Xavia was able to get the strap… Just barely, she thought as she frantically tugged at the wide leather. God, her head was filled with fog, and she was feeling dizzy. She shook with trepidation and would turn her head toward the sudden sound of dying men, screaming as their lives were snuffed out.

Come on, come on! She felt the strap pull free of the buckle enough that she could shimmy her hand out, though that wasn’t very easy to do. Stay awake, Xavia, she thought to herself. It was somewhat difficult to breathe through the tube when the machine was off. Her hand trembled as she felt for the other strap, and she hurriedly loosed her other hand.

When both hands were free, the first thing she grabbed for was the mask over her face. She braced herself, gagging as the tube is pulled out as quickly as she managed. She coughed and wheezed as soon as it was out, tears of pain trickling down her cheek because she was no professional and probably scraped the hell out of her vocal cords.

But she couldn’t afford to stay still, and started ripping at the various tubes, unable to scream but for a pitiful gasp as some hurt more than others. And then she freed the rest of her from her bonds, and rolled to the floor. Unfortunately for her, her legs were like rubber from the sedatives, and her foot caught in one of the loops she had freed herself from, tipping the table over with a loud clatter that could most likely be heard outside of her cell.

She lay on her side, but not defeated, and started to scoot her way toward the very dim sliver of light that trickled in through the door window every time a gun fired. Slowly but surely, she dragged her way over to the door, so very tired and silently crying out as her limbs started to regain feeling.

She groped for the door handle and jiggled it, but of course it was locked. She slammed her palm against the surface of the door, beating a tattoo for however long it took. And then the light from a flashlight filled the room as best as it could. The door is unlocked and yanked open, and the good doctor came in. “Oh no you don’t!” He dropped the flashlight, and grabbed for her around her waist.

“No! No!” She wheezed, not loud enough to be more than a ragged whisper.

Shade moved like a shadow in the night and where we went death followed. The room was filled with screams and gunshots. The shadow mutant may have been invisible, but he was still solid. A lucky bullet torn through his arm, but he never even felt it. He was having too much fun. Life had turned into a deadly dance of murder as he ripped apart the humans before him. It did not take long for them to discover that Shade had become invincible. The guards that could still run, sprinted from the compound to escape from Shade. The shadow of death smirked to himself as the guards footsteps disappeared into the night. They thought they would be safe out there. They were wrong.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Shade stopped as he heard someone pound against a metal door. In his blood lust, the shadow mutant almost ignored the sound. Bang! Bang! Bang! He growled at the interruption in his killing, but if anything sounded like a trapped girl in this compound, that was it. In an instant, he was at the source of the banging. But it had stopped. Something was wrong. Shade felt into the darkness. The shapes of people loomed, and there was a light inside. Shade hated lights. He "jumped" behind the light. It was a flashlight on the floor. The flashlight slowly rolled across the floor until Shade stopped it with his foot. Standing before him in the light, there was a weird, looking man, dragging Xavia across the floor.

"Move and you are dead." Shade's bodiless voice spoke through the darkness.

The good doctor had her around the waist still, and looked around, not seeing anything. A look of confusion crossed his wrinkled visage and he growled softly, “You can’t have her! She is mine! I made her!” He hauled her closer, and she flailed.

Her mouth opened in a yell that only came out as a breath. If her hero looked around a little, he’d be able to see bits of discarded equipment, including the tube that had been in her throat prior to her banging on the door. She, herself, was dressed in a hospital gown, and blood seeped from the various holes from where she had been hooked up. She didn’t look so great right that moment.

The doctor pulled out a knife and pressed it to her lovely, white throat, “D-don’t come near or I will kill her!” the old man stuttered. Xavia didn’t wince, nor show any fear at that point, she showed only defiance. If she wasn’t medicated, she would try to shift and protect herself, but she could not. Not until the drugs wore off.

And now for that infamous last monologue that bad guys usually rattled off, for surely his time on this earth was limited. “You can’t take her away! I’ve invested too much into her! I’ve killed for her. All her stupid little friends, her precious daddy…” Her eyes widened at that last one, he had died from natural causes, she thought. “I’ve had her kidnapped by complete idiots, and tracked her for years. For science! I’m so close!” She was so angry now, and he was distracted by his ravings enough that she felt the knife go somewhat slack. “You will ruin everything! EVERYTHING! Her blood is the key to saving the rainforests! I made her into what she is now. I knew she was special when I saw her as a child. She has a way with flowers and plants. She just didn’t see it until I took her and molded her. I sped up her process. I don’t want to kill her but I will if you step any closer! I need her blood!”

She bit his hand, and the knife clattered to the ground. He gave a shrill cry, and she tasted his blood as soon as she clamped her teeth down harder. He grabbed her hair with his other hand and ripped his captive one free, then balled his injured fist despite the pain, ready to hit her face. Xavia did not flinch, she merely spit in his face, the chunk of skin and some blood mixed with her saliva. It landed right in his eye.

The plant mutant may be disabled for now, but adrenaline pumped through her and caused a strength to rise that she hadn’t had. She let her heel fly, kicking him in the knee with her bare foot. He stumbled a little and she rolled onto her tummy, grabbing for the knife he’d dropped. The old man surprised her by being spry enough to lunge for her ankles, and she rolled over and kicked out again, her foot landing on his chin. She gave some kind of ragged noise, as much noise as her injured pipes would allow, something savage, and as soon as she had a sure grip on the handle of the knife… STAB! She plunged the thing into his shoulder, and he stumbled back again, this time hitting something solid behind the flash light. He didn’t see it, but she could see the outline of a foot. That was it. And she knelt on the floor, one leg out, hands splayed in the dim light of the flashlight, opposite knee on the ground, and a look of pure blood lust on her face for the first time in her life. All of the pain he'd caused her, she thought, all of the death, her life turning to crap. A sense of finality came over her, she was no longer scared. He was nothing. It was as if time was suspended for her, for she watched as his face turned white when the solid form behind him was not one of his guards.

It would be over soon, she knew. But she wanted the killing blow.

Shade watched patiently as the evil doctor talked himself into trouble. The shadow mutant was going to 'jump' behind him and slice a dagger across that skinny neck of his, but Xavia reacted first. She bit him, kicked him, and stabbed him. The bad doctor stumbled over and collided into Shade. The frail doctor did not so much as phase Shade. He saw the look of confusion as the elderly man tried to figure out what he had hit. The look of bewilderment was almost as pleasurable to see as the look of pure hatred on Xavia's face. Shade smirked at the sight. But he had the doctor to deal with.

Shade drove a knee into the old man's stomach before shoving him in the direction of Xavia, back into the hated light. There he would meet his end, or at least Shade hoped. He wondered if the plant mutant had it in her to end someone's life. If not, Shade would finish the job for her, whether she wanted him to or not. This man desired to die, and Shade was Death incarnate.

One would be surprised at the lengths adrenaline would take people. Often times, trauma causes super human strength; normal, even frail people, could lift cars if it meant saving a loved one. Xavia was no exception to this loophole. Her pupils were dilated, her chest heaving, venom practically dripping from the sneer she had on her face. Her blood stained curls were plastered half across an anger distorted face, sweat rolling from her forehead.

She watched silently as the shadow pushed the old man toward her, and did not think about anything but vengeance. It took a lot to push her, and he had pushed her beyond her anger limit. Images of her high school sweetheart passed in front of her eyes, her best friend, almost the entire graduating class of said high school, her father’s loving embrace, and the path of destruction this weak, little man had bent in his wake. What for? Glory? Power?

Just as he would have stumbled into her, she leapt and tackled him to the ground, clawing at his face and battering him. She found her voice, and almost inhuman growls and shrieks spewed from her injured throat. “I hate you!” she heaved, “I hate what you are! You’re nothing to me but a weak…” Her hand gripped the handle of the knife and she yanked it out, raising it high above her head, “Putrid, old man.” She plunged it back down, but he blocked her move. “That’s right, fight me back, you son of a *****.” She hauled her other hand back and slapped a good one across his face, “Soha nem lesz újra bántani!” You will never be able to hurt me again!

“Nooo! Please! Don’t kill me! I beg you!” he gasped as he put his arms up to cover his face. But his please fell on deaf ears as she plunged the knife down again. It sunk awkwardly into his side, but was no mortal wound.

“Akkor nem fáj senkinek! Azt kell, hogy szenved, amit tettél...” You will not hurt anyone else! I should make you suffer for what you did... Her words were more and more guttural by this point.

She spit in his face again when his arms fell and he tried to pull the knife from his side. Her hands went around his throat and she started to shake him, her hands tightening around and squeezing at his airway. He grabbed at her wrists and tried to pull them away. There were no words left to say in that instance, she merely squeezed harder and harder. She let go just before he would have passed out.

The moment was stagnant between the two of them, her breaths coming out in pants, and she clenched and unclenched her fists, which had fallen to her sides. The old man moaned, his face battered, the floor stained with his blood beneath him, throat bruised, and his eyes glazed and then closing. He was so close to death in two forms. Either she would kill him, or Grim would.

“I want you to open your eyes, old man,” she muttered after what seemed like an eternity. “Open your eyes and look at me.”

The old fool was crying, trembling with fear as he obediently opened his eyes. The smell of his urine permeated the room. He’d pissed himself! His gaze met hers, and she gave a cold laugh. “Now do you understand? To feel what I felt every time your lackeys took me? Are you afraid?”

He sobbed.

She leaned in, and began to caress his withered cheek, smearing his vitae across his skin in the process. Xavia’s mouth was soon poised beside the ear opposite of that cheek, and she whispered, “Én nem vagyok a laboratóriumi patkány. I am not your lab rat.” She suddenly sat up and yanked the blade free with both hands, and let it fall one last time.

She did not pause to see where it landed, jerked herself off of him and stumbled away. Her gut was twisting with nausea.

Indeed, the good doctor lay broken in that expanding pool of his blood, still alive, but only barely. The knife had landed in his chest, in a lung instead of his heart where it should have been. He wheezed pitifully through the crimson that stained his mouth. He was suffering. His head rolled back and he finally saw the light gleaming off of a shoe, and that was the last image he saw, for death was moving toward him in the form of a shadow. (I will let you decide whether you want to insert Grim’s action here or not )

Whether Grim finished him off or he suffered with his last breaths, no longer seemed to matter. But the old man did die that night. She was finally free from him.