It had not just been an appearance of lightning, no. The entire atmosphere of the street had stirred and thickened with the weight of the clouds gathering above so much that it threatened to buckle. The sky bruised from grey to black as swaths of clouds continued roiling while a long shadow spread the ground with a sudden and biting cold. One and two more lightning strikes hit for good measure and a controlled, coiling wind began surging into an obscuring veil to conceal the figure at its centre.
"Cain Marko!"
The name cracked through the street like a third lightning bolt and was followed by a thunderclap so loud that the pavements trembled to it. Another flash split the darkness through the middle and there she stood, wreathed in stormlight, her cape snapping violently in a wind that swept and rushed forward. Ororo Monroe.
"Stand down!"
The man now known as Cain turned as the lightning struck the ground, and Sif looked as a booming voice cut through the thunder. It wasn't the one she wasn't expecting, though; it still held a sense of power and presence. However, there was an element of grace, too. The rain eased, as if it didn't deign to interrupt her words.
"You ain't my Queen. I tried it, I took my pardon and tried your little island way of life. Just leave me alone!" He grabbed one of the nearby carriages, groaning slightly with the exertion, and he threw it directly towards this newcomer. He had forgotten, however, about the six-foot-tall, muscled woman he had just been fighting.
Sif launched herself from her spot on the ground, diving through the air. The sword collided with the vehicle, slicing through it. Steel and glass alike, a perfect cut down the centre of the vehicle as the two halves landed harmlessly at either side of Sif and the Storm-Goddess. Sif turned to glance at the woman.
"You are not the Goddess I was expecting, though I am glad for the aid. Let us fell this beast quickly."“True I am not,” Storm responded, although unsure of what the woman meant and uncertain of who she possibly could have been expecting. She was grateful for her fast action all the same and did not need to be told twice. Her hands raised and with another almost effortless sweep of them the air thickened and began bending to her will as if she was pulling the very heavens down; they twisted and stretched into a wall of wind that roared and swirled until they each became just part of its centre. The unforgiving eye of the storm. This sacred and isolated arena was a blocked off battlefield to deal with the menace, Juggernaut himself.
Storm huffed a breath and her eyes narrowed with an impatience that for those who knew her was recognisable as boredom. “We would leave you, if ever you could be trusted to keep your hands clean for once.” With a sharp snap, her arms moved again and shot outwards as her fingers snapped together. A bright and quick flash of lightning leapt from her fingertips and struck the ground near his feet, forcing him off balance as the air then thrummed with electric tension.
Agh The behemoth stumbled slightly as he was knocked back, eyeing up the two women before him.
"You don't get to tell me what to do!" He put his head down, and he charged.
Over the roar of the wind and the echo of the thunder, Sif could hear the behemoth's feet
thunk, thunk, thunk with increasing severity. Cracks formed in the road, growing in increasing severity. The cracks grew in size until eventually they became the divots. Sif stood with her sword pointed directly towards the troll. At the last second, Sif ducked down and swiped for his legs. As she ducked down, he jumped, transferring all his momentum into the air as he took off, heading towards the floating goddess. Sif winced, dropping the sword. With her left hand, she spun around on her heel, stabbing up as she used the weight of the sword in the turn to maintain her balance.
Sif's hand brushed his boot and grabbed with all her strength. Her entire body shook with the force, stabbing the sword into the ground to act as an anchor in an attempt to stop him, at minimum. At best, she hoped to swing him off-course, guiding him towards some form of pole that sat at the edge of the paved street.
"If only you made better choices," Storm thundered out, "we would not be standing against one another now." Juggernaut didn't answer, instead he moved with the inevitability of a bull's charge. Singular in its direction. Thinking fast, Storm reacted with instinct and turned her wrists and then crossed them hard, letting her palms cut through the air and the atmosphere obeyed.
Under her control wind gathered again as a wall -- a compressed sheet of force that expelled forwards and met Juggernaut mid-stride. It met him with such loud reverberation that not only stopped him in his tracks, but redirected his momentum just as Sif had planned by having angled her own stance. Juggernaut's immense bulk was wrenched sideways and he was sent flying exactly where the warrior had intended. Storm closed the distance to Lady Sif with a controlled grace. Her boots barely touched the ground, she let her own residual currents carry her forward. "Now then," she said, her eyes still glimmering and glowing with warning light, "I am glad to have you in this fight but I'm sorry that our problem has crossed your path." Storm spoke with genuine regret.
In the distance, Juggernaut groaned, the pole had bent itself around his form.
"He is not done with this fight yet. One thing about Marko is he does not know when to stop."
Sif looked at this, Cain Marko as even now he shook his head in an attempt to shift the fog moving into his mind. She then turned to face the goddess herself. A look of absolution upon Sifs face.
"If this beast has been your foil before, and continues to be a formidable foe. Perhaps it would be easiest to sever his head from his torso?""Believe it or not, he has been useful to us." Storm admitted, though the woman was right, it simply wasn't the way that the X-Men dealt with their problems. Maybe wherever this warrior woman came from, that was how they solved their problems. "And he still deserves a chance," she breathed out with conviction, readying herself still for whatever would be next.
Sif scowled at the behemoth as the woman spoke.
This will make things more, difficult. She nodded resolutely.
"So be it. This is your realm." As Marko looked at them both, his face became as red as the helmet he wore.
"You bitches. There ain't nothing you can do to stop me." Marko walked towards Sif menacingly. Balling his hands into fists, he raised them in a guard before him, punching the air to knock some of the tension out of his body before pulling his arms back up. Sif smiled menacingly as he approached with his fists. Sheathing her sword, she approached him. The smile was still curling at the edges of her mouth. The first fist came flying at her, and she ducked below it.
Jabbing her elbow into his ribcage, as he stumbled passed she kicked out with her left leg into the back of his knee. Cain swore as he fell to his knees, but as Sif went in for the choke-hold, he pulled up a chunk of the road and tossed it at Sif, stopping her in her tracks. Twisting and dodging the rubble and debris. Sif shouted to the other woman.
"How do you fell such a beast, without killing it?"
Somewhere long ago,and far away...
The first parademon squealed as his gargantuan fist closed. There was a crack. Then a squelch, as the armour bone and flesh crumbled to his immense strength. The body twitched as it fell to the ground. He let out a low snarl, his long snout quivering slightly as his upper lip curled. The snarl twisted in his throat, becoming a low guttural growl as his white eyes narrowed into slits. All over his body muscle rippled and tensed as he stood to his full height, towering over the little demons. Reaching down, he grabbed the leg of the fallen demon, and with a whip and a
crack he tossed the body down the corridor. Some demons were caught by the carcass and sent flying; others jumped high onto the ceiling or ducked low. His heavy footsteps shook the very core of the vessel as he approached the nearest demon.
His voice, gravelly and low, betrayed the malice and his intent. Despite his calm and level tone.
"Rise, Demon! You have pursued me here, only to find death and when I am through with you, you shall welcome it. For I am Beta Ray Bill.Bill stomped his foot down, right into the sternum of the creature. With a satisfying pop, he turned his attention to the rest as they swarmed down the corridor towards him. Spinning on his left heel towards the first beast, he grabbed its outstretched hand. Twisting it to the right, he stuck his head into that of the demons. It stumbled back against it, and he followed the headbutt up with a left uppercut that knocked it off its feet and tore through flesh, ripping off its jaw and sending it stumbling, clutching its throat as it whined and screamed. Another came at him, and with a swift series of kicks and punches, he had cleared it as well. Black blood oozed out of wounds, congealing almost as soon as it left the bodies. Falling to the floor in frozen puddles that made every step treacherous.
His orange skin became less and less notable as he worked towards the breach; the demons clambered and clawed at him. Unable to break through his guard. They funnelled down towards him, the corridor turning to an abbatoir, as he worked his way past them, he gave each the same skill and care, with deadly care and grace. Bill progressed deeper and deeper into their number. Finally, Bill exploded from the breach in the hull amid a hail of blood, limbs and bodies like a grotesque geiser of death. Landing on the hull of the ship, he looked to the silent gun batteries. Sparks flew on them and around as Scuttlebutt attempted to repair itself. All around the ship, the stars flickered in and out of existence as the never-ending storm of Parademons worked and twisted their way around the vessel. Circling it, as predators with prey.
Bill pushed a snort of air out of his nose and shook his head, attempting to shake the cold spikes that clawed in at his heart. Their numbers were vast, but it was
his role. No. His
duty to protect this ship and the people that lay sleeping in cryo. The last of the Korbonites. Lest their mark on the universe be cleared for all eternity, and their legacy as nothing but the puppets for the masters of Apokalips.
He roared into the cosmos and the never-ending stream of foes. While his suit and enhancements kept him alive, the void denied him his rage. The cosmos stole his war cry, and this treachery just angered him further. Walking over to the hole in the ship, he ripped free a support beam. Twisting his hands on the metal, he smoothed one end down into a handle, slamming the other down on the hull of the ship, and flattened it into a crude hammer. Waving it above his head, and thundering his hand against his chest, he dared them to come for him.
They did.
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