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The Sins of Men and Angels; [Utopia]
Topic Started: Jul 18 2012, 07:46 AM (3,085 Views)
Danger
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All Ur Base Are Belong To She
In the Queen's Chamber, Danger and Jean worked tirelessly... well, Danger was tireless, Jean's state of exhaustion was a matter of her own to care for. The holographic map began to move as Danger used the neural net to plot every move on the battle field as told to her through the neural net. She turned dark lensed eyes to the door where the broodling sentry that had been Franklin Richards crouched in impatient wait for the next wave of enemies. His long spiked tail switched back and forth like a restless cat, and he unconsciously licked the blood of those he had already slain from his claws.

"Brood Infection at 100% in Designate: Franklin Richards," Danger remarked, in an strange almost casual tone. "In Scott Summers, in Rachel Summers, in 99.999 percent of Utopian population. Only Designate: Jean Grey-Summers and Designate: Sarah Vale have not succumbed to metamorphosis. If Cure is not initiated in the next..."

Her words cut off as the room suddenly filled with light and an alarm. "Alert! Jean Grey-Summers! Wormholes are open! Wormholes are open!"

Her blue metaled hands moved through the map, and blinking indications of where the wormholes were, in the ice cave, in the lagoon, at the Wandavator platform, and when she dragged her hands apart, the focus of the hologram grew to it. The sweeping hordes of brood attackers had not yet discovered that they had egress... That would likely not remain so.

Danger turned away from Jean and her head lowered in what someone may think was grief if they believed that there was any emotion in the robotic woman. "Brood infection ratios are too high. Initiating eradication procedures as per Scott Summers orders. Lowering of external shields. If the Cure does not activate in fifteen minutes, by your standard of measure, the Pangea biosphere will be subjected to Antarctic temperature, currently -77f/-60.556c. Given current physical requirements of brood infected Utopians, death by hypothermia would occur in approximately 10 to 45 seconds, fluctuating because of wait or health of infected. If the Brood exit the wormholes, there will be complete planet consumption in 32 hours."

Overhead, the building rocked, not by attack but because outside, the biosphere shields were beginning to lower.
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Werewolf
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“Who.. am I? You don’t recognize me, son? I’m your dad, remember? Greg. ” Jack’s father’s face fell earnestly, looking disappointed.

“No no no.. you’re not him,” Jack murmured with realization, his unwanted transformation actually stopping, leaving him with half-grown fangs and a thin film of red over his eyes. “You… you died. You died and.. and you left me and mom and sis.”

“You’re just confused, Jacob..”

Hands patted soothingly over Jack’s hair and the boy wrenched backwards as though he’d been struck. “That’s not my name!” he growled, the mindscape illusion shuddering to reveal a twenty-six year old Jack Russell. He was becoming aware, and it made his head hurt like he’d slept for too long.

“Don’t be ridiculous. Everything’s okay. I’m here, and your mom, and Lissa..”

“No! You’re both dead!” Jack shot back, as if he had just remembered, scrambling backwards over his own hands and knees. “And.. and Lissa.. she’s gone.”

His dad, whoever he was, tilted his head with a calculating gaze, his blue eyes of changing hue flushing red. The Broodling curled its lips, looking more and more like Jack as its features began to settle. “It only took you sixteen years to remember."

Jack's felt cold. Had it really been that long? The details of some picture perfect life began to trickle away, like a dream upon waking. "W..what? Did you think you could just distract me forever with.. with a life I can't have? All of those people are dead!"

"You can't hold that over me," he snarled, flexing his fingertips that budded into talons. "A lie isn't enough reason to stay here!"

"Fine," the Broodling growled, his lopsided snarl revealing rows of jagged teeth that had not been there before. "If you need a reason to resist me," his eyes glittered maliciously,"then I will destroy your only reason."

Jack balked, his fair skin going chalk white.

There were even more teeth as the Broodling almost smiled, knowing he’d found that weak point. "You think I do not know the weakness of your own heart, Jack Russell? She makes an admirable effort, but she is dead to us, and I'll make sure she's dead to you."


------

In real time, what had happened inside his mind took only seconds to pass, the Broodling's ears ringing with anguish and fury from his hosts's protests, and halfway through his barreling dive the Broodling changed his target, weaving in and out of skirmishes happening in the sky. The one the Red Guardian’s people used to call Rahne Sinclair was not hard to find after she gave her telepathic call, and the he found her soon enough, facing down a fire-haired False Brood that was caught between two forms.

The Broodling landed heavily in their midst and swatted at Amara heavily with one great arm, his plated body armor rising like the fur would rise on his host's other form. He faced the female Broodling that used to be Rahne and lunged for her, his stinger poised to kill.

"You failed our Queen!," he howled, "Do not make a mockery of us here!"

He would serve his Queen and he would paint these grounds with the blood of those who did not deserve Her love, but the Broodling would start by picking off his host’s excuse for a companion.
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Wolfsbane
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Wolf Form
JP with Magma


Amara took a few steps back out of instuct when the larger broodling landed in front of her, speaking with Rahne's voice. There was no mistaking that the being in front of her wished her ill, but the Nova Roman believed little else. If Rahne couldn't hear her, she would just yell louder. 'She will fall' was a clear enough indication that Rahne wasn't accepting the change. Even if she had this girl would not simply lie and accept defeat, it was not the way of the Romans nor the X-men.

"From the sounds of it, creature, Rahne is not giving you what you want. Silent acceptance just isnt our way."

The creature charged, bared for hte attack, and she was ready. Years of training and fighting alongside her feral friend would hopefully pay off. Amara dove to the side a little awkwardly with her new physical changes but swung her tail in attempt to trip up the broodling,
Amara's tail struck the Broodling's legs hard, and sent the creature sprawling. It tumbled, churning up the ground with its massive body before righting itself and turning once more to face its quarry.
"Ohhhh, but she will," the creature hissed in Rahne's voice. "Yuir death is only gonna be the first step. Then I kill Douglas. Then Samuel. Then, finally, I kill Danielle. Nice an' slow. An' her soul... it will break."
A long, bladed insectile forelimb swung for Amara's head, though the attack was slow, clumsy.

This creature made its first mistake. An attack on herself she could handle without worry because the situation was in her hands. The thought that it would go for her closest friends after her, and Doug specifically right after her, made the former magma wielder furious. Her eyes narrowed as she watched the larger broodling swing its forelimb towards her and due to the speed of the attack, urged her own body to lunge forward. She was stronger physically in this form. Adapting to the fight and her body was her only choice. This creature needed to be defeated here and now. Aiming to duck under the arm, Amara utilized her new tail once more to aim a strike at the creatures midsection.

Aquila was good and angry now. Good. She would lose herself in rage and fury and maybe even lose her hold on individuality. Fall to the Queen's influence.

Amara's tail struck the Broodling's carapace hard and true, hitting with a dull, resounding thwack. The Broodling grinned as well as it could, a remnant of human emoting that was ingrained into its instinct.

"That almost hurt," she hissed in Rahne's voice, taking advantage of Amara's new proximity to enfold large insect-like limbs around her, making it difficult to escape. It would be a simple matter of taking a good, solid bite now. Just one bite.

The Broodling's head lunged downward, and her fangs went straight for Amara's left shoulder and... stopped. Teeth barely pricked the surface of Amara's armor and refused to close any further.

"Rrrrraaahhh! DAMN YOU!" the Broodling howled in frustration as she flung Amara away from her. She couldn't do it. She couldn't go for the kill. Why was she unable to...?

Of course. She was resisting again.

And then... there it was. He landed with a heavy boom, swatting Amara away before attacking... the Broodling kicked backwards to roll with the lunge, allowing herself to be pinned underneath the male.

"Ye wish to kill me? Violate the love ye swore t' me? Fine. Do it. I'll gladly give muh life up for Her glory," she growled defiantly, her face inching ever closer to his. Things were getting confused now. This creature never swore love to her. She should have known that.

"But ye'd best save it for after we've dealt with the X-Men. Once they're dead an' gone, then I'll gladly offer muhself up to ye to do as ye wish."
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[size0]Say the dog and butterfly,
in the air they like to fly.
Dog and butterfly.
She knew she had to try,
and she float back down to the warm soft ground,
laughing - she don't know why,
but she had to try, she had to try.
Dog and Buttefly.


Avatar by Natalie, signature by Olga. My graphics set is complete again! Thank you so much!
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Anole
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The moment Victor leapt towards the advancing creatures throat, it was when he felt the most himself. It was not enough of a jarring thought to remove his mental focus from the battle field, but more a moment in time, after he left and before he arrived, where a small, mental, and monotone chuckle echoed in the cavities of his consciousness. Of course Victor had instinctually become accustomed to his body, but mentally he had not quite coped with it. Not released his hold from his reptilian body that was all he had ever known.

Now, gravity did not push his weight into insect-clawed feet, or more accurately lower extremities. Pincers did not tear the flesh from beings that had once been natural, and a tail did not pulse with a venom that would paralyze or worse. In this moment, he did not see himself, Victor did not feel himself. It was this moment that he felt reverted back to his former reptilian body, comfort overwhelmed him. Though his body was tensed for impact, his mind had not met a euphoria like this for several months. The neck, that rivaled the size some of the younger trees in the jungle, of the infected creature quickly approached.

Victor arrived, sinking claws into the creature’s long neck.

He was not however, met with the same viscous blood-like substance from the other creatures. Instead, hundreds, maybe more, much smaller broodlings less than the size of his hand crawled out of each of the wounds in the neck. Instead of dispersing into the rest of the battlefield, the creatures swarmed Victor. He did not notice any bites or stings immediately, so rather than give up on his current plan, he looked to the sky and climbed the only ladder he had. With each hand full of puncture wounds to the creatures neck, another couple hundred broodlings poured out.

The swarming, enlarged bug, brood weighed victor down heavily and the swinging reaction of the creature made his trek only that much more undesirable. Several times, Victor had lost his footing in the creatures rampage and only held on by his claws as the creature tried to shake the intruder free. As the initial pain subsided, the creature continued to deal with other seemingly more serious problems.

Reaching what Victor presumed to be the head of the beast, he focused his claws and tore at every eye he could see. There were an abnormal amount, and they seemed to inflict more pain with each one the creature lost. After each of the eyes had been disabled to Victor’s standards, he tore at the flesh of the head. With his speedy reflexes and chitinous claws, he made quick work of the area of the beast that held the least amount of armor. It was not long before he found bone. Winding up and striking the presumed skull once, it cracked beneath the sheer force, but did not shatter.

It was then that Victor’s body went numb.

He still had mobility as that was the first thing he checked, but he could not feel a thing, head to toe. When he looked closer, the smaller bugs had drilled nearly microscopic holes in his armor. This had something to do with it, but before he could wrap his mind around it, he had lost his leverage and fell from the height of the beast. He looked up at the damage he had done to the skull with new found disgust, but it was necessary, and he hoped he had done enough.

Though he hit the ground, he did not feel anything. He just noticed that the scenery above him had stopped fleeing him. The reptilian hoped he had done enough for Sarah to finish off the creature, for the X-Men to defeat the Brood. As his struggling limbs rested, the smaller Brood left him. Left him find another X-Man to terrorize.

The space above him, the warped space, almost looked pretty at this angle.
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Riley
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Amber eyes stared dead ahead, a milky film over them. Riley had lost all sense of time, it was to difficult to think. She had a headache unlike any headache she'd ever had before. The sun didn't torture her like this, in fact, a migraine brought about by the sun would have been a welcome relief to what she had been feeling for days now. Blinking slowly she let her head fall forward as a wave of nausea hit her. The nausea was not an uncommon feeling, it was more like an old friend at this point.

Groaning she flexed her hands, attempting to distract herself from the nausea and her pounding head all at once. It worked, but only just. She felt like death warmed over, but she knew it was going to get worse before the end. Just as she felt the nausea dissipating something worse happened. A voice found its way into her head with her own and she closed her eyes, clenching her fists.

Show time...

Slowly she stood, working her way up the wall she had been using as a support. The infection was going to take hold completely soon and then it was game on. She was suddenly aware of the raucous outside and with a pained smile moved to take up her bow and quiver. However, as she reached for her favored weapon she stopped short, arm trembling. The infection suddenly boiled in her blood and she stumbled backwards. Grabbing her head she tore at it, ripping hair and flesh from her skull. Her breathing came in rapid gasps as her body shifted. Flesh tore and sloughed off in large junks as her new skin came into being.

Blood ran from her mouth as new teeth came into being, but the blood quickly changed and became something darker and thicker. With a screech she threw herself back against the wall as bones twisted and melded into unbelievable shapes. Flailing her arms that were no longer her own she thought she was going to pass out just as her wings erupted from her back. Hissing she lurched forward, heading toward the outside world.

With every step she took the pain ebbed away until it was all but a distant memory. It was like she had never been sick and upon looking down at herself she realized what had happened. The infection had changed her, she was a Brood now, but at the same time she wasn't. Chittering in excitement she rushed forward, laughing in her head.

It worked! Aaaaaaand...I can fly!

The plan to keep them separate from the Queen had worked, at least for now. Riley had no way of knowing if it was permanent or not, all she knew as that now it was up to her and her new family. They weren't going to go down without a fight. Her powers were gone, the eyesight she had grown up with stripped from her, but that seemed so unimportant now. Now she was strong, fast...she was a killing machine all on her own now, she didn't need her guns anymore.

Blinking her impossibly big eyes she felt her feet lift off the ground, claws lightly scrapping against the floor. Then she shot forward like one of her arrows, quickly leaving the confines of the Temple and bursting out into the sunlight. The battle was already ragging when she burst into the light. How long had her change taken? Had she been fighting it that hard? She hadn't thought so, but that didn't matter now. The instinct to survive kicked in and Riley threw herself into the fray, screeching a battle cry. Teeth gnashing she ripped into the nearest Brood creature, it might of been a dinosaur once. However now it was just an enemy to be taken down in order to keep going, to keep living. Snarling she tore the malformed beast apart without hesitation before moving onto the next, meticulously moving to link up with her team mates.
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Werewolf
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(Triple JP between Jack, Rahne, and Everett)

He couldn't do it, and she was so close, her insectoid heart fluttering loud enough for him to hear. The Broodling twisted his face into what might be a snarl; he should have been able to rip out that still beating heart, but some residual attachment stayed his hand. Apparently the feelings of whomever their hosts used to be were strong. It shouldn't have mattered, because their love for their Queen--his Queen--should have trumped it all. Even so, the female was right.

"I have no love for you," the male Broodling snapped to remind her, and he drew back, changing his focus to lunge back to the fiery False Brood.

In spite of their temporary truce, it would be only a matter of time before he could avenge his Queen for the female Broodling's transgression. He would make sure to take care of it--later.

"Of course ye don't," she answered in a quiet tone of voice as he got off of her, allowing her to get back up to continue fighting. But still - this said something to her. She was not alone in this struggle. If she were so uniquely weak, if she were so defective as the Queen had said, the male would have been able to kill her despite her words.

And yet, he couldn't. He couldn't do it. Just as hers had before, his host was resisting him. She felt... glad for that. Glad that she wasn't as weak as she thought.

"Nobody loves me, despite muh best efforts," she circled around slowly, eyes narrowed, trained on Amara. Mandibles clicked together loudly as a hiss issues forth from her mouth.

This felt familiar, this tandem hunting. It felt right. Just the two of them.

Everett wrapped his tail around the neck of a broodling. It squirmed and tried to claw out his face to escape the hold, but was unsuccessful. The squirming ceased when he drove his own claws through the creature’s belly. Before he could even drop the body, another one was on him. The team was greatly outnumbered making the situation look near hopeless. To add to the chaos, the shields that kept the Savage Land at a heated temperature were starting to fail letting in deadly Antarctic winds. Everett pushed off the ground as he snapped his opponent’s neck turning its head all the way around. As the chilled winds rushed down to meet him, he looked across the battlefield and saw the creatures that used to be Rahne and Jack circling Amara.

“Dammit.” He wanted to avoid fighting friends, but there was no other choice. Everett picked up one of the carcasses at his feet and launched it right at Rahne. In the same instance, he flew as fast as he could toward them with claws stretched out. Everett wrapped his arms around Jack while driving his shoulder into him in a hard tackle.

It was Jack that forced the Broodling to turn his head, to flinch when his mate was struck by a still warm corpse. And before the Brood follower could even reach Amara, he was thrown backwards by another False Brood. A guttural screech clenched in his throat as they went sprawling to the ground.

"Your cause is lost," he snarled, the Broodling's powerful jaws just inches from Everett's face. "We will not mind destroying you, but we have those you want."

The Broodling was done talking; it was time for these pretenders to die. With both hands he wrenched Everett off of his chest and hurled him across the battlefield already littered with the fallen. His wings buzzed rapidly as he rose, and without hesitation he hurtled towards Everett, his mandible and claws flexed dangerously.
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Spitfire
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Superspeed with Pyrotechnic Effects
Joint Post Spitfire and Joseph

Before the battle...

Since coming to Utopia, Spitfire hadn’t slept much anyway. But now…She had gotten about four or five hours in total since things really had started to go really crazy. Not only did she feel terrible, like her body was destroying itself, but the speedster also felt a deep, deep guilt. Sitting awkwardly on the edge of the desk within her room, her discoloured hands folded in front of her, Jac stared at the floor and eventually, drew a deep, rattling breath. Coughing painfully, she breathed in again and began to talk.

“Look…I don’t…I’m sorry. You were right, you know. We shouldn’t have stayed here but I just wanted you to be safe and so when Havok sent us here…” her eyes, no longer their normal big blue orbs began to water and her gaze remained lowered. “It probably would have been easier, keeping away from the Brotherhood and just, well, being free I guess. Instead of listening to you, I made you stay here and now…I’m just sorry. I wish I could turn back time and make things better for you, but I can’t. No matter what I do, it always just…” a lump choked up in her throat and Jac had to stop, hunching her shoulders, her body painfully tense.


Joseph fumbled with a bit of lint he'd found in the pocket of his jeans and stared at it, twisting it around his fingers as he listened to Jac talk. She'd called him in there to have a word with him, and hadn't wasted any time diving right into things in speedster fashion. The tone in her voice... the words that basically said 'you were right and I was wrong' forced him from being able to look at her. He didn't know why... she was the one who was obviously feeling guilt.

And to be honest... he wasn't sure exactly why she seemed to be apologizing right now.

Yes... he still felt like a stranger trapped in a corner only biding his time till Magneto found him, but at the same time... Wanda and Pietro had provided him with guidance... had made him search after direction. He no longer felt like his only purpose in life was just to run... he was a young man on a journey self discovery; that journey was scarey, but it felt rewarding as well.

He finally managed to at least look at Jac's face, the lint in his hands semi forgotten, “Why are you telling me this now?”


This was the hardest part; really she should have expected a question like that but it still hit the speedster in the gut. Opening and closing her mouth a few times, the words finally managed to struggle out. “In case I don’t get to say it later. Really, if the worst happens I’m okay with that, I guess. I always supposed it was inevitable but I just hoped I’d be a bit older, you know? But for you…I feel like it’s all my fault. I just want you to know I’m sorry.”


Shaking his head, Joseph glanced back down at the lint he'd been fiddling with, “You don't have anything to apologize for.” His tone was quiet... contemplative.


“Jac... I don't think I should actually exist. I think I was created. It's a strange thing to conclude, but I actually don't have a problem with it. I've been talking a lot to Wanda, and it doesn't matter to me anymore how I came to be.” Well... that wasn't the complete truth, but still...

“Had we gone somewhere else, all I would know is running and fear.” He looked back up at Jac, his eyes a bit more bright than usual, “I owe you more than I could ever begin to repay, Spitfire. Whether we stayed on the run or came here... you saved my life. However, in making the choice to come here, you've helped given me purpose as well.” He shook his head, “I don't think I would have survived had we just been on the run.”

Joseph scratched his neck under his ear where it had become pale and rough; he swallowed hard before continuing, his eyes never leaving the speedster. “I don't think I was ever meant long for this world. I don't know why I feel that way...” He shrugged. “There are worse ways to go.”

He looked back down at the floor, “If anyone should be sorry, it should be me. I'm something unnatural and it's because of me you're in this mess and not back in Sanctuary where you belong.”



Halfway through his response, Jac turned away, her shoulders shaking. Running along them were lumps and bumps that also traced their way down her spine. Tears struggled out of her eyes and dragging a rough hand over her face, the Acolyte descended into a coughing fit. Looking back over her shoulder at him, Jac gave a weak shrug.

“I never made a very good Acolyte so I don’t know about that. I should have just said no when he promoted me and carried on being a great soldier. But I don’t regret helping you, not for a moment,” she pressed, trying to reassure him. “But I just wish I’d done a better job and we weren’t…”

Swallowing another lump, another violent coughing fit racked her body and Jac closed her eyes, opening them after a minute of silence. They were sharp and yellow now, with slit pupils. “Don’t ever think that you’re not supposed to exist; that’s what people who don’t understand us say about mutants, what they used to say about people with disabilities and different skin colours and different religions. There’s nothing wrong with you.”


Joseph simply stared at her for a long moment before looking away... this time his inability to meet her gaze wasn't because of burning shame. It was because her eyes were so different.

Her coughing subsided and she went on, making sure he understood that he did belong... while he appreciated the words, he didn't agree. “Thank you Jac,” he replied, his tone quiet, “And you're right. There isn't anything wrong with me.” The backs of his eyes hurt; as if a tiny man were beating on them with a large hammer.

“But I'm not like you. Any of you. I am a singularity that you still don't know what to do with. I don't have powers – at least none I can access – and I don't have parents. I have nothing to live up to, no family sins to atone for... I don't even have a last name. It makes me special, and if my time here has taught me anything, it's to embrace those things that make me different. And if that's one of the last things that I learn before I die... I think it might be worth it. I don't feel so much like a scared little boy anymore.”

His eyes dropped shut. They hurt to keep open. “Jac... I don't think I can see anymore. Listen... if you live and I die, can you do something for me?”


Pushing off from the desk, the girl struggled over to him and practically fell rather than sat down beside him. Tears were half blinding her, or maybe something else and awkwardly, she slung an arm around him. “Sure,” Spitfire choked the word. “Anything you want. Just no more talking like that once you’ve said it. Do as I say, not as I do. That’s what my Dad used to say to me. I really miss him.”


Joseph laid his head on her shoulder as soon as he felt her land beside him, her arm around him felt comforting... a bit like Wanda's, but different. He couldn't begin to explain it.

“I wish I could have met him. He must be a pretty good guy if you came from him.”

He hesitated, knowing what he was asking.

“I know you were there a long time before you found me, and I know at least a little how you feel about him, but he's a bad man, Jac. I was going to kill him one day, you know. I was going to kill him and...”

He swiped at his nose with a hand as images flashed through his mind... a few he hadn't seen before. He barely registered the feel of warmth on his fingers or the subtle smell of iron in the air. “I need you to do it if I can't. It's the only way you'll help the others escape. Most of them are still alive.”


Jac was clinging to him much tighter than she could feel or even realised. Her hands and lower arms were numb. Her toes were numb too and it felt as if she had been utterly drained dry. In truth, she barely processed what he was asking as everything was starting to sound far away, but she got the gist of it and a stabbing pain went right through her heart and deep down into her stomach. “I’ll do it…If only to stop him becoming…becoming…”

Her head pitched forward, limply sagging into her chest and her arm slackened around him. “I am sorry, for everything…” falling to the floor, she felt something being released as her body started to complete the transformation.


He felt the grip around him slip away and tried to open his eyes when he heard a thud. “Jac?” When there wasn't an immediate response, he tried to open his eyes, his vision blurred as he felt the backs of them burn. Reaching out for what he suspected to be the speedster in front of him, Joseph's fingers closed around fabric, barely registering the feel of something hard underneath as opposed to softer skin.

He swallowed hard... finding it harder and harder to do with every passing moment. Then suddenly his stomach heaved and he belched and coughed, feeling something wet dribbling down his chin. His jaws ached and he blinked in confusion, trying to clear his eyes. He tried to call out Jac's name again. Nothing remotely like Jac's name resounded in his ears.
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Joseph (Matt)
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JP continued... fast forwarded to the present moment in battle

There had been very little resistance for Joseph; he'd succumbed to the will of the Brood in a matter of moments, having no long memory to fight against the infection or ties. No mother and father or brothers and sisters... the only ones that stuck with him were the few he'd developed close bonds with – Jac, Pietro, Wanda... even some of the friendships he'd begun to develop faded away in moments. All that was left was the will of the brood, a presence in his mind that seemed to stamp all other will and desire with unbelievable ease.

“So much peace in the Brood,” he grated, his insectile lips barely moving. “All those troubles no longer matter in the presence of the hive mind.” He looked at Jac, “You did me a great service in bringing me here.”


Dazed, Jac’s senses were still disorientated. Her speed was gone, but it had been replaced by a different kind of quickness and strength too. Something was tugging her, like an instinctual call but the closer she went to it, the less she felt like, well, her. Joseph’s words made her head turn at an unnatural angle and the young Acolyte stared.

“What…? No. No!” she hissed at him. “You need to shut up and fight that nonsense!” her voice was almost alien to the former speedster’s ears and it pained her to hear as much as Joseph’s proclamation did. It was not so much vanity as it was being frightened of things to come.


You wanted me to be safe. You wanted me to be happy. Months of searching among these people have failed. All uncertainty is gone... the only thing that matters is the Brood and the will of the Queen.” He took a swipe at her with his tail, “Don't fight it, Jac. Embrace her. Submit to her and you will find peace as well.”


Swearing as the tail lashed out, Spitfire ducked, tossing herself to the ground and rolling over before springing back up. “I didn’t drag you halfway around the world and give up my life so you could turn into a bloody bug!” the young woman yelled at him. “Being a drone isn’t the key to happiness!” she knew her words were empty, without anything to back them up as she was fighting this call to give in herself. But she couldn’t and her reason was looking after him. Jac was not about to fail, not now, not after everything. Crouching, she readied herself and pounced with an aim to pin him to the ground.

Fight it. Show me you can be your own person.”


“But I'll find it by being with these people? They have a hive of their own, and months of being here has only created more questions for me. She is the only one who has offered me peace. I have found myself, and it is not in the preachings of Summers or your constant meandering,” Joseph snarled as he caught her attack and rolled back, latching onto her as they went rolling across the dirt, cutting large trenches in the ground with every pass. “You can either join me in this peace or you can get out of my way, Jac.”


“So here didn’t work! So? You’re going to just submit?” Jac was feeling a rising bubble of anger and her vision jarred as her head smacked off of the ground. “Just because we lived here and they tried didn’t mean we had to stay! We could have gone but obviously you’d rather be a bloody great big bug!”

Rolling on to her back, she used her legs to flip him up and over before scrambling up. “I just want to be me for once in my life, not what everyone else thinks I should be! Don’t you want that too?”


Joseph went flying through the air as he was launched and used his new found agility to twist mid air and land on his feet, skidding to a halt as he glared at the former speedster, “And what if this is who I'm supposed to be? You don't understand until you submit. You don't see what the Brood have to offer. Look around you, Jac. We will be successful, and we will be as one. You come from a group of people who champion evolution. This is evolution.”


“Nope, this is like something out of a Steve Irwin documentary,” she snapped back. “I’m not about to roll over!” her words were a lot braver than she was feeling; her resolve was slowly slipping and deep down, Jac knew it would be better to just give in, but she hadn’t lost everything to go out like this. Once again she launched herself at him, this time trying to get him into a headlock and keep him down until…well…that she just didn’t know.

Joseph was ready for a similar attack from her this time, launching forward to intercept her arms with his own claws. His absorption into the Brood mind had helped him adapt faster to his transformation, giving him significantly more control, and he took advantage of it. Lashing out with his tail as he locked arms with his friend, he struck her square in the head with as much force as possible, driving her to the side. Immediately he headbutted her before she had a chance to recover and then swept her to the ground with his tail once more.

He hovered over her for several moments, poised to strike, but she didn't retaliate. “I won't kill you yet, Jac. I hope you take this opportunity to submit.”

Tail lashing furiously, Joseph snarled uncertainly as he looked around for something... someone. And then he saw it... a girl – Kitty Pryde – surrounded by three raptors who appeared to have been turned by the Brood. An elongated tongue slid across razor teeth as eyes narrowed at the sight. Dirt flew as he burst forward, wings fluttering as he zipped toward his prey... to serve his Queen.
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Amara Aquilla
Unregistered

JP Meggan and Magma
____________________________________________

While she had been so through many rather awful situations, this was probably the first time that she had turned into a large, incredibly unpleasant bug. Of course, Meggan probably could change into one anyway, but there was something very different about this. The fey girl was even used to uncontrolled shapeshifting and how that felt in comparison to when she wanted to change…this, this was not the same at all. For an initial few minutes outside of the temple it felt as if she was rooted to the spot, strange new eyes drinking in the chaos. The call to arms from Cyclops shook the girl out of her frozen state and she moved forwards. Her main worry were the little children; she hadn’t been near them when all this started and it made her panic, even though she knew they were with others who would make sure they were safe.

Doing what she could, she moved around and around, lashing out with appendages that were new and unsettling, but enabled her to fight. Knocked around, the girl lashed out and as the creature that had been attacking her was knocked to the ground, Meggan saw a chilling sight. Instinctually, she knew it was Amara caught in the middle of a nasty fray and without looking to see if she was in danger herself, the girl ran towards her. “Amara!” she cried out, not even caring what risk she was plunging herself into or that she was leaving herself open to attack as she ran forwards. That didn’t matter.

Her muscles screamed as she pulled herself from the ground. Despite the fact that such progress had been shown with the broodling so far, it was clear that the creature was still in control of Rahne's body despite the struggle it was having with her.

A voice called out for her and Amara turned to look at the friendly source it belonged to. Meggan was bolting towards her and by drawing Amara's attention towards her, had included the sight of the bounding broodling that was Jack. The very large arm raised and swiped, the changed Nova Roman narrowly avoiding the attack. Clearly Jack's broodling held the intention of killing Rahne.
"Meggan! Thank you." It felt awkward wrapping her elongated arms around the other girl, even briefly. This form was definitely not something she wished to keep. "We need to keep them distracted from killing each other or going for those portals."

As she ran towards Amara, Meggan saw the narrow collision and ducked low, missing being thrashed with a tail as she came up on the Nova Roman. Why Magma was thanking her, she wasn’t really quite sure but the gypsy returned the hug gratefully all the same. As brief as the contact was, it made things seem that little bit better and a smidge less hopeless as no matter what they all looked like, they were family and would watch out for each other.
Pulling back, she nodded her head, which in its current shape was a very different feeling. It was accompanied by a series of clicks as well and the metamorph flexed her misshapen hands…well, were they really hands now?

“Distraction sounds a good idea,” she was glad to help and reluctant to hurt anyone who had been a former friend, but distracting them was something very different and Meggan would do whatever she could. The portals suddenly made her think of the Institute and being back there, which quickly led to horror and revulsion; the thought of all these things there…Oh no, no that could not happen, not ever.

“Come on!” she shouted and whipped around, bounding a few feet away to toss herself back into the thick of things. “We’ll look after each other!”

Amara was relieved that her plan wasn't as crazy as it was starting to seem. Meggan was a strong person without the added changes from their changed forms. She just needed to keep her focus on the fight. The last thing she wanted to do was end the life of two of her close friends. However she would also not be responsible for the destruction of all life as they knew it.
Following Meggan back among the squabbling Brood, she turned her attention first to Jacks broodling. Her claws dug into the ground at her feet and ripped up a large piece of earth with ease, a perk of the changes. Throwing it towards his head she had little doubt that it wouldn't hurt him much

"What's the matter? Is Jack fighting you more than you'd like? Can't handle him without trying to attack those close to him?"

She glanced over to see how Meggan was doing. "I'm hoping this is easier done than it sounds....or however that saying goes."

Amara moved fast, snatching up clods of earth and throwing them at Jack to distract rather than to hurt. After all, they were still X-men no matter what and that thought resonated through the broodling’s very core. Fighting sort of scared her but after the Purifiers had attacked the school, she had taken a different sort of stance to it; she hadn’t exactly been a pacifist before, but now she was more willing to throw herself into the midst of situations and take a more offensive, rather than defensive stance.

“Oh nothing is ever really easy,” she responded with a wry tone to her lilting voice. “But it’s trying that really matters – look out!” a pair of transformed raptors lumbered into view and headed right at them. Drawing herself up to her full height, the girl pounced on elongated legs, slamming into one and tumbling head over heels with it, trying to kick it off and away…preferably into the other one who was snapping at her heels. Meggan fought as hard as she could, but there was an internal little voice that struggled to say everything was going to be alright, as it was being dominated by a voice that was informing her it was all really rather hopeless.

“AAAGH!” screeching, she kicked away the one raptor, knocking it out and to the ground with a heavy thud, then set about the other one. “Make sure Rahne is safe!” the girl yelled at the X-man with her. “We gotta keep trying!”

There was a thunderous noise in the area that she could not attribute to the brood. Overhead the shields began to descend. This meant that they hadn't failed yet, but that the net step in the process was being done to ensure the safety of the world. When they were lowered completely she knew what would happen. Taking a slow breath in she bolted once more for Rahne. She would fight despite the pit hanging in her gut because, in the end, that was what the X-men did. Even in a situation like this where they might martyr themselves for the word, they didn't give up hope that it would make a difference. While the people throughout the world might not know of the reason for their death, the point was that those people would survive because of this moment.
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Beast
Unregistered

(Continued from A Sign of Acceptance)

He paced for a short while as he attempted to think of how to get an accurate time estimate from the recently modified machine that was now attached to the entire air cycling system of Utopia, and a few other establishments that had been set up around the compound. The cure was finished, he did that not so long ago, but without a way to distribute it to the masses infected by the Brood parasitic life form, then there would be no choice but to execute Scott's plans. Especially if the wormholes opened up, which worried Hank greatly, if...no when they opened.

The sapphire shelled scientist tapped his claw against the armored cheek of his new form. Oh yes, the battle outside called to him greatly, the animal instincts within wishing to hunt, fight, and feast. However Hank had spent years perfecting control over those instincts with his own mutation. While the calling seemed greater in his current state, he meditated as he worked on fixing the distribution unit.

"Blast it." He cursed at himself as his clumsy over sized clawed fingers fumbled with his equipment. They were larger than his initially already over sized ligaments, it made things difficult to adjust to in such a short time. However he did his best while the battle roared on the grounds. The alien face marked with a yellow X looked towards where he sensed the most bloodshed. "No." He reminded himself. "Must focus, focus McCoy." He scolded.

Focus did not come though. only more frustrations as the computer screen notified him of the wormholes appearance, which had been there longer than he realized. He didn't have anymore time. Danger would decrease the temperature to avoid outbreak. It was Scott's plan, the fail safe. A last resort that Beast would not wish upon so many students who still had so much to give the world.

"No time, no time. Damn it!" The instinctual anger suddenly got the better of him as he lightly slammed the bottom portion of his exoskelton covered claw against the machine.

It flashed green.

Phase One, initiated. Vaporizing serum.

"...my stars and garters." He said breathlessly, looking around. No one saw that, good, the moment a student saw that hitting something worked better than using their brain would be the moment that he'd start having a lower classroom attendance.

He rushed to the computer to set up for phase 2, distribution. The rest would be automated. He needed to tell Danger, everyone. The cure was on its way. "Computer, locate Danger open up a dialog."

"Error, voice not recognized." The computer responded in a generated voice sounding not entirely male or female.

"This is Doctor Hank McCoy, override voice commands. Password, Xavier's Dream." He grunted. The Beast's voice had changed with the transformation, it barely sounded anything like the mutant anymore.

"Override accepted."

Thank the heavens for that. "Relay message to Danger." He ordered. "Phase 1 is active, Phase 2 will be initiated shortly. Do not, I repeat, do not initiate eradication plans." He relayed, hoping the communication network has not been damaged during the battle. "I am going to join those in battle, end transmission."

With that the beastly broodling left the lab, placing trust that perhaps their luck was turning. Now to hold them back until the cure.
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Freakshow
Unregistered

From Primeval.

The trees began to sway. Some fell, crashing into others that stood near them. Branches broke, the earth trembled, and straggling Brood inside the trees broke their perimeter. They leaped from the trees and scattered among the fray. A final tree fell just along the clearing of the Utopia grounds. Behind it, a glowing red eye over an exaggerated set of teeth peered through.

It gave a low rumble, then pushed forward.

The row of trees gave in to the imperious strength of the creature behind them. Thirty foot tall, fifty foot long, with three sets of legs and more teeth and scales than one could count, the monster gave a deafening roar over the battlefield, its breath a fog. The antarctic air was descending on the melee and all of Savage Land, the temporal shields dissolving around them.

This was the final battle for one species and the final moment of another.

The titan stomped forward, Rusty on its back, a tsunami of pure muscle and power on the Brood's flank. Column-like limps stepped where they might, the Genoshan taking only enough care to recognize the peoples of Utopia. In their current states, he did not know if he could, but that was all that he could do. His head hung low over the ground, snapping out at Brood infected creatures. Dinosaurs that were only a portion of the monster's size were bitten in half. Many that those jaws wrapped around were never seen again, lost to the abyss of the monster's gullet.

Unwilling to stop and with a hunger that the Brood Rex could not sate, the trampling bulldozer of immense proportions lumbered through the Brood tide, cutting a bath through the vermin and weakening their line. It stomped its way through them all. At this size, nothing could contend against it. Brood after brood was bitten and crushed, like grass beneath a lawn mower, cleaving a path between those trying to save the world, and trying to change it, making an opening for that one necessary collision between forces.
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Derek Addams
Unregistered

JP between Broodser and Witherbrood
__________________________________________________


The portal, that was their Queen's wish. Head for the portal and destroy everything. What else could he do but her wishes to stay in her good graces? The creatures of varying sizes where spread around the room like germs on a pitri dish. These changed, false brood would be helpless to stop them in the long run.

His host had started to disobey, question, fight... it was all the fault of that female broodling. Had she kept her trap shut, had she not planted poison in his mind than none of this would be happening. However since he had flaunted the boys family, he seemed to start cooperating again. He had suggested to prove himself to the Queen that he should do the impossible. Give her the head of one who would have been nigh indestructible. Give her the heads of the strongest of the X-group to show that they did not stand a chance against her Brood.

Near the portal area stood a broodling that had once been 'Bruiser', Derek Addams. The host had little connection to the man aside from a few incidents. But his former powers were rather intriguing. He would be the first of many. With a feral snarl the large broodling bounded towards Derek, hand raising to swipe at him.

They die... they all die... by order of our Queen.

He didn't know if it was him, or the broodling infecting him that thought that, but it didn't matter. The one clear thing he could make out between the surge of adrenaline from the change, the horror of seeing his friends turned to monsters, and the strange, new sense of familiarity with his parasite was the clean-cut order from the general.

He called him "Boss" once. Maybe twice, maybe more.

Everything was blurring together, and with or without the presence of the broodling held back by Danger's influence, the broodling and the mutant were clear on one thing.

No one gets out.

He tore through the swarm of other airborne brood with his destination in mind. The portal. The main one. The "Wandavator" as it had been branded.

He landed and shrieked at the approaching beast. "Kevin..." The name came forward as he got into an attack position. He knew the kid that was once this thing, and for a moment, he hesitated The broodling began to scream within him.

He is our enemy!!!

The thing that Derek identified with in the parasite was the bloodlust and savagery. It was something he was very familiar with. The familiar grin came as he remembered Scott's words, and memories of his time as a soldier of War gave him the knowledge and reassurance that this was something he could do. Kill anything that tries to escape... He couldn't think of him as "Kevin" anymore. He couldn't afford to. If they lived through this, then he'd make up for it, but now...

He swooped up and to the left as the hulk swiped at him, then twisted back to build up momentum, aeons-old instinct of the broodling giving him the knowledge of how to maneuver his altered body, then charged at him, claws and fangs bared and ready to push him down and tear him to shreds.

"No one gets out!!!"
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Wolfsbane
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Wolf Form
JP with Magma

"Now..." the Broodling creature hissed in Rahne's voice as it managed to refocus its attentions on Amara. "Where were we?"

Amara had answered by charging straight for the monstrosity, and that monstrosity welcomed it. The smaller creature would run straight to her doom, and then the Broodling could move on, eliminate the next target on her list. The air began to feel chilly, but she would fight on. This was her last battle no matter what. She would give her life for the queen who had forsaken her, because that was what a Brood did. Even when the love of their lives did not return those sentiments, they still devoted their all.

The Broodling's upper body reared up, braced on its four rear legs, and poised to strike just as Amara got into range. So close, so clooooose...

Its next reaction was involuntary, and very clearly took it by surprise. Its arms flew wide open, allowing herself to be fully open to Amara's assault.

"What are you... no! Damn you, no!" The Broodling snarled. This damnable host.

Amara braced for impact as she ran in, the broodling female clearly prepared for what was coming between them. Its arms flew open, its body vulnerable to her attack and the creature shouted curses seemingly at no one, but the morphed blonde took the assistance from Rahne any form she could.

She was in close now and her hand shot out with an aimed strike at the broodling's head. Her added strength did less in comparison to the changes Rahne's body had already gone through but the head seemed a common area in all of the creatures to attack.

"You should stop your struggle, creature. That chill in the air proves that you've already been defeated. Rahne is winning control over her body!"

Amara's strike at the Broodling's head struck with a nasty, vicious crack, the monstrous creature's armor now bearing a small split that bled a viscous green ooze. The Broodling staggered back, only the fact that she had four limbs to keep her stable on the ground keeping her standing.

"No..." she gasped, the increasingly cold air stinging her lungs. "No, I have nae been defeated. An' if I have... muh Queen will destroy the lot of ye... an'... you... I will kill ye before I fall. I'll tear ye to pieces, devour yuir heart..."

She staggered forward, raising her forelimbs to strike at her host's friend. She was ready to bring her bladed limb down upon Amara's head when a loud, united buzz began growing louder and louder. The Broodling's head turned, and her eyes went wide.

"You let Miss Rahne go!" a voice at the forefront of a swarm of Rahne Sinclair's students called out. "She belongs to our hive!"

Once, they were as distinct as a group of mutants could be. One bore bat-like traits. One, who came to the school from the morlock tunnels, had octopoid tentacles for legs. And yet another had blue skin that sparked when struck. But now, they were uniform, bearing the yellow and black markings of the X-Brood.

The swarm struck the Broodling, biting and slashing at her armored carapace, overwhelming her with sheer numbers.
"Get... get off of me... get off.." the Broodling stammered, waving her limbs about in an attempt to thrash the children off. But for every one she managed to knock loose, another took its place, allowing the struck child to regain his or her footing and get back into the fray.

Long had Rahne Sinclair sought to protect these children from everything she could. To shelter them as she felt they deserved to be sheltered. And now, here they were. Returning that favor. Protecting Rahne Sinclair from the creature invading her body, forcing her to do things she would never forgive herself for.

"Don't you worry, Miss Amara! We've got your back!" one hatchling said to Amara with a cheery, toothy grin. Amara Aquilla was no longer alone in this battle. She had a veritable army at her side, and the monster they battled together was going down.
Posted Image

[size0]Say the dog and butterfly,
in the air they like to fly.
Dog and butterfly.
She knew she had to try,
and she float back down to the warm soft ground,
laughing - she don't know why,
but she had to try, she had to try.
Dog and Buttefly.


Avatar by Natalie, signature by Olga. My graphics set is complete again! Thank you so much!
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Squirrel Girl
Unregistered

Brown and red. Yellow and black. Orange and white. The world was a dizzying palate of colors, vision switching from the visible spectrum to infrared and back again, ears filled with the angry thrum of the Brood hoard and her beating heart.

Protect Utopia. Protect it at all costs.

Though it was helpless to stop their transformations, the Danger protocol kept them grounded. The directive looped in her mind, a shared mantra among the freshly birthed X-Brood. By some miracle, their faith and hope and prayers had been answered and their minds not lost to the evil Brood Queen’s machinations. And by some other gracious act, the X-Brood simply wasn’t as hideous as their belligerent forbearers. Maybe the strain of parasite had evolved in their bodies due to longer incubation, or their pure hearts and heroic intentions reflected on their carapaces while the Brood Queen’s dark soul infected her flock and disfigured them accordingly. Whatever it was, it helped single out the noble warriors on the battlefield and reminded the Squirrel Girl (Wasp Girl?) of who her friends were.

Doreen remembered how her skin suddenly burned and bubbled and fell away like slough, yielding to something chitinous and alien. The rest was a blur. Perhaps because Doreen didn’t want to dwell too long on the horrifying changes, like how her legs were too long and spindly or her knuckle spikes were now venomous stingers, or maybe the collective consciousness of the X-Men was suppressing the natural urge to flip out, but it wasn’t important. Cyclops’s orders rang in her head, and though her heart wrenched at every act of violence and harm and murder, she knew it was necessary. She knew these animals weren’t what they used to be, the gentle herbivores and crafty egg snatchers and hunters of the Savage Land. They were something else now. They were Monkey Joe’s killers, and their evil had to be stopped before they stole another life that meant the world to her. The little feral girl who liked to collect rocks and pick flowers simply wasn’t here, not right now. Someone much more vindictive was in her place, and right now, this was the right place for her.

“Gah!” she cried, streaking through the countless numbers of Brood infantry on the ground, lashing out with new arms and new claws, knuckle stingers slicing through the air in a flash of gold as they cut into transformed dinosaurs. They hissed in anger, then howled in pain moments later as her toxins took affect and coursed through their dark blood, sending them into painful convulsions until their bodies went rigid. Her body twisted and turned and maneuvered as though she’d had this form all her life. That was probably Danger’s doing, downloading the knowledge and expertise into their minds in order to eliminate the learning curve. She would have been wiped out in moments if she had to adjust to these weird legs.

A Broodling—in an instant, she could tell it had once been a civet, and her heart wrenched mournfully—tackled her to the floor. They rolled, multiple arms writhing and grappling and wings buzzing angrily as her aggressor emerged victoriously on top, opening its snout and howling her imminent demise in her face, blasting her with fetid breath. Doreen growled back, face remained stony and immobile, her new plating fixed. That is, until it separated along her wasp-like markings, fissures, and revealed a frightening mouth full of teeth of her own. Her chest expanded, then shrank back as a globule of red phlegm jettisoned from her throat and hit the distorted civet square in the face. It leapt back and shrieked, armor quickly eaten away by acid.

Something bellowed in the skies above, trumpeting loud and shrill as its shadow raced over the ground, the earth writhing with the bodies of thousands of Brood. The shape grew in size, faster and faster, Doreen only widening her eyes in realization and scrambling off her back, but a second too late.

The world boomed and the ground suddenly surged. She, and dozens of other insectoid swarmers, suddenly pitched into the air, hitting the ground and bouncing away in a careless roll, rocks pelting her carapace with a hollow sound. Above her it towered, long beak lined with serrated teeth parted, tongue dripping with acidic bile, plated armor glistening in the sun as the pterasaur trampled its allies beneath talons. It spread its massive wings, red on black membranes catching the sun like a sickly veined stained glass in a very impressive and very scary threat display. Its long, serpentine neck arched back, then struck forward with deadly precision as its sharp beak struck down on Doreen.

The young X-Broodling was gone, however, taking flight on nascent wings, thrumming as she sped away from the giant reptile.

“Oh nononononono,” she prayed to herself. The colossus behind her trumpeted in response, accepting her challenge. Silly girl. Thinking she could outrun the ruler of these prehistoric skies. It shook off the dirt and stone from its heaving beak, and with one mighty beat of its wings, the creature went after her. The race for survival had truly begun.

“Oh geeze oh geeze oh GET OUT OF MY WAAAAAAY!”

Some snapping little creature attempted to intercept the feral, but lucky Doreen was blessed with a small, quick body, and this had carried over in her transformation. She suddenly banked right at an impossibly tight angle, throwing herself into a spin as she lashed out with a clawed hand at the creature’s foot. She grabbed it, sending them both on a reckless merry go round in mid air, before releasing the creature and sending it colliding into the PteraBrood. The smaller monster splattered on contact like a bug on a windshield, but it didn’t stop the larger flyer. Doreen gasped, its beak snapping into nothingness as she narrowly avoided the attack only to be clipped in her midsection with a large wing.

Her chest seized as all air rushed out of her body. Everything began spiraling, white clouds and brilliant sapphire skies as the world went into a spin cycle. The PteraBrood hooted, swinging back around and under for a final hit. Its giant mouth gaped wide open, waiting to slip this cutely defiant morsel into its gullet.

“Ha… loser.”

Everyone had lost their powers, their bodies, their talents, but there was one thing that her Brood transformation could never take away. Her training. Years of gymnastics classes and Mister Wagner’s courses weren’t just good for tree climbing and vine swinging. She watched the monster’s maw come for her, her body and limbs curling and adjusting her downward descent as they collided. Her hand touched the tip of his beak, body looping around as her claws scraped down to the monster’s face, finally snagging on a ridge and hovering over the monster’s eye.

“Hi!” Doreen greeted. And socked the PteraBrood right in the peeper.

The monster screeched in painful irritation, swinging its head to be rid of the irksome little vespoid. But this, this Doreen was used to.

“Eat me will you? Well you’re gonna find me tough… to… swallow!”

Her six-limbed frame crawled around the PteraBrood, even as it thrashed and protested, pausing to give it a few jabs with her stingers until she came to a stop on the underside of its thorax. She dug her talons as deep as she could into the flying monstrosity’s carapace, embedding themselves into the soft fleshy skin beneath the plates, hitching on jagged and ridged edges. Dark ichor bubbled from its wounds, a rotten stench bursting into the air as corrosive juices sizzled on contact with her armor. Doreen winced, or she would have, had her face plating some kind of mobility. It wasn’t hurting yet, luckily, so she pressed on, pulling back with her four arms with all her strength. Something cracked and splintered, tearing wetly, as the monster’s corslet suddenly gave way and the plate tore free of its body.

“Ahh!” she screamed, nearly tossed off with the sudden jerk back, but the hooked spikes that raced down her legs kept her anchored, latched into the grooves of the Brood’s exoskeleton. The monster, however, was having none of that, screeching as it began to thrash and spin in a dizzying corkscrew, gaining speed, going faster and faster. Its torn plating fell away, careening off into the blue fields behind them for an inevitable collision with the earth. Doreen held on for dear life, secondary lids covering black on amber eyes as cold air and nebulous vapors stung at her face and whistled past their speeding form. Iridescent wings pressed to her wasp-like body, her new Brood frame streamlined and made for speed as she clung as closely to the flying lizard turned alien vessel as possible.

Her fingers were on fire. The smooth and shiny casing on her hands had grown discolored and pitted, its blood seeping into her exoskeleton and eating away the protection. She could feel it soaking into her actual skin, the meat on her bones, and it would have brought tears to her eyes had she any tear ducts. Their voices were melded into one, one booming chorus of pain and anger and defiance. But Doreen’s voice carried one more note to add to her warrior’s cry.

The sound of mourning.

“This is… for Monkey Joe.”

She plunged her arm deep into the Pterabrood’s chest, claws poised together like a pointed spade. Wrenching her limb as deep as she could, past muscle, sinew, the remnants of the old lizard’s rib cage, she felt the squishy hollow of its chest cavity. The monster screamed, truly screamed, as Doreen grabbed at anything and everything, destroying its insides as its juices gushed and ate at her arm. But finally, Doreen found something important. She knew that because when she tore and pulled it, the monster beneath her gave a howl and a shudder before going limp. They fell, going into a slow spiral as the PteraBrood’s wings fluttered unfeelingly around her as her arm slipped out of the monster’s mighty chest with a wet plop. Wings buzzed tiredly, picking up her slight body up and away from the falling monster, Doreen hovering and watching. The exoskeleton on her arm was gone, raw meat blistering red and steaming as its blood continued to eat at the limb until it… crystallized?

“What… oh… oh no!”

A coldness suddenly descended, and up high in the sky, they hit the hardest. Her wings suddenly grew brittle, buzzing until one finally cracked and splintered, sending Doreen into a one-winged spiraling fall. The little wasp girl screamed, her good wing beating frantically until she, too, hit the ground. The buzzing stopped.
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Cyclops
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Punches from the Punch Dimension
    With Marrow's concscious felled and done away with, her reinforcements beginning to overwhelm the X-Men and their meager fortress, the Empress, fully realized in her grandeur, set forth a cruel grin as she surveyed the battlefield.They were falling back. Every inch gained was an inch closer to domination. First of these Savage Lands, and then of Earth, and soon after that, Skrullos and beyond.
    
    But she did have one score to settle, and it had only taken a bit of observation to find.
    
    "Red Eyed Guardian." She said, tail slithering like a serpent. "Cyclops." She hazzarded again, massive claws, large and ungainly looking despite the fluidity of their movement.
    
    Like the X-Men, she too had changed. With Marrow's destruction in the astral, that last block absorbed into her own hivemind, she had ascended, this Queen become Imperial, to another, more monstrous form, a nightmare that belonged only in the darkest corners of imagination.

"Alert! Jean Grey-Summers! Wormholes are open! Wormholes are open!" Danger's words, echoing through the neural net connection, doubled by the rapport he shared with his still human wife. She kept her powers, her physical identity, how? Rachel had sent Franklin... Could his powers have... The momentary distraction caused Cyclops's flight trajectory into the enemy swarm, and he was thrown off course as he surrendered to the fight, not heeding for the moment that it took him away from the growing shape of the queen.

It was the lumbering, horrific form that was neither man nor brood that drew him back and Cyclops rose into the sky, blood dripping from his claws and his jaws, to see the Freakshow, Kevin Zaan, bulldozing a path, a red carpet of gore directly to the enemy queen. His new hivemind, tempered with the keen tactics of the man he had been translated this into what he had been called by the robotic being who now held them together. He was a Danger Program, he had always been one. Every aspect of every day was to protect those he was charged with, mutants, humans... those who could not themselves. He had to remain Scott Summers... and as he streaked through the path that Mr Zaan had made for him, he claked and he cliked and he whispered his identity through the buzz of the Brood.

And, the Queen waited for him, understanding far more that he ever could have imagined. She was a force of nature, and he was very much out of his league. This half breed creature with the body of a monster and the mind of a man standing at the edge of death imagined that when he got out of this (because he did not believe in 'if's)  he would not sleep well for months. “You wanted me, here I am. There's been changes but you know who I am.”

    <You have no name, my child, and you will die here without one.> She said, but instead of English it was that screeching chittering of her own kind. <I have been longing for this moment since your eyes laid their kiss upon me.>

The black and yellow broodling perched on a fallen bit of debris blinked its double sets of red eyes alternately and smirked revealing more teeth than any creature had a right to have, and spoke in a strange echoing, reverberating voice, understanding now the language of the Brood but refusing to speak it, "I have a name, false queen, monster empress, and I will never forget it." He crouched like a gargoyle, his new form moving in ways that felt far more natural now than what had been before. Nevertheless, he straightened up , hearing the clicking of his carapace as he forced it into place.

”Scott Summers, the external shields are lowering. The Cure has not dispersed.” Danger's voice in his head, ”With Brood physical characteristics, lethal freezing point will be reached in 7.34 minutes. Eradication protocol to follow immediately. I am... sorry. Designate Collective: X-Men have failed.”

In his head he heard Danger's ticking clock and the numbers did not make his blood run cold... all the warmth was already gone from it. ::Not yet we haven't:: he thought, not just to Danger, not to his wife who held this net together, but to his entire swarm... to his people... to his X-Men. "My eyes are not the danger anymore," a clawed hand tapped a stacatto tattoo on the patterned armor of his skull, addressing the Queen's threats.. "I have new weapons now. This isn't your hive, this isn't your swarm, but I offer you the chance to kneel in front of me, and if our queen approves, I'll kill you quickly."
    
    He was dangerously close to surrendering to this madness, and he walked the edge, because there was no other way for this to be. He was still Scott Summers and he would forever be Scott Summers, but at this moment, he was also brood.

 <Kneel to my own child. You've gone mad.> She said, shifting about, compound eyes no longer hiding behind Marrow's dead flesh considering every angle of attack. Jaws clacked along with it's speech, the clicks just as much a part of the language as the guttural sounds pouring from its gullet. "I have felled nations. Worlds. Civilizations. I have seen galaxies fall and I have seen friend kill friend and brother make meal of brother. You are all an insignificance, a mote of incompetence. You've only sealed your own fates by turning your back on me. But enough of this stalling, my child. Like your students, like your teacher, I am about to add you to our histories. You should thank me. In effect, I am soon to make you immortal.>
    
    Before the last word even finished it's screeching chirp, her wicked tail lashed out, the force of it whining through the air, tip dripping with burning poisons. She pressed towards him, baring tooth and claw and swiping with her arms and the blade-like limbs arching out from her back.


    Scott, even in his enlongated form was significantly smaller than the Queen, but as she screeched her angry words, he found himself snapping out his wings and flaring his carapace to reveal the yellow patterns symbolic of who he always was, his fanged snarl turned into a hissing howl that was never meant to come from human lips. He launched into the air and though she was on him like a whirling dervish, his four eyed sight coupled with his still brilliantly tactical mind showed him her path, expertly avoiding her arms and tails and tendrils and spines. Slashing out with his claws as he swooped and dove, extending his jaws impossibly, he attacked the very appendages that she thought to destroy him with. It was madness, it was horrible... and God help him, it was glorious.


She felt the crushing of his jaws at the clawed arms of her back, caught his slashes with her own carapace. What was this whelp to her, an Empress? A broodling, a mere serf, an instrument of her will turned traitor to the glorious cause. She did not have wings. She did not have mobility. But she did have her host's genes, and for every limb detached another grew in it's place. She was a sentient siege engine, a force to be reckoned with. Her tail wove around her a cobra gauging for its kill, and it lashed out again, the Imperiatrix following through alongside it.
    
    As she lumbered, powerful and obstinate, the creature who had been Marrow came to a stop as the gashes in her armor buffed out. She smirked. "You feel it, even with your slave machine you feel it, the draw of this gift of mine. Tell me, if you kill me, why give it up? Why not use it to benefit your own cause? You've the makings of your own Brood. Nobility and fruitless self sacrifice does not suit your race any more than it did the Nuwali. You command the hearts of these people. You could rise to become Imperiator, and this will become a generation of firsts."
    
    She smiled, or at least made what one such as she could pass for one, rows of jagged razors marking the expression. "You are drunk on it already."


Her tail slashed at him, cracking one of the plates of his armored form and he made a low noise in his throat, "My cause is one you'll never understand, and this form is just a temporary inconvenience," Cyclops snapped, "Self sacrifice is never fruitless, and maybe it doesn'i suit my race, but it does suit me very well." She mocked him and called him drunk on his new power. He didn't deny, the taste of blood in his teeth was intoxicating, and the stretching rip of claws through flesh felt like what he was always born to do.
    
    "Besides..." he said, casting his eyes upward as in his head a count down ended. "Is it really self sacrifice if someone else is killing you?"
    
    Overhead, the biosphere shields split at the exact pinnacle of the arch. Slowly the gap began to grow, and the frigid winds of the antarctic began to sweep in. "Time's up. Infection ratios have reached critical mass."
    
    He launched himself back into the air, and mocked, "But don't worry, neither of us is going to live long enough to freeze to death."


She turned to the skies after his goading, and her eyes, the lot, went wide before her furious scowl turned back to what was once Cyclops. "You.."
    
    She took a few steps forwards, eyes locked on her opponent. "You are a crafty one, but all the same, I am craftier. You will kill my children, you may even kill me, but I will live on. In the ice cold, I will stand a statue, a prediction of this planets doom. One day, maybe now, maybe eons from now, one of your fool brethren will happen upon me, and they will make the same mistake your ignorant student made, and meddle with that which ought not to be meddled with."
    
    With a sickening crack, a shaft of chitin grew from her wrist, born of the powers granted her by her host. "A gift, Broodling, from your doomed mother."
    
    She whipped the spike of chitinous bone at the ground, the thud sending out a striation in the soil. It was not an attack, but a signal.
    
    From below, out of the earth, shot a trio of massive winged worms, all slithering teeth, and they converged upon the leader of the X-Men, this rogue Warrior, their bellies empty and craving. She turned towards the temple. ::Shut off The Nuwali Function:: She shouted into the minds of her Brood. The horde was suddenly diverted, swarming towards the temple, a sea of doom ready to wash its tides over the old stone.


    "That's just the first line of attack," Cyclops said, hearing that hesitation and that surprise in the ruins of her voice, "Not a molecule of anything that even hints at this place's existence will remain once Danger is through with her work. "You've lost and you're too deluded to see it. Give me a gift, Mother, and let me show you everything you've taught me. You're a coward and a cheat, invulnerable and godlike, but still too afraid that my people have bested you! We gave you the ability to create your own overmind, to sever yourself from the Brood consciousness. But we did it on our own, using our strengths, our powers. You may have our bodies but our souls... those are our own, and you'll never be able to have one of your own. You're not an evolved creature of the cosmos, you're an infection! A disease! Something to be eradicated by a dose of orange juice and an antibiotic shot!"
    
    The ground erupted with her summons and the monsters streaked towards him, but he had already met them at the halfway point, teeth tearing huge gobbets of flesh out, clawed hands and feet shredding at the hard segmented skins. Blood and death and battle and all the while, the neural net and the hivemind guiding his swarm. The worms were nothing more than bloody masses of flesh in so quickly executed an attack that they had not even had the time to drag their full length out of their burrows. Drenched in gore, strings of fatty meat dripping from his lips, Cyclops dragged a triple jointed arm across his mouth and his teeth clicked in menace. ::Swarm, defend the Queen,:: he ordered his people, ::Danger must not fall.::
    
    Then, he threw himself into the air, "Mother!" he shouted, and he slipped into the Broodspeak, not even recognizing it, <"Do you really think it's that easy to deny your hatchlings?">


She had already begun stalking towards the Temple when his hated voice rang out again. She turned to face him. "You think me so foolish." She said. "You think me so pompous and arrogant that I do not know your plans? That I have not been weasling them out from the start? Do you truly trust that a machine, a Nuwali Machine, is going to let go of its grip over you? You've sold yourself into the hands of the Skrull. Their Function has you under her reign. A tamed, willing Brood. Do you think they have not tampered with your cure? That they intend to let you leave here any more alive than they intend to leave us? You have become a weapon for them. Sterile Broodlings, a tool for their own conquest. I may be defeated, but even so, you are, as well."


    The cold was rising, and Scott could see the tops of the tallest trees start to freeze. She thought to shake his faith, thought to instill doubt in him, and he laughed in her face, not the hysterical laughter of someone who had lost their mind, not the desperate laughter of someone trying to hide fear, but a dark and sinister chuckle as a new alarm sounded in his head, a new alert filtered through the neural net, response to the well placed fist of what had once been a beast.
    
    ::Air dispersion progress initialized: Aeration Commencing.::
    
    "I told you, Mother," Scott said, "You're just a virus... and my Queen has just launched the cure."
    
    Ports in the walls of the temple slid open with showers of dust, dirt and rust, having been sealed for millions upon millions of years, and like a pyroclastic flow of green mist too fast to be stopped, it engulfed them all.
    
    DNA sequencing shuddered within the bodies of those who were changed, and the small ones began to drop first, they rained from the sky like dirty black hail, their exoskeletons rotting like time lapsed photography, revealing small birds, different forms of insects recognizable for their general harmlessness. Larger thumps began to sound as the cure began to spread, engulfing friend and foe alike. He was certain that she had her hooks so deep in the bodies and minds of the animals that they would not survive the transformation back, but the people, those with sentient thought, they would be able to struggle to live through this... they would all live through this.
    
    "You honestly think I leave anything to chance," Scott said, crouching low. "Clearly then you have not paid attention to your host. I'd think Marrow would know me better than that."
    
    He launched himself straight for her, and he keened that eerie battle cry one last time. The cure was going to reverse his metamorphosis, but he would have her blood on his tongue before he did. His teeth sank into the meat flesh of the shoulder closest to her neck.


As her army began to fall, she watched it crumble around her. Teeth gritted, claws clenched, arms of osteous chitin quivered in a fury. It did not matter. Her tale would live on, in the annals of the Broods interstellar hive memory. These Earthers would catch their punishment. Perhaps not this Cyclops, perhaps not his children, perhaps not even his children's children. But one day, the Starsingers would come and unleash a deluge of conquest such as no man had lain eyes upon in eons.
    
    But she could not feel the Brood, then. As her soldiers fell, the overmind fell silent. Forsaken? For her treachery... treachery in her dissidence. Forsaken. All for nothing. Condemened to legends and heresay. Bested by some proto-simians. Disgraced. No...
    
    "No..."
    
    She turned to Cyclops as he lunged, as he tore through a gap in her armor.
    
    "NO!"
    
    She felt the cure in her system. But it did not speak to her, no. She was no longer a vessel. No longer a vehicle being used to drive her form. Marrow was dead. Her mind one with her own. They were one in the same. This gave her defeat a bitter pleasure, and despite that, her fury was still great. Grabbing at the clinging X-Man, she ripped him free, tossing him across the ground.
    
    "You've won, but your death is still written in stone."
    
    She stalked upon him. Sent another kick to him. Arched back that Serpentine tail. Strike now, before her hold over his powers was lost. "Say hello to oblivion!"


She flung him and he streaked in a black and yellow blur to slam hard into the mounds of stone that had once been trees, her blood coating his face and chin, his double sets of eyes almost unseeing in the madness that threatened to take him down into blackness. "I've won," he said, with a contented smile even as she drove a clawed foot into him, "And that stone is a monument, not a tombstone..." The Shields were well over halfway down, and the frost had become a blowing snow. "Kill me, you'll still be defeated. I'm of the greatest swarm of all... a free one."
    
    Scott spread his arms and bared his chest plate, where the bright yellow X  marked his heart, as it always had, "Hello Oblivion," he said, realizing how mad he must sound, "How's the wife and kids?" He kept all four of his eyes open, even as he felt the sudden wrenching that suggested the cure had begun to work on him.
    
    "Mr. Scott!" shouted a small voice, and Scott turned his head to see the neonate Nat'ren barrelling towards them, something clenched in his small green hand. "I have it, sir! I have it!"
    
    "Nat'ren!" Scott shouted, a screeching buzzing sound to his voice as he tried to use the neural net to compell him to turn and run the other direction. But Nat'ren was not part of the net and Nat'ren could not be stopped, he pounced with an agility and speed that could only be the result of his warrior nature, and he stabbed the Brood Queen in the throat with the needle that he held, right in the spot opened by Scott's attack.


The spear of her tail darted for Cyclops, darted for his precious heart, his precious clansmark. But a dart of green entered her vision and it glanced wide, driving into the ground. She felt a pinstrike, at her neck, and grabbing for the snivelling little creature, she ripped him free, one handed, so small was this little creature, and she gazed into his yellow eyes. "Hello, little Heretic." She sneered, steam billowing from her mouth, hoarfrost decorating her carapace. She looked beyond him to Cyclops. "A child. A Skrull clutchling. Hah. This is funny." Her gaze shifted back to Nat'ren. "You know, the worthless creature whose body I've perfected did share one goal with me. Killing you. Especially you. Her tail raised, plunging forward, tearing through the young Skrull Warrior, filling him with her poison. "Consider this her gift... and...epitaph... hn?" She tossed the boy to the ground, pulling the thick syringe from her throat.
    
    Something siezed.
    
    "Hrk...No..."
    
    The towering creature dropped to a knee, eyes twitching. "You..."
    

 "Nat'ren!" Scott cried, rolling to his knees, but his new body was seizing, disintegrating. His carapace losing the healthy black and vibrant yellow, turning dull grey and withering. Shamefully for a moment, he tried to summon the strength to stay a monster, but then reason overtook him, and by the time he dragged himself to the little boy's body, human arms were the only things left to hold him.
    
    But the boy had changed too, the green seemed to have pooled away into the ground with the blood, and he was something far paler, more alien, and yet more beautiful. Pale eyes looked up at Scott, and deep green blood stained his lips, "Did I do it, Mr. Scott?"
    
    "Yeah, Nat'ren," Scott said quietly, his muscles bruised and cramped but refusing to let the little boy go, "You did it. You saved us all."
    
    Nat'ren smiled and said, "Good. It works... you can go to Skrullos... you can save my people and yours... I wish I could have met Artie though. Tell him he can have my... treasure box."
    
    "Hang on, Nat'ren," Scott said, struggling to his feet, for a moment unable to find his center of balance. How did these flat footed, thick legged people walk when flight made so much more sen... Then, the shuddering was done and he tried to move, only to have his leg buckle under him in pain and exhaustion.
    
    Nat'ren's hand limply patted the side of Scott's face, "It's ok... I can die a hero... and people will sing of me..." He looked at his hand as if he had never seen it before. "Oh, I'm so pretty..."
    
    Then the Nuwali child died, as the world began to grow red around Scott. He threw his head up as his powers exploded from him, and through the net, he called, ::I'm down, but the cure... It worked. Danger, shut the shields! Run the numbers! Run the numbers!::

The last thing he saw before he had to shut his eyes, was the shields beginning to reseal themselves, as Danger sounded in his head, ::Brood virus eradicated. Environment restoration in progress ::
    
    Then in the darkness, and the fading chill, Scott held on to Nat'ren until someone came for them both.


She fell back as her own black-brown carpace becan to wither and rot. Sinking inward as if all the softness were simply sulking away. "You... filthy ape. You... disgusting evolutionary dead end... you... traitor..." Her tail rose, poised to strike, but before it could, it fell limp, the Empress slumping, a low moaning growl escaping as it cried for succor it would not find. And then, it lurched forwards, falling flat on the ground.
    
    It stood there, a monument of grotesque death, frosted and still in the fading blizzard. But before too long, a muffled whimper issued forth. And then it stirred.
    
    Inside, a mind once shared rebuilt itself, scrounging for all it could find. But there was so very little left, and it had been forced to borrow, to combine and create something new from something old. The behemoth stirred once more, as if it might be forcing itself to its feet, but from the crumbling molt then poured a girl, wrenching herself free from withered musculature and sinew, from plate and gore.
    
    Bald and bare as Adam, Marrow fell forward, but it was not only Marrow. Her skin, violet as before was mottled with dark spots, her eyes not that old cold blue but something between brown and orange, the queen's glow on them all the same. She pulled herself free, finally from that living tomb, gasping for air from lungs seeing their first usage.  The ground was cold. It had been years since she'd felt anything. Cold, wet. anything at all. She gave a look to Cyclops, to the child in his arms, staggering forward on atrophied legs that could barely support her weight. "I..." She started, before it came into a mishmash of nonsensical words, delirium of this sudden resurrection.
    
    "Tell Artie..." She said, staring dumbly at Cyclops. "Tell Artie I'm okay." And with that she fell slack to her side, breathing but dead to the world all the same.

The girl's voice made him smile, and Scott, blind without his glasses, reached out to where he'd heard her drop, mutated sense of spatial geometry returned. His hand caught hers and without much effort at all, he pulled her towards him, to protect her, even if he was blinded, weakened and aching, "Welcome home, Sarah," he whispered, "It's ok now. I have you. I won't let you go."
    
    In rewarming of the sun, surrounded by the rotting armors and shapes of a now defunct army, three people, Man, Woman and Child, two living, one lost, waited for the rest of their family to find them, once again what they had been before the brood.
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