By Bobbi Todd
Part Seven
The X-Men are the property of Marvel Comics and are used here without their
permission.
Rated NC-17 for graphic sexual content, both consensual and non-consensual, as
well as for violence and offensive language. If you are under the legal age for
this sort of thing, then GET OUT!
Creed was hungry, and nearly exhausted. He hadn't stopped in nearly two days,
except to fill the snowmobile's tanks. He'd thrown the last of the spare cans
down a little while before, and he hoped there was enough to get him back to
base. To make matters worse, the machine had developed an annoying knocking
noise, which was getting worse by the moment.
He couldn't think of anything except Anna. The way her skin felt under his
hands, the sweet softness of her lips, her voice as she called his name. It tore
his heart as he remembered the terror in her eyes as he'd raped her. He knew it
would be a long time before the fear faded from her gaze.
He had to yank hard on the handlebars of the snowmobile to try and avoid a
fallen tree he'd been too preoccupied to see. The front skid caught and the
machine flipped, throwing its rider hard into the snow covered ground.
He lay unmoving for a long moment. At last he groaned and pushed himself to his
feet. He staggered over to the snowmobile, but even a quick glance told him it
was useless. The front fork had been torn completely away, and the tank had
ruptured, spilling what little fuel remained onto the snow.
Normally, Creed would have vented his rage upon the crippled machine, but today
only one thought filled his mind and consumed his soul. He had to get to Anna.
She was in danger, and he had to protect her.
He knew he was within a few miles of the base. His exhaustion slowed him, but he
moved as quickly as he could to reach the girl.
"Jean," the Professor's voice whispered in the redhead's mind. "The girl is
awake, but in great pain. She is terrified and I have been unable to reach her.
Have you found the facility yet?"
"No, sir," she answered him. "The storm dumped a lot of snow on the ground,
hiding everything. Unless Logan recognizes something, we're searching for a
needle in a haystack."
"Hey, is that smoke?" Scott's startled words interrupted the silent exchange.
"Where?" Logan demanded as Scott began to turn the agile plane toward the thin
strand of darkness staining the pristine sky.
"Dead ahead now," Scott said as he slowed the jet. "Definitely smoke." He
brought the plane to a standstill, using its hover capabilities.
"It's a snowmobile," Logan stated flatly. Creed's abandoned machine had leaked
oil and fuel onto the hot engine. There were no flames, just the thin thread of
smoke. "Can you land?"
"Give it a shot." Scott carefully maneuvered the plane in among the trees, and
set down near the smoldering machine.
Logan jumped down as soon as the hatch was open, not waiting for the steps to
extend. His nostrils flared and he instinctively extended his claws as he
scented his most bitter enemy.
"Creed!"
Creed slammed his hand against the locked door which lead to the interior of the
underground base. The combination of exhaustion, the half healed injuries from
wrecking the snowmobile, and his need to reach Anna rendered him incapable of
operating the computer's security keypad.
Suddenly, the door slid aside, revealing the crew chief, slumped beside the
interior controls, a trail of blood on the floor behind him. The smell of blood
seemed to clear Creed's mind for a moment as he staggered in through the still
opening door. He crouched before the mortally wounded man.
"What the hell is goin' on here?" he demanded. "Somebody attack the base?
Where's Anna?"
"They've ... got her," each word was an effort. "Killed the doc ta get to her.
Me 'n Tommy ... tried ta stop 'em. Knew ... she's yours." He coughed weakly.
"Bastard ... shot us."
"Where are they?"
"Medical," the man's voice faded as his life slipped away.
Creed rose and began to run down the blood stained hallway, adrenalin granting
him a burst of energy, ignoring both the corpse and the open door behind him.
"His tracks lead off in that direction," Logan announced as he approached the
blackbird where the other X-Men waited. "Straight as an arrow, too. Barely goes
around the flippin' trees."
"How long ago?" Scott asked.
"Not more 'n an hour."
"Load up, people. We'll just have to hope he doesn't change directions on us."
Seconds later, the blackbird was in the air.
When Creed reached Medical, he was enraged, but unsurprised by what he found.
His enhanced senses let him hear, and smell, what was happening long before he
arrived.
"Hurry up, Harry! Damn, man, I'm 'bout ready for another go at her." He could
hear Anna crying quietly and Harry's animal grunts as he took his pleasure in
the helpless girl's body.
Just inside the door to Medical stood the man who had spoken. His pants were
open and he held his penis in one hand. He looked up just as Creed silently tore
his throat out. He died without making a sound. The four other men in the room,
including Harry, were in various stages of undress. Their attention fixed on
Harry and Anna, none noticed as their companion died.
Creed, his mind completely clear for the first time in over a day, glided across
the floor to the examination table where Anna was held by restraining straps,
and further pinned by Harry's bulk.
"Hey!" shouted one of the men. "Wait yer turn!" Creed tore his face off without
turning. He buried his claws in Harry's back and lifted him bodily from Anna's
battered form as the faceless man started to scream.
He ripped Harry's spine free from his body before dropping his mangled corpse
and turning to the two remaining men. Comprehension was just dawning in their
eyes when he grabbed them, one throat in each powerful hand, and slammed them
together, crushing their skulls.
The last survivor, still screaming, blundered into the table. Anna, barely
conscious, cried out and Creed lunged for the man, drove his hand into his
chest, and tore his heart out.
Anna whimpered when he gently stroked her cheek, leaving a smear of blood across
her delicate features. Her fever, at least, had broken.
"It's all right, angel," he spoke to her softly. "I'm here now. No one's ever
going to hurt you again."
"Victor?" She turned to look at him as he carefully released the restraining
strap across her throat.
"It's me, baby. Everything's gonna be okay." He quickly pulled the other straps
open, freeing her. He took a blanket from a cabinet and wrapped it around her as
she tried to sit up. He gently lifted her in his arms, cradling her as she began
to sob. She put her arms around his neck and clung to him.
