Chapter 85: Incident End

"ERRRAAAGHHH!!" Tigra pounced. It was a very familiar sight even in the dark of the clinic.

The rise of her fur. The slimming of feline eyes twisted by predatory hunger. The way her tawny red hair flowed as she moved in a blur.

For a minute, Bronte saw Sabretooth. But for the last hour or so the mere thought of them— Sabretooth …. Daken, had led him into direct action across the nation.

He was moving without realizing. He'd been moving the whole time. A direct opposition to the usual freeze Laura commented on his behalf.

Even still, he saw Sabertooth. So he hit…. Mr. Knight's girlfriend, like she was Sabertooth.

She was no faster than Laura— possibly slower. Brontë reached her first, smashing his bulbous shoulder into her ribcage as he tackled her to the ground. He felt the snap of bone reverberate through her growling body, sending splintering cracks through her limbs and the wind straight out of her lungs.

They hit the ground hard. Very hard, considering Bronte was at least three hundred pounds last time he weighed himself.

He cringed when he came to.

"Shit— I'm sorry!"

Before Tigra could sink her vampiric fangs into him, Bronte used his jiu jitsu training and varying wrestling disciplines to flip her over and restrain her limbs.

From the other hallways, Vampires closed in. With all the movement and combat Bronte had been engaged in his pulse must've been a audial beacon to them. Little did they know it was a trap.

Before they could hit him a barrage of arrows fired in from the window behind the left hallway.

To his right, a series of explosive crescent projectiles stunned the creatures.

"Hey!—"

"Nonlethal. But the next time you play linebacker against my woman, I will change that." Mr Knight rushed past with a wire and began binding the Vampires in the right hallway.

"My fault… I—"

"Have multiple levels of ptsd and genetic anger issues stemming back to your ancestors. If anyone understands mental illness and trauma, it would be me. Us. I didn't think you'd bring flowers, StormWolf." Mr Knight replied as he tied down the last Vampire.

"RRRAAAGGG!! DooUn… lEtT himmmMm szzEEE MEEeee—" Tigra thrashed under Bronte's weight.

He looked down at her, "Did you just speak?" Bronte listened to her more closely.

"Don't let him see me…. Like this!" Tigra snarled.

For some reason Bronte assumed newly changed Vampires couldn't speak. Especially not in their frenzied state. The Vampires created currently were a different strain than the Mutant Vampires in the sewers.

More feral. Weaker. Drones, more or less.

"Like the Lupines…" He thought.

But, Tigra was speaking—

"Why are you looking at her that way."

"Don't look at her." Bronte said without looking away from Tigra as she growled. A tear fell from her eye.

"What— what's going on?" Mr Knight said before placing a hand over his eyes.

"I…. I can understand her."

"What is she saying?" Mr Knight inquired.

Tigra's tears soaked the bloodied carpet as she thrashed and snapped at Bronte as he kneeled over her. "Please….. I have a son. Don't let me hurt him."

"Her son…. She's scared. I didn't know y'all had a kid." He whispered. A lump formed in Bronte's throat as he watched her.

It wasn't like the Lupines. They were beasts purely comprised of instinct and the ability to follow commands.

Tigra— the Vampires…. They were slaves. The original mind was there, drowned beneath red waves of hunger and madness. It was perverse.

"Daken…. you fucking hyp—"

"We don't have a child. Well, Marc isn't the original father. He's the father that stepped up, to put it simply. I'm along for the ride. She is…. Good for us." Mr Knight explained.

"We should find him. Take him back to The Abbey."

"Yes because we are excellent role models and parental figures." Mr Knight replied sarcastically.

"I'm thinking too far ahead, we need to focus on this….." Bronte trailed off as his ears twitched.

Behind the frenzied cacophony of Vampire thrashing he could hear a news station.

"—his just in reporting live from MNN, the recently titled Red Nation Incident is quickly being contained by Reed Richards and his fantastic sciences division in New York as they've unified and spread heroic personalities all across the nation. Many of you have probably seen this figure in your area. We're yet to get a name….. which isn't common with these hero types. We're still on high alert and treating this as a nation-wide pandemic. Avoid swapping bodily fluids with anyone and refrain from eating red meat until the FDA can approve a number of meat based products…."

The tv rambled on a while longer before adding.

"So far, the numbers are rather grim. The affected range from two hundred to near a thousand if recent hospitalizations prove correct. Injuries? Well over the thousands by now. And deaths, so far….. one hundred. God rest their souls. Thankfully, I think the worst is over. This is MNN reporting live, stay safe and stay alert."

The worst was not over.

Brontë and Mr Knight tied up Tigra and headed out of the building as Reed Richards recovery unit rushed inside to get a hold on the restrained Vampires.

"What a day…." Mr Knight commented, "Once we get Tigra settled I'll go get William. Then we need to brainstorm and figure out a cure. Fast, preferably." Mr Knight added as he shrugged off his blazer and threw it over Tigra to block the sun.

She jumped and snarled.

As if she didn't see the coat being brought her way.

Brontë stopped in the doorway.

Mr. Knight also stopped.

They looked at eachother once before looking at Tigra. Then, they both held a hand out in front of her.

Her green slitted pupils didn't follow their waving limbs.

"When was the last time she spoke to you?" Mr Knight questioned.

"When she told me about her son— William. Everything after was regular snarls. Why is she blind?"

Mr Knight shook his head, "She's not blin—"

"RAGHHH!" She jolted and shook against her binds, smashing the back of her head into Bronte's nose.

He heard it as, "STAY BACK! Wh-where am I!? I just want my son!"

"She's hallucinating?" Bronte questioned as he wiped the blood from his previously broken nose.

"I'm not hallucinating, asshole! Where did you take me!?" Tigra spat.

Bronte's eyes widened.

"What did she say?" Mr Knight questioned.

"Hold on. You can hear me?"

"YES! Take me out of this dump now!" Tigra snapped.

"Tigra... we're still in the clinic." Bronte replied.

Tigra snarled quietly. "There's Vampires…. Everywhere….."

A lightbulb went off in Bronte's mind.

Vampires were pack based creatures like Lupines. But far more Magical. Their creation was steeped in magic.

How else would the Vampires know to attack the Morlocks specifically.

Sure, they could've been told by higher ups in New York.

But they also could've been connected by some mental link.

Like Tigra. A sharing of mental images. A swapping of sight. A trade of sensory phenomena.

In other words…..

"I'm taking Tigra back to the Baxter building." Bronte picked her up by the back of her neck and spoke into his earpiece.

In seconds Ilyana was stepping out of a portal in front of him.

"Go with Mr Knight and then come back to the Baxter building." Bronte told her before she even got a chance to say hi.

Then he was jumping through the portal.

"What was that about?" Ilyana asked Mr Knight.

"I think Daken— for all his planning and manpower, made a big mistake. I like that…. I like that a lot."