X-Men: The Raid (Part 10)

(So, I lied. We're not QUITE done with the battle... but I think ya'll will dig this and everything that comes after)

Storm didn’t just ignore the cold that filled her tiny prison, she embraced it. It made her body ache, her extremities hurt, and every ounce of it brought her closer to freedom.

There hadn’t been much room for wind between the walls of her earthen cage and her skin, but what she’d managed had slowly widened that gap, wearing away the frozen walls. From a hole that was almost custom fit to the curves of her body, she’d reamed out a circular chamber that was growing larger as her winds grew stronger. Her will and power had conquered her prison, made it hers.

She kept her eyes closed, head lowered, looking almost mystical as she floated in the middle of her blizzard. In the darkness, she could’t see the gleaming, white walls of her prison, or the icy winds whipping around her, but she could hear their whistle and the crackling of freezing dirt. The closeness of her prison was being broken open, allowing her control to return. It was still too tight for her to be comfortable, but it was a stadium compared to what it had been before and soon she knew she would see the sky again.

“Storm.”

Callisto’s voice came to her again, but it was faint, almost drowned out by the whistling winds.

Storm ignored it. There was a loud crack as frozen dirt broken apart from the intense cold. She focused on the calmness in her heart and the cold itself, coaxing both to grow in tandem.

“Storm!” Callisto called, louder, “This is pointless! Your X-Men are already defeated! You’ve lost!”

Storm took a deep breath and exhaled another frigid wind, adding another strand to her tapestry of ice and gale. When she replied her voice was strong and sure, no longer afraid.

“If my team were truly defeated, you would not need to cajole me into submission, Callisto.”

“I won’t ‘cajole’ you into anything,” the Morlock queen growled, “I’m merely stating the facts.”

Storm didn’t bother responding. She whipped her winds into a greater frenzy, bringing herself yet closer to freedom. If it also carried away Callisto’s caustic voice, so much the better.

“You were arrogant, Storm!” the villainess cried again, “Arrogant and weak, for all your power! I could not have asked for a better gift than for you to divide your team! It is how I would have planned it, luring you from one another, isolating you, but you did it yourself! It’s like you were my co-conspirator!”

The words stung and Storm lowered her brow. Her eyes remained closed and the blizzard around her shrieked vengefully, its mistress’s anger giving it greater fury.

“And your plan to handle my Morlocks, or the lack thereof, I should say!” Callisto laughed, “For all the Morlocks you defeated, you had no way to restrain them! All I needed was the right power to awaken them--which the lovely Jean Grey was more than happy to provide after she’d fallen—and they rose to battle you again! And with the right guiding hand, the rest of your team has fallen one by one! Now only a few, laughably outnumbered and alone, remain! And it’s all YOUR doing!”

Storm clenched her fists.

“You will all be used in the Morlock way! Chattel, slaves, breeding stock! Fodder for my underground kingdom! And we will tell tales of how your fatal mistake led to our triumph!”

She allowed her eyes to open to slits. The slot in the wall had opened wider, either by Storm’s own efforts or by the efforts of the earth mover that had trapped her. Through it there was a hint of light and she thought she could she shapes on the other side. She didn’t recognize any of them as Callisto, but she knew the Morlock queen was there, watching her.

In many ways, the words were true. She had erred and she knew it. But Storm also knew that demons masked lies in small truths.

She glared into the depths. When she spoke, it wasn’t just to Callisto, but her own fears, her own darkness.

“Whatever my errors, I own them,” Storm said, “But the X-Men are more than my decisions. We are more than our power and even our training. We have faced stacked odds many times and have snatched victory from defeat.”

“Mmm…” Callisto teased back, “But not this time.”

The winds continued to whistle. Storm’s voice boomed over them, commanding.

“Each of us carries something inside us that makes us more than warriors. That is what you fail to understand, Callisto. The X-Men are not a fighting force, we are an ideal. Many of us have faced defeat, capture, and even chains, but as long as one of us stands, unbroken, the X-Men will never be defeated! We will always overcome, come back from the depths! And that is why our struggles are never pointless!”

There was no immediate response to Storm’s proclamation. The mini blizzard howled, the flurry of ice and frozen dirt making it even more difficult to see in the cavern, but the same voice that told her to have faith in her teammates told her that Callisto was still there.

When a reply did come, it was surprisingly soft; a gentle, tart taunt.

“Hmmm. Is that so?”

-------------

As strong and durable as Rogue was, fighting four other brutes with similar levels of tank-like power was bruising and draining. And unlike the movies, they weren’t kindly waiting and attacking her one at a time.

She clocked dragon-face, then grabbed him by the tail and was about to swing him around into lumpy-head, when Shiva sucker punched her in the back of the head. The orange amazon cursed as something in her hand popped, but Rogue staggered forward, into the waiting arms of the six-armed man.

“Gotcha!” the brute snarled.

Before Rogue could recover her balance, one set of hands closed around her wrists and yanked her arms out wide. He wasn’t quite as strong as she was, but he was strong enough to make her have to struggle to free herself, grunting and twisting in his grasp. And while her arms were preoccupied, leaving her defenseless, he had another two pairs of fists to take advantage.

“Oolf!” she grunted as a fist dug into her slender waist. Then another hammered her in the ribs from the other side. An uppercut snapped her head back at the same time as another punch landed in her solar plexus.

The first four blows landed in less than a second and that was only the beginning. In moments, Rogue had been hit so many times, she wasn’t sure if some of the others hadn’t joined in.

“Gonna beat you silly, pretty girly!” the six-armed man laughed, “Say pretty please and wiggle nice and maybe I’ll stop!”

Partially suspended by her arms, the blows bounced Rogue around like a punching bag, drawing grunts and gasps of pain. Weakened and distracted by the torrent of punches, the struggles to free her arms faded away. At that moment, she really was just a punching bag.

Tired, having already taken several beatings that day, part of her just wanted to let go. If she went limp, or maybe stuck out her chin and let the man knock her cold, he would stop hitting her. Maybe she could even ask for his mercy, like he’d suggested. Then she could rest and it wouldn’t hurt any more.

But the same spirit that kept Storm defiant in the face of her greatest fears kept Rogue from surrendering to her exhaustion. She wasn’t just fighting for herself she was fighting for her team and what they stood for. Her momentary relief would be nothing compared to what she lost.

She remembered Dazzler and Jubilee, unconscious, being stripped out of their costumes while they were helpless. Domino, already humiliated and bound in her underwear, yowling in frustration and shame while the Morlocks laughed. If the X-Men fell, they wouldn’t just be defeated, they would be degraded, broken down, becoming mere objects to this swarm of rampaging sewer-dwellers.

She thought about those things, then swung her leg up with all her might.

Her shin thudded into six-arm’s hips, mashing something soft between them. It lifted him at least a foot off the ground.

“OOAAAARGKK--!” the brute’s eyes snapped wide, and he let out a sound that started as a bellow but trailed off, strangled.

The instant his feet hit the ground, his knees buckled, and he let go of her. All six hands clamping between his thighs, he crumpled, the expression on his reddened face like he was straining to keep from throwing up.

Rogue staggered as well, unsteadied and dazed now that he was no longer holding her arms. His punches had done a number on her and she wanted to fall to her knees, or at the very least take a second to catch her breath.

Instead, she lunged and hit him with a haymaker that knocked him flat. Off-balanced, still wobbly from weariness and blows to the head, the lunge almost threw her on top of him, but she managed to keep her balance.

She glared down at him as she staggered, putting a hand to her head.

Cheap shot-taking punk wouldn’t be getting up after that.

Of course, she didn’t have long to celebrate before Shiva charged into her with a lowered shoulder, knocking her off her feet. She flew a dozen yards before landing on her face and skidding a few more.

She came to a stop on her stomach, pantingly raggedly.

It felt nice to lie on the floor, but Rogue knew she couldn’t stay there. She dragged her knees in and pushed up with her arms, wobbling to all fours.

Before she could rise, lumpy-head swung his meaty fist and knocked her back down.

“Aff…!” she grunted, sprawled back onto her breasts.

The blow had been into her shoulders, only serving to flatten her back out and bang her chin off the floor. However, before she could try to rise again, the deformed brute reached down and closed a massive fist around her ankle.

The nature of Rogue’s powers meant she had strength far greater than her size indicated. Many times this was a blessing, as men underestimated her, she could blend easily amongst normal people, and, well, she had a killer figure. But what happened next made her wish she wasn’t quite so easy to pick up.

Lumpy yanked her up over his head, then swung her back down like he was cracking a whip. She smashed into the floor, crackling the tile, then was yanked up and slammed down again. And again.

“UNGH! NUHH! AAGH!” her cries of pain were almost drowned out by the clap of her own body smashing repeatedly into the tile floor.

The massive Morlock beat her against the ground like a child being particularly rough with a toy. He even laughed, though it was difficult for Rogue to tell through the repeated blows to her head.

The constant whipping motion kept her arms flailing uselessly, each slamming driving coherent thoughts further and further from her mind. Already weakened, she was completely helpless to stop him, just a rag doll being swung around by a careless infant. If he’d continued his work, he could have just pounded her until consciousness left her completely or until something important broke.

Fortunately, he seemed to get bored or tired with the game after a few more swings had crushed that section of tile floor to plastic shards. Grunting he lifted her off the ground by her ankle, dangling her upside down. He held her up so her face was level with his and leaned forward, frowning.

Rogue’s head was spinning, her thoughts disjointed. Arms dangling as limp as her hair, she gaped at the brute and blinked, seeing several of his ugly face.

“Hmm,” he squinted, “She not moving any more. Her eyes look funny.”

She had the vague idea that she should be fighting but didn’t know what she should be trying to do. Her arms were heavier than normal and nothing was working right. She tried to kick her leg but it barely twitched. There was the distinct inclination that she should do something, but couldn’t remember.

“Raargh! I want her!” someone roared, “Give her to me! I wanna make her bleed!”

While Rogue crossed her eyes, trying to see straight, the deformed brute complied. She was tossed to the side with a grunt of dismissal, hitting the floor and tumbling over several times. She only stopped when her shoulder thumped into a pair of large, scaly shins.

Her physical beating, along with being swung around and hung upside down, left her completely disoriented. Unsure if she was facing up or down, she grabbed at the rough, clawed feet as if for support, something to hold on to while the world spun. She groaned, barely managing to lift her head, too dazed and tired to do much more than squirm on her stomach.

A hissing laugh came from above her. Two large hands reached down and grabbed the shoulders of her bomber jacket, then yanked her up to unsteady feet.

“Unh…” she made a small, surprised sound, blinking up at the reptilian figure in front of her.

Dragon-face hissed at her once more, showing her his many sharp teeth. Even in her slightly skewed state of mind, and a bit out of focus, they looked long and very scary.

“Look at the pretty X-girl,” he sneered, “All perfect and hippy in your tight little outfit. You know what you need? Some scars…”

Rogue’s eyes widened as the reptile opened his mouth. He threw back his head and let out a roar of sheer, animal rage. It filled her with a long dormant fear, accessing the primitive monkey part of her brain that instinctually wanted to climb a tree and hide when faced with a large, sharp-toothed predator. She couldn’t run and she climb, but it sent a shock of terror through her that made her stiffen, drew a gasp.

It was too late to escape. The dragon man lunged and clamped his teeth down on her body, his snout long enough that the bite enveloped her shoulder down to her breast.

Some of the other Morlocks cried out, one of them yelling something about not killing her, but the dragon was too lost in his primitive blood lust. He sank his teeth in and shook his head, jerking Rogue from side to side with the sound of ripping cloth.

Crunch. Crackle, crunch.

For an instant, Rogue froze in shock. She could feel his hot breath, his teeth, heard the popping of what she thought was her skin and muscle giving way.

But then she realized there was no pain.

She blinked.

Slowly the dragon man drew away from her with a groan of agony. His mouth slipped free of her shoulder and he let her go, staggering back.

Teeth and bits of teeth clattered to the floor, both from his mouth and off her body. Tears were in his eyes and he let out a louder, mushy moan as he buried his snout in his hands, like he was trying to keep the rest of his shattered teeth from falling out.

Chest heaving, the shock and spike of adrenaline jarring some of her senses back, Rogue looked down at herself. The yellow chest of her costume had two rows of ragged holes in it. Her bomber jacket was likewise torn, showing the shining yellow and green of the costume beneath, but through the small holes, patches of fair, unmarked skin showed through. She was unhurt.

She snapped her gaze back up to dragon man, who was trying to whimper something while cradling his teeth in his palms. A flash of anger surged through her. His current predicament notwithstanding, this creep had just tried to main, if not kill her. If she hadn’t been as durable as she was, he would have.

She flew into him, hitting him in the mouth and drawing a howl of pain, then continued on as more of his teeth clattered to the floor.

Still feeling a bit fuzzy in the head, she stayed aloft, flying towards one end of the chamber, then made a sharp turn before hitting a wall. Another bio electric blast missed her, crackling harmlessly off the concrete as she veered away.

That had been way too close. If that idiot had just decided to strangle her or knock her head against the ground a few more times, she would have been at their mercy. Never mind that he’d almost bitten her in half.

Panting, still feeling haggard and slow, she banked around the edge of the room, hugging the wall.

Shiva, lumpy, and the three-eyed electricity girl were running after her and six-arm was grimacing and climbing back to his feet. As she watched, they yelled at each other and split up, trying to cut her off.

Her heart sank. She knew she was hell on wheels, was a spitfire with the power to back it up but fighting all three of these galoots at once was a sure-fire way to get her hide tanned. She could outrun them for a while, but the idea of fighting them to the finish was beyond insurmountable. In her current state, she didn’t even know if she could hit hard enough to slow one of them down.

It had been a good trap. If she could take them one at a time, with some rest in between, she could probably come out on top. But in these relatively tight quarters, with all of them at once, it was only a matter of time before she went down. She could fight these guys, but she couldn’t win.

Rogue stopped in mid-flight as a thought struck her like a lightning bolt.

But she didn’t have to beat them. Being trapped in there with all of Callisto’s heavy hitters meant that they would eventually power her, but the other side to that was almost everyone who could hurt her was in one place. If she managed to get out of this room and rejoin the fight with the rest of her team, there wouldn’t be many Morlocks around that could even scratch her.

She didn’t have to win the fight right here. She just had to get out of this room.

Hope swelling in her breast, her eyes darted around, searching for the exit.

She found it. A heavy door of gray metal had been partially hidden under scrap metal. It looked like the Morlocks had torn up some equipment and tried to bury the door beneath it, but at some point during the fight a lot of it had been knocked away.

“Whassamatter, bitch?” Shiva pounded towards her, “Getting a little tired?”

The orange-skinned amazon leapt at her, trying to tackle her around the waist, but Rogue darted out of the way. A second later she had to duck as lumpy throw a piece of broken machinery at her.

The twisted, ruined metal crashed against the back wall and Rogue swooped towards the center of the room, staying mobile as she came up with a plan.

From where she was, she could tell the door was highly reinforced and opened in rather than out. It probably had deadbolts the size of her arms, electronically sealed to lock in whatever radioactive material the scientists in the room had been working with. With a few punches and time to dig her fingers into the seams, she could still probably rip it off its hinges, but the Morlocks would pile on her in seconds. In fact, if she didn’t act fast, they’d probably figure out what she was trying to do and make to protect the door.

“Eel-Ectric!” Shiva bellowed, “Fry her!”

She charged at Rogue again, while Six-Arm snarled and pounded towards her as well.

“I can’t!” the three-eyed girl called back, “I only have enough left for one shot!”

Rogue had her plan. She only had one shot and if it didn’t work she’d be getting carried off with Jubilee and Dazzler in a couple of minutes. But then again, she couldn’t keep up this fight for another couple of minutes anyway.

Balling up her fists, she shot straight for Six-Arm, counting on him still being a little slow after being laid out. She made like she was trying to ram him, but swerved away at the last second, avoiding both him and his clumsy attempt to punch her. Once around him, she continued on, towards the wall.

As the Morlocks yelled at each other, figuring out a way to hem her in, Rogue turned and put her back to the wall.

She’d lined herself up perfectly, facing the door. Floating her feet up until she was horizontal, she pressed her boots against the wall and bent her knees. In an inverted crouched, she coiled her thighs and focused on the power that shot her through the sky. She built it up, preparing it to explode in the same way a weightlifter might prepare his muscles.

Lumpy blinked at her, scratching his head, “What’s she doing?”

Shiva snarled as she charged towards her again, “You can’t keep—”

The Morlock woman stopped. Her eyes widened as she realized what Rogue was doing.

“Get to the--!”

Before she could finish, Rogue punched out with her legs and burst away from the wall with all the speed her flight could grant her.

“—door!”

Rogue shot across the room in an instant, lowering her head and tucking it into her shoulder.

Even if this worked, it was going to hurt.

WHANG!

For an instant everything went white and she forgot where she was.

She was falling. She glanced off a flat surface that changed her trajectory, then off another, before finally scraping to a stop. Her head was spinning once more, but she had stopped moving.

Blinking away stars, Rogue shook her head. Had she made it?

Her ears were ringing, her head aching. It took her a second to realize she was lying on her side in a hallway with a gradual incline, a tunnel towards the surface. It was dim but she could see distant light, from windows the next level up.

When her ears cleared, she heard shouts behind her and looked over her shoulder.

She’d rammed the middle of the door on the opposite side from the hinges, warping it away from the fame. It had created gap plenty wide enough for her slender form to get through. The Morlocks were on the other side, still in the room, yelling at each other in a panic as they rushed after her.

She’d done it. She was free.

With the way that door was bent, the Morlocks would have to tear it off its hinges to get after her. That would take them a couple of minutes, but she wasn’t going to wait around for them to come after her.

Pushing herself to all fours, she threw a grin over her shoulder, appearing cockier than she felt.

“Y-ya’ll don’t wait up!” she called, “Ah’ll tell your boss lady you said hi!”

Not bothering to climb to her feet, she simply took flight, launching herself down the hallway. Her flight path was a bit wobbly at first, still shaken from the impact, but by the time she’d gotten to the end she was more or less stable. Shooting up the stairwell, she got to the ground level and smashed through the first window she found, taking to the open sky.

If Rogue knew Callisto, she bet that lady had swarmed Siryn and Storm with Morlocks the second she was out of the way. She needed to get back there, pronto.

Flying up, above the rooftops, Rogue paused only long enough to reorient herself. She turned, scanning the buildings until she saw the square formed by the administration buildings towards the center of campus. Then, narrowing her eyes and preparing for a hard fight, she fired off once again, skimming the rooftops as she rushed to her friends’ aid.

------------

The girl known as Eel-Ectric (like electric eel, get it?) could only watch as Rogue smashed her way free through the door and made her escape. She'd realized too late what the southern beauty was trying to do and even if she had, Rogue had been going too fast for her to risk missing with her last electric blast. There wasn't much she could do at this point; the X-Man was just too powerful.

Her three ambulatory comrades kicked the wreckage out of the way with shouts of fury and desperation, then began prying the door off its frame. None of them were small enough to fit through the hole Rogue had created and the wreck she'd made of the door only made it more difficult to open. She'd be long gone by the time they got out of the room and had no hope of catching her.

They'd failed. Callisto was going to be pissed.

Knowing she couldn’t help get the door open, Eel-Ectric looked around at the mess. Stone was still laid out on his back, out cold, his broken jaw occasionally working as he let out a moan in his sleep. Draco the dragon-man was curled up in a ball, intermittently sobbing and whimpering indecipherable words as he nursed his shattered teeth. Shiva and the others were getting in each other’s way as they tried to pry the door off, shouting accusations and blaming one another for Rogue’s escape. If this went on, they’d be fighting each other before the other X-Men could even show up.

Eel-Ectric opened her mouth to call them down but gave it up with a sigh.

What had happened to them? Minutes before, they’d been filled with purpose and inspiration, had known where they needed to be and what to do. They’d worked as a seamless team, each knowing their part, knowing Rogue would arrive and what to do when she did. Then, almost like someone had flipped a switch, that had all gone away.

She chewed on her bottom lip. They’d all known without knowing how that she would be the one to land the finishing blow on the flying southern belle and that had filled her with excitement. She wanted Rogue and when she realized she’d get to have the beautiful X-Man, she’d wanted her even more. But now that opportunity was gone.

Eel-Ectric’s gaze turned to one of the massive power cords that fed one of the lab’s machines. At some point the sheath had been peeled away and exposed wires, which occasionally cracked and sparked.

The problem with her powers was she could only generate so much bio electricity herself. When she’d been inspired, she’d “known” a way to increase her power and how to use it to defeat Rogue. Her surety had faded since then, but she remembered the idea.

She advanced towards the exposed wires, licking her lips.

If this didn’t work, she was going to get electrocuted. But if it didn’t… she could be the one to bring Rogue to Callisto. She’d be the one to claim the sassy southern belle. She would be one of the few Morlocks to defeat an X-Man and it would be by herself.

It was worth the risk.

She bent down, reaching towards the wires.

----------

After Callisto’s, Storm didn’t hear anything from the Morlock queen and she herself didn’t have anything to say either. She’d said what she’d needed to say, both to Callisto and to her own doubts. Now she would focus on the task at hand, freeing herself and then rallying her X-Men. Even if they must retreat and leave some of their number in the hands of the enemy, they would hunt the Morlocks down until they were all free and Callisto’s reign of terror was at an end.

The circular cavern she had created looked somewhat like a violent snow globe, ice and sleet whipping around and obscuring the graceful, curving figure in its center. The bits of ice were big and numerous enough at this point that they were actually scraping away the walls of the cave. Before much longer she would be to the surface. Everything even seemed brighter somehow, like sunlight was beginning to shine through the shrinking layer of earth between her and the open sky.

Callisto began to speak again.

“I don’t disagree entirely. The X-Men could be an ideal… but an ideal can be rendered obsolete. Everything has limits. Pushed in the right way, in the right direction, even ideas can be subverted. They can be put to other uses.”

Listening to her enemy with one part of her mind, focusing on her blizzard with another, and controlling her fear with yet another, Storm was far too distracted to notice what was happening just below her. In fact, even if she had been watching, in the darkness she possibly would have missed the circular black portal that opened beneath her feet.

“And the X-Men themselves are much more fragile than an ideal. An ideal doesn’t get tired, it doesn’t have doubts or fears, it doesn’t feel pain or shame or despair. But you do, Storm. Oh, YOU very much do.”

The portal was just like the cartoonish black spot that had transported Rogue to the basement lab of the applied sciences building, but this one wasn’t much larger than a frisbee. It was better that it was smaller; Callisto didn’t want to risk Storm falling through and freeing herself. It only had to be large enough to allow a small, silvery hand to reach up towards the wind rider’s boot.

“I don’t care about defeating the ideal of the X-Men,” Callisto continued, “I don’t want the ideal of the X-Men to bow before me and accept my dominance over it. Or serve my people as the slave it deserves to be. Or beg for my mercy. I don’t care about the IDEAL of the X-Men in the slightest.”

The hand that reached through the portal was entirely chrome and small, almost like that of a silver cherub. It moved slowly, fingers carefully groping as its owner couldn’t see what it was reaching for.

“One thing we DO agree on is that to bring down the X-Men, I’ll have to defeat every one of you,” Callisto purred, fond of the idea, “And I will.”

The hand found the heel of Storm’s boot. It clasped, ever so gently so the X-Man wouldn’t notice, and as it did the chrome that covered its skin came to life.

“You’re going to see it,” Callisto said, “I’ll make sure you can watch. I want you to know you and your X-Men lost, down to your very bones.”

Gleaming silver spread from the small hand to Storm’s boot. It seeped upwards, coating the black fabric in a layer so fine it looked like storm herself was simply turning into polished metal.

Storm didn’t notice the cold sensation traveling up her leg at first. It was cold enough in the chamber that a bit more could be overlooked, but after a moment she did notice that her ankle and foot had gone stiff. Then it was her knee. Then her entire leg.

She blinked, her concentration wavering as she looked down.

There was little she could see, but with the faint amount of light coming through the widened wall slot, she saw a glint traveling up her leg, to her hip.

“What in--!?”

As she watched, the silver substance slithered across to her other leg even as it rose over her stomach.

“You’ll make quite the spectacle yourself,” Callisto laughed, “A shiny, Storm hood ornament. You’ll be so pretty.”

Storm gaped at what she was becoming. The silver didn’t numb her, she could still feel the cold of the blizzard, but everything beneath it was left rigid. She couldn’t see how it was happening, didn’t know what to do, only that it was spreading fast, now glossing over her chest.

When she realized exactly what was happening, she screamed.

------------

After Storm’s scream was abruptly cut off, Callisto gave it another minute before she had Mole open Storm’s cavern to their own.

Bending down, the dwarfish mutant planted his hands to the floor. He grunted and the dirt wall simply crumbled away, compacting itself until it was as hard as rock, forming a tunnel.

A section of ice and frozen dirt still separated Storm from the Morlocks, but Callisto called forward some of her minions to break it down. Most of the Morlocks with any super strength were dealing with Rogue, but she had some in reserve with projectile abilities that could easily punch a hole in a foot of ice and earth.

The second they did, a gale wind erupted from the newly created hole and sent them flying back with cries of surprise.

Callisto and the rest of her coterie winced and turned away from the sudden influx of sleet and ice. The wind shrieked down the tunnel, biting and frigid, the sheer force making Singularity and Gilding stumble back a few paces.

Callisto leaned into it. It was expected.

“Lilith!” she cried over the howl, “Collar her!”

The ghostly Morlock smiled and floated forward, staring right into the incoming sleet without even blinking. Intangible, she passed through the wind and ice like it wasn’t there, immune to Storm’s power. In her hand was a crude metal collar, one of the power inhibitors built by Techno. She passed Callisto, floated into the X-Man’s icy chamber, and was lost to sight in the torrent of white.

Unable to see Lilith or even turn int the direction she’d gone with open eyes, Callisto and the others had to simply wait. They turned their shoulders towards the wind, hugged themselves to stay warm, and rode it out. It seemed like it took longer than it should have as they shivered and ground their teeth together.

Just when Callisto was beginning to wonder if something had gone wrong, the wind and ice died, the howl vanishing off into ear ringing silence.

Almost immediately, Callisto began grinning fiercely.

“The wind rider has been collared,” Lilith called, “And it looks perfect with her new coloring…”

While the others were still shaking themselves off or picking themselves up, Callisto marched down the tunnel at a pace just short of a jog. She had to stop herself from breaking into a run, knowing it would be inappropriate to appear too giddy in front of her underlings, but her eagerness compelled her to rush regardless.

What she saw in the chamber was one of the most beautiful things she had ever seen.

The little underground room was completely spherical, the walls a glistening white from frost and ice. The winds had worn everything smooth, almost like opaque glass, like the center of a crystal ball, a faint mist rising as cold air met the warmer from the tunnel outside. It was fantastical, almost dream-like.

But the most beautiful part was a gleaming, silver Storm, still gaping as if in a scream, entirely still and frozen.

Callisto strode in, slipping on some of the ice but barely noticing. She caught herself against the wall as an after thought and simply stared, her eyes wide with glee, wearing a savage grin.

The wind rider had been floating when she’d been frozen, her legs straight and toes pointed, having been leaned against the wall to stay upright. The sheath of silver was so thin that every seam of her uniform was clear, every detail captured, from each strand of hair to the little jewel on her breast. Back arched, one hand grasped at her chest to paw away the encroaching silver while the other was outstretched, as if reaching for some unknown salvation that never came.

“Nnnnnhh…” Callisto stepped closer.

Lilith gestured to the X-Men’s frozen leader like Vanna White. She didn’t notice.

Storm’s noble, beautiful features were slack with terror. Her eyes were wide, a slight downward turn to her lips as if she was sobbing as she screamed. Her majestic, curving body was like a mirror, the round surfaces of her breasts warping Callisto’s reflection as she looked at them, smooth thighs glossy and polished. It highlighted just how strong and sleek she was, every groove of muscle and feminine swell bending light around them.

Callisto didn’t know art, but she knew what she liked.

By the time Singularity and Gilding made their way into the chamber, she was already directly in front of Storm, tracing a fingertip down the X-Man’s cheek, enjoying the chrome texture.

“Can she feel this?” she asked without turning.

Gilding strode in with a proud smile, chin raised as she admired her work. She was short for a woman, almost a child, with a page-boy haircut, but what stood out about her most was her skin was the same metallic silver that encased Storm.

“She can feel everything,” the little metal worker said, “She can hear us, see us, even taste the metal in her mouth. But she can’t do anything.”

Callisto let her eyes roam downwards.

The only part of Storm that wasn’t perfect, shining silver was the slightly mottled metal inhibitor collar closed around her throat. Even if she couldn’t move her body, she could access her powers… until the collar had put a stop to it.

“But she can breathe?” Callisto traced a finger around the jewel on Storm’s breast, “It’s safe to keep her like this?”

“Absolutely!” Gilded beamed, “It’s sort of like suspended animation, but the mind stays active. I did this to my brother once and kept him like that for a week!”

Callisto let her eyes drift lower, down Storm’s breasts, to the gleaming V of her crotch, to her thighs.

“Oh, Storm…” she murmured, “Oh, poor, poor Storm…”

Lifting her gaze once again, she stared into the X-Man’s wide, terrified eyes, her own lidded with cat-like satisfaction. She gently cupped her nemesis’s cheek, smiling with acidic sweetness. The reflection in Storm’s shining face was warped and monstrous.

“This must be so awful for you, Storm…” she cooed, “Trapped in the tiniest of tiny shells. Powerless. Helpless. Can’t even cry.”

Her hand slipped gently down Storm’s cheek, down her glossy neck. She rested it on the frozen woman’s shoulder, as if consoling a friend.

“And it’s going to get worse,” she sighed with faux regret, “You’re going to see everything you believed in destroyed. You’re going to see your team enslaved, working diligently to build my kingdom. You might cry out for mercy, but I won’t be able to hear you. Nobody will.”

She let her finger slip down the shining, metallic cleavage. Every detail was so perfect…

She leaned close, “But don’t worry, Storm. I’ll give you an opportunity to cry where everyone can hear you. We’ll see how your ideals hold up after that…”

Her lips pressed to Storm’s cheek, gentle, affectionate, even consoling. She gave the smooth metal a long, pitying kiss, making barely a sound.

When she drew back, she wore a sly grin.

“Bring her to the surface,” she ordered, “I want the other X-Men to see her and I want her to see them. It’s time to finish this.”

-----------

Unable to move, blink, or scream, Storm could only watch as Callisto stepped away and other Morlocks gathered around her. They put hands on her, hoisted her overhead, then carried her down the tunnel. She couldn’t even choose where she looked, forced to stare at the ceiling, bouncing as the men lugged her off.

She’d been wrong before. She’d thought it couldn’t possibly be worse than being trapped and barely able to move. This was another level of torture for her.

If she’d been able to scream, she would have done so without stopping. She would have wept, wailed, done anything to be released.

Before, she’d been in a nightmare. This was hell.