Chapter 33 Into the Maw
The mountain moaned under Colossus's fists.
Each strike was an avalanche compressed Into one heartbeat. Stone shattered like brittle bones, dust choked the tunnels, and still the Russian pressed forward.
"Keep hittin', tin man," Logan growled, claws half-bared as he stalked behind. "Straight. path's the fastest way. Don't waste time
sniffin' around corridors."
Piotr (Peter) didn't answer-he was the answer. His glowing fists split granite like it was chalk, carving a brutal highway through Valhalla's guts. Every punch echoed like a war drum, announcing their trespass to the mad count within.
The tunnel widened, swallowing them in blackness. The smell shifted-sharper, chemical, dangerous.
Logan froze.
His nostrils flared. The musk of poison. "Gas," he snarled. "Stay back."
Thanks to his Night vision ability He saw the green gas in the dark tunnel , and also smelling it.
Storm's eyes flashed silver. She raised her hands, and the air itself bent to her will. A gale roared down the passage, swirling green clouds into a writhing sphere of venom that hovered like a captured phantom.
"Contained," she whispered, though sweat beaded her brow.
"Good work," Cyclops said tightly. "Colossus, keep us moving."
The Russian nodded once, then tore through the next wall. Sparks spat as steel gave way to wires and circuitry. Sirens wailed. The base had awakened.
Lasers slashed from the celling. Banshee's cry shattered them mid-flight, glass and metal raining down harmlessly.
Spike pits yawned open, but Nightcrawler darted forward in a blur of sulfur, yanking teammates to safety with his bamf-bamf-bamf dance.
Trap after trap fell, and still Logan kept growling directions, ears twitching like a wolf in the dark. "Left. Another one waitin'. Two more ahead."
The team trusted him, carving their way straight through Valhalla like a spear hurled at the heart of madness.
And then-voices. Bestial. Snarling. Waiting.
The Ani-Men.
The corridor opened into a vast chamber lit by sickly fluorescent light. Five figures stood in formation, grotesque parodies of nature,
Count Nefaria's hand picked monsters.
Dragonfly: wings like razors, eyes glowing alien green, her whole body twitching with
Insectold hunger.
Bird-Man: feathers matted, talons dripping with steel grafts, his grin a knife's edge.
Frog-Man: swollen muscle, slick skin
glistening with venom, his tongue flicking like a whip.
Cat-Man: lean, predatory, fur striped in black and tawny gold, yellow eyes
burning with primal cunning.
Ape-Man: hulking brute, arms knotted with corded strength, chest pounding like a war drum.
Just at this moment Logan's equalizer haplend.
Logan felt it first. A tremor through his blood. That euphoric shiver came again,His nose flared-sharper than ever. The cat's smell sense combined with his alread powerful smell sense and suddenly the world peeled open.
He could smell their emotions.
Fear dripping like sweat.
Rage sharp as ozone. Bird-Man's manic glee.
Ape-Man's low frustration. Cat-Man's cold amusement.
And deeper-truths. Lies. Hidden hearts.
It was like standing in a cathedral of humanity's rot, every incense stick replaced by raw feeling.
So this is what you are, he thought, a grim smile tugging at his lip. Walking lie detector. Smellin' the soul itself. Ain't sure I wanted this-
but it's mine now.
The Ani-Men roared as one, leaping forward.
Logan launched himself at two at once-Cat-Man and Bird-Man-his claws flashing arcs of silver death.
"Uncle is amazing!" Nightcrawler gasped from the sidelines, golden eyes wide.
"As expected of the grizzly bear," Storm breathed, winds whipping unconsciously at her feet.
Sunfire only clicked his tongue, firelight
dancing in his scowl. "Tch. Show-off..." But even his flame bent warmer at the sight.
Banshee let out a laugh, wild and lyrical: "A symphony o' slaughter, sung in steel an' sinew!"
Cyclops said nothing. His visor glowed, his silence heavier than any praise.
Logan fought like a demon. Cat-Man's claws raked his flesh, Bird-Man's talons pierced his shoulders but he let them. Pain was fuel.
Blood was the price of his trance.
Bullet-time settled in. His world slowed.
Hearing spread in a perfect sphere-twenty meters, every sound etched into his skull. No
blind spots. No surprises.
Cat to the left, breathing shallow. Bird to the
right, wings beating a war tempo. He moved between them like a dancer in a storm, claws carving both beasts bloody.
And when Cat-Man snarled, Logan grinned, blood dripping down his chin. "Smell it, bub. You're afraid."
The battle was only beginning.