She had the sense to stay silent when she opened her eyes. There was a foul taste in her mouth, and she could still smell the scent of chloroform. She turned her head carefully, prepared for yet another attack. It never came. She lay on the floor, on top of the lab coat, covered with a thick blanket from her throat to her toes. Her hands were free. There was no sign of her captor anywhere. Instead of Wolverine five men, dressed to black uniforms, wearing black gas masks stared down at her. As soon as she moved to sit up the barrels of their guns turned to point at her. She shrugged off the blanket and raised her hands above her head, giving them her best impression of puzzled, scared little girl. Trembling lower lip, wide eyes and everything. Lab coat that had revealed from under her strengthened the impression. Guns were still pointing at her, but she could see men holding them relaxing visibly. Nothing to worry about here. Just a scared lady doctor, survived from the halon and the maniac running around rampant on pure luck.
She waited for the exact moment. The moment when even the last one of them had filed her away as nothing important, certainly nothing threatening, before she made her move, turning on her hands and knees, twisting her hips sharply, sweeping all five of them down on the floor with a one powerful sweep of her legs. Guns went off, but their aim was ruined. She could feel few bullets scraping her, one took away the tip of her ear, but it wasn’t important. She’d have the time to look in to it later. Right now the important thing, priority number one was to disarm all five of them permanently.
She crushed the windpipe from two of them with her knees, head butted third one to unconsciousness and grabbed bare wrists of the two still breathing and operational, pinning them down with the power they had given her. When she felt them shrivel away, and their pulse disappeared she turned her attention back to the one she had only hurt, intending to finish him off. She managed to catch a glimpse of his booted feet before they disappeared behind the corner further down the corridor. She let out a low growl, sprinting after him. Her right. Her kill. Nobody had the right to take it away from her.
She skidded to a halt when she rounded the corner. Wolverine stood there holding the unconscious man propped against the wall with his left forearm. His right hand was busy removing the man’s clothing. Trousers, vest and a shirt dropped to the floor. Gas mask followed suit. She knew Wolverine had heard her approaching. He had merely glanced over his shoulder, acknowledging her presence and turned his attention back to the man in front of him.
He jostled the limp form around, man’s face pressed against the wall and started undoing the zipper of the jeans he was wearing. She could only stand and watch. Wolverine turned to look at her, one hand holding the man, other stroking his own, rock hard cock.
“You already had your fun, bitch. Back off. This one’s mine…” He growled, positioning himself and plunging in, rousing the unconscious man from the stupor and tearing bloodcurdling scream from his throat.
Wolverine took his time with his victim, making him scream and bleed, beg for mercy, assaulting his anus first, and when the man stopped screaming and went limp he let him fall on the floor to a seated position. She could see blood pooling under the man who was only barely conscious. Wolverine took a firm grip from his short-cropped hair, keeping his head upright, and knocked off his teeth with his other hand before fucking his face, and finally suffocating him with his cock. Just after that he seemed satisfied enough to let himself go, and he shuddered, thrusting sharply few times before discarding the body on the floor, tucking his spent cock back in and zipping his jeans.
“Happy now?” She asked. Wolverine narrowed his eyes.
“No. But it’s a good start,” he grunted, kicking the corpse lying at his feet. She eyed his clothes enviously. From where he had managed to find civilian clothing in here puzzled her. Jeans, comfortable looking flannel shirt and sturdy looking brown boots. Well, beggars can’t be choosers. She picked up the clothes he had stripped off from the man he had maimed and tried them on. They were from the larger side, but fortunately the man had had a narrow waist. His belt stopped the trousers from falling off completely. They rode low on her hips, but the long waist of the shirt covered the strip of bared skin nicely.
“Ready to go?” Her grim companion asked. He had been shuffling his feet impatiently the whole minute it took her to arrange her clothing so that she wouldn’t trip down when she started to move around.
“Soon. Aren’t you going to finish him off?” She asked, pointing at the body that had started twitching on the floor. Wolverine’s eyes narrowed again. This time the expression wasn’t one of annoyance. Utter confusion flickered over his features momentarily, then he shrugged his wide shoulders, stepped on the skull of the man and grind it to a pulp under the heel of his boot.
“Better?” He spat the word out like it was a curse rather than a question. She nodded. Suddenly Wolverine tilted his head, his ears visibly perking up.
“You left some unfinished business back there as well…” He huffed, then suddenly reached towards her, grabbing her now covered shoulders and throwing her on the floor.
“Get down.”
She heard firing from behind her back. Wolverine stepped over her, swaying slightly, and tore forward, his angry howl nearly drowning the echo of the guns and the sickening sound of the bullets tearing in to flesh. She could feel something wet, warm and sticky raining on her back, then more growling, and a small screeching sound, like nails on a chalkboard. She dared a quick glimpse over her shoulder, keeping her head still lowered.
Wolverine was running in the hail of bullets towards four black clad figures at the end of the corridor, his claws oozing out through his knuckles. She could see bullets piercing his flesh, and craters they left knitting shut almost instantly. She closed her eyes and tried to crawl inside of the floor when she realized what the sticky substance on her back was. She was splattered quite generously to bits and pieces of Wolverine.
She heard more growling. Guns were now silent. Wolverine was cursing. Soft thuds when something heavy hit the floor. Then an angry snort and footsteps coming to her direction. She rolled up and met Wolverine’s gaze. He was walking towards her, carrying a severed head from the eye sockets of the gas mask, raising it higher and shaking it.
“This is how it’s done. This! Looks like they did a bang up job when they worked on you and gave you your ‘gift’,” he hissed, dropping the head and kicking it sharply when it was still falling towards the floor. The head bounced from the walls and ceiling like a soccer ball, thudding softly forward until it disappeared from her view, bouncing down a set of stairs in front of them.
“Well, excuse me if I don’t meet your strict criteria. I’m not quite the psychopath as you are. They didn’t stir up my head quite as much as they apparently did for yours… And besides, they were dead when I left them. No pulse, no heartbeat,” she quipped. Wolverine grimaced.
“Right. Sure they were. That’s why they were still walking around and firing at us…” He snorted and started walking towards the stairs.
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