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Chapter 20: Rage

PSYCOM Operations Center
Skies above Annapolis, Maryland
A crawl after noon…

The floors under PSYCOM Industries trembled.

Massive vibrations rippled; as quake after earth shattering quake, shook the facility to its very foundation.

The hulking metallic body of Piotr Rasputin fell back, blasting through two reinforced steel walls with the menacing Juggernaut hot on his heels, unrelenting. Crumbling rubble of debris showered down from the ceiling as the tyrant giant’s approached, the floor quivered with each of his heavy steps.

Colossus took a minute to shake his head, trying to clear the swirling stars in his vision, but then he was back on his feet in an instant. He returned firing a quick medley of body punches against the brute. His steel fists hammered into the ribcage of that tyrant giant, delivering a machine gun barrage of devastation. The young Russian then ducked in swiftly, ushering a shout with all his considerable might, crossing over with a staggering right hook that cocked the Juggernaut’s head clean back…a full three inches.

Cain Marko’s lips curled in bright anger and annoyance. His hefty fist flew; erupting with a small shockwave as he dug right into the midsection of Colossus, instantly curling the younger mutant’s body over the ruinous blow. The Juggernaut then collected his hands in a knot overhead. His mammoth fists slammed down with more ferocity than an atomic bomb. There was a perverse arrangement of clanging steel, as Colossus’ metallic body clapped onto the ground in a helpless heap.

Momentarily dazed, the young metallic mutant, tried to scramble to his feet not to mention fighting to keep his mutation in place. If that fell, he couldn’t even hazard the thought. But all that came to a screeching halt when the Juggernaut took a handful of the younger man’s garb. He chuckled darkly for a brief moment, before slamming the young fighter’s metal body back down through the titanium floor! Marko was relentless now. His fists kept pounding and pounding, driving into Colossus’ prone form; never letting the younger man to get a moment’s reprieve.

The Juggernaut then grinned viciously underneath his helmet while looking down at the metallic Mutant, “Heya punk, don’t tell me you’re already tired,” he smirked with a light chuckle, “…I ain’t even breakin’ a sweat over here,” he taunted before he lifted his gigantic boot and drove its heel into the steel titan’s chest. The Juggernaut sadistically laughed as he twisted this way and that, feeling the body underneath him rive in pain. The young man continued to howl as Marko increased in pressure.

OoOoOo

The echoing sounds of the colossal quakes seemed little more than distant rolling thunder as the Beast and Victor Creed continued with their murderous clash. Adamantium steel was met with razor-sharp claws. Ballistic rage was met with cool predatory cunning. The two continued to circle the other in that dank underground waterway; like performers in a dark deadly dance. Twirls, echoing with bestial roars howled as they crashed, fought, and moved.

Victor Creed winced painfully as felt that sharp pain again in his ribcage whenever he breathed. Those eighteen slash marks that just recently healed had returned with a vengeance, now accompanied with six additional friends. He was in bad shape. He was starting to lose more blood than his healing factor could handle. And all he could think was that this all was complete and utter bullshit!

Normal men, he could make them piss right in their pants and women, heh, he was downright terrifying. Hell, even mutants like those pansy-ass X-Men, he was able to at least pissing them off so they’d get sloppy and make a mistake. But this animal, this Beast in front of him, it was unshakable.

This Beast that wore Logan’s skin was almost like a completely different being. It kept itself low to the ground sometimes on all fours and sometimes not. Its movements were clear, crisp, precise and ultimately deadly. It didn’t speak. It responded only in low growls and snarls. But most of all were its eyes that were completely unnerving.

Its dark piercing gaze never left Victor Creed for a second. Even during its barrage of attacks it kept its haunting gaze forever trained on the sadistic mutant, like a silent, subtle reminder of the grim death that was slowly approaching. Even now, its dark steel gray eyes were drilling holes into Victor by the second. Waiting…patiently.

It was enough to piss a grown man off!

“I’m gonna rip yer fuckin’ head off!” Sabertooth roared as he charged forward. His black claws aiming to tear that smug bastard’s heart clean out of his body then cook it like a steak.

The Beast witnessed his prey’s ferocious approach without batting an eye. A low growl was the only warning Creed was issued before the Beast went into action. A yellow three hundred pound bullet of adamantium claws blasted into Sabertooth’s chest like a mach truck, slamming him back. Two sets of adamantium claws ripped and slashed in diagonal lines across Victor Creed’s abdomen, the Beast then deftly dropped down low twisting away and in the next seconds it shot up again impossibly fast. Its booted feet snapped Creed’s head back with a launching flip kick, which ended with the Beast’s dropping back down low to all fours.

Sabertooth tried to stumble forward but the Beast was already moving. The Beast was always moving.

It came low crossing with a spinning slash that tore at Creed’s hamstring. Yet still moving; the Beast then coiled its body in mid-swing, this time striking high with a swipe that cut along Victor’s face temporarily blinding him. But Sabertooth hand shot out making an attempt, gripping nothing but air, because the Beast already retreated back, falling to the outside of Creed’s reach.

Sabertooth’s reprieve was only for mere seconds, because the Beast came at him again, this time up high. Three twelve-inch long adamantium claws tasted the meat of his shoulder. The Beast then spun away, its other claws tearing at Creed’s Achilles tendon. Victor Creed howled out in agonizing pain as he dropped down to one knee.

He then looked up and there was the Beast, not five inches away from his face. Its gleaming claws were up, it looked poised, prime, ready to make the final killing strike, but instead it dropped back again and continued to watch and observe, not to mention wait.

It was in at that moment; Victor knew exactly what it was doing. This Beast that stank of the runt, it was testing him, torturing him and mocking him, all at the same time. It had complete and utter control of the situation. And the most fucked up thing was there wasn’t shit Creed could do to stop it.

OoOoOo

Painful retribution was the Beast’s goal.

A clean honorable death was something that was only reserved for the worthiest of opponents. Worthiest of opponents it noted; but not this one, never this one... This animal, this dog will howl and bleed like the coward he was.

It was all he deserved.

OoOoOo

Meanwhile, several levels above…

“Storm, Alpha pattern: Zulu go!” Cyclops ordered, his voice carrying over the swirling howl of ruinous chaos that surrounded the trio. Brief thundering eruptions continued to rage down below from the cataclysmic battle between Colossus and the Juggernaut, but up topside the remaining three X-Men had their hands full, the evil mutant known as Avalanche was using the extent of his seismic powers to bring the whole expansive room down around them, sending tidal waves of destruction and wreckage their way.

The battle hardened Ororo Monroe nodded in agreement to the X-Men leader’s instruction despite being in the middle of such calamity. “Cyclops, cover me!” she replied in earnest then in an instant her bright blue eyes flashed white as a current of air carried her up. She then ascended with swirling silverish blue streams of lightning flaring and coursing around her, building in their intensity.

Storm looked ahead as larger and larger segments of the room started to dislodge and fall into the swirling turmoil, as if the whole room was trying to tear itself apart by the seams. But the African Windrider held no worries because the astonishing might of Cyclops’ optic blast made itself known while covering her. Meanwhile beside him, Jean Grey stood, blanketing the two of them under the cover of an invisible dome of psychic force. Storm, the currents of lightning still coiling, fearlessly soared straight into that center of chaotic madness, all the while Cyclops’ blazing crimson beams ripped continuously sailing around her, obliterating any debris that dared to impede the former goddess’ journey.

It wasn’t long before the Weatherwitch’s approach drew the attention of Avalanche. He saw the extreme care their Cycloptic leader took in her advance, not to mention the swirling serpent of blue electricity that rived around her. Avalanche might not have been the brightest of the Brotherhood’s pack, but he recognized great threats when he saw them. And that African woman was as deadly as they came.

Avalanche then concentrated. The Mutant allowed his mind to expand for a briefest fraction of a second before triggering his gift. His hands sent out a highly pitched frequency that allowed him to find all the intricate lay lines that lied within every solid inanimate object within the room. He then with his own will alone, caused small shattering collapses within those lines resulting in cascading floods of ruptures within the ceiling, tearing apart three-meter large fragments that hurled to the floor, not being impartial to anything that lied in their way. Only problem is, he would have had better luck trying to catch the wind with a stringed net, than the X-woman named Storm.

There is a reason why Ororo Monroe better known as Storm, has also been given the nickname the Windrider. She not only guides the wind, or uses it to glides upon its currents; she also can completely command it. So when the fragmented pieces of tile, steel and cement attempt to make their murderous play they are always only within a hairbreadth of striking, because Storm not only is the Windrider but if the need is great she can also turn into the Wind Dancer.

The Wind Dancer, she jigs and twists. The Wind Dancer zigzag and twirls. She cast such a chaotic line of approach that the full extent of Avalanche’s concentration was solely poured into defeating the woman, while she simply wore an expression of mildly annoyance.

Storm barrel rolled spun, blazing across making a lightning trek. She collected all that build up natural electricity to her both hands before freeing a bolt so massive that the light nearly stole all shadows from within the room. Avalanche had only a moment to react. He thrust his pad down hard and fast, that very same instance a four thousand pound block of cement came crashing down in front of him, just seconds before that titanic bolt’s impact. It met that immovable object and instantly the room was flooded with another massive detonation. Its quake rocked the foundation of the room for several seconds before finally coming to an eerie calm.

Unbelievably shaken by the extreme close call; Avalanche’s eyes widened in amazement. He then took a quick breath to restore his resolve, his lips tightening in a smirk as he looked up to the African Woman hovering in front of him. He was slightly pleased to know that, that tremendous effort did take some of the wind out of her as well, although she didn’t seem too worried.

Avalanche’s grin turned into a ruthless smile as he started to refocus his mutation for another attack. “Close but not close enough, X-bit…ARGHHH!!!!” he violently choked out as he lurched forward; tumbling into a crumbled heap, a burn mark sizzled angrily on his back.

Just beyond his fallen form stood Cyclops; the X-Men’s leader drew his gloved hands smoothly away from his visor. Jean stood readily beside him, her emerald gaze falling on Avalanche. She did a quick mental scan, and then nodded to Cyclops determining that the mutant was out of commission. Summers then looked over to Storm as she touched down right next to him. “Good job,” he congratulated her.

A bright smile from the African woman was his reward, “Anytime…”

Alpha pattern: Zulu was one of the X-Men’s more advance battle tactics. It initially involved Cyclops keeping the bait, which in this case was Storm; under cover fire while the bait advanced on the target. With the target’s attention shifting to Storm, Cyclops and Jean would be free to circle around to seize the target’s unopposed rear, basically outflanking him before then striking. It was a tactic they rarely practiced outside of the Danger Room but it proved fruitful in its first live attempt.

Cyclops paused for a moment as he tried to reconfirm their location, when a loud eruption from down below nearly sent them all off of their feet. It took but a moment for recollection to set in then the three of them all had one thought. “Peter!” Storm cried, voicing their fears a loud.

Grimly, Summers nodded his head, “We got to get down there fast.”

OoOoOo

Colossus’ breath was heavy.

In reality for the metallic Russian, breathing was a process brought more from habit than actual necessity. When you’re made of over five hundred pounds of living solid steel, little things like breathing are no longer necessary. But such thoughts weren’t on his mind at the moment, the breathing helped him focus, helped him stay conscious.

He couldn’t believe the might of this demon, this seemingly invincible Juggernaut. No matter what he threw at him, the unstoppable Titan would just shrug it off. Piotr couldn’t believe he failed. He couldn’t believe his strength had failed him.

Ever since he was a young boy, Piotr was always the biggest and the strongest amongst the others in his village. Being as such he quickly fell into the role of a protector. The courage in his heart reinforced by the strength of his body aided him throughout many troubles that befallen his village. Even when he departed from his small village in exchange for bright lights of New York City and the many welcoming faces of Xavier’s School, his heart of a protector followed with him intact, because it now became the cornerstone of whom he was and his strength was the foundation of that cornerstone.

Piotr Rasputin, also known as Colossus, now could only stare in horror at the towering armored giant lumbering towards him, because his strength wasn’t enough, because he wasn’t good enough.

OoOoOo

Cain Marko looked over his fallen opponent. The silver glimmer of the kid’s mutation gleamed brightly for a moment longer then in an instance the gray of steel turned to the pale pink of flesh. The Juggernaut issued a low grunt as he decided to finally bring this party to a close. His massive palms snatched up the younger man’s body as he held it in front of his face. Cain’s rank breath washed over the boy as he spoke, “Punk, this lil’ game is over…” he muttered while cocking back a massive fist for the final blow.

Not a second later screeching sound echoed in the room as a crimson beam of light cut across the air, blasting Juggernaut in his back. Marko felt the impact of the wave of energy as it hit him squarely across his shoulder blades. Puzzled; he turned around the very next instant as another massive shot off again, this time hitting him square in the face, blasting him off his feet.

The Juggernaut and his captive fell to the floor. It took the tyrannical giant a few moments before he could scramble up to his feet, all the while he heard the rhythmic clicking of boots as they slowly approached from a darken corridor. When he was able to stand once more, Cain swore he saw in the distance two burning embers of red, glowing the darkness in the hall across from him.

The burning embers were the foreground to a silloute, which then soon took the shape of a man a little over six feet in height. His dark auburn hair was keenly cut, not a single hair out of place. As he slowly came into the light it could be seen that he wore a tight body suit of navy blue. His chiseled looks would be considered boyish by some standards but undeniably handsome, especially when he laughed. Unfortunately laughing was the furthest thing from his mind right now.

“Consider those first two, warning shots…” The Juggernaut heard the X-Men leader say as he continued his approach. The man’s voice was utterly calm and completely cold as ice. The armored giant was going to reply but it was that moment that Marco noted something else, the X-Men Leader’s signature visor. The ones he was seldom ever without, was held precariously in his hands.

Scott Summers looked on at the Juggernaut, with his own two smoldering eyes of red. The blazing fury of his mutation precariously held in check. “Now, get your hands off my X-Man, you son of a bitch…”


To be continued….





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