X-Men: The Raid (The End of the Battle) (Patreon)

(So, I thought I would write a quick ending to the battle part of this story, then give you guys the first part of a Powergirl story, but the "quick ending" turned out to not be quick :p. After this, I'll probably take a break from the X-Men for a bit and focus on shorter stories. Enjoy!)

Without Storm’s powers to maintain it, the squall that hung over Cornell college had already begun to dissipate. The black clouds were fading, sunlight breaking through in heavenly beams, distant thunder occasionally rumbling but trailing off. Everything was becoming brighter, the grass greener, even the paint on the buildings more vibrant, as if the world itself was becoming more cheerful as the storm clouds passed.

Callisto drew in a deep breath through her nose, enjoying the scent of dew. The light cutting through the clouds created a rainbow, something she hadn’t seen very often in the darkness of the underground. She hadn’t cared for them either, but now found the bright colors perfectly suitable.

It was becoming a beautiful day.

Surrounding the Morlock queen, her subjects cheered, both her name and just for the joy of it. It was almost her entire tribe, the warriors and the noncombatants, gathering when they’d heard the momentous news. They cried out from the windows in the surrounding buildings, crammed into the square itself, creating an atmosphere like a sports stadium. A ring of her elite warriors created an open space in the middle of the tumult, the stage for this audience.

In the middle of that stage, Callisto stood with quarterstaff in hand, basking in their adulation. With a few lieutenants by her side, she turned in a slow circle, looking around from face to face, letting them know she saw them all. This was their moment as much as hers.

Well, almost.

It had taken time to gather them all and find the props for the upcoming performance, but it would be worth it. They deserved the celebration, to see the fruits of their labors. None of them would question her leadership after this. The Morlocks would be her loyal army that would only grow, this moment a legend told for generations.

And in fact, they had all the time in the world. No one was coming to stop them now.

On the outskirts of the open ring, just inside the ring of warriors holding back the crowd, were the beaten forms of the X-Men, along with the Morlocks who had vanquished them. One after the other, the mutant “superheroes” been brought forward and dumped into the grass like sacks of laundry. Now they lay still, drugged and unconscious. They had all been accounted for.

The savage Wolverine was unmasked and lay on her side, her young face looking pretty and innocent more than ferocious. Her boots and gloves had been stripped off, her dark hair pooling in the grass, while behind her Miasma and Quartz and waved to the crowds. Her adamantium claws notably hung from a necklace around the latter’s neck, long and glittering in the sunlight.

On her back, head propped up on a pillow of her own leather jacket, Dazzler no longer looked so vibrant. Pale, her cheeks flushed, she groaned and turned her head, eyes open to slits. Her suit had been pulled down to the waist, her chest shining with sweat and soaking her satin blue bra. Pneumonia, nervous around the crowd, merely knelt beside the stricken X-Man, cooing and stroking her hair, soothing her amidst all the cheers.

The powerful Marvel Girl slept peacefully, her face turned to one side and pillowed on her red hair. Otherwise pristine, she looked like a fallen angel, beautiful in repose, all her power inert. Her bare legs gleamed, her skirt flipped enough just enough to show her golden undergarments, seeming lewd and silly on someone so elegant, but her vanquisher had wanted it that way. Lilith floated behind her, arms crossed and grinning.

Jubilee lay flat while Techno squirmed nervously beside her, not knowing what to do with all the praise. His eyes mostly stayed on the unconscious girl at his feet, the way her breasts rose and fell beneath her snug t shirt, the peak of her underwear showing through her unbuckled shorts. She wasn’t as physically impressive as the others, looking girlish and even cute as she lay there sleeping, but many still remembered her firepower and lippy verve. There would be no more of that for a while.

The only conscious X-Man was Domino, stripped and hogtied, occasionally wiggling in her bonds but having long given up attempts at escape. Her fury at her straits had faded and now, collared and powerless, she looked around with fear in her eyes, her brow pinched in distress. Gagged, she stayed completely quiet, looking small next to Angler, while the fishman pumped his fists in the air.

The seductive, deadly Psylocke was now bruised and well-ruffled, looking pitiful where she lay. Her conqueror had purposefully rolled the X-Man onto her stomach, so everyone could see the way her choice of costume framed the round globes of her backside. Her sleek hair was a mess, her costume scuffed and torn, many of the rings around her thighs hanging loose. Shiva wore a wry grin, her foot placed on the ninja’s back, a platform for her to pose and accept the praise which she was due.

Siryn’s scream was finally silenced, her fiercely pretty features still wet and shining from the Toad’s attentions. In a drugged haze, she looked somewhat like a baby in her crib, stirring occasionally and looking around in drowsy wonder at all the strange, confusion sights and sounds. Her movements were clumsy, preoccupied, like she didn’t even realize she was doing them, entirely in her own little world. Crouched beside her, the Toad grinned and stretched out his tongue, lapping it over her neck and cheek. Siryn blinked but otherwise didn’t react.

The mighty Rogue had fallen as well, her body lithe and impressive as she lay still. Her costume was tattered and opened in places, exposing bare skin that was no longer dangerous with the inhibitor collar on her neck. She had her own bruises and scuffs, a well-worn version of the powerhouse that had arrived on the battlefield. Sitting beside her, once again purely flesh and blood, Eel-ectric idly stroked her finger along the inside of a hole in the heroine’s leggings, enjoying the feel of Rogue’s skin on her own.

Of all of them, Kitty Pryde was certainly the most pitiful. The Triplets had stripped her entirely naked, put her hair in pigtails, and graffitied her nude body with lip stick and markers. “X-Loser” was written across her forehead, “Crybaby” across her stomach, and “Please! Spank!” on either side of her reddened bottom. Bright red kiss marks smattered all over slender body, bullseye’s drawn around her nipples with “Kitty Tittys!” written beneath and arrows marking them in case anyone was confused. The Triplets covered their mouths and giggled, endlessly entertained by displaying the beaten X-Man in this way. Kitty herself had mercifully fainted at some point, open-mouthed and sprawled on her side, so everyone could see all of the artwork.

Callisto kept her smile small as she gazed around at the defeated X-Men, merely pleased by a satisfactory outcome to the battle. She wanted her followers to see her content, perhaps even delighted, but not surprised in their victory. It should look like this was what she had planned all along, that all the Morlocks had to do was trust in her and she would lead them to defeat whatever foe faced them.

However, when her eyes went to the last member of the X-Men, she had difficulty not showing her glee.

Storm still looked resplendent, her body arched gloriously, long hair swept back as if in a gale. With her sumptuous curves so displayed, she looked like her goddess namesake, her silver coating gleaming and perfect, reflecting the sunlight. If one didn’t look closely at her horrified expression, the way her hand was reaching for help rather than to punish, it would seem as if she was triumphant, a vengeful spirit at the height of her power.

To keep her upright, the Storm statue’s pointed feet had been driven into the ground like tent stakes. Callisto had found it particularly amusing to watch Quartz set the X-Man in place, then knock her on the head a few times to drive her into the dirt. It was definitely her imagination, but she thought she saw the proud goddess’s eyes widen just a bit more as she sank lower with each blow, horrified at the indignity of being planted like a lawn gnome.

Callisto was fond of her new decoration. She’d already thought up a few different names for it, including “A Terror of Storm” and “A Goddess Falls”, which she thought would look lovely on a plaque set at the statue’s feet. She’d given serious thought to having Storm mounted and kept like this forever, a beautiful showpiece for her throne room. The image of the former goddess eternally frozen in a state of terror was delectable in itself.

Perhaps she would make Storm into such a statue. She would decide that later, but for now there were other things she needed to do. Storm had many other uses.

And now it was time.

Callisto gestured to two of her guards and they moved to Storm, taking the statuefied heroine under the arms and around the waist. They wiggled her out of the dirt, carried her to the center of the ring before their queen, then replanted her. They pushed her pointed toes into the grassy soil, thumped her on the shoulders a few times to drive them deeper, then slowly stepped back, watching carefully to make sure she didn’t fall.

The statue leaned forward, directing Storm’s gape of terror towards the ground, but it stayed up.

Another gesture and Gilding came forward. With a quarter staff in hand, the sister to the one Callisto held, she stopped beside her gleaming, silver masterpiece with a smirk of pride.

Everything was ready.

Callisto held up a hand.

At her gesture, the cheers quieted. They became less fervent, trailing off as most of the Morlocks stopped calling out, often nudging and hissing at their neighbors to be quiet. In a few seconds, only a few were left cheering, then their voices died out as well as they realized everyone around them had gone silent. The time for adulation was over; the queen was about to speak.

Callisto waited for there to be complete silence, then waited a few seconds more. She allowed the silence to reign, to let her audience anticipate her words, on the brink of something awe inspiring.

Once the air was ringing with tension, the Morlock Queen spoke.

“My Morlocks! We have long lived under the ground, in the darkness, away from judging eyes! We’ve stayed there for companionship, for community, and for safety! The surface dwellers were content to let us live in the muck, in squalor, as long as they didn’t have to see us! As long as they could forget we existed! We were nothing more than waste to them, to be dumped in the gutters and never seen again!”

Callisto thumped her staff on the ground. The Morlocks remained entirely silent, almost entranced.

“We were content to feed off the scraps from the surface world! To let them take what they wanted from us and hide, in exchange for not facing their persecution and annihilation!” she continued, her voice building in intensity, “What they didn’t count on is that we would grow strong in the darkness! That our numbers would swell, our powers grow! That we would make our OWN world where they’d thrown us! That we could make a KINGDOM!”

A murmur of agreement rose from the gathered Morlocks. Their excitement building.

“All of them, even our so-called mutant brethren,” she sneered at the fallen X-Men, “Thought that since we lived beneath them, we WERE beneath them! They thought they were gods on Mount Olympus while we were mere creatures made of dirt to worship them! They didn’t think that we could build something greater than their world, that we could take from them as they took from us! They didn’t think we could BRING THEM DOWN!”

Cheers and cries of exultation rang out. Callisto let them do so for a several seconds before speaking again.

“They thought they could come down from the sky and smite us! That they could punish us for daring to take from their world, for setting foot where we didn’t belong! And they ARE mighty, but together SO ARE WE!”

As more adulation rang out, Callisto nodded to Gilding. The small, silvery Morlock placed a hand on Storm’s hip and the silver coating her began to shrink away, revealing bare, dark skin and the colors of her costume.

“We are a warrior people!” Callisto called out again, “We have grown too strong for these ‘gods’ to smite! We must be strong and so must our leaders! Strong in spirit, wit, and warrior skill! My Morlocks, you deserve to know that the one you follow deserves your loyalty and strength! There should be no doubt!”

As the silver melted away from Storm’s face, she coughed, chest bouncing with convulsive breaths. She blinked her eyes, body stiffening, trembling in shock, as for a moment she didn’t realize she was free. Locked in place, she wavered, mouth opening and closing, eyes still wide as saucers.

The realization of her own escape seemed to strike her all at once. She collapsed with a long, croaking gasp, falling onto her hands and knees and almost falling onto her face. Shaking, she gaped at the ground and sucked in ragged, gulping breaths that sounded like sobs. Free of her silver shell, but not from the torment of being trapped, she couldn’t otherwise move, could barely think.

Callisto smirked, pointing towards the kneeling X-Man with her staff.

“Behold, the mighty Storm!” she crowed, “The Weather Goddess! Wind Rider! Leader of the X-Men!”

Storm continued to shudder and sweat, bent over on all fours, not seeming to notice anything around her.

“Some time ago, it’s said Storm defeated me in single combat!” Callisto called, “That we battled for the leadership of the Morlocks and she was victorious!”

She sauntered towards the bowed heroine, stopping a few paces away.

“It’s said that though she lives on the surface, abandoned you all to the sewers, and has never struggled or faced the darkness as you have, that SHE is your true queen!”

There were boos at that, a few yelled curses. Callisto quickly continued.

“And so I challenge YOU, Storm!” she cried, “As you challenged me, I challenge you to single combat! For the leadership of the Morlocks AND the X-Men!”

The Morlocks exploded. What came from their mouths couldn’t even be called cheers, they were roars of primal exhilaration, satisfaction, and approval.

The eruption of voices made Storm start and lift her trembling head. Panting, she turned slowly one way then the other, staring at the crowd surrounding her, as if just noticing they were there.

Overwhelmed, her brow furrowed and her bottom lip trembled. Her head lowering and shoulders rising like she was a turtle trying to sink into her shell.

“I challenge you, Storm!” Callisto cried again, her eyes wild with glee, “Refuse me and admit that you were never our better! Admit that you are below us! Below ME!”

The cacophony held strong as Gilding dropped the quarterstaff beside Storm and stepped back. She retreated to the edge of the ring, where Callisto’s warriors were keeping the crowd back.

The staff rolled and bumped into the X-Man’s calf. She jerked and looked down at it, then back up to Callisto.

“Win and save yourself!” the Morlock Queen grinned down at her, “Save your beaten forces! You only have to beat me fairly, alone, without your powers, and all your arrogance and mistakes will be wiped away!”

Eyes wide, Storm gaped up at Callisto, blinking slowly. She was still in such a state of shock that it took her several seconds to comprehend.

“All you have to do is beat me!” Callisto cried out again, “Snatch victory from the jaws of your humiliating defeat! Pick up the staff!”

Storm’s lashes fluttered, the white showing around her blue eyes. Dazed, her head wobbled slightly on her neck, looking like she might faint. She turned slowly and looked around again, as if she thought she was dreaming. As she did, her eyes fell upon her fallen teammates.

Seeing her team beaten made her stiffen. She drew in a sharp breath, her elegant eyebrows raising towards her hairline.

“Pick up the staff, goddess!” Callisto cried, “Pick it up! You owe me a battle! You owe it to all of us! Show us how strong you truly are!”

Frozen, Storm’s eyes moved from one fallen body to the next. She’d seen them all when she was a statue, but it looked like she hadn’t truly understood what she was seeing until that moment. Her eyes had seen, but in her mind-obliterating terror she hadn’t comprehended. Now her shoulders slowly drooped as her gaze passed over the naked, humiliated Kitty, the helpless Rogue, the powerless Jean Grey. It was as if the weight of her failures was being loaded onto her back.

The Morlocks began to quiet down as they waited for Storm’s response. To most of them, too far away to see her expression or trembling, it looked like she’d barely moved. Thinking they’d been yelling too loudly to hear her, their cheers gradually faded, becoming silent once more, anticipating the X-Man’s reply.

Grinning, Callisto swaggered a step closer, looming over her kneeling rival. As her subjects grew silent, she no longer needed to yell. She spoke clearly, loudly so they could hear, but spoke only to Storm.

“I give you this one chance to redeem yourself,” she said, “You will pick up the staff. Beat me and prove you are worthy to lead!”

Storm looked up at her, trembling like a shorn lamb.

“Or… be beaten,” Callisto’s eyes were lidded, “Fail once again. Be battered until you cry out and beg for mercy. In front of us all, in front of your fallen X-Men, be defeated and humiliated. Prove to my Morlocks that you, the great Storm, are below me. That I. Own. You.”

She leaned closer at those last few words, her eyes blazing.

Storm couldn’t meet that gaze. She clenched her eyes closed and dropped her head, breasts and shoulders heaving with distress.

“Either way, the true goddess will be revealed,” Callisto hissed, “But you WILL pick up that staff.”

The square was almost entirely silent. Morlocks waited, many holding their breath.

Domino shifted in her bonds, staring worriedly at her leader. Storm was strong, a magnificent African queen even as she knelt on all fours, but she was badly shaken. At full strength she was a match for anyone but she was definitely not at full strength nor fully focused. Callisto was setting her up for a brutal beating.

With all eyes on her, Storm didn’t reply. Her head was hung so low no one could see her face.

“Pick up the staff.” Callisto said.

Storm looked at the weapon at her side. Swallowing, she shuddered.

The crowd could see the instant she made her decision. She looked away from the staff and wilted. Her rump sank back towards her heels until she sat down, her shoulders drooping forwards. When she sat up enough for the crowd to see her face, her expression hung with exhaustion and sadness, cheeks shining with tears.

Empty, hollow, Storm stared at the grass in front of Callisto’s feet. Now kneeling, she let her arms hang at her sides, hands resting on the ground palms up, useless.

Her lips moved. Her voice was so soft, almost no one could hear her.

Only Callisto was close enough to understand her. Her eyes gleamed.

“Speak up, Storm,” she hissed, “Louder. Everyone needs to hear you.”

Storm swallowed, closing her eyes as a pang of shame washed over her. When she opened them again, they were shining with tears she was too tired to spill.

“I…” her voice broke, “I s-surrender…”

The crowd didn’t react. Thinking they’d heard incorrectly, they waited for Storm to pick up the staff and rise.

Callisto was the only one not surprised. Unable to restrain herself any longer, a broad, vulpine grin spread her lips, her eyes wide with glee.

Reaching down, with surprising gentleness she cupped Storm’s chin. She lifted it up, until the beautiful, sorrowful face was looking up at her.

“Say it again, Storm,” she coaxed, “Say it once, loud. Let them all know.”

Storm drew in a shuddering breath, looking into Callisto’s eyes, sad and afraid. Her gaze was soft, helpless, with just a hint of hope as she looked at the woman who held all the power.

The Morlock queen knew the look well. With no other choice, driven beyond confidence and thoughts of dignity, the beaten woman knew Callisto’s mercy was her only hope. She knew she was defeated, all that was left was how cruel the other woman would be in her victory. It wasn’t even a plea for mercy, it was a plea to be handled gently, to not be tortured and humiliated.

Seeing the look on Storm’s exotic, proud features made Callisto run her tongue over her teeth.

“I… SURRENDER!” Storm cried raggedly.

The Morlocks erupted once more. They jumped up and down, pumped their fists, and howled.

The unthinkable had happened.

As the Morlocks cheered around her, Callisto never took her eyes off of Storm’s. As much as she enjoyed having her as a statue, having the wind rider looking up at her like this was far better. She relished every instant.

This wasn’t something someone, even as strong willed as Storm, could recover from. You didn’t break this completely, submit so completely to a rival without remembering it for the rest of your life. Callisto had seen enough people break to know that Storm had given up a large part of her soul. That part of her would always belong to the one that defeated her.

No matter what happened from now on, she would belong to Callisto. Deep down in her heart, she would always know that.

Storm continued to stare up at her, eyes shining, praying for any sort of kindness.

And Callisto, in her triumph, felt inclined to give it to her.

She placed her free hand on Storm’s shoulder, leaned down and pressed her lips to the defeated heroine’s brow. With a soft kiss, she anointed the fallen X-Man as property, accepting her submission. It was gentle, soothing, welcoming her former enemy to servitude.

Storm knew what it meant. She let out a soft breath and deflated slightly, accepting it… and being relieved.

Callisto held the kiss there for several seconds, feeling the heroine’s clammy brow against her lips. When she drew back it was only a few inches, close enough to breathe on Storm’s hair. She reached up and took the black headdress, unclasping it then sliding it over the heroine’s white locks. It was too much like a crown for her to be allowed to wear it; Callisto tossed it aside.

“You’re mine,” she whispered, “The X-Men are mine. I am their queen… but I am your goddess.”

She didn’t expect Storm to agree, but the heroine lowered her head and nodded wearily.

“Good,” she cupped the beaten woman’s cheek, “You were a worthy adversary. Accepting your defeat honestly will make you a treasured slave. As long as you submit to me, all will be well.”

She pressed another kiss to the top of Storm’s head, smoothing down her feathery, soft hair.

“Now rise.”

As the Morlocks continued their ferocious cheers, Callisto looped her arm under Storm’s and across her shoulders, then helped the weary X-Man to rise.

The weather mistress was still shaking, so weak she could barely stand. She leaned into Callisto, eyes closed, her chest heaving, letting her cheek rest on the queen’s shoulder. If she didn’t seem to welcome being held, she certainly didn’t protest, letting the other woman squeeze around her waist to keep her upright.

Around them, the Morlocks roared praise for Callisto and taunts upon Storm. They had feared her and now that they saw her fallen, that fear turned to derision. They called her weak, pathetic, a coward, too afraid to even fight for her freedom.

Callisto smiled, holding her former enemy tight, enjoying the feel of her svelte waist.

She knew Storm wasn’t weak; Callisto wouldn’t have been so pleased to defeat a weakling. But as brave and powerful as she was, there was a brittleness to her strength and obvious weaknesses. Press on those weaknesses in the right way for long enough and Callisto knew Storm’s strength would give out, in the same way as someone who ran for long enough would collapse.

She let her hand slip down, feeling over the black spandex that stretched across Storm’s impressive, very African bottom.

No, the weather “goddess” wasn’t a coward, she simply had no physical or internal energy left to fight. She was emptied of pride and principle. Finished.

Callisto came from beneath, clasping and lifting one side of the muscular rump, squeezing firmly. Her captive didn’t protest.

She found she didn’t hate Storm. In fact, in this state, she was actually very fond of the wind rider. The trick would be to make sure she stayed just like this…

Her Morlocks were still watching her, pumping their fists, though their cheers were beginning to fade. They knew their queen’s performance wasn’t over. They awaited the grand finale.

Callisto didn’t disappoint.

She sank down and allowed Storm to slump across her shoulder. With her grasp beneath such a protruding handhold as the wind rider’s butt, it was easy to lift her up and stand. A quick bounce to settle her in place and a clap on the bottom made it clear that this, this piece of loot, was hers. She would be taking it.

Storm’s arms swung limply behind Callisto’s back, her white hair dangling. She didn’t otherwise move.

With her prize where it belonged, the Morlock queen thrust her quarterstaff into the air.

Her subjects quieted. She was about to speak.

“The X-Men! Are! DEFEATED!”

The cheers that followed practically shook the buildings around them.

Following their queen’s example, several of her victorious subjects performed similar displays with their own beaten X-Men.

Shiva grasped the back of Psylocke’s leotard with one hand and lifted her limp body over her head. The unconscious ninja drooped, chin on her chest, the tug on her costume making it ride higher between the shapes of her rump.

Quartz picked Wolverine up by her ankle and held her up like a doll. While she dangled, Miasma gave her backside a few hard smacks, causing her to wobble and swing.

The Toad grabbed a handful of Siryn’s fiery hair and dragged lifted until she was sat up. Her temper replaced by a drugged haze, she merely gaped stupidly while he waggled her chin and squeezed her cheeks.

The gentler Morlocks like Pneumonia and Eel-ectric merely cooed and stroked their victims, as if soothing them, coddling them in their humiliating defeat. On the other hand, two of the Triplets dragged Kitty up to her knees, while the third posed and gestured to her like a gameshow hostess.

Domino thrashed furiously in her bonds her gagged cries inaudible over the cheers. She seemed like she wanted to challenge Callisto herself. Angler settled this by kneeling down and creating one of his glowing orbs in front of her face. Her eyes widened with fear and she shook her head violently… but after a few seconds became calm and quiet, content to stare at the pretty light.

The Morlocks’ primary foes had fallen. Only the likes of the Avengers could stand in their way now and they didn’t have the ability to track mutants as the X-Men did. The surface world was now theirs to raid.

“Loot this place!” Callisto bellowed, “Take everything we can carry! Slaves, goods, treasures, trinkets—take it all! It’s OURS!”

Even as the Morlocks scattered, unleashed to ravage the defenseless college, they continued to cheer. This would be the greatest raid in their history.

Callisto watched all but her elite warriors go with the pride of an indulgent mother.

Above them the sky was clear, the sun shining brightly. The storm had passed.

Let them play. They had all the time in the world.