Nightfall on the Cyclone
Posted on Sun Dec 7th, 2025 @ 5:01pm by Kennedy Kelly & Hayden Davis & Maeve MacKenna & Jennifer Bryant & Desmond Greene & Alaric Thane & Josiah Martin
9,743 words; about a 49 minute read
Mission:
Episode 7: Pathogens and Contagions
Location: Coney Island, New York City
Timeline: March 3, 1992
The Alternate Class reconvened and briefly discussed what they had discovered on their escapades; that they were and may still be watched, that the vampires of Coney Island were quick shadow walkers, and that they preferred to kill under the large wooden roller coaster. All the pieces put together were enough to lead the X-Men to their next and hopefully last location of the night.
Beneath the wooden roller coast named the Cyclone the world turned strange. The rumble of the coaster above created a growling echoing through a maze of old wooden beams and rusted metal joints. The air was damp from an impending storm and was heavy with the scent of salt, grease, and pine as they advanced deep into a forgotten underbelly where the laughter of the boardwalk died off.
The artificial light that filtered down through the cracks was thin and trembling, creating shadows in long crooked shapes that felt like fingers reaching for them. While the wooden beams seemed to move when not looking directly at them, they groaned and shifted from the weight of the cars, crying in agony against one another. Old maintenance tunnels winded between the support struts, their walls tagged with half-faded graffiti and the fingerprints of decades. And somewhere in the dark, something wet dripped at a steady pace like a heartbeat that didn’t belong to anything living.
Above them, a few pieces of trash fluttered in the drafts that the zooming coaster cars created. A ticket stub, a child’s lost balloon, a strip of faded photograph, all caught in the cobwebs that hung like curtains between the beams, lost forever to the darkness that resided beneath. The deeper they went into the space below the ride, the coaster above sounded less like wheels on wood and more like a moan.
It was a perfect place to drag a victim, dark and private, all while the gleeful screams of the ride masked any cries of distress that would have been created during a person’s final breath. Suddenly the screams of the roller coaster that had followed them all night felt morose and ominous.
“I don’t like it here,” Kennedy muttered in a soft whisper of a voice. “It feels like a trap.”
"It feels like..." Jennifer began and then she shook her head. "Yeah. Probably." But she had been about to say something else.
Maeve rubbed the side of her head for what felt like the hundredth time, fingers gingerly combing through the tangled curls where the vampire’s grip had torn half a handful loose. The scalp still burned, a dull ache pulsing under her touch. “Christ above,” she muttered, wincing. “Next one of those bastards that tries grabbin’ me by the hair’s gettin’ a tile through the eye, I swear it.”
The space beneath the Cyclone groaned like something alive, the beams shifting and creaking above them. Maeve’s eyes flicked toward Desmond, her brow furrowing. He’d gone through the roof — literally — to get to her, and she hadn’t missed the way his hands shook afterward, or the look in his eyes when he saw the blood.
She moved a step closer to him now, keeping her voice low so only he’d hear. “You alright, big lad?” she asked, searching his face through the murky light. “You didn’t even blink back there… tore the whole place apart.” Her tone wasn’t judgment — just worry, soft and genuine. “I know you did it for me, but… you don’t have to carry that kind of fury alone, yeah?”
She reached out, brushing her fingers against the back of his arm, the same way you’d calm a spooked animal. “We’re all still standin’. That’s what matters.”
The ache in her scalp throbbed again, sharp as a reminder, and she forced a small, crooked grin. “Though if I end up bald after this, I’m blamin’ you.”
When Kennedy whispered about traps, Maeve gave a quiet snort. “Aye, it is a trap. Question’s just whether it’s for us or them.” Her hand went briefly to her temple — the whisper slid through again, sly and familiar...
'You could make them fear you instead.'
Maeve’s jaw tightened. She shoved the thought down, muttering, “Not now.” Then, to the group: “Let’s just finish this, yeah? Before I lose what’s left of me hair.”
Jennifer looked at Maeve a moment longer. "Maeve...did he..." She didn't quite finish the thought.
Alaric was taking in the details; the shifting shadows, the low rumble above. "It probably is a trap," he said quietly, scanning the maze of beams and shadow. His tone was calm but vigilant. "It's the perfect terrain for something that likes to stalk first and strike from above."
Violet runes glowed on the back of his hand as he conjured a faint spark of mystical, violet light in his palm. It was just enough to chase the natural shadows back a step. "Stay close. Traps only work if you step where they want you to. For the most part."
Hayden was a few steps behind Maeve. "It feels…off," she murmured, her voice barely above the dripping sound around them. "The air’s too still down here, stagnant. Even the water doesn’t seem to move right." She glanced toward the dark corners, fingers twitching slightly as if she could feel the moisture clinging to the air. "If something’s waiting, I'd bet it’s been here a while."
Joey walked carefully towards the rear, looking carefully at the surroundings. "Of course it is a trap, and not a subtle one. Mr. Renfield was pretty clear he thought the group here are sloppy. Although we should also be on the lookout for a cleanup crew," he said, considering whether enhanced senses would be useful. Ratting out would do nothing to improve his eyesight, and the noise of the coaster would likely drown out anything else, but extra smell might be nice. Then again, he really didn't want to have to watch his claws the rest of the night.
Maeve met Jennifer’s look and knew exactly what she meant — the words she hadn’t said. Her hand drifted up to the sore patch at her scalp, fingers ghosting over it before she gave a small shake of her head.
“He didn’t hurt me,” she said quietly. “Not him. He saved me.” Her eyes flicked toward Desmond, a hint of softness there that didn’t linger long before it hardened again. “Just gave me a good reminder not to get grabbed like that again, is all.”
The rumble of the coaster above sent a shiver through the wooden beams. Maeve winced at the sound; the deep vibration made her headache pulse in time with it. “Feels like the whole bloody place’s breathin’,” she muttered. “If this is a trap, I’ll be happier when we spring it and crush whoever’s waitin’.”
Desmond tensed and towered over the rest of the team as they walked and commented on the impending trap that they were willingly walking into. His jaw was set and he couldn’t help but clench and unclench his hands in anticipation of what was to come. “They’re fast though...” His voice was a soft rustling sound, “Fast enough to catch you off guard and they can climb walls like a spider.”
She moved up beside Hayden, her boots creaking over warped floorboards. “Aye, it’s off all right,” she said, scanning the tunnels. “Like the air’s been holdin’ its breath too long. Don’t like it.”
When Alaric’s runes flared, the faint violet light caught her profile — freckles stark against pale skin, eyes shadowed but sharp. She gave him a nod. “Light’s good. Let’s stick close to it. Feels like the kind of dark that tries to crawl inside you if you let it.”
The team advanced further into the heart of the beams and groaning structure of the Cyclone until they reached a very underwhelming dead end. A few damaged cars were stored in the dark as a ramp spiraled upwards towards the actual track of the coaster. It was dark and forgotten, a maintenance and storage bay that was no longer needed. As they stopped and examined the space, the air grew cold enough to show their breath and the shadows began to creep in closer to them.
There was a long pause of unnerving silence as the space felt more and more like a tomb, before a bevy of boyish, delighted laughter filled the air and then multiplied until the sounds of excited mirth surrounded them.
“That’s funny, I didn’t order a pizza.” A single male voice sniggered from above as he stepped out into the limited light. High above them on the ramp stood the vampire known as Damian.The leader of this group of vampires that had taken over Coney Island. “Thankfully, I can always eat.”
The laughter surrounding them returned and the shadows began to take on more corporeal forms as eleven vampires circled around them.
“Leave me the pretty ones, kill the rest.” Damian replied in a lackadaisical tone before snapping his slender alabaster fingers.
Without hesitation the vampires of Coney Island advanced and divided the team in groups. Circling and isolating them like a pack of wolves ready to attack.
Like a sharp and honed blade, the vampires cut between the team and three encircled Maeve and Jennifer in the corner of the bay. Blocking them from the one and only exit and laughing as they moved.
“Hello, hello.” One of them said with a smirk as they sniffed the air and surveyed the pair “Looks like these two have had a go already, one of them stinks like she’s infected.
“Take’um out quickly then, don’t waste any time.” Another replied as he took his position next to his companion.
With unified skill and predatory grace, the three vampires moved and attacked all at once.
Maeve felt the cold crawl up her spine before the vampires even moved — that wrong, heavy silence before something goes bad. Three of them peeled out of the dark, too fast, too sure, grins white as bone.
She shoved herself in front of Jennifer without thinking, boots grinding against the damp sand and grit. “Back off,” she snapped, voice low but shaking with adrenaline. “You want blood, you’ll have to work for it.”
The first one lunged. Maeve dropped her hand to the ground, feeling the earth answer under her palm — packed dirt, splinters, a heartbeat deep down. The ground shuddered once, hard, throwing up a spray of debris: jagged wood, pebbles, and broken glass from some long-forgotten bottle. The vampire nearest her hissed, flinching back as a splinter tore across his cheek.
It wasn’t much, but it bought them a breath.
Her pulse was hammering, ears ringing. Then the whisper came again — slick and smooth, threading straight through her skull. 'You could end this. Pull the beams down, bury them all. They’d never touch you again.'
Maeve’s jaw locked. “Not like that,” she muttered, forcing the words out between her teeth.
She glanced back at Jennifer, seeing the tension in her stance. “Jen — left side’s open!” she shouted, ducking as another vampire lunged. “You take one, I’ll take the other!”
The dirt rippled again beneath her feet, more controlled this time. Splinters and small stones lifted in a faint swirl around her ankles, a warning. The vampires only grinned wider, circling closer.
Maeve planted her feet and drew in a breath that tasted of salt and sawdust. “Come on then,” she said, her brogue curling sharp round the words. “Let’s see how brave you are when the ground stops playin’ nice.”
"Are you saying we're not the pretty ones?" Jennifer bantered, having heard Damian's statement. She brought one booted foot up hard and fast, higher than her head, even as she kept her other foot on the ground. Pivoting, she was kicking the vampire to the left sharply in the chest. Just to knock him back so she could dive to the side and grab a piece of jagged wood. She circled, matching his movements, looking for a shot to the heart. "I think they insulted us, Maeve."
Maeve let out a breath that was half-a-laugh, half-a-growl as she circled with Jennifer. “Aye, they did,” she shot back, voice taut with the edge of adrenaline. “And I’m not in the mood to let it slide.”
The vampire Jennifer had kicked stumbled back into one of the support beams, hissing, fangs catching what little light there was. Another stepped in from the right, eyes fixed on Maeve, all lean muscle and hunger.
Maeve crouched, one hand pressing to the cold ground. It trembled faintly under her fingers, sand and splinters shifting in a tight spiral as if gathering breath. “Pretty enough now?” she muttered, and flicked her wrist.
The earth bucked just enough to throw the vampire off-balance—nothing showy, just a rough surge that sent grit stinging into its eyes. “Go on, Jen!” she called, darting sideways to keep the others from closing in. “Let’s show ’em what happens when they pick the wrong girls to mess with.”
Her hair clung to the side of her face where blood had dried near her temple, her scalp still throbbing from before, but she barely noticed. There was only the pulse of the fight, the smell of damp wood, and the stubborn spark in her chest that refused to back down.
“Cute that you think we need to stay on the ground.” The vampire chuckled while casually avoiding her attempts to knock him off balance. With cat-like grace and blurring speed he reached out and grabbed hold of Maeve. With fingers cold and strong like iron, he gripped her wrist before ascending skywards. Using supernatural flight, the vampire took Maeve high above the battle field and away from her connection to the earth beneath her feet. “I could drain you here or I could simply drop you and watch you splatter. Which would you prefer?”
Maeve’s breath came in short, ragged bursts as the wind tore past her face. The world below was a dizzying blur of splintered wood and shadow, and the vampire’s grip on her wrist was like a shackle of iron. She twisted and kicked, but it only made his fingers tighten until she thought the bones in her wrist might crack.
“Go on, scream,” he hissed, lips curling back from his fangs. “No one’s going to hear you—”
But another voice slipped in beneath his, smooth and intimate as silk on skin. “He’s right, little one. You’re far from the ground now. Far from your strength. Let me in, and I’ll keep you from falling.”
Maeve’s pulse stuttered. The voice again. That honeyed, knowing tone from her dreams. It coiled through her chest like smoke, tempting, whispering in time with her heartbeat.
“All you have to do is ask.”
“Not bloody likely,” she hissed through her teeth — though her voice shook, fear and fury tangled tight.
And then something broke loose.
The fear that had choked her turned molten, rushing through her veins. The air thickened around her, and far below, the earth answered. Dust, dirt, splinters of timber — they rose in a spiral, drawn up by the magnetic pull of her panic. The vampire’s mocking grin faltered as the air itself began to hum, the wind twisting sharp and strange around them.
Maeve’s eyes snapped open, glinting green-gold. “You should’ve left me on the ground,” she said, her voice low and wrong, laced with a power that wasn’t entirely her own.
The air convulsed. A shockwave cracked outward from her chest, like thunder without sound. The vampire let out a snarl as the force struck him — not enough to kill, but enough to hurt. He lost control, flung backward into the wooden supports with a splintering crash.
For a heartbeat, Maeve was falling.
The world spun — weightless, soundless — until the same dust and grit that had risen with her caught in the updraft, a swirling column that fought to hold her. It slowed her fall but couldn’t quite stop it. She hit the ground hard, skidding through dirt and splinters before crashing against one of the massive struts. Pain shot through her side, the wind ripped from her lungs.
Above her, the vampire dissolved into the shadows with a hiss, shaken but not slain.
“See?” the whisper purred in her mind, soft and pleased. “You don’t need saving — only control. Let me show you.”
Maeve pushed herself upright, coughing against the dust. “Get… out of my head!” she shouted, and the last remnants of her storm burst outward in a pulse that cracked through the beams.
The recoil sent her stumbling sideways — straight toward Damian, the leader of the coven. She hit the dirt at his feet, disoriented but burning with adrenaline.
He looked down at her, a faint, amused smile playing on his lips as the air still shimmered faintly around her. “Well now,” he drawled, “aren’t you interesting.”
“Look here, room service delivered right to my door.” Damian said with a sly smile that exposed his sharp fangs. “I prefer blondes but when a meal is dropped at my feet, who am I to decline?” He shrugged in such a lackadaisical manner that it made his next lightning quick movements all the more alarming.
Maeve was enveloped in Damian the cold strength of his body against her own as his arms wrapped around her a hold that was too rough, too harsh to be considered a lover’s embrace. And then she felt the searing hot pain of his fangs breaking her skin, a sharp and deadly bite against her throat that was meant to drain the lifeblood from her veins.
Damian’s fangs pierced her skin and pain burst white-hot across Maeve’s throat—sharp enough to rip a gasp out of her. But the pain didn’t last.
It shifted.
The burn melted into heat, spreading slow and syrup-warm down her spine, curling low in her stomach. Her pulse stuttered, then quickened, thudding hard enough she could hear it in her ears.
Her power vanished.
Just—snapped out.
Like someone slammed a door in her mind.
The sudden emptiness made her panic—terror rushing up fast and choking—but then another feeling surged in behind it.
Strength.
Rich and fierce and alien.
Like her muscles had been rewired in an instant.
And worse—
a pull.
a thrill.
a hunger that wasn’t hers.
Maeve sucked in a shuddering breath against Damian’s shoulder, horrified to feel her fingers instinctively curling in his shirt, her body leaning toward the warmth even as her mind screamed no.
Oh God.
This felt… good.
Wrong and terrifying and sinfully good.
“St—stop,” she managed, voice cracking as she forced her hands to push instead of cling. Shame fought with panic as a tremor of pleasure—pleasure—ran down her spine.
Her senses lit up sharp as razors: she could hear the coaster groaning above them, Jennifer’s heartbeat slamming, the wet drip deep in the wood. Everything was clearer. Nearer. Too easy to track.
Her own heartbeat felt like it was trying to outrun her ribs.
A whisper slid through her head like warm smoke:
Don’t fight it, girl.
Feel what you are.
This is power—
not that feeble little trick you cling to.
She clenched her teeth, breath shaking, fury trying to claw its way past the confusion and the awful pull in her chest.
“No,” she hissed, though her voice trembled with the lie of it. “I—I don’t want this.”
But her body thrummed with the opposite truth:
she did.
Some part of her did.
And that terrified her more than the bite itself.
The third vampire that had not been privy to Jennifer’s attack laughed as his partner lost his balance enough to take a step back thanks. “She’s feisty.”
“She’s slowly turning,” The other replied as he placed a hand on his chest. “But Peter didn’t finish the deed did he? So now you’re stuck in limbo, like a rabid dog that needs to be put down.”
"Or..." Jennifer said and she actually couldn't help looking to Damian for a split second. Then she shook her head. No.
“Stop.” Damian groaned from his position above. “End this now.” He snapped his fingers and the two vampires listened.
Circling and positioning one in front of Jennifer and the other behind, they lunged at her in unison.
With vampires on two sides, Jennifer dived to her left. It wasn't fancy, It was as quick and clean as possible. If everything went perfectly, the vampires, already committed, would crash into one another. But, come on, what are the odds? They are faster than her. Without her spark, Jennifer at least does have enhanced speed and strength, but the actual vampires have them more. She does also have her gymnastic abilities. Perhaps they have those two. But they were committed and she hoped they wouldn't be able to change tack enough to trap her.
Why her left? She didn't want Maeve to be cut off. A second ago, it had looked like her friend needed help. Though it now seemed anything but. The burst of power from Maeve erupted as she leaped, bits of debris hitting her, but too far forward to much effect her or the two vampires she faced. Her shoulder hit a wall hard and, sore, she spun. She hadn't dropped her stake. Pressing her back to the wall, she raised it. "I am not a dog!" she, well, snarled. Perhaps that didn't prove her point too well. "Your friend bit off more than he could chew!"
With the skill of a gymnast, Jennifer was able to out maneuver the pair of vampires. A quick roll into a more secure position and it was only a matter of a few precise moves before Jennifer was able to stake one of the looming vampires. He screamed and clutched at his chest as he turned to dust before her eyes.
“You killed Joaquin!” The lone vampire was shocked and amazed by her efforts, surprised that she had managed to gain the upper hand in such a short amount of time. “I loved Joaquin!” He gasped before recklessly lunging at her.
Jennifer certainly had no hesitation taking advantage of his recklessness. "Joaquin was careless!" she said as she thrust the stake into the next. "And so were you!"
The vampire toadies that had been created by Damian were not the best and brightest of the bunch and despite her mutant abilities being removed, Jennifer’s training combined with the boons her bite had given her made her a much stronger opponent than any of the mewling teenagers this group normally fed on. With ease and grace she staked the vampire, allowing her to turn her attention towards Maeve and Damian.
“What is this mess of circus freaks?” One of the larger vampires asked as he moved into position with three of his friends. He sized up Desmond, Alaric, and Joey with a mixture of disgust and arrogance.
“There is a sideshow tent off the boardwalk.” Another stalking vampire replied, his body lean and built for speed. “I say we drop their bodies off there and see if they can charge people to view them.”
“Drain them first, I’m starving.” A small and greasy vampire replied to his mute friend who nodded in agreement.
“Dead before dawn.” The large one chuckled as took his stance and waited for the trio to make a move.
"Al, Des, do you think they're talking about us?" Joey asked deadpan. "If so, seems rather ironic for bloodsucking leeches to refer to other people as circus freaks," he added as he sized up the competition. The team was outnumbered, and the more spectacular powers would be off the table, considering the location underneath a functioning amusement park ride. "Besides, I think you owe my friend dinner first before you try to get his wood in your mouth," he quipped as fur sprouted from his body and bones popped for his shift to rodent form, nails elongating into switchblade sharp claws. "Catch me if you can, goth punk reject," he quipped, taking advantage of the greater strength and speed of his transformed form to make a dash and jump into the ride's superstructure.
Alaric watched as Joey's rat form dashed into the superstructure, teasing one of the vampires. He turned to Desmond and grinned. The infernal magic of Limbo was allowed to have free course through Alaric. The arcane runes on his flesh glowed with a controlled darkness as a hellish circle and emblems formed on the floor around him.
"Animae corruptae, non intrabitis." Corrupt souls, you will not enter. On the edges of that circle arose violet flames, knee high. While they were there as part of his incantations, they still provided a kind of dark light. "Sanguis damnatus, recede!" Damned blood, withdraw! The temperature dropped as the shadows around Alaric surged outward like a cold fire towards two of the vampires.
He turned back to Desmond. "I can drop you through a portal on top of that one, if you want."
“Nah, I’m good.” Desmond growled as his anger began to grow. He was sick of the vampires and their cocky, stalking behavior. They had invaded the mansion, murdered dozens on the boardwalk, and now they toyed with them. Watching Maeve ascend from the corner of his eye was the final straw. “You and me, big guy!” He roared before charging towards the large vampire
The vampire moved in a blur of motion, his long dark coat rustling with him as he moved. His claws raked across Desmond’s chest, wood chips flying where keratin met bark. The wasted no time as its fangs struck, sinking into Desmond’s neck and only finding splinters.
The vampire recoiled, hissing. “What are you?”
“Your worst nightmare.” Desmond replied as his arms twisted and elongated, branches cracking outward. Vines whip through the air like living whips, coiling around the vampire’s limbs. The vampire began to thrash but the roots kept spreading.
“Hey! Get back here you little weasel!” The lean and quick vampire snapped but the instinct to chase and to hunt was too strong and he chased after Joey into the densely organized infrastructure of the roller coaster.
The rat man scoffed. "Really? Weasel. Mr. Renfield was right, you really are as lost as a fart in a fan factory. I'm clearly a rodent," he quipped as he moved. He was depending on the awkwardness of moving through the structure to give him an opening to do something more than run. He gaged and made another jump, catching himself and using his claws to anchor himself with one arm while he aimed a kick at his pursuer, hoping to catch him off guard while jumping.
The vampire hit the beams with a thud and a crack, the force of the impact caused the wooden scaffolding to tremble around them. While the structure was meant to absorb the force of the whizzing roller coaster overhead, it was clear they would have to be careful in the forest of supports otherwise they risked compromising the ride that continued to run over their heads.
“Renfield is a bitch.” The vampire groaned as he rubbed the back of his head, temporarily dazed from the blow. “Why have you been talking to him? What did he say?”
Another voice suddenly appeared from behind Joey, the vampire Maeve had managed to fend off had sought refuge in the shadows while his lacerations healed. “Shut up Man, don’t talk to the mouse about that stuff. End him now.”
“My head hurts.” The first vampire groaned but he recovered fast enough, reaching out for Joey’s long tail with that same supernatural speed they all seemed to possess. “Do you think his head is easy to twist off?”
“Do it.” The second vampire said with a laugh as Joey was dragged in for the kill.
Joey gave a disgruntled noise at having his tail grabbed. "Well, he was certainly better mannered than you," he grumbled. "Also said you were idiots, something I rather agree with," he added as he focused on keeping the vampire's hands occupied with his tail. It was, after all, hard to twist his head off when holding a rat tail. Smirking, he pushed off the structure, using his own enhanced strength and the moment of the vampire pulling him to propel him. He lashed out with his hands, managing to miss his original intent of driving his claws into the vampire but serendipitously driving them into his neck instead. He had a slight moment of surprise when the vampire turned to dust, leaving his claws covered with dark ichor, but he recovered quickly and launched himself at the laughing vampire who also did not seem to have caught up, aiming another strike of his claws and more or less the other's heart. "Maybe instead of worrying about my head, you should consider a human-sized rat has claws that are larger and sharper than most bears on this continent," he added.
Joey's feral nature took over in that moment as adrenaline flooded his mind and his body moved without instruction. He clawed and gnashed at the laughing vampire who was unprepared for the flurry of attacks struck again and again. In a death by a thousand cuts, the vampire succumbed to Joey’s attack, turning to ash before his eyes but not before covering Joey in that terrible black ichor that was the vampire’s blood.
The silent vampire became entangled in the shadows Alaric provided but there was no fear in his reaction, just a cold and calculated gaze before he melted away, vanishing into the darkness that the vampires seemed to thrive in. He appeared a moment later, flanking Alaric with more of his cool stare.
“Oh a magic man,” The greasy haired vampire said in a mocking tone. “It’s a good thing we have our own tricks.” He locked eyes with Alaric and after a moment of their eyes meeting he felt a strong pull inside of him. A telepathic suggestion whispered through his mind, surrender.
Alaric heard the cool voice in his mind as the word surrender was spoken. He paused a moment, dropping his gaze to the ground. The voice and word echoed in his mind like a metal pipe dropped on the stone floor of a great cathedral. The pull was strong. He shook his head, attempting to clear his mind of the intruder, and looked back up to the vampire. He closed his eyes a moment and took a deep breath before opening them.
His eyes glowed yellow as a wicked smile crossed his face and horns grew from his forehead. And with a guttural demonic voice, he said, "The Lord of Limbo surrenders to no one." Alaric put his hand to his chest and formed the soul sword. It normally glowed purple and silver for the Alaricus Tantus. But in the presence of the vampires, it ignited with a white-blue soulfire.
He immediately opened a shadow gate directly behind him that led to Limbo itself and stepped through. In an instant, it closed and another one opened directly behind the vampire that had tried to infiltrate his mind. DarkFang stepped through and closed the Shadow gate. His leather wings were close to his back and his tail was coiled up behind him. He slashed the vampire through his torso, cutting upwards from his waist and through his heart. The soul sword didn't cause physical damage, but it did do something.
DarkFang took an offensive stance, sword at the ready, and cocked his head to the side while looking at the other two. "Next."
“You have a sword?!” The lingering vampire gawked as he watched Alaric slash and end his coven brother, his body turning to dust like the others who had died. Amazed by the weapon he began to circle and summarize Alaric. “If I kill you, do I get to keep it?”
Darkfang stepped forward once, slow and predatory, the Soulsword ready to strike. He coiled his tail around his feet to the front and dragged a line in the dust between them. Then he took a couple of steps back.
A low growl escaped his throat. The following word was less spoken than exhaled; a cold promise, a lethal warning, and a challenge all at once.
"Try."
“Oh, he likes to roughhouse.” The vampire chuckled before cracking his knuckles and taking one slow deliberate step closer to the line Alaric had made. “Then let’s go.” He lunged not at Alaric but at the shadows by his side, melting into them before appearing behind DarkFang. Claws raked through one of his leathery wings, shredding it to ribbons, before vanishing into the shadows once more.
The strike ripped through DarkFang’s wing, splitting membrane into ribbons. He staggered with the force of it as searing pain flared white-hot up his spine. He inhaled slowly before turning to face the shadows and channeled the agony into anger.
"Coward," he growled.
A predator, his glowing eyes narrowed as he searched for the faintest ripple of a shadow where none should move. Limbo had taught him that darkness always whispered before it struck. And there it was, a hint of displacement...a whisper of movement. He plunged the Soulsword straight into the veil of shadow itself in a violent arc. An executioner’s stroke sharpened by agony. The blade shimmered and cut through the vampire with the same ease as before.
Only then, with his wing shredded and burning, did he straighten. The repair could wait. Pain was still useful.
With a creak and groan of wood the vampire that Desmond had strangled with his hands popped into the same mess of black ichor that the vampire in the bathroom had been filled with before his remains turned to ash. It was a foul and grizzly end for the largest vampire in the group.
But before he could stand or correct himself, Desmond felt another pair of hands and the weight of a body across his back and broad shoulders. Snarling and enraged, the spry vampire began to claw and rip at his neck and head with an animalistic level of ferocity.
Desmond roared and with all the strength and might of a sequoia he reached out and grappled with the scrambling, enraged vampire. Using pure strength and rage he rendered another vampire, ripping it in two with his bare hands in a brutal fashion.
“Lookie here! Fresh meat.” The vampire squealed in delight as he blocked Hayden and Kennedy from leaving. The two were closest to the exit but the three vampires who moved towards them didn’t seem to be concerned with their position.
The two appeared to be the least threatening to the vampires, the easiest to take down and offer to Damian.
“Can we taste them first? Just a small bite.” A blonde vampire with a leering gaze asked as he ran his fingers through Hayden’s hair as he stalked past the two.
“You can play with them a little, let them watch their friends die.” A more composed and smooth vampire replied as the darkness enveloped him and surrounded Kennedy and Hayden. Soon it was pitch black and neither one of them could see anything but inky darkness, “The fear makes them taste sweeter.”
The vampire’s touch in her hair was the spark. Panic surged, and with it, her pulse. The air around her dampened and suddenly the floor began to glisten. Water leaked from cracks, from the very air, gathering around her feet and rising. Then it burst forth like a wave at high tide, straight into the vampire.
“Don’t touch me,” she gasped, her voice low and trembling with the fury of a tempest.
“She’s scared,” The vampire laughed as he picked up on the tremble in Hayden’s voice.
“Stop!” Kennedy snapped as she surveyed the pacing vampires. They were fast and the two outnumbered but they didn’t appear to know what Hayden and Kennedy could actually do. Being underestimated has its advantages.
Pulling a safety pin from her purse Kennedy pricked her finger and allowed the blood to swell and drip. The blood was a dark red in the poorly lit space. The smell and sight of it changed everything as the trio of vampires turned electric with hunger and desire.
“Come and get it,” Kennedy baited them as she took a few steps away from everyone.
Without hesitation, the three vampires pounced on her with savage snarling growls rising in their throats.
She watched as the three vampires quickly jumped on Kennedy, instinct seeming to override rational thought. But they weren't the only ones. Hayden thrust her arm out, fingers splayed, and pulled together the rancid moisture in the room to form solid spheres of water around the vampires heads. It was her attempt to keep them from biting Kennedy.
"Leave her alone!" she yelled. In her heightened emotional state, Hayden's eyes turned blue as they did that day she manipulated the ocean waves to slow the cargo ship. It was then that she could sense a tiny river flowing. But they were underground and close to an ocean, not a river of any size. Let alone a tiny one.
She put out her other hand and moved it around the room to try and sense this small river. When it stopped on one of the vampires attacking Kennedy, Hayden realized she was sensing the water in his blood as it coursed through his veins. She quickly made a fist and stopped the flow of the water in his blood vessels.
The vampire in Hayden’s grasp suddenly halted in his attack, his body became rigid as his eyes filled with panic and fear. He thrashed against her hold from the inside but his wild movements were pointless as he began to choke and sputter. Drowning in his own fluids the vampire began to roll on the ground in horror before he gagged and stilled. Black liquid leaked from his mouth before he too turned to ash next to Kennedy and her attackers.
“What the fuc-” The vampire on top of Kennedy paused and watched as his friend died without being touched right before his eyes, but his reaction was cut short as Kennedy wasted no time taking advantage of the destruction Hayden had provided.
Placing her hand on the vampire’s wrist she charged him with kinetic energy until he was radiant and sparkling with glittery golden light. The vampire was ethereal for a moment before he exploded into a mess of black ichor that coated Kennedy head to toe.
“My suede boots!” Kennedy shouted as she looked down in horror at the mess that now covered her.
“Whoa now, ladies!” The last vampire of the trio that had attacked them was suddenly scared after watching two members of his coven die so effortlessly. He took a few steps away from them, his hands raised. “Let’s work this out, okay? We got off on the wrong foot.”
She looked at Kennedy with a mixture of disgust from the goop and sympathy about her clothes. And hair. "At least it'll wash out of your hair," she said, trying to look for a silver lining.
Eyes still as blue as torrents, she took a defensive stance toward the vampire and slowly sidestepped toward Kennedy. "What do you want? Who do you work for? And don't point to that circus peanut up there." She nodded her head towards Damian.
“What do I want?” The vampire sniveled as he continued his slow steps away from them. “What I want doesn’t matter. It’s what the Master asks of us, what he hopes to achieve. We all listen to him, his call compels us all.” He glanced up towards the conflict on the ramp, Damian’s bloodlust consumed him as the mutants began to surround him. “Let me go and I’ll put in a good word for you.”
"Oh wow," Hayden said dryly. "A good word from the undead intern." She shook her head and held out her hand, sensing the water in his blood and slowing it slightly. "You really think we’re letting you walk away so you can snack on someone else later?" she asked. "Not happening."
Hayden swallowed hard, but her voice stayed steady as she held him in that invisible vice. "I don’t want to do this," she said, more to herself than to him or Kennedy. "But I’m not letting you hurt anyone else."
She clenched her fist tightly as she'd done before and stopped the flow of water through his veins.
The vampire gasped and spasmed as the black ichor that moved through his veins stilled and he became uncomfortable and tortured. His skin shriveled and his body mummified before turning to ash.
Jennifer ran to Maeve as she finished with her own vampires. Damian was already beginning to feast. She knew the changes he would be working on Maeve. She had experienced them herself. She immediately tried to physically pull them apart. In her eyes was anger at the vampire, worry for her friend, but a hint, just a tiny hint, of jealousy. Yes, Jennifer knew all too well what Maeve now contended with. But it did not rule her. "You don't want it, Maeve," she said gently as she looked to Damian. "Neither of us want this."
Jennifer’s pleas had fallen on deaf ears as Damian continued to feast on Maeve, slow melodic sucking sounds that almost reminded them of a lover’s. His bloodlust was deep and focused as he intended to drain Maeve and leave her like so many others who had been taken from Coney Island.
A single hand let go of Maeve and found the pawing and begging Jennifer by his side. With that unmatched speed he took hold of Jennifer’s throat and gripped it tightly until she began to choke and gasp from his hold, then with a single forceful movement he picked up and tossed Jennifer from the edge of the wooden ramp, letting her fall 20 feet to the ground below.
It was Maeve Jennifer had needed to hear her. Or had thought she had. She wasn't quite sure if her friend had heard or had even needed to hear. She had little time to think of such things when Damian had grasped her around the throat and held her out over empty air, choking the life from her. Her hands rose to claw at his as she struggled for breath. She was feeling dizzy. She kicked out as hard as she could. She wasn't sure if Damian looked up. She wasn't sure if she made him let go or he dropped her with a dismissive lack of concern. She was falling just the same.
Maeve didn’t think.
She couldn’t.
The world had narrowed to the hot pull at her throat, the sick rhythm of Damian drinking her, and the distant sight of Jennifer falling through empty space.
Something inside her broke open.
A sound tore from Maeve’s chest — not a scream, not a word, something raw and animal — and she slammed her forearm up with a force she didn’t know she had. Not angled. Not careful.
She hit him like she wanted to break him in half.
Damian’s head snapped back with a crack, and the motion ripped his fangs free in one brutal tear.
Blood spattered the wooden beams.
Most of it was hers.
Maeve staggered as the spray hit her own cheek, the warmth sluicing down her collarbone in a rush far too fast to be safe. Her hand flew to her throat, but the wound was wide, ragged, torn open, her fingers slipping against the hot pulse of it.
Her knees buckled.
For a lurching heartbeat, the world went dim at the edges.
But beneath the weakness… something else surged. A rush of strength, sharp as lightning, cold and intoxicating. Her muscles thrummed like they were made of coiled wire. Her senses sharpened — Damian’s breath, Jennifer’s distant heartbeat, the grit under her boots — all suddenly too loud, too real.
'Good,' the whisper purred, luxuriating in the spill of her blood.
'Power always costs. Let it fill the space you’ve made.'
Maeve forced herself upright, hand still clamped to her throat, blood streaming hot between her fingers. She swayed — half from the strength overwhelming her, half from the blood loss threatening to drag her under.
Her voice was a rasp, barely carrying:
“Try touchin’ me again,” she spat, breath trembling with fury and something perilously close to hunger. “See what happens.”
Damian wiped her blood from his mouth, eyes gleaming at the sight of her — trembling, bleeding, and somehow more deadly than before.
And Maeve couldn’t tell whether the shiver that ran through her was fear…
…or the terrifying thrill of wanting to strike again.
Landing was not a great difficulty for Jennifer. She was skilled and faster and stronger now. But she was trembling and shaken nonetheless and for reasons she had trouble articulating even in her own head. She looked around for the stake she had been using. She must have lost it somewhere around here. She got down on her hands and knees, poking around in the wreckage, for her hand to finally grasp it. She looked up. She couldn't get up there anything close to fast enough so she tossed the stake to her teammate. "Maeve!"
Maeve barely heard Jennifer hit the ground below — the world was a wash of noise, heartbeat-loud and pulsing in her ears. Her free hand pressed hard to her throat, fingers slick and slipping as more blood seeped hot through them. The world dipped sideways for a moment, her vision swimming.
Then—
“Maeve!”
Something whistled through the air.
Her eyes snapped toward it on instinct, sharp and unnatural, the way a predator’s might. The stake spun end-over-end, catching a glint of the dim light filtering through the beams.
Before she even thought, her body moved.
Faster than she should have been able to move.
Faster than she’d ever moved in her life.
Her hand shot out, snatching the stake from the air with a crack of speed that startled even her. The impact jarred her wrist, sent another hot spill of blood down her neck, but she held on.
A dizzy wave hit her — the strength flooding her limbs clashing with the cold weakness hollowing out her chest. She swayed, forced her feet to plant, forced her breath to steady.
Damian’s eyes flared with interest as Maeve’s did with defiance.
She turned the stake in her hand, breath ragged as she clamped her other arm tighter over the torn bite. Her voice came out raw, low, shaking between pain and something darker.
“Thanks, Jen,” she rasped. “Could use a bit of payback.”
She lifted the stake, staggered forward, and prepared to meet Damian’s hungry smile with something he did not expect.
Hayden arrived shortly after Alaric and was taking in the chaos around Damian.
Jennifer didn't know why she was standing there still staring after she threw the stake to Maeve. Well, she did. She was just not comfortable with her own thoughts. The best answer was that she wanted to see Maeve, who Damian had been seeking to kill, kick his ass and she had confidence her friend could handle it herself. Less flattering, she was afraid to face Damien again, even with the same powers Maeve now wielded. He had almost choked the life out of her. Maybe she had gotten loose but it had felt more like he'd just discarded her. Even less flattering, there was a feeling of being discarded. As horrified as she was at the alternative, something in her was wounded how, after one of them made her like this, the vampires she had met since seemed rather dismissive of it. She didn't like that part of herself but the infection had done more than change her powerset. She felt different than she had before.
Whatever the case, she shook her head to clear away those thoughts. The X-Men were a team. She looked to the others. "Let's help her out," before starting back up to the battle. She could no longer fly but she moved faster than she ever had before. Even so, maybe the fight would be finished before she got there, but she wasn't going to stand around and wait for that.
Maeve didn’t think — she just went.
Her fingers tightened around the stake Jennifer had thrown her, slipping a little because of the blood all over her hand. Every heartbeat sent another hot pulse down her neck where Damian had torn into her, and it was… too much. Too fast. She swayed for half a second before she forced her body forward again.
Except her body didn’t feel like her own.
Everything was too sharp. Too fast.
Too easy to move, even with her knees shaking.
There was a strange echo inside her chest, like a second pulse that wasn’t hers.
'Go on,' something whispered — not a voice, exactly, more like a feeling curling under her ribs. 'Don’t stop now.'
Maeve grit her teeth and launched herself at Damian.
She hit him harder than she expected — shoulder-first, driving into him with a force that came out of nowhere. The burst of speed almost startled her. She barely registered her boots hitting the ramp before she’d already swung the stake up, trying to get it anywhere on him — heart, ribs, it didn’t matter.
Her balance tipped on the follow-through. Blood loss made the edges of everything tilt, and the ground felt like it kept shifting under her feet. She shoved her hair out of her eyes with a shaky breath and came at him again anyway.
Not aiming cleanly.
Not trying to kill him outright.
Just wanting him off her — away from her throat, away from her friends.
A low, angry sound tore out of her — not quite a growl, not quite a word. She barely recognized her own voice.
Warm blood slid down her collarbone in a slow, steady line. Her legs trembled like they might give out at any moment, but she forced them to keep moving because if she fell now, that was it. She knew it. She felt it in her bones.
So she swung again, arm burning, vision flickering at the edges.
She didn’t stop.
She couldn’t.
From the side, Joey had finished off the chuckling vampire and was able to focus on Maeve and what was going on. He hadn't been able to do anything about Jennifer's fall, but he could help the injured Irish girl. What he saw looked more like a hurt, frightened, cornered animal fighting than the collected girl from the boardwalk earlier. That made it dangerous to put himself in front of her, as he was not altogether certain he would not get a stake in the back for his trouble. Instead, he made a few leaps through the structure to place himself in a position to do something if the opportunity presented itself.
Kennedy’s attention also turned towards Maeve and Jennifer now that the last of the vampires had been taken out, leaving only Damian remaining. The coven leader was wild eyed and disheveled after his encounter, his actions now turning desperate once he realized that he was alone. With her collapsible bow already in hand, she created another arrow and aimed for the vampire’s head.
Damian’s focus on Maeve was suddenly pulled away as he had to dodge and roll to avoid the arrow that hit and damaged the support beam behind him. The sudden jump forward put him into Joey's range of attack and Damian actually screamed when the rat-like claws scratched across his once handsome face and across his eyes. Temporarily blinded, he recoiled and covered his face in pain.
Damian’s scream ripped through the beams above them—high, sharp, furious. His hands flew to his ruined eyes, black ichor streaming between his fingers as he staggered, half-blind and flailing.
Maeve saw her opening.
Or maybe she didn’t see it so much as feel it.
Her body moved before her brain caught up.
She pushed off the ramp in a burst of speed that didn’t feel like hers—too sharp, too clean, too easy for someone who’d just been half-drained. Her head spun, her throat burned, but her legs still carried her forward like she’d been wound too tight and finally let go.
She hit Damian from behind, shoulder slamming between his shoulder blades. The impact jolted up her spine, nearly knocking her back, but she clung on, teeth gritted.
“This—” she rasped, voice torn and rough, “—is for Jennifer—”
She brought the stake up in both hands.
“—and for every lass you sank your teeth into—”
She drove it down with everything she had left.
It wasn’t clean. It wasn’t pretty. Her arms shook, her grip slipped on the blood-slick wood, but the point still punched through muscle and bone, burying deep into his heart from behind.
Damian’s whole body jolted.
He choked on a sound that was half-growl, half-gargle—
—and then he stopped.
For a heartbeat he hung there, impaled, unmoving.
Then his body began to break.
Not like a person dying—no slow collapse, no weight dragging her down. He went light all at once, his form cracking and crumbling from the inside out. The fine black ichor that passed for his blood turned powder-dry, his skin flaking, his outline coming apart like burned paper.
Maeve staggered back as Damian disintegrated, collapsing into a cloud of ash and dust that blew apart on the draft under the coaster. The stake clattered to the ramp where his chest had been a second before.
There was nothing left of him but grime on her clothes and the reek of his death in the air.
“—and for me,” she finished under her breath, though he was gone and couldn’t hear it.
The victory lasted all of three seconds.
Then the world tilted.
The rush of strength that had carried her through the fight fizzled at the edges, clashing hard with the reality of how much blood she’d lost. Her legs went soft. The ramp swayed under her feet like a boat in rough water.
Her hand flew to her throat on instinct. It came away slick and red.
“Oh… shite,” Maeve whispered, the word barely air.
Her vision narrowed to a tunnel—dust motes, broken beams, smears of movement where her teammates were—and then even that blurred. She tried to take a step and her knees simply… didn’t.
The last thing she registered was the taste of iron at the back of her throat and that warm, content little purr in her head:
“See? Power suits you.”
Maeve’s eyes rolled back, and she crumpled where she stood, the world dropping out from under her as the darkness finally caught up.
“Maeve!” Desmond roared as he watched her crumble above him, with a speed that was fueled by adrenaline he ran to her. Gathering her up in his tree trunk size arms he carried her with ease. Despite her limp weight, she still felt lighter than usual.
“Everyone else, okay?” Kennedy asked as they collected themselves. It was in the aftermath of a battle that the real feelings and injuries managed to appear, once their hearts stopped racing and the blur of combat stopped. But with a few nods of their heads it was agreed that the rest of the Alternate Class was accounted for.
As Joey returned to the group, a trio of rats appeared before him with a couple of objects in their mouths.
From the warehouse, their leader squeaked up at him as the two rats dropped the items at his feet. They slept there when the sun came up, but most of their stuff was trash but these things seemed important. Joey knew rats were far smarter than anyone really gave them credit for and these three proved them to him as they delivered a matchbook from a nightclub along with a business card. A name and a location were a great lead to follow.
~* ‘X-men, it appears you’ve stopped the vampires of Coney Island but at some expense.’ *~ Jean’s voice slipped through their thoughts and Alaric began to conjure a portal to take them home.
Xavier’s school appeared on the other side of Alaric’s portal, it was snowing farther north and the school’s ground was blanked in a dusting of snow that would melt by morning. It was a sharp contrast to the warm spring sun they had felt hours ago at the medical tent. Dr. Reyes was already opening the door to greet them, her attention on Desmond as he carried Maeve inside.
~* ‘While you have stopped a band of murders from killing innocent bystanders, I fear there are more that need to be discovered. Rest and recover and after that, we have much to discuss.’ *~
-TBC-
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