In the Claws of an Angel

Time seemed to freeze at that moment. Everyone in the restaurant stared with eyes as wide as their dinner plates at the three gunmen.

In the back, I could hear waitresses and kitchen staff screaming, and the sound of pots and pans clattering onto the floor. More men's voices could be heard shouting orders for them to be quiet... There must have been gunmen storming in through the back, too.

"I said, ON. THE. GROUND." The man pointing his gun toward all the diners screamed, tightening his grip on the red haired hostess, "NOW!"

An eldery woman at the table across from ours whimpered tearfully as she and her feeble husband hobbled to the floor.

I glanced at Logan, who looked consumed in his thoughts, a slight scowl twisting his facial features. He nodded at me to get on the floor, and my heart sank a little. My body felt so robotic as I climbed out of the booth and lowered myself to the ground.

We were then ordered to crawl to the back of the restaurant as the leader's two henchmen pulled heavy duty chains and padlocks from a duffel bag they had lugged inside, looping them through the handles of the door. It was a short crawl, and as Logan and I put our backs against the wall, I got a good look at all of our fellow victims.

There was the old couple that seemed to be struggling to move across the cheap, scratchy carpet, the family that had passed our booth earlier that consisted of a Hispanic woman, her husband, and three little boys, a man looking somewhere around Logan's age dressed in business attire, and the staff of the restaurant; Mark, two other waitresses about my age, the cooks, and their supervisor: A potbellied man with glasses and a bald spot right ontop of his head.

The two other armed men emerged from the back, joining the three that had burst through the front. All of them looked almost identical, dressed in the exact same clothes and skii masks. Their builds were a bit different, though, and so were their muffled voices.

"The kitchen's cleared out. Tommy's workin' on the fuse box." The man on the far right informed the leader in a New York accent.

The leader nodded and wrapped his arm tightly around the hostess's neck.

He shoved the barrel of his gun under her chin, causing her to wail out in terror.

"Alright," The man began to speak again, his voice deep and dark, "Nobody speak, nobody move, unless I tell you to. I'm not scared to shoot any one of you."

While he spoke, another gunman went down the line of us, collecting wallets and cell phones. He snatched the black books from Mark and the two waitresses, snagging their tip money along with their personal cash. When he got to us, he shoved his hand into Logan's face, and he ground his teeth as he handed over his wallet.

I gaped at Logan as I watched him just give in to these evil men... I knew he could slice them to bits. But as I looked into his eyes, I could see that he was holding back in fear for everyone else in the room. He could only get through so many of the gunmen before one of them fired, potentially taking the life of one of these innocent people.

Through his eyes, I could see the gears in his brain turning, a plan brewing deep within his mind.

"Cough up the cash, sweetheart." The masked man's disgusting, raspy voice came from above me, and I turned to see his hand out in front of me.

I gulped and looked up into his face. I could only see his eyes, which were an olive green color. The whites were tinted pink, looking bloodshot and intoxicated. He wiggled his fingers expectantly, forcing me to have to speak.

"I-I... I don't..." I stammered, my eyes dancing around to avoid his, "I don't have any money..."

He lowered his hand and tilted his head to the side, looking from my face to Logan's.

"No money, huh?" He grumbled to me, "You out on a hot date to Denny's with your sugar daddy?" He nodded at Logan.

My cheeks burned, knowing everybody in the room could hear. I stared at the man's shoes, my lips clamped shut. It took everything I had to control the festering pressure building up inside my head. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Logan clenching his fists in bottled up anger.

A part of me wished he'd ditch whatever plan he was trying to ride out and just explode on these assholes, but the rational part of me knew that was too risky.

The man in front of me started to chuckle, making my stomach twist and turn into knots... I suddenly wished I hadn't of scarfed down those chicken tenders so quickly.

"Well if you're broke, how are you gonna pay us for our services?" The joking tone in his voice was menacing and dark as he stepped closer to me, making me flatten myself against the wall. "What do you think, Travis? She doesn't have any cash."

He looked over his shoulder at his comrades, who in turn just passed the look to their leader, Travis, who still held on tightly to the petrified hostess. She whimpered, her eyes squeezed shut.

"So forget it for now." Travis growled.

"C'mon, man, let's have some fun for once." The man in front of me pressed, and my heart skipped a beat.

I couldn't believe they were actually debating something so disgusting in front of me, Logan, and everyone else. I felt like an object... It was humiliating. Next to me, Logan was silently fuming, his nostrils flared and his eyebrows scrunched up.

"We're not here for fun, we're here for profit." The ring leader snapped at his grunt. But then, his eyes dropped down to mine, and I looked away. His sinister gaze on me was enough to make me feel violated. "... I guess it doesn't matter this time. Just make it quick and get rid of her when you're done."

It took a second for me to register those words, but by the time I did I was already being violently wrenched off the floor by my upper arm.

"Aah..!" I gasped in pain at the man's tight grip on my fragile skin, like a powerful bear claw.

"HEY-" Logan started to yell, but it only earned him a swift kick to the mouth from my attacker, catching me and all the other hostages off guard.

He looked dazed, blood dripping from his bottom lip.

"Logan..!" I cried out as the man dragged me toward the kitchen. Tears burned my eyes and began rolling down my cheeks.

I could hear the Hispanic mother and the two waitresses whimpering in fear as I was paraded past them, and the victimized men looked away, unable to do anything to stop this.

"Don't worry, honey," The man growled into my ear, grunting as I pointlessly struggled against him, "I'm your boyfriend, now."

"No!" I instinctively shrieked, only wearing myself out as I struggled to free myself from his grasp.

The mystery man forcefully pulled me around the corner and into the kitchen, which looked like the aftermath of a tornado.

The floor was covered in flour and spilled spices, mixing together and making a film of rusty colored dust across the tile. A big, silver bowl of pancake batter had been slung across the counter, landing in the sink and leaving gooey batter splattered across the wall and even on the ceiling.

Countless pots, pans and utensils were strewn left and right, and a sea of salad lettuce coated everything in sight. And, if I didn't play my cards right, this chaotic kitchen would be the last thing I would ever see.

The masked man roughly tossed me out in front of him, and I stumbled to a fall in front of the greasy stovetop. I slid across the floor a little, coughing as the flour and spices stirred up into a cloud around my face.

I felt a hand grip my shoulder and force me onto my back, and gasped as the man pressed his knee into my chest. I kicked my legs and tried to get some kind of traction on the tile, but my flat Chuck Taylors just slid around in all the powdery spices. The pressure from the man's knee increased, bearing down on my ribcage. It was getting harder to breathe...

As the man fumbled to rip his gun holster off his shoulder and over his head, I frantically searched the area around me for anything I could reach and use against my captor. I saw a whisk just above my head that was wet and sticky with egg yolks, a strainer tipped onto its side spilling noodles across the floor right next to my left hip, and a measuring cup strewn carelessly onto the floor down by my feet... Nothing deadly, and that's what I needed.

Panic set in as the gunman reached for his belt buckle, unfastening the clasp far too quickly. I could tell from the sickening look in his eyes that he was grinning, taking pleasure in torturing me.

Outside in the dining room, I could hear Logan coming back to his senses. His voice roared out, calling my name and demanding I be brought back out.

"Shut him up. Fucking shoot him!" Travis's voice snarled, quickly followed by a single gunshot and a series of screams.

"OH MY GOD...!" A young girl's voice screamed out, most likely one of the waitresses.

"He's dead!!" Came the Hispanic woman's quivering voice, "Cover your eyes! My babies, cover your eyes!"

I froze as the man pinning me to the kitchen floor let out a belly laugh, deep and menacing, before turning his eyes back to mine.

"Sounds like that boyfriend of yours won't be making much more noise from here on out." He stated, sending a shiver down my spine.

Tears filled my eyes as I kept searching for a weapon, my will to live and the distraught realization that Logan had been shot fueling my mind and body. Finally, as if my silent prayers had been answered, I caught sight of a sharp pairing knife under the stove, all the way back against the wall... Far out of my reach.

I was running out of time, and I knew the only way I was going to have a chance at walking away from this was to channel my mutation. In this distressed state, that wasn't going to be easy.

But, this was life or death. So I stretched my arm as far as it would reach out toward the knife, willing and almost begging it to come to my fingers.

I felt a concentrated pressure start to build between my temples, which was a good sign, but it wasn't strong enough. I kept trying.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the man's grubby hand reaching for my face. I pulled away in disgust, only earning me a painful wrench of my neck as he roughly twisted his fingers into my hair.

I yelped and gritted my teeth at the stinging pain, trying to keep my mind focused on the knife under the stove I so desperately needed.

"Hold still," The man hissed at me like the snake he was, "C'mon, don't worry, sweetheart... I'll make your last minutes memorable."

Those words were the boost I needed, causing my pounding heart to skip a beat under my attacker's knee, and the pocket of pressure to pop inside my head. The knife quivered before it shot across the floor under the stove, slapping into my waiting palm.

I gripped the handle and kept my hand hidden. I had to compose myself and wait for the right time to strike.

I gasped for air as the man lifted his knee off my chest, keeping his grip on my hair. He placed one leg on either side of my torso, and let out a sickening groan as he trailed a finger across my jawline, down my neck, over my collarbone, and around the curve of my right breast.

I clenched my jaw in fury as I felt his hand roam down to the hem of my tank top, brushing against my stomach as it snaked up toward my black bra.

As he moved his free hand up to his skii mask and lifted it just above his dry, cracked lips, I knew my chance was coming.

My adrenaline sky rocketed as the man leaned down toward my face, going in for some sort of kiss... The very thought of it made me nautious.

I waited until the last possible nano-second, just before his grotesque lips brushed my skin, to unleash my surprise attack.

As I felt his hot breath against my neck, I cried out and ripped my arm out from under the grimey stove, plunging the razor sharp blade into the side of the gunmen's throat.

His body reacted to the abrupt trauma by throwing itself back off of me. I sat up and scooted backwards in the opposite direction, watching as the man's hands shot up and grabbed at his throat.

A low gurgling sound bubbled up through his lips as blood began to leak from the puncture wound, spilling out and covering his hands and shirt. In his last moments of life, the man's legs kicked about, and his wide eyes helplessly searched the room.

When his body stopped squirming, I knew he was dead. Good riddance... Take that for memorable last moments.

I sighed and grasped the stainless steel counter top, pulling myself up onto my wobbly legs. I was covered in lettuce, flour, and other spices, my mascara mixed with my tears, leaving gray streaks down my pale face, and my hair was a tangled mess.

Just when I caught my breath and regained my composure, the bright fluorescent lights above me fizzled out, as well as the ones in the dining room. There were two emergency lights, one in the front of house and one in back, but other than that the restaurant was completely dark.

My breathing became shallow as I listened to the main gunman, Travis, begin to shout.

"Tommy, you idiot," His voice thundered, "You cut the green wire, didn't you?! I told you the green wire cuts out the--"

His shouts were suddenly cut abruptly short, and the people held captive began gasping and crying out in shock and disbelief. I jumped and covered my mouth as the sound of gunfire battered my eardrums, and I could have sworn I'd heard Logan's furious, animalistic roar.

But how was that possible? I thought he had been shot... I heard the bullet fire... But I didn't see it. Maybe he was alive...

I shrunk behind a giant stainless steel fridge as I heard the sound of footsteps storming closer, headed straight for the entrance to the kitchen.

When Logan's strong, battered figure stomped around the corner, his metal claws drawn and stained with blood, an emormous wave of relief washed over my entire body.

"ANABELLE!" He screamed out between his ragged panting. In the shadows, his scowling face was very dark and intimidating, but I knew I had nothing to fear.

I couldn't bring myself to say anything, so instead I stepped out into view, trying to keep from breaking down and buckling to the floor as Logan caught me in his sights.

We stared at each other, and for a second, the muscles in Logan's face relaxed slightly as he took in my still in-tact frame. The finger print shaped bruises on my upper arm was probably the worst of the damage I had received.

Finally, after the few seconds that felt like an eternity, Logan rushed to me. I took a few steps toward him, but my legs were so heavy, that's all I could muster.

"What did that bastard do to you, Anabelle...?!" He demanded in a husky growl as he grasped my frail shoulders and scanned my body, "Did he hurt you? I'll fucking kill him!"

"I'm a little ahead of you..." I muttered weakly, gesturing behind Logan with my eyes.

He turned over his shoulder and took in the sight of the body laying on the floor in a mess of blood. The handle of the knife was still protruding from his neck.

"What happened..." Logan asked me as he turned his intense gaze back to me, searching my eyes.

I took a deep breath as I stared into Logan's hazel orbs, actually feeling comforted by the eye contact for once.

"He... He threw me down right here... Got on top of me..." Logan's lips tightened together as he listened to my story, "Pinned me to the ground... He unbuckled his belt, but he only got a hand up my shirt before I..."

My voice cracked and cut out as the emotion of the attack shook me all over again. Logan searched my face to make sure I hadn't left any details out.

"What happened out there?" I questioned him. "I thought you were shot..."

"I played dead," Logan grumbled, "Bought me just enough time. When the lights went out, it was like an open door."

I gulped and nodded, knowing that meant he had killed the other gunmen.

I was about to ask Logan what he meant when he said he 'played dead', but the sound of the backdoor handle suddenly jiggling kept me silent.

Logan's head snapped up as he stared at the door, instantly stepping in front of me and taking an offensive stance. He clenched his fists, and I flinched at the metalic slicing sound of his metal claws shooting into view.

The door popped open, allowing the yellow glow of a streetlamp to trail in from outside. It illuminated Logan's body and cast a long shadow behind him that I was hidden in.

Another body stepped into the now open doorway from the opposite side. It was another man holding a gun, dressed in the same dark outfit, wearing the same skii mask.

"Travis, I think I-" He stopped in his tracks when he layed eyes on Logan, instantly dropping down to his claws, "...What the fuck...?"

Logan wasted no time and began walking toward the armed man, who lifted his weapon and fired three shots in the blink of an eye.

I screamed as the bullets struck Logan in the head, chest and shoulder, the jolting impact completely visible. But to my amazement, he was still standing, simply shaking off the powerful blows... I couldn't believe what I was seeing. Logan had just taken three shots from a fully automatic assault rifle, and he was still standing... He should have had gaping holes driven through his body, or chunks of flesh missing.

By the look in the last crook's wide eyes, he was thinking the very same thing.

Instead, I heard a soft metal clink on the floor, followed by another, then another... My eyes trailed to the floor, and I spotted three small fragments of crumpled metal... The bullets! His body had stopped them and pushed them out.

That's how he played dead... I was astonished, unable to pull my eyes away from the bullets or even blink until Logan began stomping toward the armed man.

He tried to scurry away, but it was no use. Logan grabbed him by the throat with his left hand, swiftly impaling him with the claws on his right. The man let out a gurgling moan as Logan yanked his claws upward, severing all of the vital organs.

All the jerking motions of the life leaving the man's body ceased, and Logan ripped his claws free, tossing the corpse aside with a lifeless thud.

He was breathing heavy, his nostrils flaring and the veins in his arms, neck.and forehead were pulsating.

"Come on," Logan urged me breathlessly, "We gotta get outta here before cops show up."

I nodded and followed Logan as he darted out the backdoor, glancing behind me to see the other victims inside the restaurant staring at us with wide eyes through the kitchen doorway.

I could hear the police sirens echoeing in the distance as we raced through the parking lot and finally made our way back to the truck. Logan was right, the police would be here any minute, and it wouldn't be good for us to stick around any longer.

My body seemed to be functioning on autopilot as I climbed into the truck and slammed the door, listening to Logan curse under his breath as he jammed the key into the ignition and started the engine.

The tires peeled out against the asphalt as Logan cranked the steering wheel and pounded on the gas, tearing the truck out of the parking lot and into the street.

As we disappeared into the early night, I caught a glimpse of the flashing red and blue lights atop four police cruisers. They were emerging over the hill at a rapid speed, their screeching sirens echoeing louder... But they were only visible for a few seconds before we disappeared around a bank of tall pine trees, headed once more for the unknown...

xxx TBC xxx