ตอน 69: Chapter 69: Dead Way
"The dreads are longer" Sabretooth pointed to Bronte.
Brontë scanned the alleyway— only just realizing the smell of rotting flesh beneath the old clothing, trash, damp air and crisp cold winds.
"…. I'm trying to catch up to you, what ya think?" Sabretooth pulled down his hood, revealing a head full of frizzy blonde dreadlocks. His wide almost feline triangular nose scrunched up as he grinned. "Cultural appropriation be damned, we're kin ain't w—"
"RAAAAGH!" Bronte was on Sabretooth before he even finished speaking.
Sabretooth caught Bronte by the face and threw him into the brick wall of the coffee shop beside them.
"You…. You've grown soft, kid. You think folks like us can just take a year off? We can't let our blades go dull."
Brontë roared as he spun around, right arm shifted into a veiny massive bladed appendage that sliced open Sabretooth's stomach and the dumpster beside him as he crumbled against the wall.
"HSSAAAA!!!" His Symbiote arm shrieked and went feral, spitting fire and ice from spontaneously growing orifices.
As Brontë attempted to gain control, Sabretooth recovered.
"Still healthy." Sabretooth commented as he picked up his spilled intestines and slid them back into his stomach. "You though…. You ain't. You caught a bug."
Sabretooth studied Bronte as he struggled, dodging the wilder strikes, letting the fires burn his skin and clothing.
"The bug must be a dumb one because I've been watching you for a week now, kid. You and that little brown skinned beauty you take to pound town every week... Im no man-lover but we're getting into something similar right now!"
Brontë flew down the alleyway as Sabretooth front kicked him.
He hit the ground hard, rolling and tearing open his skin on stones and broken beer bottles beneath the snow.
By the time he was back on his feet he was healed. And he wasn't the only person in the fight.
"Oh look at you…. Last time I tangled with your kind I was spitting up spiderwebs for weeks. Anyway…..You're interrupting." Sabretooth spit on the floor.
"We… are not a bug." Mend replied.
"No…. You're a slimy ass parasite interrupting how I handle business with kinfolk." Sabretooth crouched.
Mend growle—
Three metallic bone claws ripped from from Mend's left hand.
Sabretooth grinned like an idiot as the arm rose and stabbed into Mend's face, ripping apart the snouted mask.
Bronte's face sat beneath the Symbiote flesh. Teeth gritted and eyes wild as he tore apart the mask with his only arm.
"Don't….." Bronte grumbled.
Mend begrudgingly retreated back into his right arm, morphing into an arm blade lined with eyes, teeth and electrical blue fire.
"I want to see you bleed with my own eyes…."
Sabretooth cackled, causing a passerby on the streets behind them to screech and take off.
"Come on then."
They went at eachother like beasts in the wild. In between Bronte ramming his Symbiote arm through Sabretooth and holding his breath everytime Sabretooth slashed his throat open, he could hear nearby people calling animal control.
That's what they were in the alley.
Animals.
All bark and bite, no reason. At least on Bronte's end.
Which is why it took him so long to realize…..
"COME HERE!" Bronte sent his Symbiote arm snaking down the alleyway to grab his cat-eyed tormentor.
Without speaking a word to Mend, he yanked the brute to himself, lunging at his face with his bone claws.
Sabertooth just barely dodged, cause his ear to be ripped to shreds.
Brontë was open and exposed.
Sabertooth lunged backward, disengaging.
"You aren't fighting for real…." Bronte whispered.
"Neither are you. Where's all the flashes of flame and the storms!" Sabertooth stomped a hole in the floor and kicked a barrage of concrete at him.
Bronte's Symbiote arm morphed into a shield and ate the impact with ease.
The mutant monster was behind him suddenly, sliding across the gravel and snow from his insane speed. Brontë didn't move as the Symbiote shield grew spikes that exploded from the backside of the shield, running through Sabertooth as he stood behind Bronte and slamming him into a dumpster.
Brontë spun around and lunged at the downed Mutant only to be caught by the throat where his windpipe was immediately crushed.
He inhaled and hit the ground choking on blood.
"You're slower without your winds, kid. Your sister really does have you beat in the speed department, damn." Sabertooth casually got to his feet. But not before snapping Bronte's legs with horrifying stomps.
Mend's Symbiote tendrils worked in tandem with his healing factor as he lay amongst the trash.
Sabertooth was back on Bronte— interrupting what should've been lightning fast recovery as the beast mauled Bronte.
"Where's your fight, kid?!"
Disemboweled. His guts saw sunlight. It had been a while since that had happened.
"You think Wakanda and Krakoa was it? You think you can play sad puppy now and howl to the moon with your music! HAHA! Your daddy went through worse….. you will too. NUT UP BOY!"
"SHUT UP!"
Ribs snapped and busted through his skin. Almost like he was being flayed.
Too much bloodloss.
Reality spilled and mixed like a party drink. Sometimes the clouds were white. Other times they were black and wolves danced. Rahne danced.
"Rahne was a weak representation of our kind! Drop it, kid. She's gone. I've fought Dire Wolves stronger than her."
Sabertooth lunged for his eyes.
Then she was dead. Alongside Raze and hundreds…. Thousands of other people like himself.
The Symbiote suit embraced him. A compromised form of sorts resulting in a snouted half mask, a sleeves arm and guarded midsection.
Brontë was too busy weakly slashing at Sabertooth to notice. Hell, Mend was too with all his spinning tendrils and fangs.
Eventually Sabertooth was thrown away.
They both sat on opposite sides of the alley. Covered in blood and busted limbs.
Sabertooth chuckled.
"For what it's worth….. I didn't come here to torment you. But you did inherit your daddy's problems. I came here to wake you up, boy….. you're sleeping. And there's shit out here that don't do that…. Working right under your nose."
Sabertooth got to his feet and grabbed one of the homeless people he once laid amongst.
He tossed it at Bronte's feet. "Happy birthday."
The smell of rot grew tenfold. The hairs on his arms stood on end and his Symbiote suit shivered.
He didn't give a damn what it was. It wasn't moving. For all intents and purposes, it was a pile of stinky clothes and nothing else.
The real problem was standing. Massive and full of muscle and horrid memories.
"I'm going to kill you, Victor."
Something orange busted through the alley walls on the left side.
Sabertooth hissed and jumped like a startled cat, only to be caught by the leg.
He hung upside down, slashing and swatting wildly at the trench coated exterior of the brute. His claws clicked and sparked against what looked like orange stones beneath.
"You interrupted my coffee, furball." Cold winds flushed down the alleyway and threw off the persons hat, revealing a head of orange stone.
Sabertooth looked like he was about to say something smart before being yanked around and slammed repeatedly against the ground like a toy doll in the hands of a temperamental child.
He hit the floor…. The brick walls…. The trash….. anything and everything with enough impact to shake the streets outside the alley.
Then he was thrown further down the alley. Like a cat, he landed right on his feet and took off in a barely interrupted blur.
Brontë could've sworn he saw a smile.
"Don't do it, kid."
"Next person to call me kid is getting dismembered." Mend shrunk back into his arm.
"My apologies. You must be Bronte, I'm—"
"Thing. I know who you are." Bronte looked past him. But didn't move. Even as every fiber of his physical being pulled him towards the beastial mutants blood on the walls.
"He's gone. And he didn't come for a fight…. Not really anyway." Thing explained as he tore off his trench coat, revealing a body carved from stone. Orange stone.
"Yea…." Bronte looked down at the clothed corpses.
There were five.
Two along the alley walls— once hidden behind the dumpster, before Bronte threw it at Sabertooth. And the one at his feet.
Thing walked over, towering over Bronte as he looked down at it.
"Stinky."
Brontë crouched down and pulled back its hood.
His heart sank and his stomach twisted around his spine. But more than anything, his rage bloomed like flowers in springtime. Like overwhelming and directed life in opposition of the twisted death that laid before him.
"Vampires."
ความคิดของผู้สร้าง 
_Avatar0FFury_
_Avatar0FFury_ without magic, Sabertooth is a serious threat to Bronte. But so are many things. gotta get back on track with our boy. stuff’s been cooking up while he’s been lacking. perhaps this was a pick me up he needed of sorts. uh oh oh no. anyway lmk what ya think and thanks a bunch for reading. also thanks for the powersgones Skyhound, Kurotara, mortarion777, Zetamalfa, ChaoticHexz , Mr0Rabbit, and The_Abstract
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