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Thunder and Twi-lightning

Summary:
A pair of Treasure hunters let loose a group of ancient creatures.

Volterra is destroyed by unknown forces.

A secret police unit from Chicago arrives to investigate a string of murders . . .

And to top it all of, three certain killers arrive at the Cullens.

What else could go wrong?


Notes:
This is an big crossover, with well known characters from X-Men, Tomb Raider, and several horror movies, and a bunch of lesser know characters from the movie Tremors and the TV show Special Unit 2


2. The Capture

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Erik, or Magneto, whichever name is more preferred, was silent for a moment, and then replied, “Yes. . . I suppose that you could call me that. And I should be more easily able to build a vampire locating Cerebro, now that I know what the specific beings you need found. But, like I said, it may still be difficult. First, I will need at least the materials listed, and even then I may need some more different materials." “You previously stated that if the items have metallic properties, you would be able to to find their exact locations." Magneto smiled slightly. “Correct. I know exactly where they are, but they are located in somewhat dangerous areas. The first item on the list that we should obtain is located in . . .” _____________________________________________ ‘One sheep. Two sheep. Three sheep. . . Well, this isn't working. I have to get to fall asleep.’ CSSP Night Agent Cory Shearwaters lay on a small but comfortable bed that was placed in the middle of a room with only one entrance, placed on the wall perpendicular to the foot of the bed. The room would remind you of a laboratory, and the bed was the only piece of furniture in there. Even so, the room was far from empty. There were at least twenty very heavily-armed and armored guards, a dozen or more scientist standing off to the sidelines, and other support personnel stationed near the doorway. For such a crowded room, it was awfully quiet. The reason? They were trying to bring the legendary and infamous Freddy Krueger out of his dream world and into the real world. ‘Come on. . . why can't I get to sleep.’ Shearwaters was chosen for this task for his ability to almost instantly fall asleep. This was the first time for as long as he could remember where it had failed him. He rubbed his eyes a couple time, turned over onto his stomach, got uncomfortable and accidentally rolled off the bed. He immediately leapt up, expecting to be reprimand, but found that the room was suddenly strangely empty. “What the heck?” He wondered out loud. He stretched quickly and started aimlessly wandering around the empty room. He walked over to the door and looked out down the hallway. Nothing. He was starting to get a little worried, but annoyed at the same time. “Where in the world did everybody go?!” A voice in the room behind him said simply, “Nowhere.” He whirled around to face the speaker, instinctively reaching for his sidearm at the same time, to his dismay to find it missing. About two feet in front of his face there was a decomposed-faced freak. The. . . thing. . . had a weird red-and-green striped sweater on, a fedora-esq hat, and an odd thing similar to a glove with long stiletto-like knives coming out of the fingers. Shearwaters was horrified. This must be Krueger! Krueger swiped at Sheawaters face with his sticker glove in an incredible speed, and three thin lines of blood appeared on Shearwaters face. _____________________________________________ They were all watching Shearwaters with dedicated intensity. When the blood showed up on his face, every single person sprung into action. The guards positioned themselves around the room, all aiming their high powered rifles, some filled with tranqs and some filled with bullets, towards Shearwaters. More people tried to wake him by dousing him with water, others slapped him, several times and normally very hard, but nothing worked. _____________________________________________ Krueger swung his glove again, this time catching Shearwaters in the gastro-intestinal area. Cory fell backwards from the force of the swing and reached down to his foot where he normally concealed his boot knife which also seemed to have disappeared, when a horrible pain shot up from there. Through the wave of pain and terror he realized that he had twisted his ankle. Ignoring the pain in his foot, stomach, and face, he stood up again and, not slowly to the dismay of his foot, but uneasily he took a combat position. It took him a half-second to register that Freddy had disappeared. He looked around the room trying to locate him, but the sudden turns and movement made him dizzy. He clutched his stomach with haze filling his vision, when all of a sudden he felt himself start to topple over and lost all feeling in his right leg from his knee down. That was the last thing he remembered before he blacked out. _____________________________________________ The room was pure chaos. People were screaming into Shearwaters ear trying to wake him. The scientists panicked when they saw his stomach start bleeding profusely and some fainted when his right leg just disappeared. One man vomited at the sight of all the blood. “Someone get Andrew out of here!” one person shouted. Another yelled, “His pulse is racing! Hurry!” Finally, someone had somehow managed to wake him up. Freddy materialized above him, his glove ready to plunge into Shearwaters chest. He looked back at the people and instantly went active. He cut down two scientists who stupidly strayed too close before the guards could do anything. When they finally decided to react, half of the first salvo of tranquilizers missed and flew into other scientist (By now, there were only about half of the scientists still standing.) The tranquilizers contained enough meds to put a male adult lion on steroids to sleep, so the scientists dropped like Obama's approval ratings. They didn’t even faze Freddy. Finally someone bought a metallic net in and tossed it onto Krueger. Five burly men jumped on him, trying to pin him down. His sticker-glove cut one of the men, had somehow managed to cut through the net and was almost out of it when there was a bright flash, and all movement in the room just suddenly ceased. Meir King was standing in the doorway with what looked like a small bullhorn (They type that amplifies your voice, not an actual Bull's horn) in his hand. He attached the “bullhorn” to his belt and walked over to Freddy's limp body. He smiled and pulled out his walky-talky . . . _____________________________________________ In an abandoned summer camp, CSSP Night Agent William Roberts stood with a flashlight in his hand. He just stood there, waiting . . . and baiting . . . trying to find Jason Vorhees. Even though he was aware of the other agents concealed nearby, he was still awfully frightened. He had heard of what Jason could do, even after he had been beaten real bad. And, he was one of the guards when Freddy had been captured. He was all too aware that Jason had beaten Freddy before . . . He heard a twig snap behind him in the bushes, which was very loud in the quiet night, and jumped backwards. He turned and shined his flashlight towards the bush and drew his pistol. A little rabbit hopped out of the bush, looked at him for a minuscule amount of time, and jumped back in. William was about to laugh at himself, when a voice crackled in his ear, causing him to jump. Again. “You may want to turn around, Bill. A rabbit is the least of your worries.” ‘Oh, crap.’ Was the single thought that fluttered through his head. He turned quickly and was face-to-face with a tattered jacket and black shirt. He looked up, and a hockey mask stared back at him. He turned and tried to run, but Jason grabbed the back of his shirt and raised his machete. The odd flash of light appeared again, and Jason slumped down, with William falling on top of him. Meir King stepped out of the bushes and holstered his “bullhorn” again. His aid stepped out and stood behind him. “If you don’t mind me asking, what is that thing that you keep using? If it’s so effective, why risk the other agents?” King looked at him with squinted eyes and replied “I do mind, but I’ll tell you anyway. This weapon either speeds up molecules so you vaporize in a puff of air or slows them down so you get incredibly heavy lose conscience, and fall. Yes, it is a risk, a very big risk to the agents, since it does have a fairly large chance of failure. I am greatly but pleasantly surprised that it has worked twice in a row now. And, the power source is very rare, not to even say very expensive. I only use it for things of great importance. Jason is worth it. If William were to die,” he shrugs, “So be it. A martyr to the cause. Now, just Mr. Meyer is left . . .” _____________________________________________ In an abandoned mental hospital near Haddonfield, Illinois, CSSP Night Agent Fellow Shiphall was waiting for Michael Meyers to reveal himself. He was constantly on the move, always on the look out for the William Shatner-like mask he was known to wear. Fellow was picked for this task because of his iron will and his determination. . . and because he picked the shortest straw. He wandered through the halls, looking for any sign of Michael. Every room had to be checked, every cabinet inspected, every closet looked in. “Hey. you.” Fellow slowly turned, not to quickly, not to slowly, as not to show fear. He turned and faced. . . Michael. “Hey, Mike. Can I call you Mike?" Without waiting for Michael-Mike to respond, he asks "What are you doing here?” Mike is quiet, then answers Fellows question with another question. “What are YOU doing here?” Fellow can't keep from smiling. “I asked you first.” Michael simply says “Oh, well.” and swings his arm towards Fellow, a knife almost literally appearing in his hand. Fellow sidestepped it, grabbed his arm, wheeled Michael around and pinned him to the wall. “Your coming with me, Michael, Mikey, whatever I want to call you, whether you like it or not.” Michael kept struggling, trying to get away and retrieve his knife, which he had dropped when Fellow counter-attacked. Fellow kicked the knife down the corridor, the metal against tile sound echoing throughout the building. He presses a small button on his ear and says into his mouthpiece, “Ok, guys, I’ve got him.” Instantly, at least two dozen people came out of nowhere, through skylights in the roof, out of the ground through trapdoors. Someone grabbed Michael and slapped some high-tech handcuffs on him. Meir King walked up to him and whispered into his Michael ears, “Boy, you’re gonna help me, or else you will join your sister in hell . . .”