Age of Apocalypse: Down the Rabbit Hole - Vigilante Operations

[x-eidolon.livejournal.com]

Those chosen to follow Rachel back are immediately psionically ripped out to join her in a sudden transition into her world. As they do, a summary of events of Rachel’s world are shoved into Molly's mind.



The sun was shining and the birds were singing and the clouds were white and the water was blue and all Molly wanted to do was go outside. But the teachers thought it was a good idea for her to get caught up with her classes since she was behind where she should've been for her age. Molly thought it was a good idea too at the time but then it was the summer now and everyone was out having fun.

Sitting at her desk, she tapped her sparkly sneakers against the floor as she eyed the report she'd finished last night on ‘To Kill a Mockingbird’ She'd stayed up really late cause she kinda got busy playing Lego Batman instead and kinda forgot. She slowly stood up.

"Okay, I'm ready to talk now."

"See, I should get Callie to grow us a Baobab tree for the next book. Baobab's are all over Little Prince." Kyle said, grinning. "We can just have class in the tree. You, me, box of pretzels. We'll talk about themes. It'll rock." He was - uncharactically for most of the last school year, in jeans and a untucked buttondown - he'd left the khakis and vests and ties stuffed in his laundry bin. It was summer, he was slacking. "So, what'd you think of Scout?"

Shuffling up to the front of the room, Molly clutched the paper in her hands. She brightened, despite being nervous, at the mention of the tree.

"That'd be fun! Can we get in the tree before that?" she said, then coughed. Right. She needed to answer the question.

"Oh um...Scout was neat cause she saw people being treated badly but didn't know how to handle it but as she got older she--"

The room suddenly shifted around her, and parts of the ceiling disappeared and the windows were shattered, but it felt like it happened a long time ago. Her perspective changed, and everything seemed a little taller. She looked down, noticing a different outfit than the one she was wearing earlier. It was black, and purple, and shiny.

Then everything else poured in.

__________



Flashback: Mercenary duo, Riveter and Deadpool, save a stranger from an old friend



Wade exhaled slowly as he and Molly exited what had once been Professor Xavier's office. His cheeks puffed outward a bit and he holstered one gun long enough to rub his eyes. The mess in there had been difficult for him to take in - and that was really saying something. It was obvious somebody'd gone to town on the old guy, his wheelchair sliced and diced, the arterial spray on the wall behind his desk was intense. The spatter everywhere else looked like somebody'd decided to fingerpaint with blood and gore.

"That," Wade said, checking to make sure Molly was with him before shutting the door, "was probably the work of somebody I used to know." Reaching over his shoulder, he grabbed his bazooka and shifted it into position, then holstered his second gun. "High alert, kill first, figure out what we're killing later. If he's still here, he's not really human anymore. Nobody in their right mind would do something like that."

"He stayed 'til the end," she said. The captain going down with his ship. Why was that a good idea again? It sounded romantic but was ultimately impractical. Captains were supposed to lead, not die.

Grabbing her own gun, she restlessly gave it a twirl as she took in the debris. She shook her head. "Hard to believe this used to be a school. Hard to believe anything used to be anything anymore. "

Wade didn't comment immediately though he privately agreed with her statement. There wasn't a thing anybody could do about how this had all turned out. The best they could do was get on with things. "You'll want a bigger gun," he muttered as they began moving through the once-familiar halls. He hadn't lived here long, not in the grand scheme of things, but it'd been nice while he had. "At least for potential initial strikes. And if he's still here, watch out for the claws. He's got a healing factor that's about ten times as awesome as mine and his skeleton's basically adamantium. It won't hurt you to punch him, but he's got some serious strength so if he gets a hit in on you, he'll probably send you flying."

The mercenary was scraping the bottom of the metaphorical barrel in his head trying to remember things about Logan, anything at all that might be useful. He was coming up empty now, but at least he knew he didn't actually have to worry about Molly getting hurt. Wade had found that oddly reassuring when they'd first set out - and pretty damn useful after they'd gotten started with their operation.

With a nod, Molly holstered her smaller gun and yanked the bigger one off her back into her hand. She smiled.

"So float like a butterfly, hit 'em with a tank,'" she said.

She remembered Logan herself, but not much. It'd been a long time ago. That was a good thing. She tried to forget. Cause he was gone. Like so many other people. Some of them were dead, some of them needed to be. She tried not to think about that either. And it was just this. Everyday.

"I'll be careful."

Grinning, Wade nodded and they moved out. They'd gotten as far as the basketball court in the back, half of which was a sunken mess that likely led into the warren of secret, underground rooms the X-Men once used, when he heard the unmistakable sounds of a fight. Signalling Molly to head around so they could hopefully flank whoever was going at it, the mercenary headed to the right - just in time to see his former friend attempting to slice into a skinny redhead who couldn't have been more than sixteen.

Chances were Logan had scented them - or at least heard them, damn him. So there was no real reason to keep their presence any more hidden than it was. "Hey, sideburns! You're looking a little rough around the edges." Aiming the bazooka, he didn't wait to see if he'd get any kind of response, just fired off the rocket and reached for his AK-47.

Logan crouched on all fours gazing upward to the floating girl above him while a constant snarl of aggression rumbled from his chest. Every now and then, he lunged up toward the girl and swiped with his claws, testing her boundaries. He never came back down in the same space twice.

What remained of the clothes he once wore were dirty and tattered and were coming off in ragged strips. His hair was tangled together in an untamed mess and dried blood stained his skin. Before he'd been bordering on unkempt at his best but he was long past that now. His main focus was on the girl but Wade and Molly's approach hadn't gone unnoticed as his head tilted slightly in their direction.

The loud fwhoom of the rocket gave Logan plenty of time to sight the rocket and scramble out of its path. He came up on his feet, claws raised, and roared with anger. He dropped back to all fours and charged toward Wade and Molly in a variable path.

“God-fucking-damnit!” The redheaded psi swore loudly, pushing herself out of the corner Wolverine had gotten her into, into the air and safely out of the way of the rocket. She barely spared the two newcomers a glance before closing her eyes, delving into the feral’s mindscape to track his movements. There were no coherent thoughts – merely an angry animal’s survival instincts.

#He’s targeting you#

The telepathic message was sent directly to Molly, even as the strange girl psionically grabbed Logan and pushed him into the Earth, giving the other girl an opening to attack or flee.

Molly had only a moment to notice Logan's state. Wow. Guy looked like hell. Except he wasn't a guy anymore. Just a metal-plated feral meatsack. The new voice in her head made her wary but she was more focused on Logan.

"Thanks," she said to the girl, then nodded to Wade as she approached Logan.

"Hey DP, cover me. Ginger, keep....doing what you're doing."

She stepped on Logan's wrists, pressing down with full force, then reached down for his head, closing her hands around his neck. If she could pull the head off....would that kill? She'd never tried that one before. Kyle'd gotten away before she could do much.

Wade swung his bazooka out of his way and pulled a couple handguns free and began firing. He kept hitting the target, just not where he wanted to - a headshot would disable the feral for a couple seconds, at least, the mercenary just couldn't get a clear enough shot for one.

The invisible force pressing down on Logan sent him into a thrashing fury of snarls and growls. When it was followed by Molly's hands around his neck, he thrashed harder, twisting until he could sink his teeth into one of Molly's wrists. The bullets pouring into him didn't register as he started to wrench his hands out from under Molly's feet. The effort it clearly took to combat both Molly and the psiforce pressing down on him was etched on his face while his growls began to taper off into grunts.

Perspiration dripped down her face even as blood dripped steadily down the gash in her side, but the redheaded psi clenched her fists and a good amount of willpower and shoved Logan further in.

The earth shifted, a distinct indentation forming under the weight of the three combined forces. She shook her head and gasped out: “Can’t hold him down… much longer. Get out of here… stat!”

Molly met Wade's eyes, giving him a dip of her head and wag of her eyebrows. She could try to turn Logan's head into a Pez dispenser but the more she thought about it, she didn't know how well that'd work with an Adamantium skeleton.

"Your call."

"Let's wrap this up," Wade said, using the infinitesimal pause in action to shift to the side a little. It put him in a better position to actually hit his target. Rapid-fire shots rang out. "Move," he said, still firing directly into Logan's head. The first bullets were already being pushed out, but if he kept it up for a couple seconds more, Molly'd be able to get out and they could go along their merry way.
Molly jumped back, grabbing her gun for good measure and pointing it at Logan in case he came back for seconds. Poor bastard. She glanced toward the redhead.

"That means you too, honey. You got a name?"

“Revenant, at your service,” the stranger quipped with a cheeky sort of grin as she did a mid-air check of her injuries and working limbs. Seemingly finding nothing wrong with herself despite having at least an obvious bleeding head wound, she extended a hand towards them with a frown of concentration. “Here, let me.”

And that really was the only warning they got before they were unceremoniously hefted up into the air by an unseen psi force, legs and arms all akimbo. Ignoring any sorts of protests they might have, the redhead turned and fled the hell out of there.

Logan lay still after the group left while the final bullets worked their way out. Once he regained consciousness, he shook himself free of the dirt and debris then hauled himself out of the deep impression. Once up top, he stood and howled before dropping to all fours again and roaming in widening circles looking for the scent of his prey.

“Sorry about that – need to practice on the finesse,” she said, once they were out of hearing range of the snarls. She shuddered even as she slowed, casting a sharp gaze around. “Or something.”

Unable to quite move her arms, Molly took to blowing a few strands of brown, pink, and blue hair out of her face. "A little," she said.

"Why were you out here? It's dead man's land." Perhaps fitting that she named herself after a living corpse.

Wade was less concerned with the redhead's reasons for being out here and more with the fact that he wasn't really sure they were far enough away. "He's feral, obviously, but I've seriously never met a better tracker. Chances are we need to be... elsewhere. Like nowhere near the mansion if at all possible." He held his hand out to the slip of a girl who'd flown them off. "I'm Deadpool. She's Riveter. Let's walk while we talk, chickadees. Or jog. Jogging could work, too."

“Pleasure.” Impressed that he could manoeuvre so well while suspended mid-air, Rachel grasped the hand in a firm handshake and peered into the distance behind him.

“He’s about… I’d say two and half kilometres out and still looking for our scent,” she informed them, frowning a little in concentration. “I could get us further out to some sort of safehouse, but with my knee I ain’t gonna be walkin’ or joggin’ any time soonish. It got busted out by freakin’ Pestilence… which,” she nodded at Molly. “Is basically why I was at the mansion. Was s’posed to be empty, not a hugeass kennel for the world’s most unfriendly canine.”

"Poccy's always full of surprises," Molly said, scanning the horizon.

"I could carry you. If you burn yourself out playing shuttle to us it isn't going to help if someone dark and ugly is waiting in the shadows. So you were, what? Hiding out?"

“Kinda, yeah. Mansion’s like my childhood home or somethin’,” she said, somehow not really caring that she was giving two strangers too much information of herself. As a precaution, she took them another kilometre or so out towards the nearest safehouse before gently landing them onto the ground. “Thought I could scrounge up some med supplies… So you’re, what. Super strong?”

She paused, a look of surprise briefly crossing her face. “Oh, hey wait. Deadpool and Riveter. I know those names.”

Molly glanced at Wade before smirking. "Should we be flattered?" she said. She was still cautious of the chick. It was hard to tell these days who was on the side of angels, if you could call them that.

Wade holstered one gun but kept the other out. There weren't many rounds left in the mag, but he'd deal with it if it became necessary. Eyeing the redhead critically, the mercenary arched an eyebrow and said, "How about you sit down before you fall over, chickadee. Let me take a look at your knee. And if you're Revenant, you probably know us from a few runs we've done for your people."

“Yeah, yeah. I’ve heard stuff about you. Thought you had a third – that kinda threw me off.” Rachel landed gingerly on one foot, and promptly stumbled, one hand windmilling as the other bloody one grasped at the busted knee, cursing up a storm. Fuck that, she should’ve just flown straight back to base.

"We like to keep things interesting," Molly said, reaching out to steady Rachel before she fell over. "You're not okay. The faster DP takes a look, the faster we can get back to moving." She smiled.

"Kapeesh?"

"What she said," Wade muttered, taking the redhead's arm to make sure she didn't fall over. He sat her on the ground, then reached into one of the many pouches on his utility belt and pulled out a mini first aid kit. Several long minutes later he had the wound cleaned up and bandaged as well as it was going to be while in the field. "Alright, chickadee. Let's move."

“Thanks,” Rachel said, gingerly testing putting weight on it. When that failed, rather spectacularly, she buoyed herself off the ground with her powers and offered them a sheepish smile. She was a bit lightheaded, but that was easily attributed to the loss of blood. “For saving my ass and all. Which way are we going again?”

Molly extended her hand. The offer to carry her, or even just to help her along still stood.

"Somewhere safe. As safe as we can be, anyway," she said. It didn't stay too safe for too long in Hell, but they took what they could get.

Rachel grasped Molly’s hand and squeezed it in thanks, not really caring that they had just met. But she could still fly, and it would be faster for all of them.

“Safehouse it is then.” She sent out a mental call, just to make sure someone was there to look after her injuries and confirm her new companions’ identities. Betsy or Kitty would probably insist on picking her up. “That direction.” She pointed. “About five klicks, maybe? But if we go slightly eastwards first, we’ll pass a gas station which is good for throwing off our scents.”

"Lead the way, chickadee," Wade said, gesturing toward the gas station. "Maybe they'll have some Twinkies at the gas station. Or some Ho Hos. Man, I haven't had a Ho Ho in years. I wonder if they last as long as Twinkies." He unholstered two handguns, walking a little ahead of the girls just in case.

__________



Flashback: Fred Dukes is in the business of killing traitors



The black cat was nosing around a bombed-out building when a sound had her freezing and flattening in the rubble. She caught the scent a second after the noise- a rat! The ailuranthrope hadn't eaten in three days. She'd been away from the outpost a lot longer than that, but the rations Damask had allowed her to take with her had sustained her rather well until recently. If there'd been more to hunt, as she'd anticipated, they would have lasted until she returned to the camp. She also wouldn't be starving now if she'd found her informant where and when they'd agreed to meet. If Rahne had made the meeting, the cagtirl could have been back by now. But she couldn't go back to camp without the information she sought. She wouldn't shame Damask in front of Apocalypse by failing her. Damask was the closest thing she had to what humans called a mother. Not that Catseye needed a mother. She wasn't human. Maybe she had been born one, but the purple-haired shape-changing baby who'd been abandoned by human parents shortly after birth was, nearly twenty years later, all animal.

Damask had provided for her, not that the catgirl would admit out loud to needing to be provided for. She would deny it if anyone asked, but had to admit to herself that Damask was her alpha. Damask, or Emma Steed as she'd been known a long time ago, had found the kitten living on the streets of New York all those years ago and had recognized the mutation. She'd taught Catseye how to control it, and she'd taught the girl how to speak and how to read. How to blend into the shadows by dyeing her hair and her cat forms black. But mainly, Damask had taught her how to kill. Damask had seen the potential in the catgirl to be a fine assassin, and was training her to be a Pale Rider. Catseye wouldn't let her down.

Which was why even if Rahne, the traitor X-Man, had been found out and killed, Catseye needed to get the information Rahne was supposed to provide and bring it back. New Orleans was neutral territory, but not for long, if Catseye had any say in it. Rahne had been helping her with that. But Rahne was getting her info from somewhere, from someone. If she was dead, Catseye would find another way to get what she needed.

She zeroed in on the rat and pounced, killing it quickly and devouring it in two quick bites, leaving only the head and tail. Her hunger thus retreating to the back of her mind, she could focus more on the task at hand. Another noise had her flattening, ears back and eyes searching. This noise sounded like footfalls. Rahne? No, it wasn't Rahne's scent. Although... Rahne's scent was mixed, slightly, with this one. Someone she'd spent time with, then? Maybe someone Catseye could get information out of?

The motion sensor Toynbee had scrounged up worked like a charm. Half a charm, at least. The small, graceful green shape moving through the static on the screen was his mark. He'd been tracking her from the top of the burned out three-story, and finally managed to spot her with his naked eye when she'd gone in for her snack.

The tips Lykos had given him on dealing with ferals and their senses worked better than the headache-inducing gizmo Toad had given him. He'd smashed as much of the walls as he could, to let the rainwater in to mix up the scents. He'd stuck to the shadows, kept his feet still. Earlier, Fred threw around some of the wolf's blood along with a little turpentine to mask his smell and confuse the animalistic mutant. Fred Dukes wasn't sure if he'd ever run into this particular mark...but Damask and her little children had occupied more than a little of his time. Rumor was That Red Bitch that took his eye was one of her star pupils. He didn't want to take the chance that someone trained like that was ready for him. Taking a few steps, he grinned when the cat hunched down at his footfalls. Fred Dukes took the limp corpse of Rahne Sinclair off of his shoulder...and dropped it through the massive hole he watched the bottom floor through. The bloodied pile landed in a mess of green vacant eyes, matted brown fur, and broken bones in front of Catseye.

"Couldn't believe it...when I figured out who she was waiting for." Fred Dukes didn't bother stepping into the light or moving anymore as he addressed his target, "Ah mean, really...cats and dogs...?" Fred chortled from the bottom of his chest in a slow, deep, humorless laugh...

It took every ounce of willpower the black cat had not to show any surprise when the crumpled body landed inches away from her. She didn't care what had happened to Rahne- traitors tended not to live long in either side's camps, after all- but the fact that her killer was actually here was pretty disconcerting. Catseye didn't like fighting people. She much preferred to stay in the shadows, keep her kills undetected until she could pounce upon her prey and take them out before they realized what was happening.

Still, despite her preferences, it wasn't like she couldn't fight. If she had to kill this guy, she would. After she got the information she needed.

She shifted back into human form, completely naked. Damask made her wear a robe sometimes, but for the most part, she didn't bother with clothing. "I do not understand your disbelief," she called up to Rahne's killer. Her voice was rough and guttural, the words slow and deliberate- she didn't speak much, so she wasn't used to it. She didn't use her human form much at all, really. She never questioned her orders, and a cat-form's head nod worked for accepting instructions just as well as a verbal 'yes.' "What are cats and dogs having to do with waiting?"

Fred's laughter cut off with a sigh. There was a silence, and then a thundering crack as Fred Dukes dropped himself from the uppermost floor to land unphased and unharmed behind where he'd dropped the traitor's body. He was massive, nearly 9 feet tall with rolling mounds of fat and muscle straining his tattered fatigue pants and stained white shirt. Across his chest, painted with red spraypaint, was a bright red 'X'. One dark, malicious eye shone under his greasy unkempt hair, where his left brow was covered by an eyepatch. He took a step towards the naked assassin, the metal prosthetic that had replaced his right foot clanking against the concrete of the ruined floor. He was known, to most who'd work with him or against him, as Dukes. Though many of the more permanent or dangerous of Apocalypse's forces had given him a more pejorative nickname: The Blob.

Pulling the lit cigarette out of his mouth, Fred pointed one of his replaced, metal fingers at Catseye, "Cats and dogs? Living together? Mass hysteria? Are they too busy brainwashing you assholes to let you watch any decent flicks?"

Catseye yawned as if bored when The Blob landed at her feet. Of course she knew him by reputation, but she wasn't going to let herself be intimidated by his size. She wasn't nine feet tall in any of her cat forms, but she had confidence in her ability to kill him anyway. "We did not live together," she pointed out, still confused. "And what is flicks?"

Duke's face fell a little as he dragged off his cigarette and crammed the motion sensor into one of the myriad pouches on his belt, "Flicks. Movies. Films. Yah gotta be kiddin me..." Fred slowly angled his body and moved his feet so that he was between Catseye and the largest exit out of the building's corpse. He wasn't really afraid she was going to run, cause they never did, but he did want her to know that no matter how flabbergasted he was at her lack of movie knowledge, he was still here to kill her.

Catseye had no intention of running, so while she noticed the fact that Blob was angling himself to block the largest exit, she wasn't upset about it. She wanted to fight Blob. Maybe just to prove to herself that cats were tougher and smarter than dogs, that she could kill Blob when Rahne wasn't able to. "Oh. I know films," she nodded. "But I do not watch them. They are not real life. What is the point?"

"They bring happiness to people. Art to lives. Makes em more real than you and your buddies" Fred seemed actually hurt, momentarily, by the flippant attitude towards movies, "Well, a lot more real 'n you, cause you're about to be dead." Fred brought one of his fists up, his other large arm reaching out to grab Catseye around the neck...

The word 'dead' put Catseye on her guard just in time to sidestep the grab; then she shifted in the blink of an eye into an enormous, black sabertooth cat. This form was unlike her housecat or her cougar forms- this one was pure animal, with no human faculties like reason or mercy. It operated completely on survival instincts. Fangs glistening, claws flexing, she circled her enemy.

Fred kept his turns tight, his fists up, and his eye sharp. His pokerface unreadable...until a smile crept to one side of his mouth, then the other, then turned into a full laughing grin. I mean...how often do you get to fight a sabertoother mutant assassin? "Ah knew there was a reason I left the garage this morning..." he mutters almost to himself

The cat kept circling, trying to gather information about her opponent's fighting style and possible physical weaknesses. She knew from his reputation that he was supposed to be indestructible, but there were bits of him missing, and if someone could do that, he couldn't be that indestructible, right? Trying to stay on his blind side, she made a lunge for the metal foot, hoping she could crush it and give herself the advantage.

Fred tried to swivel away, but the large cat caught and mauled the small hydrolic system that allowed him to move the metal flap like a foot. Cursing interlaced with the laughter Fred just couldn't seem to stop, and he brought his hands up as he steadied himself on the stiff metal chunk. The flab and mass around his shoulders and what passed for his neck began to shift and began to settle near his forearms and fists, like candlewax moving in fastforward. Fred was ready for the next attack against his mangled prosthetic, and backhanded Catseye with a limb more large and heavy than her form.

Catseye hit one of the crumbling walls with a sickening crash and was immediately buried in debris. She lay where she fell, injuries from the impact mending themselves thanks to her healing factor. She wasn't sure if the Blob knew she had a healing factor or not. She hoped not. Still playing possum, she kept still and tried not to breathe too deeply, hoping he'd come over to investigate whether she was dead and she could jump him.

Fred slowly trudged over, partially dragging his ruined foot as he went. Thankfully, his power let him center himself with each footfall. This wasn't the first time he'd had to hobble his way through a fight. Dead, near-dead, out cold, or otherwise, Fred hadn't made a habit out of leaving enough of the body for there to be a doubt. He uprooted a large chunk of another nearby ruined wall and hoisted it over his head as he closed in on the unmoving cat...

When her senses told her the Blob was within striking distance, Catseye struck, going again for the ruined leg in an attempt to knock him over, hoping she could hit his femoral artery at the same time.

Fool me once...Fred was ready for this particular maneuver, though even in his preparedness Catseye had moved fast enough to get a mouthful of ruined metal foot and blubbery, impenetrable flesh. Fred took the split second opening to reach down and wrap both hands tight around the attacking mutant's neck, squeezing enough to cut off any airflow and bringing her to eye level. "Turn back inta a person," said Dukes, all the laughter now long gone, "Ah wanna ask yah something." He punctuated his request by giving her neck and shoulders a squeeze hard enough to nearly fracture the bones...

The enormous feline wriggled and thrashed, lashing out with her claws in an attempt to get him to let go.

Fred held her out further from his body, and shouted and threw her into another wall when one of her claws got dangerously close to his eye. He stalked over the short distance to where he threw her, "Ah can do this all day, kitten. Yah can go easy, or yah can go messy..."

Scrambling to her feet, Catseye shot over to the opposite side of the room before he could get within grabbing distance of her again. For a moment she considered just abandoning the fight and running away, but then the moment passed and the thought was out of her head. She could kill this guy. She was a much better fighter than Rahne had been. She didn't abandon fights.

Instead, she shifted back into her human form, still circling out of his reach. "What do you want to ask?" she inquired, curiosity getting the better of her.

Dukes scooped up a large handful of thick, heavy flotsam from a pile of debris and launched it at Catseye. While she was damned nimble, hopefully she couldn't dodge everything, "After all tha killin...all tha twisted shit yah proally did for your boss...now that yah gonna die here, in this little hellhole...was it worth it? All the pain you caused? Was it worth anything at goddam all...?" Dukes continued to chuck and hurl anything large and dangerous enough to kill that he could get his hands on at Catseye, hoping to connect with anything at all...

"I do not understand," the girl answered as she dodged the debris, sounding confused. "What is 'worth'? What does it mean? I do not cause pain. I kill. I make my kills quickly and efficiently. There is no pain." At least, that was what she'd been led to understand- that it only hurt the target if she didn't do it properly.

*What is 'worth'...?* Dukes stopped. The part that was still that kid from Texas wanted to shout, or grimace in sympathy, or try to explain to the nimble feline mutant that pain didn't stop with ripped skin and dead eyes. Dukes, however, had seen far too many dead friends to care that the other team was using such assassins; it just made him feel more like he was breaking a tool than killing a person. Dukes ripped at the decaying walls around him, pushing a stonework wave at Catseye before moving as quickly towards her as he can, bulky hands grabbing at her.

The catgirl shifted back into her small housecat form and scampered away from his hands, then resumed her sabretoothed form and came at him again.

Fred turned into the attack, letting the large cat get within clawing distance, before closing his hands around her head and squeezing. Screaming into her face, and squeezing hard enough to end the fight, no matter how potent of a healing factor she may have had. The part of Fred that almost enjoyed what he did, and the part of him that knew how important it was, was long gone from this action; he just wanted it all to be over, as fast as it could be.

Damn, the catgirl thought when she was grabbed, the Blob is good. Maybe Rahne wasn't such an incompet-

Fred's hands closed...until they almost met at the palms. He didn't joke, or smile, or even really look at the body. Fred just dropped the corpse, happy that no amount of healing was bringing the catlady back as he wiped the gore from his hands on his filthy T-shirt. He lit a cigarette and pushed his bulk through one of the openings in the debris of the building, and limped his way into the rainy night. He had a ride home to catch.

__________



Flashback: Matt tries to spread the Word to Sue. But how does one preach to the deaf and unwilling?



Sue pulled her coat around her a little tighter, hoping to get a little more protection from the biting wind as she waited at the pedestrian crossing. Oh all the days for her car to break down it had to be today. As if having a deadline looming over her head wasn't enough there was always the weather to add insult to injury. In all the years since she'd been here working for Apocalypse Sue knew she should have gotten used to the weather, but somehow in all the 5 step trips to and from a car she just never had. The blonde took a deep breath and shook her head, if she was honest with herself she kind of liked the anonymity of her job. Other people could get the glory, and the accolades having people bow and scrape and clear the sidewalk to let them pass. Sue was perfectly happy making the weapons and technology which let them do their thing in the first place and just waiting in the crowd. Even if it meant she'd have to hurry to get this next shipment out, at least no-one was gunning for her unlike most of the 'heroes' out there.

Standing on a street corner in a jacket that had seen better days but was surprisingly warm, Matt preached about the coming of the apocalypse and the end of days, Revelations and the second coming. Some people stopped to listen, some people ignored him either blatantly or not, some people simply tossed money in his box and kept on moving. He wore thick glasses with black frames to help lend credibility to his preaching and also to hide that his eyes weren't truly focused on anything. "You miss!" he called as a young woman walked passed, huddled in her jacket, "Are you saved? In these dark days, the end is coming! Are you ready!?"

Sue paused in the street looking over at the young man in threadbare clothing who had accosted her on the street. "These dark days? You mean the days since Apocalypse has come and ended war and mistreatment around the world? Surely you don't mean to say that there is something wrong or that something is going to go wrong here? Well that might be seen as treason," the blonde smiled coldly at Matt, "And you wouldn't be guilty of spreading that in front of all these witnesses now would you."

"Apocalypse has helped many things, but there is still evil in human hearts, still a penchant for sin in every person!" Matt countered. Treason? Oh hell no. Not...quite so obviously. "Gluttony, lust and sloth are just as deadly as pestilence and war! Are you saved?" This was clearly the wrong woman to single out. Crap.

Sue arched an eyebrow and gave Matt a smirk, "From lust and gluttony? Sure, I have everything I could want, my health a good job...stimulating conversation. What else could I ask for?" The blonde nodded at Matt, "And what about you, are you saved from sin?"

"Absolutely!" he replied, "Repent and be saved! Ask for forgiveness from God and it will be granted! Salvation is possible!" Did he believe what he preached? Not entirely. Did he do it anyways since it got him coin and often more? Of course.

"You're saved but still look like that?" Sue asked waving a hand to encompass Matt's old jacket and clothes, "Perhaps you're looking for salvation from the wrong person? Now if a preacher of your...talent were to look to Apocalypse. I'm sure we could move you up from that to this." The blonde waved her hand to take in all the people who had formed a circle around them. "That's gotta be a better deal than living in those rags."

'"Do not save riches for yourselves here on earth, where moths and rust destroy, and robbers break in and steal. Instead, save riches for yourselves in heaven, where moths and rust cannot destroy, and robbers cannot break in and steal. For your heart will always be where your riches are.'" Matt quoted, "Matthew 6:19-21. I am content with my lot and ask for no more than people to hear what I say and repent and accept Jesus," he was so getting out of there. Now. And not returning. Maybe Rosie would need help with a job? Or he had heard Chicago was nice this time of year. Definitely headed out of the city though.

"Well if it's all the same to you I think I'll stick to wearing clean clothes and eating good food thanks." Sue disagreed, "No-one can prove heaven exists, and according to everyone it's too easy to do something wrong and be denied entry unless you try to be a saint." Especially if you happened to work for Apocalypse "And where is the fun in that?" she asked Matt with a wink. "Much better to enjoy yourself in the here and now, you never know what will happen to you in the future. Besides," the blonde gave a cold smile, "a little ambition never hurt anyone. If you don't try to push yourself you'll never get anywhere."

Better that he support himself and not give in to Apocalypse, not give in to tyrants at all. Matt was smart enough not to say any of that. "That's why it's called faith," he replied, certain that heaven did in fact exist and that Apocalypse and his minions were not going there, "I have ambition," he grinned, pushing his glasses up his face with a finger, "just not yours. See you around lady," she sounded pretty. Pretty and batshit. Pass.