As The World Turns Cold

The Final Fight

At the sound of that word, everyone leapt into action. Terrance began to tackle the three armed officials. He unearthed the flooring. The concrete ripped up from the ground in jagged sheets, making the brutes slip and lose balance. Terrance sent the unearthed sheets flying as knives flew towards their desired target, his head.

The boy and girl disappeared to the other side of the room as they fought their way through dozens of guards, using tricks of darkness to do so. Lily stood beside Miles, who acted as a bodyguard for the young girl. She wasn't capable of too much hand-to-hand combat, but she could deal a lot of damage with water. Provided that she had a supply handy, there was no limit to the extent of her powers.

Rogue launched himself towards the back of the room where many of the officials were heading off to grab the various objects and equipment hanging on the wall that could be used as weapons.

He created a whirlwind of air around the retreating forms. His palms faced upwards as he drew in the elements from their surroundings to entrap the runners. Mercy counted twenty-four men surrounded by his storm. By the way things were looking; they would lose all of the oxygen in their systems in a matter of minutes. The thought was hard to swallow. If anyone's power was the most frightful, it was Rogue's. He could suck the air right out of anyone that so much as looked at him the wrong way.

Mercy turned her attention to the group stationed in front of her. The doctor had disappeared somewhere in the chaos of it all. She'd have to find him later. Right now, her friends needed her to take down as many of the enemies as she could.

One man leapt straight at her. Mercy feinted to the side and landed a fierce blow to his stomach. The man hit the ground, clutching at his abdomen briefly before he wrapped a hand around Mercy's ankle. Pulling with enough force, the man had Mercy on the ground within moments.

She grunted at the impact and tried to shake free from his hold. Twisting and turning, Mercy kicked furiously at the man's face. She heard a sharp crack as her foot connected with his jaw. He didn't move again.

She pushed up on her feet as the next attacker stepped up to the plate. He was burly and grizzly with a beard longer than one she imagined the famous Santa Claus or a wizard would have. He was tatted up in every place his bare skin was showing and when he grinned all Mercy could see was a row of sharp, golden teeth.

The sight made Mercy cringe. Her momentary distraction offered the bear of a man the chance to break through her defenses. He charged her, his shoulder slamming into her collarbone and she spiraled through the air before crumpling on the ground. Mercy pushed herself up once again. She scowled.

"That was not okay." She huffed as the bite of charcoal singed her throat.

Her skin began its usual transformation and her senses sharpened. The man stumbled back at the sight of her. His eyes widened.

"What are you?"

His voice raised an octave of fear. He moved his hand in a cross formation against his chest at the sight of her scales and sharpened facial structure.

"I'm a fire-breather and you're about to see what I can really do."

The man whipped out his blade in a flurry of movement, landing blow after subtle blow on her forearms and torso. The attacks were too quick to feel any pain, but the blood trails on her arms led Mercy to the assumption that wounds could be fatal for such a weak shot. She scowled.

"More blood. How exciting."

A stream of fire flew from her fingertips, but Mercy couldn't register the feeling of it. She was focused entirely on the man burning beside her.