by Grimm, Chewy Walrus and Captain Sammitch
The heroes were now gathered together in a semi-circle in front of the building, attempting to hold off the advancing horde.
"It seems like every time we kill one of these things, another immediately takes it place," Priest commented.
"There must be some way to stop these things," Chance replied, shrugging off another blow that sent his attacker flying back into the mud.
"Decapitation seems to be working pretty well," Grimm said, lobbing off another vamp's head with his battle axe.
Between changing ammo, Dirk Bell thought to himself, I could swear that he's smiling under that damn skull mask.
"Comrade Euro, are you needing assistance?" Blackwulf asked, squeezing one of the vamp's heads to a bloody pulp in his massive hands.
"No, Blackwulf, and please, call me the Raptor now," Edulcore Cicciotto replied, slashing another vamp with his talons.
As Danny Hearn tried to keep the vamps from distracting M'xy, he wondered to himself, "Where's Phil?" He looked over at Ameristar, who was blasting the ground in front of her, creating a large pit that several of the pales were stumbling and falling into. The mud, she hoped, would buy them a little time before they dug their way out and attacked again.
Montag Grissom leaped around and grabbed a pale around the neck with his legs, yanked forward, and dropped the attacker into the pit directly on top of several of his friends, who were frantically trying to pull themselves out.
"Bloody, hell, mates. How long do we have before the bleedin' storm actually hits land, anyway?"
Inside the apartment complex, Tayden worried for his newfound allies. He was using his ability as best he could to keep the people calm, but now he remembered that even if they successfully fought off the attackers, they were still in the middle of the worst storm to hit the Caribbean in decades.
Still, the youthful meta with the power to change himself into light had given him an idea. Things had begun to look up.
Dr. Henry Quantos and Kit Piper exchanged worried glances as the sounds of battle continued to be heard inside. Shirley Francis looked absentmindedly at the generator, which continued to hum, thanks to the work Montag and Priest had done on it earlier. But there was only one thing on her mind: Mick Harrison. "Please, just come back to me, baby," she said under her breath.
Grissom Montag furrowed his brow and scratched his chin momentarily. This was the weirdest storm he'd ever been in.
"Bloody 'ell," he muttered to himself, as he planted his feet on a nearby patch of mud, sliding on his feet down a small embankment leading to a small enclave of vampires. They looked as though they were wanting to get organized, which, to Grissom, was a dangerous proposition indeed.
Shifting his feet, Grissom slid to a stop about twenty feet from the vampires, who looked up at him as a spray of mud doused their little pow-wow. One of the pale vampires looked up threateningly and opened his mouth to speak.
Before he could say anything, however, he suddenly fell to the ground, clutching his stomach. His friends gathered around him, trying to help him to his feet, but he wasn't in any particular mood for standing.
Grissom, smiling, held a small object in his hand, which he tossed to the ground before the pained creature.
"Wh-what is that?" the vampire asked, looking down at the small piece of metal wire that appeared now at his feet.
"The pin," Grissom began, his grin turning suddenly serious, "to the grenade I just 'ported into your colon..."
With that, Grissom somersaulted backward up the hill as the explosion rocketed him through the air, laying waste to the vampires below. Vampire entrails clung to his pack as he hit the ground, wiping the mud and gore from his face.
The first thing he saw, however, was Priest. The large man now seemed larger than life. He was surrounded by no fewer than twenty vampires, all of whom remained perfectly still around him. No one in the group moved an inch. Priest's teeth ground together as he stood his ground amidst the oddly motionless vampires.
Grissom leapt into the air, turning a somersault as he landed square on Priest's shoulders. "What's on, mate?" Griss asked as the large man seemed to barely feel the strain.
"Get... off... Griss..." came Priest's strained cry.
"Need any 'elp, mate?" Grissom asked. "That's what I came over for..."
"Absorbing... kinetic... energy..." came Priest's response. "Concussive... output... imminent... you'll... be... killed..."
Grissom's face changed drastically as the realization of Priest's statement sunk in. Priest gave one final, "...Go..." to Grissom. The Englishman jumped into the air as, below him, Priest gave out a final moan.
A loud explosion ripped through the blackened sky as the twenty vampires surrounding Priest, as well as some wondering around the outskirts, shattered upon contact with the concussive force pulse of Priest's own creation.
Grissom attempted to stay airborne until the beam had dissipated, but it simply didn't look like it was gonna happen. Falling toward the ground, he let out a scream, a scream that stopped short as he hit Priest's hand, which had been upturned to catch him on his descent.
Grissom righted himself on his new friend's large palm as the heavy man then proceeded to topple over. Griss leaped to the ground beside him, looking at the large man as he lay on the ground, hurt beyond conventional repair.
"Too much..." Priest muttered to the nearby Grissom. "Outdid myself..." Priest began to convulse violently as a guttural cough rose from his lungs. Blood splattered from his mouth and onto the mud where he sat. "Prolly can't do much more, Griss..."
"Look, mate," Griss said, taking the large man by the hand, "I'm 'onna get you outta 'ere. Take you into the buildin'... watch over you... c'mon..."
Grissom tugged at the arm of Priest, who was too injured to do much of anything. He'd probably already passed out. Grissom sighed to himself and looked around as more vampires began to approach the position of his fallen comrade-in-arms.
"You guys just don't give up, do you?" Montag sneered as a grenade from his pack appeared in his hand. "You wanna play ball? All right... we'll play ball..."
It seemed that no matter how hard the heroes fought, the pale vampires' regenerative abilities kept them one step ahead, and their totally lopsided numerical advantage didn't help matters, either. Grissom was running out of ideas, and ammunition, as more and more of the vampires closed in on him and the unconscious Priest.
"Obstinate little buggers, aren't you?" Grissom lamented as he found the last grenade in his pack. He paused, waiting for the cluster around him to grow dense enough for the grenade to do the most damage possible.
There were only two problems with his strategy. One was that there wouldn't be much cover for him or for Priest when the grenade went off. And the more imminent danger was if one of the vampires got close enough to...
A hand grabbed Grissom's leg. He kicked at his assailant, to no avail. Caught off balance for a moment, Grissom's arms flailed wildly.
He dropped the grenade. The vampire looked at him and poised to spring.
Oh, bloody hell. Grissom paused. Do I hear a car coming?
A rusty old Jeep smashed into the knot of vampires, flattening some and tossing others into the air. The Jeep skidded out of control and slid sideways into a large tree. The remaining vampires around Grissom and Priest rushed off in that direction, and some of the vampires attacking Danny, Chance, Ameristar, and PSI-Unit members started heading that way as well.
Grissom squinted to make out just who might have been behind the wheel of the Jeep and saw two figures leap out. He was mildly surprised to see Phil Smith jump from the driver's seat and grab a machete and a double-barrelled shotgun.
He was convinced he was hallucinating when he saw the huge sub-Terran with tanned skin and pure white hair climbing out of the passenger's side.