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xp_logsIn Part 1 of the Assault Log:
Crawling out of bed after a nightmare, still breathing heavily, Logan dressed and went downstairs. It was only a dream. Only a dream. But he still needed to be sure.
Halfway down the stairs, he heard them, smelled them. They didn't belong. As soon as he could see them, he unsheathed his claws, creeping closer. They saw him and two rushed forward. He growled, swiping at first one, then the other.
Marie woke with a start, wondering if she'd been dreaming the muffled noises that she remembered from Stryker's invasion. A chill crept over her when she realized she wasn't dreaming at all and she got out of bed, crossed her living room, and flung open her door.
Later, she couldn't really rationalize her actions except to say that she was still half-expecting it to be a dream and half-expecting it to be some of the other students playing a prank. She smelled blood and heard someone dying the moment the door was open, though, and found herself in the middle of one of her nightmares.
The first went down quickly; he hadn't expected the claws. The second one was more clever, more nimble. He dodged, a blur, and Logan growled in frustration. Two more appeared behind him and he kicked, but found himself repelled. He used the opportunity to sheath his claws for a punch, driving his fist, then his claws, into the man's abdomen. He jerked up, claws tearing through bone and muscle and vital organs. The man gurgled blood; the smell of it was thick in Logan's nostrils.
The scene before her was nothing but variegated shadows to her eyes, yet her mind composed it swiftly. Logan dispatched a man and there were at least two more moving toward him. Marie kept silent, not wanting to distract him from his task, unaware that in her pale night-dress, she was almost luminous in the minimal light of the hall. Another dark-clad intruder slid past the others and lunged at her.
The man in front of him dodged each swipe of Logan's claws, his body a blur in the darkness. Logan couldn't /see/ to fight him. He growled, low and deep, and /let go/. Closing his eyes, he listened for the man to move, taking a hard punch to his lower back. He reached out with his claws at random and -- there -- the man moved and Logan punched /up/ and drove his claws into the man's jaw and through the top of his head.
When Logan opened his eyes again, he saw one of the intruders grab Marie, pushing her back toward her room. He paid the price for that split-second distraction, arching his back against the gun that sressed against his skin. There was a cold, metallic click, and then a bullet tore through his body, lodging itself in his ribcage.
The man was on her before Marie knew he was coming and he got his hands on her, fingers digging into her shoulders, bearing her back into her room.
Instinct saved her and she had her bare hand on his throat before he closed on her completely. Adrenaline drove her reflexes. She crushed his windpipe in the same moment that her mutation began to sap his life. Disgusted by the sensation of his death flooding her, she slammed his head into the door frame to end it and dropped his body at her feet. It was over before she was quite sure it had begun and all she wondered was whether there were another coming as she stepped over the body and back into the hall.
Logan grunted with the force of the bullet, eyes on Marie. Pride welled up in him when he saw the man hit the doorframe, then the floor, and then he himself was on his feet, his skin pushing the bullet out with a quiet *tink* onto the floor. He spun and drove his fist into his attacker's nose, driving the bone into his brain, then spat blood onto the floor and arched his back, turning toward Marie.
Marie felt incredibly calm as she met Logan's eyes, standing very straight, hands clasped in front of her, waiting. "Is that all of them?" His senses were far sharper than hers and in his state she knew he could count the spiders in the corners.
He stood there, letting the adrenaline rush through him, feeling his beast. It felt /good/. He felt sated, like he should moan with the residual pleasure. Rolling his head over his shoulders, he grinned. "All of 'em here, anyway. There's more." He took another breath, to be sure, and his eyes narrowed. "Fire."
Crawling out of bed after a nightmare, still breathing heavily, Logan dressed and went downstairs. It was only a dream. Only a dream. But he still needed to be sure.
Halfway down the stairs, he heard them, smelled them. They didn't belong. As soon as he could see them, he unsheathed his claws, creeping closer. They saw him and two rushed forward. He growled, swiping at first one, then the other.
Marie woke with a start, wondering if she'd been dreaming the muffled noises that she remembered from Stryker's invasion. A chill crept over her when she realized she wasn't dreaming at all and she got out of bed, crossed her living room, and flung open her door.
Later, she couldn't really rationalize her actions except to say that she was still half-expecting it to be a dream and half-expecting it to be some of the other students playing a prank. She smelled blood and heard someone dying the moment the door was open, though, and found herself in the middle of one of her nightmares.
The first went down quickly; he hadn't expected the claws. The second one was more clever, more nimble. He dodged, a blur, and Logan growled in frustration. Two more appeared behind him and he kicked, but found himself repelled. He used the opportunity to sheath his claws for a punch, driving his fist, then his claws, into the man's abdomen. He jerked up, claws tearing through bone and muscle and vital organs. The man gurgled blood; the smell of it was thick in Logan's nostrils.
The scene before her was nothing but variegated shadows to her eyes, yet her mind composed it swiftly. Logan dispatched a man and there were at least two more moving toward him. Marie kept silent, not wanting to distract him from his task, unaware that in her pale night-dress, she was almost luminous in the minimal light of the hall. Another dark-clad intruder slid past the others and lunged at her.
The man in front of him dodged each swipe of Logan's claws, his body a blur in the darkness. Logan couldn't /see/ to fight him. He growled, low and deep, and /let go/. Closing his eyes, he listened for the man to move, taking a hard punch to his lower back. He reached out with his claws at random and -- there -- the man moved and Logan punched /up/ and drove his claws into the man's jaw and through the top of his head.
When Logan opened his eyes again, he saw one of the intruders grab Marie, pushing her back toward her room. He paid the price for that split-second distraction, arching his back against the gun that sressed against his skin. There was a cold, metallic click, and then a bullet tore through his body, lodging itself in his ribcage.
The man was on her before Marie knew he was coming and he got his hands on her, fingers digging into her shoulders, bearing her back into her room.
Instinct saved her and she had her bare hand on his throat before he closed on her completely. Adrenaline drove her reflexes. She crushed his windpipe in the same moment that her mutation began to sap his life. Disgusted by the sensation of his death flooding her, she slammed his head into the door frame to end it and dropped his body at her feet. It was over before she was quite sure it had begun and all she wondered was whether there were another coming as she stepped over the body and back into the hall.
Logan grunted with the force of the bullet, eyes on Marie. Pride welled up in him when he saw the man hit the doorframe, then the floor, and then he himself was on his feet, his skin pushing the bullet out with a quiet *tink* onto the floor. He spun and drove his fist into his attacker's nose, driving the bone into his brain, then spat blood onto the floor and arched his back, turning toward Marie.
Marie felt incredibly calm as she met Logan's eyes, standing very straight, hands clasped in front of her, waiting. "Is that all of them?" His senses were far sharper than hers and in his state she knew he could count the spiders in the corners.
He stood there, letting the adrenaline rush through him, feeling his beast. It felt /good/. He felt sated, like he should moan with the residual pleasure. Rolling his head over his shoulders, he grinned. "All of 'em here, anyway. There's more." He took another breath, to be sure, and his eyes narrowed. "Fire."
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