The greatest threats are those you cannot define.
The scariest things, those you cannot yet see.
Music, filling the air, piercing through the atmosphere, in the middle of nowhere. Pure beauty. Adrenaline rush. And not a chance that anyone interrupts this.
It felt like this house had sprouted there, in the middle of this barren hill, like a lonely tree.
And on the inside, the fires of hell.
Trent May sniffed another line, then kissed the completely unknown and clearly drunk girl beside him, shoving his hand under her dress. She seemed to like that. Good looking, she was. Blonde, and juicy, and much promising. She laughed, grabbed his hand and forced it higher and higher, until it was right between her thighs.
Those parties were the only reason he still remained in a sorority as failed as the Superiors. And he wasn’t the only one. Most of all those people in this house kept coming in those meetings just for the fun of it. He doubted there was a single person besides the founders that actually believed in any of the ideas they kept talking about to anyone who was still willing to listen. Thank God they were so damn rich. Because who would give a fuck about mutant rights when they can have alcohol, drugs and hot chicks around? Even if they were mutants themselves.
The Superiors. Basically, a union of mutant terrorists. It was founded a few years ago by Paul Way, aka Wizard, an illusionist who also possessed few telekinetic abilities. Inspired by the figure of the powerful Magneto, he was also consumed by the idea that the entire humankind was now a lower species, and that mutants just as himself were the future of this world: Homo Superior. He later lost his life during the Skrull Invasion, but what he started never died. His two brothers took over, and managed to recruit many young mutants such as himself, bring them on their side, one way or another. They didn’t have much power yet, but they were certainly responsible for some serious damage and a series of terrorist hits with numerous innocent victims. They had remained in the shadows so far, but there were many on their trail. They had to be really careful, especially nowadays, with so many heroes around.
But they didn’t need to worry about all of that now. Now they were all together, celebrating Ian Way’s birthday. He was the oldest son of Paul Way, and a real party animal in soul. Every year on his birthday he gathered every member of the organization –approximately two hundred people at the time- in the very same place, this house he built in secret and used it as a safe house ever since.
The girl started unbuttoning his jeans, and he sighed delighted. This was gonna be fun.
And they were all safe.
It wasn’t until much later that things started getting weird.
He woke up on another couch, next to another girl. The one he’d been hooked with was nowhere to be found. He yawned and stretched, then reached for the cell in his pocket. 2:53 am. Where the hell could Brian and Alex be? He hadn’t seen his friends for a while now.
Suddenly, the music and the disco lights completely turned off, while all the actual lights turned on.
A thousand disappointed complaining voices filled the huge living room. His face winced as he brought his hand on his forehead –he already had a headache.
A piercing sound through the stereo made it even worse.
And then he heard the sound of footsteps. Decisive. Confident. A metal crackling, hinting buckles over boots. And the sound of heels. Not high heels. They must have been low. But the sound of them… so clear.
She came through the hallway near his couch –that’s why he was probably the first to notice her. Beautiful, feminine body, rounded, not skinny like most girls, neither plum of course: 5ft 6 in height, full breasts, and a quite fine ass. Long, rich, brown hair, wavy, forming curls at the end. Serious, oval shaped face, with small but full lips. Her eyes, as he saw when she casted a short look upon him, were light brown. Such a fascinating gaze she had. Like a tiger, or a lion… something dangerous… but so beautiful. She wore black leather tights, a black top, black half-gloves and high black boots –with buckles, as he guessed before. There was a belt around her waist, with many pockets.
And she was fully armed.
Two katana swords proudly crossed in their sheaths behind her back. He could see four different gun holsters, two on her thighs and two on her torso, and he was certain those were not the only ones.
Now they had all seen her. Every voice died on a whisper, as she calmly walked among them, to the center of the room, with not even a jot of hesitation or fear in her face, as she looked straight at every single face she encountered.
He slowly stood up as he saw others so the same. Something was wrong. She wasn’t one of them, and they all knew it. Some of them, mostly those around her, even took battle positions.
And as it was proved, they were wise to do so.
In an instant, in just a single moment, she grabbed her swords, waved them just once, and the four closest men fell dead on the floor, blood splashing everywhere around. Like a shot from Kill Bill.
She jumped up in the air, kicked another man on the head with incredible power, and landed again on her feet, piercing through a woman with one of the swords, and through a man with the other. The woman’s blood painted her face and hair.
The place filled now with screams of terror and hysteric cries. One guy, tall and broad, was the first to try his powers against her. A moment later, a bird’s beak appeared on his face, hawk’s claws in his fingers, as a long, terrifying squawk came through his throat. He ripped off his shirt with his claws, and hawk’s feathers appeared to grow instantly on his hairy chest. He gave another angry squawk, getting ready to rush upon her and rip her apart. But he never had the chance.
A human arm literally emerged through his chest. A hand with sharp, animal claws in each finger. The hand went back inside the body and twisted, as if it was looking for something in the bloody flesh. Then it went out completely, and the lifeless body fell on the floor, revealing the person behind him: a man, this time. A man who now held the dead man’s heart in his right hand.
He wasn’t particularly tall, but he was broad and muscular. Short, black hair and small, dark brown eyes. Not exactly handsome, but quite impressive –and scary- to look at. On his head, there was a sort of protective helmet, made of some kind of black colored metal, covering his forehead and the sides of his face. Black pants, black boots, and a white warrior’s shirt. On his forearms, from wrists till elbows, and above the his boots, there were protective armor pieces made from the very same metal, with arched, sharp blades attached on the back, two behind each arm and four behind each leg.
He brought the heart on his lips and licked the blood, then let it fall over the body.
Now a circle formed around them. His own mutant power was the ability to breathe underwater, useless talent under those circumstances, but he joined the circle as well, both scared and fascinated, because he was absolutely positive that now they had them. Although, no one seemed willing to make the first step. The two murderers kept fighting and killing anyone who dared to come close, and it seemed like nothing would ever stop them.
The dead must have already been around thirty, when a new intruder came to spread terror among them, making quite the entrance. She blew the great window in the middle of the wall to smithereens while she rushed into the house, at the speed of the wind… flying.
Oh, yes. Things were getting even worse for them all.
Her deadly beauty would turn every model green with envy. Long, straight, Swedish blonde hair, with a single black streak on the front. Sparkling, aqua colored eyes behind a pair of blear white googles, in a perfect face with high cheekbones. Tall, thin and lean, with amazing curves, a body that any man would dream of. Her costume included a sexy, fuchsia tank top with high neck, soft lilac tights, carefully ripped on the sides, and high fuchsia boots that even covered her knees. A stylish white belt, white long gloves and a special cover for her left shoulder concluded the whole.
She landed beside the other two, looking like she was in a perfect mood, and she grabbed the closest person to her, a woman who Trent happened to recognize: the girl he was hooked up with that night. And now he watched in horror the blonde chick casually breaking her skull between her fingers.
Two bold people, a man and a woman, probably twins, as they were very much alike, stepped forward towards her, while the other two kept “working” behind them. The man instantly changed his substance, and now he seemed like he was made of pure water inside his clothes, while the girl seemed to be exactly the opposite: made of fire, bringing the Human Torch on his mind. The terrifying woman didn’t look surprised. She just laughed, before the took a step forward, taking off her gloves. She put her right hand on the girl’s shoulder and her left one on the man’s. Their eyes goggled while they both came back in their natural state. They fell on their knees, their faces went purple, their screams sending chills down his spine, while he realized what was happening just by looking at her. She had thrown her head back, her eyes closed, her lips half opened, enjoying the feeling, devouring it… devouring them. Until they both fell dead on the floor.
He couldn’t be sure, but… it seemed as if she…
No… no, this couldn’t… the only known mutant possessing such a magnificent power was the infamous Rogue, from the X-Men!
She turned abruptly, with a ruthless smile on her face. Now she was unrecognizable, yet thrilling: her whole right side was made of fire, just like the girl before, while her left side made of water, just like the man. Two powers… on the very same body.
A terrible, battle scream emerged from her, while she unleashed raging fire from her right hand and a whole torrent of water from the left one, both right against them.
People burning alive. People drowning, water forcing it’s way down their lungs.
This was supposed to be a birthday party. He couldn’t bare this. He ran and hid behind the bar, in utter shock. His mind raced, while he was trying to convince himself that this wasn’t happening, that he was still asleep, that he would soon wake up, and everything would be normal again. It was absurd, completely absurd, out of logic! There were so many of them, and they couldn’t defend themselves!
But how could they, since almost all of them were drunk or high as fuck –or both?
That was the moment when a red blast of light blinded him. He slowly rose and looked carefully. It had come from a young man, on his early twenties, who was standing in front of the front door, preventing those who were trying to escape by shooting powerful force blasts from his eyes right on them. Kinda like… Cyclops?! He had brown hair, thick, rich and curly, framing a charming face with strong jaw, beautiful smile, thick eyebrows and hazel eyes. Tall, thin, lean and very well-built, like an athlete. Grey tights and short-sleeved shirt, simple black belt and brown boots with protective gaiters and also brown armor pieces on the thorax and his forearms.
A body was thrown towards his hiding place, and he saw who it was when it was landed. Ian Way. Dead, on his very birthday night, his throat sliced, blood still pouring. He looked at his murderer.
How many of them could actually hide among them?!
A girl. Just a girl, who didn’t seem to be older than twenty. She was short and slim, with no noticeable curves, but still very pretty. This one had long blonde hair, curly, which she wore in a high ponytail, and big, blue eyes. Deep-sky blue tights and mask of the same color that also worked as a helmet, covering her head on the front as well. Black boots, belt and shoulder pad, white top and white gloves, each one with three metal openings, six metal claws coming out of each, now completely covered in blood, as she moved around like a ninja, spreading death all around.
-Man, what the fuck! he whispered to himself. What the fuck, what the actual fuck, this can’t be happening, this can’t be…
He kept repeating it to himself, hoping, just hoping that when he would look up again, all this madness, all this terror would be gone. But the screams kept piercing his ears, and he felt something liquid between his fingers that rested on the floor. He slowly opened his eyes.
The floor of the entire room was bathed in blood. Just now he realized how heavy the smell was. Wherever he looked at, dead bodies, one over another. He felt like throwing up.
His hand reached for his cell. He typed 911, but he stopped before calling. What exactly was about to say?! “Yo, cops, we’re the terrorists you’ve been looking for, for like two years now, we need your help”?
He looked towards the direction of the voice, and he saw one of his friends, Alex, gesturing and waving his hands in the air, trying to get his attention. He and a small group of approximately fifteen people were behind a woman, whose name he could not remember at the time –Lana? It could be Lana. Her power was creating an earie force field, light purple in color, and now she was using it to protect herself and as many others as she could. He quickly realized that this was his only chance. He had to risk. In an instant, he jumped up and started running towards them, only to stumble on a body half way through and fall on the floor. He was trying to get up once again, when the power was suddenly cut. The only lights that remained were the red blasts and all the fire. The screams grew louder, and chaos reigned.
He curled up on the floor and started crying. They would die. They would die, all of them. He would die as well. And he wouldn’t even learn the reason why.
And then, everything stopped. The blasts stop. The battle sounds stopped. The woman slowly put the fire out, and the house was delivered in an almost complete darkness. The only sounds kept coming were from the wounded and from the upper floor, where some of them tried to seek shelter earlier.
The blinding light of a lightning came through the broken windows, lighting the entire room for a moment, and then the deafening sound of a thunder blasted out, while a powerful wind started blowing, throwing hail upon them from the broken windows.
Those lightnings… those thunders… this terrible wind, the hail… this was not a normal storm. And it terrified him even more. Trent was born and raised in Louisiana. He knew strong winds. He knew disaster. He knew typhoons. And this was one of them. A really, reeeeeeeally powerful one.
It was a common thing in Louisiana. But how the hell could there be a fucking typhoon right here, in fucking Maine, with absolutely no fucking warning?
The light of the storm was now enough for them to see, but not at all enough to feel relieved. A group of people suddenly rushed to the door, and this time, no one seemed to stop them. No one from the inside, anyways. They were just five feet away, when the door was completely crushed down by the power of that furious, menacing wind. They all backed away, screaming.
A dark, male figure was approaching, slowly, coming into the house. His hands calmly lifted up on his sides. He couldn’t tell much about his looks. He only saw him clearly for an instant, in the light of a lightning, and this made him even scarier. Only things he could tell was that he was tall, dressed in black, with some sort of long coat that was blown back by the wind, like his hair, and his eyes… his eyes were glowing white, completely white, glimmering in the dark. As he approached, the wind became even more powerful, and the storm grew wilder. Like the end of the world was coming right upon them.
He looked like the devil.
He raised his hand high above his head, and a series of horrible, cracking sounds came from the house itself. Moments later, right before their terrified eyes, the whole upper floor, and apparently the ceiling of the house as well, were completely plunked out above their heads and blown away, inside that destructive typhoon, taking in the other world all of the people upstairs.
And he knew, he was entirely sure inside, that it was him that did this.
At that moment, this man was, in his own eyes, the living incarnation of the antichrist.
Screams and desperate cries kept coming from everywhere around, from those still breathing, but nobody dared to move. The other five killers were gathered in a corner now, letting this devil deal with them. The beautiful woman in pink had obviously also absorbed the power of the woman with the force field, because right now this woman was nowhere to be found, and she had formed the protective field around just the five of them.
As if she knew what was coming next.
The man in black spread his hand forward now, abyss in his eyes.
A great lightning high above was separated into thirty smaller, that fell with absolute rage upon those still standing.
In his own life, he had taken many lives. He killed without discrimination, and he actually enjoyed it. Every single time. He never hesitated pulling the trigger. He didn’t even blink when he himself had blown up a building, inside of which he knew there were over thirty people at the time. Yes. He had seen death. He had caused it. But he had never heard the sound of it like that.
Those people were being fried alive. When they fell on the floor, there was no person in the whole world that would get a chance to recognize them. The smell of burning flesh stuffed his nostrils. Burned, rotten coal.
He closed his eyes, and for the first time in his life, he actually prayed.
And everything stopped. Everything went quiet. In just a moment. Just like it started. The wind was gone. The thunders became distant. The hail turned into soft, plain raindrops.
He realized he felt cold.
He gathered all the grindings of courage he could find inside him and managed to look up at them. The woman was slowly removing the field. As they stepped out of it, the young man with the brown hair started laughing and yoo-hooing, clapping his hands, as he approached the man in black.
“Maaaan, that was AWESOME, dude! High five, high five! Stephan will be thrilled, you’re about to get, I don’t know, five gold stars or something!”
A loud moan, then a terrified cry. They all turned to look. There were other survivors as well. The moan belonged to an apparently injured man, and the cry to a girl beside him that realized their presence was now known. There was another man with them, trying to help her move the injured one, now completely pale.
The girl with the curly hair and the blue tights smiled and calmly headed towards them.
He had to leave this place. He had to leave right now. As he heard their screams, he lowered his head again, trembling, and started crawling towards the nearest French door. His last chance to get the fuck out of there alive.
He stopped, frozen in his place, and slowly turned his head.
It was the man with the extendable claws, now covered in blood from head till toes. He was looking right at him, with a faint, ironic smile upon his lips, his head bowing a bit on his left shoulder.
He leaned forward and he quickly backed off, horrified.
“Beautiful evening”, he said in a low voice. “Don’t you think?”
He opened his mouth to plead, but his voice never came out. The only thing that did, was a spout of his blood, from his cut throat.
The man took a deep breath, then licked the blood of his claws, as he watched Trent chocking on his own blood.
He didn’t turn, knowing she was coming there anyway. She stood beside him and looked at the dying man.
“Are we done here?”
“Oh, yes. We’re done. Successfully.”
“You don’t feel…”
“There is no one else alive here now but us.”
“Are you sure?”
“You know I am.”
He looked at her and smiled. She was still holding one of the katana in her hand, blood slowly pouring in drops on the floor from it’s blade.
“I think he will be more than pleased”, he said calmly. “So, apparently… we’re going for the big boys now.”
(TO BE CONTINUED, LOL!!!)