X-Men: The Raid (Part 2)

In the university’s quad, the Morlocks faced Storm, Rogue, and Marvel Girl with wary, resentful glares. Though technically their leader, Storm hadn’t led them in quite some time. They liked what Callisto told them, that they were warriors, that they had the right to take what they deserved from the surface dwellers. That it was the humans, not them, that were the second-class citizens. The X-Man spoke of these students as innocent, but as far as they were concerned, no human was innocent. And they were all fair game.

Yet the sheer force of Storm’s speech, as well as the display of her power, kept them on their heels, unsure whether to attack or run. Garbled sounds came over their radios, but they paid them no mind. Their attention was entirely on the African goddess and her powerful teammates.

“Well, if there’s one thing you’re good at, ‘roro,” Rogue crossed her arms under her breasts, “It’s making folks stand up and pay attention!”

Storm disregarded her teammate’s comment, focusing instead on her audience.

“There is no need for a battle!” she called out, “We can mend the damage you’ve done and there will be no retribution! Cease this atrocity and return home!”

The Morlocks looked at each other, then around at the rest of their gathered number. They saw the same looks in each other’s eyes: defiance, anger, and determination. Seeing that, their courage began to build. They shifted their weight, balled up their fists, resentful glares becoming vengeful, wrathful.

Marvel Girl frowned.

“Storm…” she said, a warning in her tone.

The Morlocks gathered themselves, snarling. Some thumped their chests, others began slowly forming deadly balls of energy in their palms or coiled like leopards prepared to spring. Rogue and Storm didn’t have to be telepaths to see the aggression rising within the group, boiling up like molten rock within an active volcano.

Then it finally erupted.

“There’s only three of them!” roared a Morlock with a long, rat-like face, “Bring them down! Bring them to Callisto! She’ll reward us when—OOOLF!”

The rat-faced mutant got no further before he was hurled back by a mini cyclone, then skipped across the grass before colliding with a tree.

That gave the other Morlocks pause but for only a moment. Then they roared and charged, attacking with every power at their disposal.

The X-Men were more than ready.

“Jean, Rogue, clear a landing area!” Storm commanded.

“Fine by me!” Rogue smirked, rocketing forward into the mob.

“You got it, Storm.” Jean replied at the same time, throwing back a number of Morlocks with a telekinetic shield.

Eyes still glowing, Storm rose higher in the sky and threw her arms wide, calling on the weapons of the elements. Several projects were lobbed at her, including acid spit and paralyzing darts, but a well-placed cyclone dispersed the darts and sprayed the acid spit back on her enemies. Although there wasn’t enough of it to burn the Morlocks too badly, the wide-spread droplets still drew cries of pain and forced them back.

She pressed the red jewel at the center of her breasts, a disguised communication device.

“X-Men!” she ordered, “Deploy!”

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At the order, the X-Men still standing at the hatch of the Blackbird sprang into action.

A slender red head nodded firmly, her pretty nose crinkled up in a pugnacious scowl.

“That’s it, then,” Siryn growled in her Irish brogue, “Let’s see how you like me, you rampaging wankers!”

Leaping out the back of the hatch, the young woman threw her arms wide, stretching out the yellow-green striped cloth wings that stretched from her wrist to her back, then opened her mouth. A piercing, ululating cry erupted from her throat, the sheer power of the soundwaves creating ripples of displaced air. Flying on the force of her own scream, the lass streaked down to join the melee.

Soundless, the scantily clad Psylocke threw a line out the back of the plane and watched it unroll its way down to the ground. It was only halfway there when the curving ninja threw herself after it, hooked onto it with her hands and feet in a manner a monkey would be jealous of, then zipped down its length.

Dazzler took one look over the side, then turned to her teammate Shadowcat with a bright smile.

“So, Kitty…” she put an arm around the shorter woman’s shoulders, “Before you float down there… do you mind if I tag along?”

Kitty Pryde rolled her big brown eyes and gave her comrade a wry smirk. There had been a time when young Kitty would have been starstruck by a fully fledged X-Man, not to mention an international superstar like Allison Blaire, also known as Dazzler. But she had come into her own since then, small in stature but confident in her intelligence, fighting skills, and power.

“Sure, new best friend,” Kitty told her, “But do me a favor…”

Dazzler was about to ask what the favor was, then gasped in surprise and almost recoiled when she and Kitty began sinking through the bottom of the ship. The shorter brunette quickly placed her hand on Allison’s waist before they broke contact.

“Yeah,” Shadowcat winked, “The favor is, don’t let go.”

The two X-Women phased through the deck of the blackbird, then floated towards the ground, intangible both to solid objects and gravity.

While Shadowcat and Dazzler descended, the X-Men’s most junior members approached the hanging line. Both teenagers, one of them, a plucky Asian-American with a visor, peered over the side to watch Psylocke fly down the rope so fast she was almost in freefall.

“Whoa,” Jubilee laughed incredulously, “Go go gadget, ninja skills.”

The other girl silently pulled a cowl over her head, letting her raven hair spill out the back. Wearing almost a full spandex suit of blue and yellow, the new Wolverine flexed her fists inside her gloves, then turned her head twice to pop her neck.

Jubilee glanced at her friend, “Hey, uh, Laura?” she gestured to the rope, “Do you know how to do that… ninja slide thing?”

Laura Kinney, the late original Wolverine’s adopted daughter and actual clone, shook her head.

“Nope.”

With a flex of her arms, two gleaming adamantium claws burst from each hand, just behind her knuckles.

“Oh,” Jubilee frowned, disappointed, “So, how are you going to—”

Before she finished, the Wolverine dove out the back hatch. She free fell towards the ground with a wicked grin, arms and legs thrown wide and claws outstretched, daring the earth to hurt her.

“Oh.” Jubilee wrinkled her nose, a bit annoyed.

The only other one left on the jet grinned as she noticed the girl’s trepidation. Swaggering towards the rope in a black leather body suit, the white skinned woman checked to make sure she had her numerous weapons and gear strapped on tight.

“What’s the matter, kid?” Domino winked, “Your pops never taught you how to fast rope?”

“Fast roping wasn’t exactly my bag in southern California,” Jubilee rolled her eyes, “Why don’t you enlighten me, lady Rambo?”

Although not as dramatically gymnastic as Psylocke, Domino still slung herself easily over the side of the jet, explaining her method as she went along.

“It’s easy. You wear gloves, grab the rope, sort of loop it between your feet,” she did so, “Like this. DON’T squeeze the rope with your legs, unless you don’t like having skin there.”

Expertly holding herself on the rope with her well-trained legs and arms, Domino looked up to smirk impishly at the younger X-Man.

“Once you’re set, you ease up your grip a little bit,” she did so and began sliding down the rope, “Then you just ride all the way down, with a little luck!”

Now that she’d demonstrated, the well-armed X-Man relaxed her grip and began zipping down the rope at a faster pace. Partway down, she called back up to the jet.

“Oh, and by the way!” she laughed, “Don’t let go until you get to the bottom!”

She was still laughing in sheer exhilaration as she vanished from ear shot.

Now alone on the jet, Jubilee scowled after Domino. The older woman had made it all seem extremely simple and easy, even while decked out in several firearms and numerous munitions, but the teenager doubted it would be so simple when she was hanging onto a rope almost 20 stories in the air.

“Yeah right,” she groused, “Easy… bet they did this on purpose…”

Jubilee pouted, scowling around the interior of the jet. She considered landing the jet somewhere then running to join the battle but discarded that idea. By the time she got there, it would all be over and she wanted to kick some Morlock butt.

Screwing up her courage, she looked back down at the rope.

“Okay,” she sighed, “What did she say? Wear gloves? Check. Grab the rope…”

Going down on all fours, Jubilee turned to face her back end out the hatch then slowly crawled backwards.

“Okay…” her voice wobbled a bit as she took the rope, “N-now hook the rope with my… f-feet…”

Her heart was slowly rising into her throat, her eyes growing wider as she squirmed backwards out of the plane. She tried not to think that there was nothing under her feet at that moment, not for nearly an eighth of a mile, but she couldn’t resist looking over her shoulder and down.

She immediately wished she hadn’t.

“EEP!”

Jubilee’s entire body clenched and she latched onto the lip of the hatch for dear life. For a moment she felt like the kitten in one of those “hang in there!” posters and very, very much wanted back into the plane.

“Jee-eeez…” she whimpered, thinking maybe landing the plane wasn’t so bad an idea after all.

But she shook that thought away. She wasn’t a junior member any more she was a full-blown X-Man. If Psylocke could do this in a swimsuit and Domino could do it carrying enough weapons to invade Rhode Island, she could do it. She drew in a deep breath, then shakily let it back out.

“O-okay, Jubilee,” she said, “You… you got this. This thing is t-totally yours. Just… just nice and easy…”

Carefully, she took the rope as Domino had described, then began inching down.

“Whaaa…” she whimpered, “Okay… just… just relax the grip a little…”

She slid down slowly, gradually, not daring to let loose as much as Domino, much less Psylocke. And even then, she couldn’t resist looking down, then shrieking and clamping down harder on the rope, stopping her downward progress.

It took several seconds of whimpering and self-talk before she could force herself to relax her grip and continue sliding down.

“I’m never, like, EVER doing this again!” she shouted, clenching her eyes shut, “You hear me?! Domino?! Psylocke?! Someone’s going to have to fly me down next time, you butt munches! This is the absolute, totally LAST time!”

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Rogue, Marvel Girl, and Storm were already mopping the floor with the attacking Morlocks before the others arrived.

Rogue swooped in the air to draw their fire, her speed and maneuverability making dodging their blasts and projectiles easy work, then occasionally dove down to knock one of them flying. And she did it all with a playful grin.

“Some folks’ll just back the wrong horse no matter what ya tell ‘em!” she sighed.

A rubber-like Morlock reached and shot out his arms, extending them and managing to grab her hair from behind.

Rogue scowled and whirled around, grabbing him right back.

“Buster,” she squeezed his rubbery wrists together in one super strong fist, “Ah don’t know how you were raised…”

The Morlock cried out in fright as he was yanked off his feet.

“But where I come from, grabby boys,” the southern belle snapped, “Get a free butt whupping! One ah’m more than happy to deliver!”

Floating level with the ground, the invincible beauty swung her stretchy attacker around in a wide arc, bowling nearby Morlocks off their feet or forcing them to dive for cover.

Storm had only to raise her hand and a pinpoint tornado picked up half a dozen Morlocks easily, leaving them spinning and crying out helplessly. A larger one, with a pig-like affectation, managed to hold onto a tree and resist her winds. The X-Men’s leader simply called down a lightning bolt that knocked him out of his boots.

“Jean,” the wind rider said, “I suspect there are more; Callisto wouldn’t attack a place this large with this small of a force.”

Marvel Girl fended off attacks directed at her and Storm both with dismissive ease. Any projectile or blast was repelled by a telekinetic shield and anyone that tried to physically assault her was tossed into the air like a rag doll. The most strain she showed from all this work was a slight frown of disapproval and disgust at the perversions in their attackers’ minds.

“You’re right, Storm,” she narrowed her eyes, widening her telepathic gaze, “There are lots more, but they’re spread out, looting. Callisto is here too, but I haven’t pinpointed her yet.”

As soon as she finished speaking, the other X-Men began arriving. What was already a one-sided battle became a massacre.

Siryn swooped down first, dive bombing scattered Morlocks with her sonic scream. The sound waves were not only deafening, but they swept aside the hapless mutants and even tore small trenches in the ground if she focused on one spot for too long.

Psylocke sprang from her rope and landed neatly on the shoulders of a Morlock with a mouth where his eyes should be and vice versa. He had a single pleasant moment of having the British ninja’s thighs wrapped around his neck, before she drove a psychic dagger into his skull.

“NRK--!” he garbled, body spasming as he was psychically overloaded.

It only took a second to render him completely senseless, then Psylocke dissipated her violet dagger and flipped to the grass before he collapsed.

Sighing, she flipped her purple hair out of her face. Her trademark psychic attack would render almost anyone unconscious, even someone physically invulnerable like Rogue, but it also gave her glimpses of the mind she was attacking. In this case, the Morlock’s perverted thoughts made that a drawback.

“For your thoughts,” she remarked drily, “I’ll keep my penny, thanks.”

Psylocke stepped over the fallen man and sought out another opponent, each step fluid sensuality.

Wolverine’s landing on the roof of a dormitory broke both legs, several ribs, and her spine in several places, but it barely slowed her down. She impacted, threw herself forward into a roll and by the time she got to her feet her bones were already healing. It hurt her like it would anyone else, but Laura only snarled and forced herself forwards. She shambled at first, but gradually that became a limping, her bones mending themselves with loud pops and cracks. Within several steps, she was running again and she leapt off the edge of the building with the same fearlessness as her namesake.

A few Morlocks, who were still picking themselves up after Rogue’s wheeling maneuver with their stretchy comrade, now cried out in terror as a savage, muscular girl, with the famous Wolverine cowl, landed in their midst and began laying about with adamantium claws. Driven to immediate, animal panic, they scrambled away as fast as they could, not even thinking to use their powers.

“RAAAGH!” Wolverine snarled, “Buncha bad ass mutant warriors, huh?! Attacking a school?! Come on! Show me!”

By the time Shadowcat and Dazzler floated down to the ground, the X-Men outnumbered the Morlocks still standing. They landed and looked warily, but neither of them being big into pointless fighting. Both were ready to jump in if they needed to, but mainly just watched.

“Hm.” Dazzler crossed her arms as she surveyed the damage and sprawled bodies, “Looks like the morning after Post Malone’s Halloween party…”

Kitty arched an eyebrow, “You were there for the morning after Post Malone’s Halloween party?”

The superstar winced and shifted her weight from one hip to the other.

“Well… no, not really.” She admitted, “I did get invited to Taylor Swift’s Halloween party once, but I didn’t go. Don’t know why, really. Just wasn’t really feeling it.”

Out of the melee, a copper skinned Morlock noticed the two young women standing apart from the others. One was a cute little girl-next-door that barely reached his chest, her hair pulled back into a ponytail, wearing a yellow and blue suit that fit snugly to a sweet figure, while the other looked like a 90’s jazzercise instructor with her tomboyish haircut, headband, and blue spandex. Chatting idly to each other, they looked harmless, especially when compared to the weather witch and the snarling one with the metal claws.

Thinking he saw easier prey, the shining man bellowed and charged at the pair, lowering his head like a bull.

Dazzler noticed the bald, copper plated man barreling towards her and tilted her head, blinking her blue eyes.

“Huh.” She looked him over, “Wonder what his powers are.”

Shadowcat shook her head and gave the other woman a wry look. Allison had always been easygoing about her duties as an X-Man. Not that she couldn’t kick butt when she needed to, or that she couldn’t be counted on, but she had another life outside the team, unlike most of them. Sometimes, like now, she could be a little too carefree.

“You want to just wait?” Kitty drawled, “See what he does?”

Dazzler brightened, “Cool! Just phase us and then after he does his thing, I’ll blast him!”

The shorter brunette opened her mouth to tell her teammate that wasn’t a great idea but was stopped by the cracks of pistol fire and bullets pinging off the charging Morlock’s head. Fortunately for him he was somewhat bulletproof, but the gunfire still snapped his head back, jarring him backwards like he was taking combination punches from a boxer.

With the rope looped around one leather-clad leg, Domino zipped towards the ground upside down, firing pistols akimbo.

“…4-4-5-5-6-6…!” she called out, merrily counting the shots she’d fired.

The copper Morlock staggered backwards as round after round ricocheted off almost the exact same spot between his eyes.

“11-11, 12-12,” Domino called out, “Empty-empty!”

The combat savvy X-Man dropped the clips from her pistols and quickly snapped in another set. It was hard to reload two pistols at once, while upside down, but she had it done in less than two seconds, then racked the upper slides of her pistols forward again.

The fast reload wasn’t strictly necessary. The copper mutant swayed for a moment, looking bewildered. His eyes were crossed, like he was trying to focus on the numerous tiny dents in his face where the bullets had struck, and he seemed to have forgotten about Domino altogether. Clumsily, he reached up to paw at his head, then slowly teetered back like a fallen tree and thudded to the ground. He didn’t rise.

Domino grinned, blew on the barrels of her pistols, then scissored her legs and flipped off the rope, landing neatly on her feet without even bending her knees.

“Whoop whoop!” Dazzler cheered, “Bad ass, Dom!”

Domino struck a pose and grinned over her shoulder at her two comrades, twirling her pistols on her fingers. Although she had the bizarre coloring of a dalmatian, pale white skin with black hair and a distinct black spot around one eye, she never lacked for confidence. She was proud of how she looked, cocking her hip and teasing, the shape of her backside shifting beneath her leather suit.

While Dazzler laughed, beside her Shadowcat looked less amused. Her arms were crossed under her the canary yellow swell of her breasts and her lips were pursed, like a disapproving teacher.

“Yup, pretty cool.” Kitty nodded slowly, “So, how did you know he was bullet proof?”

Domino stuffed her pistols back into their holsters, batting her eyelashes, “Hm?”

Kitty stared levelly, not believing for an instant the other woman hadn’t heard her.

Between Storm, Rogue, Jean, Wolverine, and Siryn, were dropping like flies. Only a few seconds later, the last Morlock in the area tried to fire a blast at Siryn only to get flattened against the wall by a sonic scream. He was pinned there for a moment, flattened out like a bug on a windshield by pulsing waves of sonic force. When the Irish X-Man cut off her cry, he fell flat on his face and didn’t get up. As suddenly as it began, the battle was over.

Wary and well-trained, the X-Men scanned the area around them, looking for any stragglers or enemies hiding, plotting an ambush.

“Is that all of em?” Rogue called out, hovering over several fallen Morlocks.

“All seems quiet.” Storm concurred, “Jean?”

While Marvel Girl narrowed her eyes, scanning the area with her telepathy, a young, panting figure in a yellow overcoat inched her way the last few yards towards the ground.

“Ha… ha…” Jubilee gasped, “Freaking… almost…”

Fixated entirely on reaching her destination, she wormed her way down the rope, an almost manic grin on her teenaged face. It had been a long, painstaking way down, but she could see individual blades of grass.

Once she was close enough, she simply let go and dropped onto her feet.

“Yeah!” she pumped her fists in the air, “Jubilation Lee, X-Man, champion shopper, and now champion fast roper! I am SO totally…”

Her enthusiasm dimmed when she looked around and saw her teammates standing around, no enemies in sight.

Marvel Girl nodded, confirming their suspicions, “I’m only picking up unconscious Morlocks and students in this area. I’d say we’re clear.”

Jubilee features screwed up like Jean had just slapped her in the face. She shook for a moment, then threw back her head in melodramatic exasperation.

“UGGGGGGGHHHH!” she slapped a hand to her forehead, “Come on! You’ve GOT to be kidding me!”

Floating down to the ground with the fluttering grace of an angel, Storm touched down and gave her frustrated young teammate a cool smile.

“We should be so lucky if that were all of them,” she said, then called out, “X-Men! Convene on me!”

Hearing their leader’s order, the X-Men flew, jogged, or merely over. They formed a loose semi-circle and waited for the improvised huddle to begin.

Rogue arrived first, dusting herself off and Jean floated over next to her, skirt fluttering around her legs. Wolverine jogged up and sheathed her claws, looking around warily, while Jubilee marched over, arms crossed and bottom lip stuck out in a pout. Siryn’s sonic cry carried her over and she landed neatly, while Dazzler trotted up and Psylocke swaggered over with the same lithe, panther grace with which she did everything. The last two were Shadowcat and Domino, the former still scolding the latter.

“This isn’t X-Force,” Kitty frowned, “You can’t just blow people’s heads off when you’re an X-Man.”

“Look, it worked out, didn’t it?” Domino grinned, “In a mutant power scrap, everybody’s bullet proof or something!”

“Or something,” the shorter girl drawled.

Kitty opened her mouth, clearly about to say something more, when Storm spoke.

“X-Men.”

The single word was spoken calmly, but with a quiet force that made both women go silent. Upright, chin held high, shoulders back, Storm had the effortless poise of a lioness staring across the Kenyan plains. She had the rare quality of being able to command attention with her presence alone. Even this group of independent, powerful, and very different women watched and waited for her word.

“We have little time to bicker,” the weather goddess said, “But be aware, Domino, the X-Men do not kill. Cross that line and you will answer for it.”

Domino winced and gave Storm a small salute.

Siryn grunted, her jaw working. Though with a similar coloring to Jean, she was much fairer skinned, which made her freckles and the angry flush of her cheeks stand out prominently. More girlish than the elegant Marvel Girl, she also had a fiery temper, which showed itself then as she spoke up in her lilting accent.

“But if ye feel the need to put a few bullets somewhere less than lethal in the marauding bastards,” she said, planting her fists on her hips, “I won’t say a bloody word.”

Wolverine curled her lip and nodded in agreement.

“Fair handy at rampaging through defenseless students, aren’t they?!” the Irish X-Man snapped, “Being the monsters everyone says we are, if not worse!”

“That is why we must move quickly and decisively,” Storm said, “Such attacks will not only be ammunition for the bigots of this world, but it will force governments to militarize against mutantkind. We will be the menace they say we are. The Morlocks’ rampage must stop here and we, as mutants, must be the ones to stop it.”

Everyone nodded in agreement at that. Even Dazzler and Domino frowned and set aside their jocular natures, eyes growing hard, jaws set.

“Marvel Girl,” Storm continued, “Has pinpointed two other large sorties of Morlocks at the university. We will disperse into three teams. Psylocke, Wolverine, and Shadowcat, with Shadowcat as lieutenant, will advance on the stadium and subdue the Morlocks there. I will take Rogue and Siryn to do the same to the group south of here.” She turned to Marvel Girl, “Jean, you will take Jubilee, Domino, and Dazzler and act as a roving unit, pinpointing and defeating smaller pockets of Morlocks, as well as aiding their victims in whatever manner you can. Once you’ve taken care of the stragglers, reinforce the teams taking on the larger groups.”

The X-Men’s commander paused, letting the orders sink in.

Her team’s expressions varied from cool determination, exemplified by Domino and Psylocke, to the barely controlled rage of Siryn and Wolverine. They had already been briefed on the mission parameters before they set out from the mansion, but Storm’s short speech reminded them all of the seriousness of their objective.

“X-Men: above all, we must find and capture Callisto,” Storm said, “She more than any single Morlock is responsible for these travesties.”

A low thrum of gathering wind drew the African goddess’s cape into the air, then her snow-white hair. Her eyes whited over once more and the wind picked her up next, ascending her with slow majesty.

“Jean will maintain a telepathic link between the teams,” she explained as she floated, “But also use your communication devices. Do not become separated. If you are in danger of being overwhelmed, call for reinforcements.”

She rose higher into the air, the clouds swirling far above her head in a maelstrom of ominous power.

“Now go!” Storm ordered, “Be precise and watch each other’s backs! Rogue, Siryn, with me!”

With that, thunder rumbled and a gale wind flung her south, her cape whipping behind her.

“You got it, bossy lady!” Rogue called, “Let’s whup some Morlock butt!”

The southern belle launched herself into the air then shot after Storm, fists balled at her sides and ready to swing.

Pretty features still scrunched pugnaciously, Siryn drew in a quick breath, let loose her scream and took to the air as well. She followed her two teammates, her keening cry leading the way.

The other two teams quickly formed up, already knowing their roles.

“So,” Shadowcat admitted, “I don’t exactly have a map of this place memorized. Where’s the stadium?”

As if on cue, the stadium and its direction abruptly appeared in her mind. It was not only an image of the stadium, but its general layout, entrances and exits, and an overview of the dozens of Morlocks already there.

That’s all right, Jean’s voice sounded in the girl’s thoughts, I have.

Although familiar with Marvel Girl’s powers, Kitty still looked startled at the telepathic display, blinking her eyes a bit wider. Beside her, Psylocke and Wolverine wore similar expressions, receiving the same information. It took them a moment to relax and realize what an advantageous tool this would be for their mission.

“Oh,” Shadowcat grinned, “Okay. Cool!”

Marvel Girl smiled demurely at them. The map faded from their active thoughts, but the three women could still remember most of it, thanks to Jean’s highly detailed mental projection.

We’re linked now, so I’ll be in touch, she thought-spoke to the group, And Storm will be in touch through me. Let’s stop these fools before they make an even bigger mess.

Needing no further coaxing, Kitty turned to her team, and nodded her head in the direction of the stadium. They took off with no discussion needed. All three had ninja training to some degree, and they sprinted away with no more sound than falling snow, their leader actually floating just off the top of the ground. They quickly vanished, visible only to Jean’s telepathic senses.

Now down to four, the group turned to their team leader. Domino spoke up as she unslung a submachine gun from her back.

“That mental link is pretty awesome and everything,” she pulled back the slide on her weapon, then let it clack forward, “But are you going to be able to keep it up while we’re fighting? With the map and coordinating everything?”

Although a veteran fighter, Domino was a relative newcomer to the X-Men. Jubilee, a less experienced fighter but more experienced with the team, came to Jean’s defense.

“Are you kidding?” the girl snapped her fingers, “A mental link is like THAT for Marvel Girl! She could keep us all linked, while playing, like, five chess games at once and taking on twenty Morlocks on her own! She’s like the Queen’s Gambit girl with mutant powers and a supercomputer in her head!”

Domino smirked, “Five chess games, huh?”

“Oh, EAZ-UH-LEE five!”

Jubilee started to say more, but Marvel Girl quickly stepped in before she built up steam.

“Let’s stay on task, ladies.” She said, “I’ve done a sweep of the area and none of the students nearby are in imminent danger. Given time they’ll wake up none the worse for wear. They might not even remember what happened.” Her eyes narrowed behind her yellow mask, “But there are several smaller groups of Morlocks still at large. I’ll lead us to them and we’ll take them out on by one. Nonlethally.”

At the last word, she glanced at Domino, who sighed and rolled her eyes.

“Don’t worry,” she patted her compact gun, “Nothing but rubber bullets in my baby here. Let’s do this.”

Jean nodded, then got a faraway look as she focused her telepathic senses. She frowned, fixating on the nearest group, then slowly turned her head in their direction, staring through every building or tree like they weren’t even there. Physical matter made no difference at all to her telepathic “sight”.

“That way,” she pointed, “Eight of them.”

“Perfect,” Dazzler grinned, “Two creeps and creepettes for each of us.”

Their redheaded leader took point, marching confidently with her green skirt swishing about her legs, and the others followed, eager to come to grips with their enemy. Though they were less vocal about it than Siryn, they had similar feelings about these marauding Morlocks. The X-Men had fought for years, many times taking one step forward and five steps back, to promote peaceful coexistence. These raids were destroying all of that in the basest, crudest way possible. All of the women with an X on their uniform wanted it stopped and stopped hard.

Walking beside the most powerful telepath/telekinetic in the world, a super soldier with untouchable mutant luck, and a superstar who could turn any sound into her own weapon, Jubilee shivered with excitement.

“Oh jeez…” the girl giggled, “These guys have no idea what they’re in for…”

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With their communications scrambled by the storm, the Morlocks were completely unaware they were under attack until the X-Men appeared. Sometimes, not even then.

In the stadium, Quartz’s group was spread out to try to beat each other to the best loot and captives. They hadn’t heard even part of Callisto’s desperate broadcast and thought the hardest work left to do was to simply gather their booty.

None of them noticed they were quietly being picked off, one by one.

One Morlock was in the stands, rifling through pockets and unconscious bodies, when a girl caught her eye. She was petite but with sweet curves, dark-hair and a fair complexion. Cute and compact, the young student wore a purple tank top and jean shorts that were so tight they must have been uncomfortable. She had the look of someone who wasn’t a high-level athlete but kept in healthy shape, with the confidence to show it off.

“Mmm…” the Morlock girl swaggered over to the unconscious student, “Hello, pretty…”

In her punk-like jeans and tattered jacket, the female Morlock couldn’t have been more different than the girl. Lean, wiry, angular in the face, with a shock of neon yellow hair, she was almost the exact opposite of the wholesome, all-American student before her.

And she liked it that way.

Pushing a few bodies out of the way, the Morlock crouched down beside the girl and licked her lips. She ran a hand over the soft, bare leg.

“Oh yeah,” the Morlock narrowed her eyes, “You’re coming with me, baby.”

Shuffling closer, she took the girl under the knees and pulled her out from her seat.

She didn’t notice the yellow gloves that phased up through the floor and grabbed her ankles.

“With a body like that,” the Morlock hissed, “I’ll bet I can—”

She was yanked down, vanishing through the floor of the stands like they were immaterial. By the time she cried out in fright, she was already out of ear shot of her comrades. Having noticed a movement out of the corner of their eyes, a few glanced in her direction, then shrugged and went back to work.

The shock-haired Morlock cried out again as she realized she was falling, but could do nothing but flail. Even if she had powers that she could have used to stop herself, she was too panicked to think of using them. She landed hard on her stomach, surrounded by the scaffolding below the stadium’s seats.

“UNF!” she grunted, lying flat.

Glad to be on solid ground again, the Morlock stayed still for a moment. She coughed, dust from the floor getting into her mouth and nose. It was dark underneath the stands, only small slits of light filtering through the gaps between the seats. She blinked, her eyes adjusting to the scant light.

Two pairs of blue boots stopped beside her.

Coughing again, the bewildered Morlock propped herself on her elbows and looked up.

Wolverine and Psylocke stood over her, the former with her gleaming claws extended. Though blessed with feminine curves of their own, they were quite different from the girl the Morlock had been about to victimize. They were hard and toned, their warrior bodies already coiling to strike, their expressions cold. They lacked the slightest bit of pity for their rampaging mutant brethren.

“Oh…” the Morlock whispered, “shhhhhhit…”

From above her, Kitty Pryde floated down towards the ground, arms crossed, looking down her nose. With her own sweet curves, she wasn’t as muscular as Wolverine or as bombshell gorgeous as Psylocke. She wore a quirky grin, her body language relaxed, but her eyes were just as hard, unforgiving.

“Yeah. Good answer.” She drawled.

--------

Similar scenes played out across the campus.

Shiva, an orange-skinned giantess, was rattling her walkie talkie, trying to reach Callisto, when her group of Morlocks was hit by a hurricane. They had been looting computer labs and on-campus housing, when the winds suddenly picked up and blasted half a dozen of them off their feet. Rain came down with such force it felt like gravel, causing many to turn away or seek shelter.

Shiva was strong and durable enough that she could stand and squint into the oncoming torrent. The winds pulled her mohawk almost flat to her head, but they couldn’t stagger her, not without blowing down the buildings behind her. While most of her group scattered and hid, she was able to see three figures flying towards her, rapidly closing.

In only a few seconds, the approaching trio were close enough that she recognized them. Suddenly, the garbled snatches of Callisto’s transmission made sense.

“Aw, hell…” she growled, clenching her fists.

She barely got those words out before Rogue swooped down. A thunderous punch, with all the southern X-Man’s momentum behind it, sent the Morlock flying with a loud crack.

Jean’s team made short work of the small packs of Morlocks they came across. They usually took their enemies by surprise and between Marvel Girl’s telekinesis, Dazzler’s light beams, Domino’s firepower, and Jubilee’s firework plasma, the battle was always short and one-sided. The heroines were simply too powerful, too well-trained, and too well-coordinated.

In a straight up fight, one-on-one, sometimes even a dozen-on-one, the Morlocks were no match for any of the X-Men.

The Morlocks feared Storm like she was a boogeyman and the invincible Rogue only slightly less. As that was the case, many targeted Siryn rather than taking on the two famous X-Men.

On the ground, fists balled at her sides, the young woman stared down a dozen monstrous attackers. Her hair was long, but rather than Jean’s gleaming locks, Theresa Rourke’s refused to be tamed, curling and wild like a fire, even in the rain. Her uniform was a glossy green with a canary yellow pattern painted over her nooks and crannies; it looked almost like she was wearing a very skimpy, yellow swimsuit over a second green skin. It was a daring look, one that drew interested eyes to her taut, girlish body. Many such eyes were on her right then, in fact, wearing nasty grins.

Siryn backed away carefully, her pretty features looking small and almost child-like compared to her mane of hair, her glare distinctly pouty and flushed.

A woman with the sweating, gray complexion of wet cement grinned wickedly as she advanced with her comrades. She eyed Siryn’s long, well turned legs, slim waist, the round shape of her apple-sized breasts that looked merely painted over by the spandex. She also noted that the young flower was slowly retreating, backing herself into a corner between two buildings.

“Aw, are you scared, red?” the cement-woman hissed, “Don’t worry; we’re only after your lucky charms. It’ll be over before you know it…”

Though outnumbered, seemingly trapped, Siryn only curled her lip.

“I hear that one all the time, ye know,” she drawled, “It would sting a bit more if I had more than a foggy notion of what ye’re talking about. We don’t have that cereal in Ireland.”

Abruptly she stopped retreating, planting her feet. A sneer of her own pulled at the corners of her lips.

Siryn had placed herself right between the corners of two large, catty cornered dormitories. Essentially, she was at the vertex of an outward facing V formed by the two buildings, long, high walls extending out from her on either side at an angle.

Acoustically speaking, she was in a lovely space to give a speech or sing to a crowd. However, with her sonic cry, she had essentially created a kill zone where her voice would bounce off the stone walls on either side of her, funneling them out and making her scream exponentially more powerful.

The Morlocks had basically walked into a giant, architectural megaphone. They came closer, still grinning nastily, eager to get at their prey, not knowing they were exactly where she wanted them.

“This is for giving mutants a bad name,” Siryn narrowed her eyes, “Ye ransacking gobshites.”

She sucked in a deep breath, her pert breasts swelling out.

Seeing what the X-Man was about to do, the cement-woman formed a blob of organic clay in her palm and hurled it at the girl’s face. It was well-aimed, but much too late.

Siryn’s sonic cry blasted the gray mud into a fine mist then hit the gathered Morlocks like a freight train.

Broad rings of sound rippled through the falling rain, buffeting the hapless mutants with the force of small explosions. They came in unrelenting waves, knocking Morlocks backwards even as their ears rang in protest. The sound also bounced off the walls, forming a broad echo chamber that rattled them like tuning forks, shaking their brains about in their skulls. In some ways, a train would have been gentler.

By the time the fiery X-Man ceased her cry, the only one still somewhat upright was the concrete-woman. Maybe due to the slight clay quality of her body, she had weathered the vibrations and impacts better than the others, but was still left kneeling, her ears ringing. Her eyes unfocussed, she gaped stupidly as Siryn marched towards her, seeing triple of the beautiful Irish girl.

Expression pink and stormy, still furious, Siryn stomped right up to the kneeling Morlock. In her household, she’d learned to brawl long before she’d gotten her powers. Without breaking stride, she smashed her balled fist into the woman’s jaw.

The blow whipped cement-woman’s head to the side and she flopped to the ground, senseless.

“And have that one as well!” the young X-Man snapped, “Call it your lucky charm!”

With a final glare, she stepped across the fallen women to rejoin Storm and Rogue.

------

Callisto defined the word “rigid” as she stood in the aftermath of the one-sided battle in the quad. Her good eye was wide and unblinking, staring at the dozens and dozens of unconscious Morlocks, her fingers curled into claws at her side.

Looking at her, none of her team could tell if their leader was more shocked, furious, or petrified. She hadn’t moved in almost two minutes, and they could barely tell she was breathing. None of them, not even Lilith, dared to make a sound, to draw their queen’s attention.

Almost half their tribe’s warriors were sprawled about the battlefield, unable to be stirred. The Blackbird was gone, having been autopiloted to land nearby, but there was no doubt who was responsible. The swirling storm still hung low over their heads, the sounds of fighting not too far away. It could only be the X-Men.

Thoughts raced through Callisto’s head. How had Storm found them? Why did this have to happen now, when she was so close to having what she wanted?! It wasn’t fair! And what of her Morlocks?! The fools should have run! They should have fought harder! There had been almost fifty of them against a few X-Men, how could they have lost so badly?! Why was it that whenever she wasn’t directly in command of her tribe, they always managed to mess up?!

The mutant leader wanted to scream and kick the nearest body, but she knew if she did she wouldn’t be able to stop. Instead, she drew in a deep breath and let it out, trembling as she fought to focus her anger.

She pushed her earlier thoughts away. It didn’t matter how Storm had found her because she was here now. It didn’t matter what was fair; life was never fair to any Morlock. If Callisto was to truly be a queen, she would have to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat.

The simplest thing to do would be to gather who she could and retreat, but that wasn’t feasible. Callisto had the gene splicer, the true object of her mission, but she couldn’t leave more than half the warriors of her tribe in custody. Storm and her team would no doubt find her again and she’d be defenseless. They were like the hand of some tormenting god, always showing up at the worst times to keep what she sought just out of her reach.

Callisto would see the X-Men pay for this. She would see all of them powerless, kneeling before her, begging for her mercy. She would see them as slaves, breeders for her tribe, broken and enthralled. There would never again be X-Men after she was through, just a foot note in the triumphant history of the Morlocks. But most of all, she would see Storm brought down, her pride broken, a fettered, naked amusement, leashed to the throne of the Morlock queen.

She swore she would see that future come to pass. Now she just had to figure out how to do it.

Callisto strode forward and the movement drew the attention of her team; they turned to watch her. Her pace was slow, her head lowered, and she would have seemed forlorn if not for the way her eye darted around and the determined set of her jaw. She wasn’t wandering away, lost and depressed; she was looking for something.

Callisto’s powers weren’t as dramatic as some mutants. Beyond enhanced reflexes and senses, she had the subtle ability of tactical computation, being able to assess tactical situations and forecast possible outcomes with accuracy far beyond any computer program. Those abilities made her an almost peerless tracker, able to reverse construct events based on the terrain where they happened. Now her senses were working at high speed as she wandered around the battlefield, gathering data to make her calculations.

There were nine… no, ten X-Men, she decided, not the usual task force of five or six. They had arrived by air in growing numbers and annihilated her Morlocks. She made note of bullet casings, claw marks, the way her Morlocks had fallen, the way the grass was torn up or buildings damaged, all to determine who was on the team and what had happened.

The X-Men worked together flawlessly, never getting in each other’s way, using their powers as complements to one another’s, creating vortexes of destruction their enemies couldn’t escape. At the beginning of the battle there had been only three of them, but they had defended one another even as they counter attacked, seamless and effective. Then when the rest of the X-Men had joined them, the Morlocks had been hopelessly outgunned. Tactical perfection.

That is, until she saw Storm’s mistake.

Callisto stopped, her brow lowering. Her fingers twiddled at her sides, titillated.

Could it be?

After the battle, the X-Men had gathered, regrouping. Then they had split up into three groups, no doubt to round up the rest of the scattered Morlocks.

They had split up.

Callisto sank down to a crouch to closer inspect the terrain.

It had been an even split, most of the fliers in one direction, the lighter steps of stealthy warriors moving towards the stadium, while the group of four went in yet another direction. There was no doubt.

Callisto’s eye gleamed. As a complete team, the X-Men were practically unbeatable with the forces she had left. But separated, there were possibilities, depending on what she had to work with.

She looked to her team, her tools closest to hand.

Techno hugged the gene splicer to his chest and gaped at fallen Morlocks, powerful mutants he had expected could protect him against anyone, now utterly defeated. Angler squirmed in place, plucking nervously at his pointy teeth while Singularity stared longingly in the direction of their escape tunnels. Lilith was busy focusing her powers, spreading out her strange aura to hide the group from telepathic scans, but she was frowning and quiet, uncharacteristically worried. They were all clearly afraid.

Callisto shook her head. None of this team had been Morlocks when the tribe had first encountered the X-Men. They’d only heard stories about their power or seen them on TV. To these four and many of the other Morlocks, the X-Men were beings of legend, unstoppable figures used in tales to frighten children, almost god-like.

Something would have to be done about that, their leader decided.

Around them, a few of the battered Morlocks began to groan and stir. None of them rose yet, but they at least showed signs of consciousness, blinking. One even managed to lift her head.

Callisto pushed herself to her feet, her gaze following the path of one of the small X-Man teams. She weighed possibilities, probabilities, and arrived at plausible outcomes. Then, a plan began to form.

“Angler, Singularity,” she ordered, “Rouse whoever you can in the next few minutes. After that, we move.”

The two Morlocks paused, looking hesitant.

Callisto turned to them with sly grin.

“Do it,” she hissed, “Soon your rewards will be more than just supplies and a few human captives…”