Disclaimer: I do not own and am making no money from the X-Men. Vixen belongs to her creator Corrinth. Blaze is mine. That is all.

Scene Ten

What they found next, none of the X-Men expected. Through everything so far Morose had been attached like a puppet to its master, inside the translucent body of the Spirit-Drinker. When the X-Men found Spyke flaked out like the other Morlocks, by his side was the unconscious body of Morose. Gambit, Blaze and Kurt ran on to see if they could find the Spirit-Drinker. Hank knelt down by Spyke and checked Ororo’s nephew’s pulse, which was strong. Rogue crouched down and brushed the white hair back from Morose’s forehead, revealing her two stubby goat-like horns. Like all the other victims, her eyes were open but unresponsive. Beast left Spyke and came to join Rogue.

“Poor li’l mite,” Rogue said, feeling quite sorry for the wan figure that lay before her. “None o’ this is her fault, is it? An’ we all been so mean to her…”

“It seems the Spirit-Drinker is strong enough to cross over into our dimension completely,” Hank observed. “I’m loathe to leave Morose here whilst we pursue it…”

“Beast!” Kurt called, arriving back with Blaze in a poof of grey smoke. “Spyke must’ve fought with the Spirit-Drinker back there. There is a new hole in the wall of the sewer leading onto the subway tracks. Gambit is checking it out now.”

“Oh no,” said Rogue. “If this thing gets top-side we’re all in trouble.”

Beast was caught in a quandary. He could lead the team through into the warren of Bayville’s subway. However if the Spirit-Drinker headed to the surface, his bestial appearance would not help matters as they attempted to track it. Neither did he want to leave little Morose. Blaze recognised Beast’s predicament and had an answer.

“You take Morose, Hank, and head back to the X-Van. Get her back to the mansion where she’ll be safe. We’ll track the Spirit-Drinker and try and stop it coming into contact with the public.”

“You’ve all come a long way,” Hank replied carefully, “since you joined us. I’m just not sure that you are ready to take on a mission of this magnitude.”

#Vixen and Wolverine are on their way,# Xavier told them. #They will rendezvous with the team as soon as they reach Bayville. Beast, I need to see Morose. If any psychic link exists between her and the Spirit-Drinker it may be enough for me to end this.#

“Alright,” Beast agreed reluctantly, “but you must be careful, all of you.”

“We will be,” Blaze promised. Beast scooped Morose up into his arms and headed back the way he had come. Rogue stood, brushing down her uniform before turning to address Blaze sternly.

“Don’t think that this makes you in charge Firefly, Ah been an X-Man way longer than you.”

“And I have been an X-Man longer than you Rogue,” chirruped Nightcrawler, “which makes me in charge. Come on, we need to catch up with Gambit before something really goes wrong.” He grabbed the girls’ wrists and bamfed them away.

“Where’s Beast?” asked Gambit, nonplussed as the other three X-Men appeared at his side. He was crouched down over the subway tracks, his staff in one hand whilst he rubbed grit between his fingers of his other hand.

“Taken Morose back to the Professor,” Blaze told her boyfriend. “Who d’you think you are, Aragorn? You don’t know how to track.”

“You don’t know what I don’t know,” Remy replied cryptically. “It went dat way ‘bout five minutes ago. C’mon team, we catchin’ up…” and he set off at a sprint down the tunnel.

“You’re not in charge either,” cried Kurt, as he and the girls ran after Remy.

“’Course I’m in charge,” Gambit replied over his shoulder, “I’m the oldest!”

Michael Hawley was waiting on the subway platform at Eighth Street, heading out of town. He’d spent most of his Sunday visiting his mother in her nursing home. The poor mad old lady had been better than usual, even if she had thought he was his father for a good portion of the visit. Michael had been intending to spend the evening catching up with his teenage daughter Samantha, back for the weekend from the exclusive boarding school Roehampton. But Sammy had just sent a text message to his cell phone saying she was out with friends for the night, again. Added to that, the train was running late. What a way to end the weekend!

Caught up in his own thoughts, Michael Hawley didn’t notice when the majority of his fellow passengers passed him by, rushing out of the station. A professional commuter, he blindly stepped forward to fill the space vacated by the person in front of him. Closer to the train doors when it stopped was an increased chance of a seat. Only when someone nearby screamed did Michael look around, realising something was wrong.

A single great eye peered at him over the edge of the platform, staring him down. Michael found he was unable to move, transfixed as everyone else around him made their escapes. The Spirit-Drinker placed one foot on the platform and rose up, stepping towards the transfixed man. Its clawed feet scratched the floor, leaving deep gauges. It opened its mouth as Michael cowered before it. Horrible visions filled his mind, of his mother’s inevitable decline and death, of his precious Sammy developing one of those hideous mutations, of his career going up in flames. The Spirit-Drinker sensed its moment and trapped Michael Hawley in its tentacles. He was out in a flash, his spirit sucked into the creature. Briefly his face flashed above the monster’s eye before he disappeared like all the victims before him. The Spirit-Drinker barely flinched, moving swiftly on to its next victim.

The X-Men arrived in a flurry of playing cards and a flash of flames. The Spirit-Drinker turned on them with a snarl. Gambit held up a fist, instructing the team to hold their ground. If they could draw the monster back into the sewers no one else would need to get hurt. The Spirit-Drinker had other ideas and instead of engaging them it turned away. Kurt, image-inducer switched on now, bamfed around the creature to try to cut off its escape. Rogue, Gambit and Blaze all placed a hand on the edge of the platform and leapt up. The creature merely brushed Kurt to one side as it made for the exit.

“You okay Kurt?” Rogue asked, picking up her fallen comrade.

“I guess so,” Kurt replied, letting his adopted sister straighten the collar of his uniform. “What happened?”

“The Spirit-Drinker must’ve smelt easier prey,” Blaze decided. Cheekily she added, “I think he knew you were trouble Nightcrawler.”

“I sure showed him huh?” Kurt didn’t sound so sure.

“Dis Eighth Street non?” Gambit was trying to get his baring, not being used to public transport.

“Yeah,” Rogue replied, pointing out the platform sign. “Why?”

“We got trouble,” the Cajun replied. “Eighth Street serves Bayville Stadium. It’s Sunday, the big football game is today.”

“Manchester City versus Chelsea?” Blaze looked confused, “That was hours ago, you’ve forgot about the time difference to the UK.”

“American football,” Rogue replied pedantically. “Bayville are playing in a cup tie, but Ah wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

“Who won?” asked Kurt, being German and understanding Blaze’s point of view.

“City, Robinho scored a hat-trick,” Blaze replied. “You think the Spirit-Drinker has sensed the stadium?”

“Forty-thousand people all lined up like one big buffet,” Gambit was grim. “We gotta get over there.”

“Lead the way,” said Blaze, “if there’s a free buffet I don’t want to be late.”