One, two, three, four, five, Walrus is coming to find you—
If you cross my path, you'll get a knife in your liver...
This optical camouflage is really something. I've been playing hide-and-seek with the Marines for a full half-hour now, and I still can't even the score against the soldiers running around the base. They're losing badly and more embarrassingly than the Russian national football team: forty-four to zero.
And I've already switched from absolute efficiency to a more creative approach.
For example, two unsuspecting soldiers are walking down the corridor: step-step, step-step... And suddenly, there are fewer "steps." Naturally, the marching soldier turns around to figure out the reason for such a sharp change in the acoustic pattern, and what does he see? The lifeless corpse of his comrade, whose head someone (let's not point fingers) has just lopped off! And they've even taken that part of the body with them!
Or here's a whole squad of ten snouts combing through the storage rooms, and suddenly the lights in the corridor go out, and the cameras cut off! The raging Chocolate Bunny sends his lackeys to check what's happening, and they find only mangled corpses with guts strung across the walls, a pile of spent cartridges, and not a single survivor!
And what happens next? That's right! Fear, screams, panic, and futile attempts to contain the unknown threat! The factor of the unknown plays a far from minor role, because to keep Kimura from figuring out the upgrade I got from Cable, I masked the activation of the optical camouflage with a smoke screen. The military base personnel simply can't grasp how I keep slipping away from them.
Maybe it's invisibility, maybe teleportation, or maybe some other unknown but extremely nasty ability. Since the X-gene manifests in people in so many different forms, it's almost impossible to guess where to lay down the straw, and essentially the only tools for counteraction are suppressor collars and mutant detectors tuned to them. Which, with a clear conscience, say: "We don't see anything!"
And this whole bacchanalia repeats itself over and over, corpse after corpse...
In short, while the cavalry in the form of a crowd of enraged mutants hasn't arrived yet, the tamada-Walrus is playing the role of a crazed ram and, under the cover of a boost from his cyborg brother, is gutting the almost defenseless soldiers. The formula for the equation of this bloody bath is extremely simple: Body enhancement from the artifact, plus subject knowledge, plus combat bionics, plus intuition, plus augment sensors, plus... Well, there are a lot more pluses, but if you skip the solution and look straight to the end of the textbook, the result equals a Marine's nightmare.
The soldiers have nothing to counter such aces when they're in the hands of a more experienced colleague on the far from easy soldier's harness!
Although, in defense of my former professional comrades, I should note that the fighters at the Weapon X base are quite seasoned. Not like in the Syndicate... But with us, every cutthroat is a custom, carefully selected product, while here we have regular army soldiers with a very solid level of training. It's clear that a ton of money has been poured in, and there wasn't much room for skimming off the top of government contracts.
It's just obvious to the naked eye that these "government dogs" were specifically trained to fight freaks, not to catch a cybernetic analog of a supersoldier.
No, if a couple of mutants at the level of Sabretooth or Wolverine had shown up, they would have been quickly rolled up in concrete, and without any carbonadium—purely through training and very decent gear. But in the case of an experienced and invisible-in-the-ordinary-spectrum mercenary, the soldiers simply don't have time to react to sudden, mother-in-law-like visits to the rear, striking at the most vulnerable points in the defense. As they say, Walrus is no rat; Walrus is a strategist.
And at the moment, I'm sitting under camouflage on a stack of crates, watching the Chocolate Bunny's hopped-up soldiers bustle below.
But why rush? Judging by Brock's message, a couple of minutes ago, sensors placed around the city detected the takeoff of something large near the School for Gifted Children, and I have a feeling that Xavier's wards aren't planning a nighttime excursion. So we sit, wait for the X-Men's special ops team, and periodically stoke the fire of the soldiers' panic with kindling. To keep them from relaxing.
I'd smoke a couple of cigarettes, but who knows how the Cable boost affects the camouflage. And they might just detect me by smell.
— Attention, all personnel of Object A-Seven Hundred Eight! This is Kimura! Order Z-Eleven has been sanctioned! I repeat—we've been given the green light to... The earpiece, honestly swiped from one deceased soldier, suddenly comes to life and starts broadcasting the Chocolate Bunny's voice. Oh, screw the formalities! Listen up, useless bastards! Because of your worthlessness and inability to catch a single spy, the brainless fat cats in Washington have ordered us to shut down our project! In ten minutes, all personnel of our cozy little nest must gather in Room Six! Dress code: hair on your ass! Drop everything and run to the evacuation exit! The turtles who don't manage to gather in such a huge amount of time will become dinner for the beast we'll release for a free walk when the time's up! The clock's ticking, my friends...
Hmm. It seems not only the Syndicate was watching the abode of the bald invalid— the big bosses quickly realized that the exposed object wouldn't hold up against a coordinated squad of X-gene carriers and are hastily wrapping up the operation to save at least some assets.
But as one mercenary I know used to say: Wow, what a hot woman! I'd ask her out if she weren't a completely nuts sadist with impenetrable skin who also shot me not too long ago.
Hmm... I wonder how Kimura has sex? Her sensitivity to even the most powerful blows is practically zero, and with such odds, even a horse-sized adamantium phallus wouldn't solve her personal life problems.
Maybe she's so psycho because of chronic celibacy?
Although this undoubtedly extremely important question can be put on the back burner for now—the crazy Chocolate Bunny is planning to run and intends to release the wonder-beast with non-standard gastronomic preferences as a parting gift. It will happily eat all the "innocent victims of the evil government," thus cleaning up all the loose ends and leaving no potential witnesses.
Not the most pleasant scenario—without real "victims of the regime," a citywide uproar in New York is unlikely to start.
The only problem is that I only have a submachine gun on hand, whose small caliber definitely won't penetrate the skin of such a healthy beast.
Wait, I think I saw a Marine arsenal on the next tier...
Mmm... It seems I overdid it a bit at Stark's party again.
Squinting from the bright light of the ceiling lamp, the blonde telepath barely pried her eyes open and, lifting her aching head, surveyed the sparse furnishings of the prison cell surrounding her.
"One of two things: either Tony's penthouse has undergone a radical renovation, or the dream in which I bought the Syndicate's boss's corpse from them and was attacked by some black-assed bastards is actually harsh reality. And since Stark hates rearranging his bachelor pad... I'm in deep shit."
The electrified dart piercing the car window and embedding itself in her chest was the last clearly imprinted memory in Emma's mind, but feeling the familiar suppressor collar around her neck, the woman quickly realized where she was. She wearily closed her eyes and stretched out on the rough metal cot.
Frost was far from the first time she had found herself in the captivity of the most diverse enemies of mutants. Being an experienced escapee, she didn't start beating herself into a meaningless hysteria or try to use her suppressed "necklace" abilities. Instead, the blonde telepath tried to relax to restore her strength, depleted by recent events, to increase her chances of escape in the future.
However, Emma didn't get to lie around for long—the speaker under the ceiling suddenly came to life and started broadcasting a suspiciously familiar female voice.
I order all mutant bastards to crawl out of their holes! You're invited to a dinner party—no refusals accepted! As soon as the voice fell silent, the cell door hissed open, and white, acrid smoke poured from the ventilation, causing the not-yet-fully-recovered telepath to go into a fit of convulsive coughing and hastily leave her confinement.
Running into the corridor and coughing properly, the White Queen looked around and realized she was far from the only prisoner released from the dungeons. All the cells in the long, spacious corridor were open, and the crowd of frightened people in characteristic collars, who had left their cells, exchanged distrustful glances.
What's going on?!
Where are all the soldiers?!
You can't keep us here! This is a violation of our rights!
Idiot! They've been shitting on us for a long time!
Come here, you idiot!
Stop it! It's not over yet! Somehow calming the hysterical people, Frost, without much hope of success, began to look for familiar faces among the captured mutants. To her great surprise, she soon found them. "Laura? So the rumors were true, and the mercenaries really did sell her..."
Noticing among the people the bloodstained X-23, who, unlike the other test subjects, didn't have a collar and, ignoring the sideways glances of the other prisoners, was sniffing the air like a bloodhound, Emma pushed through the crowd of prisoners and tried to touch the girl's shoulder... But the angrily hissing mutant instantly reacted to the invasion of her personal space and, doing a somersault forward, took a fighting stance with her claws extended.
Hey... It's just me. Seeing that the exhausted Laura was slightly out of it, the blonde raised her hands in a conciliatory gesture and took a couple of steps back. We've already met at Xavier's school, remember? I teach you the basics of economic development there.
Miss... Frost?
That's me. But given the circumstances, you can just call me Emma. And since we've figured out who's who, could you get rid of this decoration for me? It doesn't suit the color of my eyes at all.
Nodding briefly, the failed Wolverine clone reached for the X-gene suppressor hanging around the telepath's neck. However, before the adamantium claws could touch the surface of the suppressor, the same mocking female voice sounded in the air again.
Oh yes, I almost forgot to warn you! The massive gates at the far end of the corridor trembled from a powerful blow from within, and huge fingers topped with enormous, gray-steel claws wedged themselves into the gap between the doors. You're invited to the dinner party as the main course...
The next moment, the air shook with a loud roar, and the multi-ton metal sheets began to bend under the onslaught of the ferocious monster, whose growling promised nothing good for the captured mutants.
Run for your lives! Not wanting to end up in the maw of the unknown creature, the crowd of frightened people rushed in the opposite direction from the doors and disappeared around the nearest corner, leaving Emma and Laura alone with the monster breaking free.
They ran for nothing. With one precise strike, freeing the blonde telepath from the suppressor collar, X-23 pointed her claws toward the panicked mutants who had fled. It would have been more logical to ask me to remove the blockers and fight together. The chances of survival would be higher. If the X-Predator is free, it means the level is already isolated, and all exits are securely blocked.
X-Predator?
Him. The girl poked a finger at the monster, who, in a matter of moments, had widened the gap in the doors so much that the X-gene carriers could see a huge red eye and a mouth full of teeth. Or it. The living weapon of the new generation. I was used as its training dummy.
And how many times did you defeat it? Emma asked nervously, sensing a truly inhuman hunger in the mental spectrum and watching without much joy as the monster's enormous paw squeezed through the hole it had made, and razor-sharp claws crumpled the metal like paper.
Never.
Collapsing under the onslaught of the colossal creature, the multi-ton doors flew out of their sockets with a crash. Letting out a triumphant roar, the gray-steel monster lunged at the blonde businesswoman, who extended her hand toward the monster and tried to bring it under her mental control.
"Why are you so hungry?!" Although the power of Frost's telepathic abilities was great, the monster's mind, clouded by animal rage and endless hunger, flatly refused to obey Emma's commands. In one second, it closed the distance between them, and the monster pounced on the fragile woman... But before its jaws could close on the businesswoman's body, she managed to take on her diamond form. Instead of the squelching sound of devoured flesh, the air was filled with the crunch of breaking fangs.
Graaaaaah!
What, am I not to your taste? Spitting out the self-satisfiedly smirking Frost, the X-Predator slammed the saliva-covered telepath into the wall with a powerful blow of its tail. Meanwhile, the failed Wolverine clone, who had tried to attack it from behind, was regenerated with broken bones. With a gutural roar, it began to pound the diamond-form mutant into the wall.
And to Emma's horror, her impenetrable form began to gradually give way under the relentless onslaught of the ferocious beast.
Although the internal lining of the military base turned out to be much less durable than the mutant's diamond form, the monster's enormous fists pressed the telepath into the reinforced coating more and more. Gradually, the first whitish cracks began to appear on the woman's semi-transparent skin. At first, they were small and barely noticeable, but with each new collision, they became more and more distinct.
Meanwhile, the monster managed to show signs of intelligence, not forgetting about X-23, who was behind it. When the somewhat recovered X-23 forced herself to her feet, she immediately received another tail strike and, flying to the opposite part of the corridor, slid down the wall like a broken doll. Despite its great usefulness, the regenerative factor turned out to be a rather mediocre substitute for a protective helmet. When Laura's head collided with a harder surface, the girl's skull slightly... deformed, temporarily rendering the Wolverine clone unconscious.
Pleased with the incapacitated mutant, the X-Predator returned to its first victim and was already raising its enormous paws for a final, truly crushing blow. But before the monster's fists could begin their downward path, a strange metallic rustle was heard in the air. At the sound, the indomitable monster growled softly and turned its ugly mug somewhere to the side.
Looking in the same direction, the exhausted telepath saw a tall man in dark military gear emerging from the darkness. She realized that the suspicious stranger was the source of the sound—a belt of ammunition for a very impressive machine gun that he held in his hands.
Grr... Without saying a word, the hulk pressed the trigger, and the large-caliber monster in his hands roared with such terrifying noise that the sounds of the shots completely drowned out both the whistle of the bullets cutting through the air and the enraged roar of the living weapon being riddled by them.
The gray-steel skin of the monster turned out to be not strong enough to withstand numerous hits from the large-caliber weapon, and each shot from the silent hulk pierced the X-Predator through and through. However, despite the numerous hits and a chest that had practically turned into a sieve, the tenacious creature stubbornly refused to die. Overcoming the hail of deadly projectiles and covering its elongated muzzle with its paws, it slowly advanced toward the hulk surrounded by cartridges, whose smoking machine gun was beginning to heat up from continuous firing.
And what was worst of all, the living weapon's wounds began to heal quickly, returning the battered gray skin to its original state. But before the monster could reach him, the suspicious-looking hulk pulled a block of explosives with a human hand tied to it from behind his belt and, throwing it toward the bloodthirsty creature, quickly retreated back into the darkness.
The last thing the exhausted Emma saw before losing consciousness was the bright flash of an explosion.