Date: Friday, May 21, 2011, 9:00 pm
Location: Cactus City, Texas
The party's hum was still thick in the air when a ripple of unease spread through the thinning crowd near the dance floor. "What was that?" "Did you hear that?" But for Laura, the question quickly turned to chilling certainty as her super-senses honed in on it: more gunshots. A distant pop... pop-pop... sliced through the lingering buzz, growing sharper, closer. Every instinct she possessed shrieked.
She moved, a blur of motion, just as a flurry of bullets ripped through the air where she'd been standing, embedding themselves in the barn wall behind her. The tight grouping told her everything she needed to know: this wasn't random. This was a professional, and they were aiming specifically for her. They knew. Her cover was blown.
A surge of cold dread washed over her. She was at a severe disadvantage. The shooter was far away, making a direct confrontation difficult, and worse, the hundreds of teenagers around her were now hostages, unwitting shields for her attacker.
The realization spread through the party like wildfire. Someone screamed, piercing the low hum of confusion: "Active shooter!"
Chaos erupted. The once-joyful celebration transformed into a terrifying stampede. Bodies collided, shouts mingled with screams, and tears streamed down faces contorted in shock and fear. Some ran blindly, desperate to escape, while others froze, paralyzed by terror.
The scene was a nightmare. Mass panic, an active shooter, and now the ground itself had decided to buckle. Laura, seeing the chaos and potential for mass casualties, was torn. Her training urged her to act, to protect. She pulled out her comms, a quick, desperate plea for help already forming on her lips. "Logan, I've got—"
A gruff voice instantly cut through the comms static. "What's goin' on, kid?" Logan's tone was all business, instantly recognizing the urgency in her voice.
"My identity's been compromised. They know I'm here. And there's a shooter, plus the Omega just—"
Before she could finish, her elite senses screamed. The hum of a blade cut the air directly behind her. Danger was upon her. She dropped her phone and ducked and twisted, evading the deadly arc aimed for her neck by a hair's breadth. Without breaking motion, she transitioned into a powerful back handspring, launching herself into the air. As she flipped, the bone claws extended from both her feet, aiming for her assailant's chin with lethal precision.
Unfortunately, Laura knew even before her feet touched the ground that her attack had missed. Her bone claws sliced through empty air, a testament to her assailant's speed. She landed lightly, instantly transitioning into a defensive crouch, her eyes narrowed, scanning for her opponent. And then she saw him.
The sight made her blood run cold, a bitter taste in her mouth. Standing before her, utterly ruining her date, was Taskmaster. He was unmistakable, even in his upgraded gear. Dressed in a sleek black and white tactical suit and a chilling skull mask, he mirrored her defensive stance with an unnerving precision that spoke volumes of his mimicry. In his hands, he wielded a formidable sword and shield, glinting dangerously in the dim party lights. She also noted the twin pistols holstered at his waist and the array of gadgets lining his belt. This was not good. She'd faced him before, and he'd already copied and memorized her entire fighting style. Every move she knew, he knew better.
"Heh, almost got me there, kid, but give up. You're outclassed and outmatched here!" Taskmaster roared as he charged at her with his shield.
Laura didn't hesitate. Strategy would have to come later; right now, it was pure instinct. She charged Taskmaster, a blur of crimson and dark practical gear. As the distance closed and they were about to collide, Taskmaster reacted with characteristic speed, his armored arm shooting out. He flung his arm out, shield attached, aiming to smack her directly in the face.
But Laura was already a step ahead. She leaped, soaring cleanly over the top of him and the whizzing shield. She landed silently behind him, instantly twisting and launching herself upward again. In a fluid motion, she threw a quick roundhouse kick, her bone claw extending from her foot, aimed precisely at his left chest.
Taskmaster, already recovering from his missed shield strike, was impossibly fast. He rotated his body, bringing his shield up to block her powerful kick with a jarring thud. Without a beat, he retaliated, bringing his blade swinging overhead, a deadly arc intended for Laura's right shoulder.
Laura quickly regained her stance from her kick. Her reflexes, honed by years of combat, were just as sharp. She snapped both hands up, trapping the descending blade between her two adamantium knuckle bone claws. Metal grated against metal with a harsh screech, sparks flying in the dim light.
Taskmaster, with his other arm now free, didn't hesitate. He swung, striking X-23 hard with the rim of his vibranium shield, sending her flying back four feet. She landed painfully on her side, the impact jarring. Laura immediately knew her sternum and several ribs were fractured, but even as the sharp pain lanced through her, she felt the familiar warmth of her healing factor knitting bone and tissue back together. She quickly pushed herself up, anticipating Taskmaster's follow-up attack, but he merely stood at a distance, blade lowered, patiently waiting for her to fully regain her footing. This infuriated her. Laura knew that behind that unfeeling white skull mask, Taskmaster was undoubtedly looking down at her, a silent, mocking judgment.
"You like?" Taskmaster's voice was a low, taunting rasp from behind his skull mask. He pressed against her claws, testing their strength. "Took a bit of an upgrade after your dear old dad decided my last blade was just... inadequate. This beauty? Pure vibranium. So is my shield. Not exactly something you pick up at the local sporting goods store, is it, X-Baby?" His tone dripped with a smug, almost theatrical satisfaction.
"What are you doing here, Taskmaster?" Laura growled, ignoring his early statement, her focus solely on the immediate threat he posed.
"Oh, the usual, Wolverine-lite," he drawled, his voice laced with amusement. "A little capture-and-deliver, a touch of corporate espionage. And, of course, to see just what shiny little bauble the X-Men are scrambling for in this godforsaken Texas pit stop. Always good to diversify the portfolio, wouldn't you agree?"
Laura grimaced, a cold dread wave washing over her. His declaration was a shock. He knew about the mission, about the energy signature, about them.
Seeing her surprise, Taskmaster chuckled, the sound devoid of warmth. "My sources are... reliable. Heard there was some buzzing in your little mutant playground. Figured if I just followed the scent of your little club, I might stumble onto something profitable, and to my surprise, it's little teenage Wolverine trying to play normal. So, tell me, X-23, what has got you looking around in this desert shithole?"
Laura didn't say anything, her jaw tightening. She wouldn't divulge information, not to him. But Taskmaster, with his uncanny ability to read body language, saw it – a flicker in her eyes, a micro-expression as her mask of composure slightly cracked under the mental turmoil he'd inflicted. He took immediate advantage of X-23's distracted mind.
With a powerful snap of his wrist, he flung his shield, sending it spinning through the air with the same iconic, deadly precision as Captain America. Laura twisted violently out of the way, the vibranium disc missing her by mere inches. Before it could even begin its return arc, she was already moving, charging Taskmaster head-on once more. Taskmaster, gripping his blade with both hands, charged as well, ready to clash once more with X-23.
Laura didn't hesitate, launching the first blow, a sharp jab. Taskmaster, with uncanny speed, merely brought his vibranium blade up, deflecting it with a soft clink. She followed with a straight punch, but he parried that too, then countered by shoulder-checking her, pushing her back a few inches. Taskmaster lunged, his blade aimed for her, and Laura barely dodged, feeling the cold steel graze her cheek. She ignored the sting, recovering her footing and pressing forward as he overextended. She wound up for a powerful uppercut with her right hand, but a familiar whirring sound forced her to abort. The thrown shield was sailing back, and she ducked awkwardly, the vibranium disc slicing through the air where her head had been moments before. Taskmaster snatched it from the air, re-equipping it to his arm in a single, fluid motion. Without a pause, Laura surged forward, delivering the iconic double uppercut with her claws, only for Taskmaster to block the blows cleanly with his shield.
The two went back and forth, trading blows for a good five minutes. The clang of vibranium against bone claws, the rhythmic thud of blocked strikes, and the rapid footwork created a deadly dance amidst the fleeing partygoers. But Laura knew she was at a disadvantage. Taskmaster, anticipating her every move, slowly pushed her back, inch by agonizing inch.
Then, he launched a powerful jumping rear horse kick. Laura had seen it before, copied perfectly from some long-forgotten martial arts master. It was devastating. She took the full force of the blow, sending her flying back until her spine slammed against the rough bark of a mature oak tree. She slid to the ground, winded and exhausted, her muscles screaming in protest.
As she was about to push herself up, the cold kiss of a vibranium blade pressed against her neck.
"I wouldn't get up if I were you," Taskmaster stated, his voice a low, mocking rasp from above her. "Wouldn't want to have your head cut off."
Laura lay pinned, the cold, impossible edge of Taskmaster's vibranium blade a hair's breadth from her throat. She deliberated her options, a rapid-fire assessment of the impossible. There were none. Capture meant experimentation, a fate she refused to endure again. She was about to take the desperate risk, to unleash everything, consequences be damned.
Then, from seemingly out of nowhere, a stream of fire erupted, forcing Taskmaster to roll clear with a grunt of surprise. He moved a few feet to dodge the searing flames, only for a massive boulder to come hurtling out of the darkness, directly for him. Taskmaster, nimble despite his bulk, had to contort his body once more, narrowly evading the hurtling mass that would have surely crushed him.
"Alright, who the hell just interrupted my grand finale?" Taskmaster snarled, already back on his feet, shield raised, scanning the darkness beyond the bonfire's erratic light. "Show yourself, coward!"
A figure emerged from the chaotic shadows, stepping into the dim, smoke-filled air. It was Julius, his athletic build evident even beneath his simple white t-shirt, now smudged with dirt from the earlier chaos. He was missing his red and black plaid jacket, and his jeans were torn and dirty. His face was pale, but set with a newfound, fierce determination, and his eyes, usually so warm, now blazed with a brave, defiant light. His fists were clenched at his sides. Laura finally found the person she had been looking for this entire time. The Omega-class mutant was Julius. He stood there, controlled, focused, and utterly furious.
"You leave her alone," Julius stated, his voice low, a tremor of raw power rumbling beneath the words.