna run out soon." She grabbed his shirt and pulled him into a deep shadow. "You're flipping Weapon X, I'm an eighteen year old girl. You're in charge." She checked the magazines of her handguns and handed him the one with more rounds. "Jean's in the administration building to the north. Whatever they wanted her for, I don't think it's been turned on yet. Everyone else is in the barracks to the east."
He shoved the firearm away. "I'll get Jean, you get the others."
Quetzal strongly suspected he was trying to get her killed. "I ain't that lucky and I don't have that many explosives. I'm goin' with you whatever you decide."
He thought it over. Quetzal could see his stress as his instincts fought against his logic. "Let's start with the others then."
Quetzal made Wolverine nervous. In the field she was just as good as she was in the Danger Room. She had no jangling nerves, she didn't make any wise cracks to lessen her tension; she was completely professional and dispassionate. She quickly and naturally fell into a support position. Either she'd done this sort of thing before or somewhere in her brain she couldn't tell the difference between the hard-light simulations of the Danger Room and real life. Neither possibility was a good one as far as Wolverine was concerned.
She holstered her handguns in favor of a rifle as soon as she got her hands on it. And despite never having run any similar training simulations, she was good at picking positions to fire from. This was more than natural predatory instinct, it was practiced skill.
"I'm a country girl," she said when she caught him giving her a look. "Never missed a hunting season." She slammed another magazine home and drew the bolt back to chamber a round. "When it comes down to it the basics are all the same."
"Doesn't explain why you know how to use an automatic rifle."
Her golden eyes rolled in her skull. "Dad was retired special forces living in the middle of nowhere Texas. We had guns. We had lots and lots of guns. Our friends had lots and lots of guns. About the only thing I didn't learn how to fire was a grenade launcher."
Again, one of her pat answers that made complete sense. But it certainly didn't make him feel any more comfortable.
She misinterpreted his expression and glared at him. "Look, when you have a little girl you can raise her any way you like. In the meantime don't you dare say a bad word about my dad."
Two of the explosives Quetzal left as they made their way over to the barracks went off. More soldiers went running from the barracks to look for Wolverine and Quetzal near there.
"You stay twenty yards back. If I get mobbed shoot them all."
"I'll hit you."
"Don't worry about it."
"You're the boss."
"That does not mean try to hit me."
Her teeth were brilliant in her smile. "Course."
Very few of the rounds Wolverine was hit with came from Quetzal. She left her weapon on three-shot burst to maintain control, for which he was glad. It hurt like a sonnuvabitch to get hit with an weapon on full automatic and a soldier using the 'spray and pray' method. In the meantime he did his best to make sure none of the soldiers got a chance to take a well-aimed shot in Quetzal's direction.
When they got to the door of the barracks, Quetzal stooped to pat down the pockets of one of the fallen guards.
"What are you doing?" he asked.
"Looking for a passcard. You know, to unlock the door."
Wolverine slashed the door open.
"Oh, right." Quetzal pocketed the passcard.
Quetzal hung back as Wolverine went down the corridor looking for the other X-men. Quetzal stopped in front of Toad's cell. She didn't have adamantium claws, but she did have the passcard.
"You bitch," he growled through split lips. He'd been beat halfway to hell.
Quetzal felt immediate guilt. She was responsible for what happened to him. With a little effort she quashed it down. She'd done what she needed to do. "You want out or not?"
"I'm going to kill you."
Quetzal swiped the passcard and opened the door. Before Toad could leave she surged in, pushing him down to the ground. She planted a boot on his sternum and leaned enough to make it hard for him to take a full breath. "Toad, I don't want to have to kill you. I told you I needed your help to get out of here, and you were an immense help. I literally could not have done it without you. Thank you. I promised I'd get you out of here if you helped me escape. You did and I keep my promises." She leaned a little further and he grabbed her leg, trying to throw her off balance. She casually pulled the handgun from her waistband and pointed it at his head. He stopped moving and just stared balefully at her. "It's all one to me if you leave in a bodybag however." And she leaned a little more still. For a moment she let silence hang, as if she were debating his fate. "Now then," she said slowly and softly. "Are you going to take this opportunity to make your escape? Or are you going to try to do something extremely foolish?"
Of course he couldn't completely back down. "Next time I see you," he wheezed. "You're dead."
She lifted her foot. "We'll see."
"This isn't over," he growled at her.
"Yes, it is. And the sooner you realize that the happier we'll both be." She heard Wolverine shouting for her and backed out of the cell, not turning her back on Toad. He spared one last vitrolic look at her before heading the opposite way and hopefully out of her life.
Quetzal trotted up to where the X-men were waiting. Wolverine had already taken care of the collars and she could tell they were spoiling for a fight. Beast grinned when he saw her. "The cuckoo flew back to the nest?"
She grinned back. "Someone's gotta kick you chickies out."
"Let's go get Jean," Scott said. From the tone in his voice Quetzal was glad she was not going to be on the other end of things when they did find Jean. And then she remembered the psychic conduit and felt a similar hatred rise in her. She had family here.
Still, as the X-men started forward and the other freed mutants started tearing the place apart, Quetzal allowed herself a moment to relax and smile.
It had worked. She had sprung her friends. Her plan, based on her dad's war stories and hours spent at the rifle range and building explosives in the garage worked. She took two breaths to bask in the glow of success than ran to catch up to the others.
Quetzal was barely needed for the rest of the assault. And she was okay with that. Everything she'd done over the past forty-eight hours was starting to catch up with her. It certainly wasn't the physical stresses that were making her want to curl up in a quiet corner. The only thing that was keeping her feet moving forward was knowing that there was still work to be done. There was still Jean and there was still one of her relatives at the end of this.
Hold it together just a bit longer. For goodness sake don't start thinking now!
Any strength lent to her by adrenaline and anger was fading. When they reached the outer perimeter of the administration building she was feeling wiped out. The Creature was stirring restlessly at the base of her mind. She didn't dare let it get even a clawtip into her thoughts. It was scratching with a hunger sharpened by the scent of blood. Beyond the hunger was fear, a strong desire to permanently end the threats that surrounded her.
And if the Creature got loose she wouldn't have the strength to rein it in. And it would go after her friends as quickly as it went after their enemies. Might go after Wolverine even faster.
The smart thing to do, Quetzal rubbed her temple. Would be to slink off and sleep somewhere. Get a bite to eat. Get my strength back before the Creature gets out. That'd be the smart thing.
But she couldn't back down now. She refused to acknowledge weakness on her first real mission. She had to prove she could keep up with the others.
This is stupid. The others have slept well in the past twenty-four hours. The others don't have a programmed killing machine in their heads. Keeping the Creature down is robbing you of important instincts; you'll be a flipping liability soon. Just draw them a map of the basement and call it a night already.
She ignored herself. "I could go blow the generator," Quetzal said when they stopped for a quick breath. "It'll decrease the odds that whatever they've got Jean in can be turned on. It wasn't operational two days ago, but it might be now."
Scott shook his head. "You're the one that knows the layout of the basement. And if they do have Jean hooked up you might be the only one here immune to that. Beast, you take care of the generator."
Quetzal nodded and turned to Beast. "Stay safe."
Wolverine, Scott, and Storm had cut through the first two floors of the admin building when the power went out. Emergency lighting dully illuminated the halls. Quetzal didn't like the dim red light, it reminded her too much of the blood-soaked vision of the Creature.
"How much further?" Scott asked.
"I think another two floors down," Quetzal said. "Then we go . . . " she turned the map around in her head. "East. Yes, that should be right. There'll be more security as we get further down. All the labs are pretty tightly guarded. I don't know a great deal of detail about the area because the cleaning crews were never allowed there." She was blathering, telling them things she'd already mentioned. Quetzal forced herself to shut up. "Next floor down is probably where they'll be waiting with the specialized weaponry."
Scott nodded. "What's below us right now?"
Quetzal closed her eyes and concentrated on fitting the various maps and diagrams together.
"Quetzal."
"One second, one second," she put the final piece in. "Nothing. Just some hallway."
"Good." Cyclops lifted his glasses, aiming a full strength optic blast through the floor.
Quetzal leapt about three feet backwards in surprise, backing into Wolverine. He smiled at her. "That's why he's the boss."
Storm was already filling up the area with a thick fog.
"Stay back for a minute," Cyclops nudged Quetzal away from the gaping hole. "There's always some panic fire when this happens."
Quetzal happily backed away from the hole as shots rang out. There was also the high pitched whine that was nearly above her range again. "Back up!" she shouted at Wolverine.
It took thirty seconds to recharge the sonic weapon after it had fired. And Quetzal's heat vision made it as plain as day. She locked onto it and her prey drive kicked in. She leapt down the foggy hole towards it, claws spread. There were shouts above her but she was locked onto her prey.
Quetzal impacted with the man holding the rifle. It clattered to the ground and she raked her claws across his face. She grabbed his handgun from the holster at his hip and fired into his chest.
Wolverine landed behind her. "Dammit girl what are you-"
She wheeled on him, hooking her leg behind his ankle and giving one of his shoulders a sharp push and pulling on the opposite arm. Not enough time to tell him that she was hearing the whine again. The blast hit her at full strength.
Quetzal collapsed on top of Wolverine. The world was tilting at funny angles and she was concentrating on not throwing up. He roughly shoved her away and her world went careening in circles again. She threw up then. There was some shouting and screaming and the sound of clothing, flesh and bone being hacked apart. She smelled a great deal of red meat and her mouth started watering. The instant revulsion at the idea of salivating over human flesh made her throw up again.
Storm was down next.
"Mind your step," Quetzal moaned, her face pressed against the cold floor. "The floor's a little slick." She laughed weakly.
Storm dropped to a knee and pressed her fingers against Quetzal's neck. "Are you okay?" she asked.
"I'm fine. Be there in a minute."
"Which door Quetzal? Where do we find Jean?"
Quetzal was recovering from the blast surprisingly quickly. "I can't tell. I've lost my orientation. There's four labs on this level. And I –"
Storm's face went blank. She was still for a moment, as if listening to something very far away, then she collapsed like a puppet with the strings cut.
Now Quetzal was frantically checking Storm. Her heart rate was normal and she was breathing fine. There was no blood and her pupils were reacting like they should be.
Cutting the power didn't work. They must have activated Jean for whatever they wanted to do. The fog was dissipating; Quetzal crumpled to the ground and shut her eyes before she could be found upright and conscious.
Laying there quietly, Quetzal was having a hard time keeping her thoughts in order. She kept spacing out, apparently she wasn't completely immune to the effects. And when her attention started to drift the Creature was right there trying to wedge further into her consciousness.
This wasn't going to work much longer. The Creature was going to get out and it was going to be bloody. A whole host of genetic memories were screaming at Quetzal that she had to get up and start killing.
There were voices over her. "We got the telepath working for us. There's no reason to keep them alive anymore. Kill them all."
So Quetzal gave up the last bit of control on the Creature, there didn't seem to be anything to lose.
The Creature surged to the surface. She greeted the world with an angry roar that rattled off the walls of the corridor. She was awake, she was angry, and she was hungry. More than that, this was familiar. It echoed in her genes and her instincts in the same way that a spider knows how to build a web from birth.
Her thoughts were dim and dull, without the hard edges and bright sparks of human thought. Nothing that Jean would have recognized as sentience. We know this. We like this. Instinctively she looked around for her sisters, other Pegasus Chimeras to coordinate the hunt with. We are alone. This is good too.
The Creature had little care for what the internal mechanisms in her body were doing, but she was optimizing for killing as she launched into the crowd of soldiers. The bony plates in her back extended around her belly to protect her organs in a flexible internal armor. Her mouth extended, filling with serrated fangs and venom glands, the muscles along the jaw increased her bite strength to more than a thousand pounds per square inch. Her sternum sharpened in angle to a keelbone, presenting less target area as she fell into a semi-quadrapedal stance on the knuckles of her wings. Fluffy scarlet feathers made it difficult to tell where the meat of her body began and insulated her against many kinds of attack. Her legs became raptor-like, coiled steel haunches and a large gutripping talon on each foot. Once her neck and tail had extended to their full length, turning the seven foot radius around her into a killzone.
That was what crashed into the crowd of soldiers; a Creature nearly invulnerable to small arms fire and able to sever limbs with a single, effortless bite. She tore into her prey with an animal savagery coupled with mechanical efficiency.
And she was pleased with herself. Pleased with the situation.
She flared her wings and reared up, shrieking at the top of her lungs. As she came down she brought one wing down on a man and slashed the claws of the other wing across the throat of another. Her mouth clamped onto a third man, crushing his collarbone and ribcage into pulp. A twist of her neck killed him and threw him and two comrades into the wall with bone shattering force. She swallowed what was left in her mouth.
The Creature's bulk nearly filled the corridor, and it certainly wasn't possible to get past her. She advanced implacably.
There was the high-pitched whine the sonic rifle emitted right before it was fired. The Creature knew the affect it had on her human half and leapt through four men to clamp her jaws on the rifle, wrenching it and the shooter's arms away.
Then a net was thrown at her. The Creature felt something near contempt that they thought she'd fall for the same trick again. She half ducked and grabbed the edge of it in her teeth, flicking it back at the direction it had come just as the electricity seared her lips. It had a satisfying effect, briefly filling the air with a shriek of pain.
The guards retreated behind a bulkhead door. The corridor started to fill with an acrid gas. The Creature might have laughed if she'd had a sense of humor. The protective membranes slid over her eyes and her nostrils sealed shut. She could hold her breath for half an hour if she had to.
Stymied by the door, the Creature probed at the human part of her mind. It was useful for problem solving.
At least it would be if it would stop mewling about injured comrades.
The human directed attention to a man on the floor. The Creature instantly recognized the heat signature.
Mission priorities started shifting around in her head. This man was a primary target in any circumstance.
The force with which the human mind surged forward almost slapped the Creature down. It's thoughts on the matter were clear. No! Not now! Not here! I will not let you! The Creature didn't think the human had enough strength to rally to the front of the brain, but she acquiesced anyway. Then the human showed her a neat trick.
The primary target (Wolverine – the human brain named it for her) had fallen with his claws extended. Very sharp claws. The Creature bent, opening her mouth. Don't waste our venom here. The Creature took hold of his forearm and pulled. His muscles and tendons tore even with the relatively light pressure she was using. But his bones stopped her teeth.
Tastes bad, the Creature complained to herself. She dragged him down the hall towards the bulkhead. The weight was awkward but between the stubby fingers on her wings and her teeth she was able to get his claws to cut through the door. It was delightfully easy. One cut this way, one cut another way, then she bashed into it with her shoulder. The bulkhead was weakened enough that she was able to get through. Fresh air met her face.
She dragged Wolverine with her into the clean air. Then she turned and went back looking for another body. The dark-skinned woman who smelled vaguely of ozone. Very carefully the Creature took a hold of the woman's shirt and dragged her to the clean air. The human had another good idea. One that would work much better than killing individual guards.
The Creature sniffed around until she found what she was looking for. That is our Tia Maria. And many others. She dragged Wolverine to that door and repeated the trick.
More guards inside. But half of the crowd were scientists. Those were always high on the target list too. And they were soft targets, not nearly as dangerous as prickly guards and soldiers. After tearing through the armed guards the Creature took a moment to herself. She lowered her head and growled softly, nearly purring. We will enjoy this.
Then she leapt forward, ready to feed again.