Chapter 12: Battle Lines
Erik growled and pinned Charles down on the grass. Charles let out an undignified squeak as he realized that he was, in fact, trapped, but recovered quickly.
"You're so conveniently small." Erik taunted, well, half taunted, half thought aloud as he considered ways Charles could compensate for it in a fight. Charles' eyes flicked over to his cane. It was still lying out of reach near the bench to his right.
"Yes, but surprisingly flexible." He returned cheekily, lashing out at his opponent with his good leg. Erik let out a subtle cough and repositioned himself to pin Charles' legs as well. Charles pouted.
"You're not even trying." Erik accused. Charles frowned.
"I am trying! I can't fight like you. As you've pointed out, I'm not exactly physically imposing am I? And you, on the other hand, are you: all big and strong and generally behemothy!"
"I've witnessed your fighting before. You're holding back. Stop it." Erik insisted. Charles reflected on that for a second. "You're hesi… Wh-?" Erik lost his train of thought as Charles let out a rather distracting sound and wriggled under him. Charles then smirked up at him, pulled his hand free and slapped him, before switching their positions.
"Feel better?" Charles asked, standing up. Erik rolled to his feet and grabbed Charles' arm, continuing their match without a word. Charles countered with an elbow to his ribs followed by a punch with his other arm. Erik caught his fist and spun him around to hold him to his chest.
"I don't think that 'behemothy' is actually a word." Erik stated into Charles' ear.
"It served my point, regardless." Charles replied, breathlessly.
"If I were a real opponent you'd be dead by now." Erik informed him, sounding irritated by the thought.
"If you were a real opponent, I wouldn't have let you come close enough to grab me in the first place." Charles pointed out, then stamped on Erik's foot and pulled out of his grip.
"Some of our enemies are immune to telepathy." Erik persisted, his silver eyes shining with aggravation.
"You would never let them get to me." Charles said earnestly, pushing his damp hair out of his eyes with one hand. This had the opposite effect on Erik from the one expected.
"What if I couldn't stop them?" Erik shouted, straightening up to glare down at Charles, their sparring match now abandoned. "What if something had happened to me? You need to take this seriously!"
"Nothing's going to happen to you." Charles responded at a normal volume.
"Charles!"
"I know that's not the point but…" Charles sighed, getting frustrated. "Is this about Farouk?"
"Stop wasting time! I've said what this is about!" Erik shot back a little too harshly. "I can't protect you at every moment!"
"I've never asked you to!" Charles snapped, then took a deep breath, reminding himself that it wouldn't help to yell at him, and continued in a calmer tone. "I understand that you might be traumatized by recent events, but I don't think—"
"You're right. You don't think! We are living under threat of attack and you can't keep blundering into things like a naïve idiot just because—"
"Erik. Calm down." Charles warned, his face stern. He knew that Erik hadn't meant the insult. He was under a lot of stress, but Charles wasn't going to put up with this for much longer.
"I will not—" Erik continued angrily. Charles crossed his arms over his chest, ignoring the pain that was beginning to pulse up his damaged leg.
"Calm down, or I'm leaving." He said with finality. Erik stopped and looked him over. He seemed to realize that Charles wasn't bluffing. When he was certain that Erik wasn't going to start shouting again, Charles spoke. "I'm not trying to patronize you. I am not a warrior but, neither am I going to be struck down the moment you look away. You have been through a terrible ordeal, and I can understand why you might feel insecure. Perhaps you should work through your anxiety first before you try anymore training."
"This isn't mere anxiety." Erik said more quietly.
"I know that I need to be cautious, but the fact is, if they've already reached me, fighting them isn't going to be an option." Charles admitted. "The good news is that I don't believe our current enemies are likely to kill me if they don't have to. Perhaps I can find a way to use that."
"Perhaps." Erik conceded sarcastically, yet feeling a bit guilty as he watched Charles limp over to sit down on the bench and retrieve his cane. "But I don't think that even you could talk your way out of everything."
"Even I?" Charles echoed with a wan smile.
"You can be very persuasive." Erik assured him with a shrug, coming to sit next to him on the bench. "Even without using telepathy."
"Well then, I expect I could at least buy enough time."
Erik shot Charles a solemn look.
"We're not alone, you know. Failing you, I would imagine that one or more of the others would attempt to help me. Not that it matters, because nothing 's going to happen to you."
I walked up to them on my way back from the gardens.
"Is this some awkwardly dire conversation that I'm not meant to be tracking?" I asked belatedly. Charles leaned against Erik's shoulder, flashing me a look.
"I've learned to just assume that you're always tracking me." Charles informed me drily, causing Erik to raise an eyebrow.
"Good." I remarked. "Because I am." I regarded Erik. "You need to relax more."
"I didn't ask." Erik responded, only slightly annoyed by my presumptuousness now that he'd grown used to me. "Why did you come find us?"
"Oh yeah." I said as though I hadn't been putting off telling them just to be irritating. "Aunt Raven wants you. She's beginning to freak out about Marie and Logan not coming back yet, and it's really annoying."
"How sympathetic of you." Erik observed caustically. "Why did she ask for me?"
"Don't know. Don't care." I replied. "I know, I'm just such a nurturer. -Which reminds me. Who's got the tyke? I've got something to show her." Charles narrowed his eyes at me.
"Will it scar her emotionally?"
"No."
"I believe that she's with Alex in the playroom." Charles explained. I nodded in acknowledgment and went back towards the mansion. Erik got up to go see what Raven wanted him for. Charles glanced up at him, toying with the silver handle of his cane.
"Would you like me to join you?" He inquired, not looking incredibly enthusiastic about the idea. Erik shook his head.
"I think I can manage." Erik replied. Charles sighed and nodded.
"I suppose I should go and see what exactly Francis is up to." He stated, dragging himself up off the bench. "Be careful. Raven can get a bit volatile when she's upset." Erik nodded. He could still remember when Sean had tried to drag her away from her brother's study after he'd first sealed himself away. It hadn't been pretty. None of the others had dared even to suggest separating them after that.
Cecily looked up when someone entered her compartment and took the seat opposite her. She could tell without looking up from her book that it wasn't the quiet, young university student who had been sitting with her before. He had seemed to exude shyness. He had also left the car only moments ago to get himself some lunch. She doubted he'd return soon.
"Cecily Kinkaid, I believe." A youthful, accented voice announced. She could feel the boy's eyes on her but she didn't look up. He didn't sound like much of a threat, but she didn't want to encourage him. He continued to watch her patiently while she tried not to let on just how quickly she'd started plotting possible escape routes.
"Okay… Was that comment aimed at me?" She answered, finally regarding the stranger. He smiled broadly at her. He looked to be about her age. His pearly-white teeth barely contrasted with his light gray skin. That wasn't what got her attention though, nor was it the morbidly blue tint to his lips. No, what really made an impression were his fiery, copper-red eyes.
"I've been sent to discuss a proposal with you." Arawn continued.
"You're really not my type." Cecily joked, trying not to seem as scared as she was. She realized that she was probably being a bit of a hypocrite. After all, she had recently developed a sudden tendency to change her density, and seemed to be composed entirely out of metal. This monochromatic-bloke simply happened to have red eyes, even if they were far too ancient for his face, but what can you do?
"Very cute, but I'm afraid that your situation is really rather serious." Arawn replied, his accent growing a tad more pronounced. He folded his gloved hands elegantly as he leaned back in his seat to observe her. "My employer has sent me after you because he's become intrigued by your gift."
"My gift?"
"Come now, don't play coy, Miss Kinkaid. You're composed entirely out of fluid metal." Arawn returned, watching her expectantly. Cecily did not disappoint. She stilled for a second, understandably surprised that he knew. Then she darted out into the hall to make a run for it, scooping up her bag as she went. He just chuckled, not bothering to chase after her. She skidded to a halt when she got to the end of the car to find a slender, Hispanic man in a tailored lavender suit blocking her way. She turned and ran back in the other direction. Only a few more minutes before the next scheduled stop. I've just got to keep away from these guys until then. She thought to herself. The petite, red-eyed teenager stepped out in front of her. His eyes had grown more scarlet. Cecily pounded on the doors of a nearby compartment, shouting for help as the two men closed in on her.
"I wouldn't count on it, Luv." Arawn told her in an almost apologetic tone. She chucked her bag at him. He caught it and slung it over his shoulder before grabbing her arm. "You're not gettin' away from us that easily I'm afraid." Cecily glared at him as the train began to slow to a stop.
"Don't patronize me." She snapped. Arawn smiled at her again. "Just so you know. My Uncle's a Marine, and he will find you."
"Ooh, I like this one." Arawn remarked lightly. Riptide smirked. "How long until the gas wears off?" Riptide checked his watch.
"We still have plenty of time." He reported. Arawn looked down at Cecily, then rolled his eyes.
"Plenty of time. That's bloody specific, isn't it? I can't imagine why your last boss failed." Arawn remarked sarcastically. "You must've been well-efficient." Riptide shot him a withering look as they began to haul their prisoner off the train. He wasn't sure why Arawn seemed to dislike him so much, but he was now certain that the feeling was mutual.
"Lensherr put a coin through his head. Our boss helped him do it." Riptide said defensively. Cecily shot him an incredulous look. That's it kid. You're down the rabbit hole now.
"Yes please shout that to the general populace, won't you?" Arawn chastened as they reached the platform. He leaned closer to tell Cecily. "Don't try anything, Luv. I'd rather not do you any harm." In a hushed voice.
"I figured." Cecily responded miserably. She'd decided he probably had something fairly nasty up his sleeve. The guy was just a kid and this criminal was still taking grief from him. She suspected that meant the kid was pretty scary. "You gonna tell me who your employer is?"
"He's special, like us." Riptide volunteered as they neared the end of the terminal. Arawn looked unimpressed by his answer.
"They call him the Shadow King." Arawn clarified. Cecily almost tripped, partially due to the strange remark, mostly because of the two men she'd just spotted farther down the terminal. Luckily for her, she was fairly sure the redhead had spotted her. She tried to cover the revelation and play it off as nothing.
"What do you call him?" She asked looking up at Arawn.
"Nice try, Luv." Arawn replied and her heart sank. A red and grey blur became a man standing behind her. He and Arawn both had guns pointed at each other.
"Oh, I wouldn't would you?" Arawn said. He was smirking. A woman screamed somewhere in the background. The human bystanders scattered, fleeing the guns.
"Are you alright, Cecily?" Peter asked, not breaking eye-contact with Arawn.
"I'm not hurt." Cecily replied, then her eyes widened when she saw what the other kidnapper was doing. "Look out!" She acted without thinking. Her arm elongated, becoming a silvery whip and wrapped around Riptide's wrist, yanking him off balance. She gasped in surprise and released him, staring aghast at her hand as it melted back into its original shape and the liquid metal regained the appearance of pale skin. Peter, unfazed, grabbed her arm and pulled her away from Arawn, shoving her into her Uncle's arms.
Riptide moved to counterattack as Peter sped towards him, faster than the human eye can track. Cecily let out a startled shriek at the sight of the man in the lavender suit being flung into a wall by the unperceivable blur. Peter spun his gun in his hand, watching the half-formed whirlwind sputter out, before turning and aiming his at Arawn's head as an afterthought.
"Who are you people!?" Cecily exclaimed. Her Uncle put an arm around her, trying to comfort her. Both Arawn and Peter turned their heads to regard her for a moment before returning to the matter at hand.
"So you're the other speedster, then." Arawn observed casually. Peter shrugged. "We've been searching for you." Arawn added. Peter smiled, cockily.
"I know." He confirmed. "We'll be taking the girl with us."
Arawn raised an eyebrow at him as if to say 'Oh, you think so?'
"You may be powerful, Apocalypse, but the police will be swarming this place at any moment now. You wouldn't waste your energy with that sort of bother. I know you better than that. That reminds me, I'm not familiar with this you. What's your name this time?" Peter inquired. Arawn looked surprised, then he smiled, amused, as he made the connection.
"I've met your brother recently." He announced, his eyes were fading back towards copper already. "Quite a cheeky little bastard, he is." Peter narrowed his eyes at him, lowering his gun just a little. He could tell that Apocalypse wasn't going to kill him now. Much like me, his eyes were a barometer for his mood.
"How'd that go?" Peter inquired neutrally.
"It was interesting, to say the least. He got a punctured lung. I got murdered twice, etcetera, etcetera. I'll tell you one thing, your baby brother sure can take a lot of punishment." Arawn remarked. Peter's expression darkened. "Oh, here we go. I seem to've struck a nerve." Arawn noted, unconcerned.
"Agent Frank…" Captain Kinkaid cautioned.
"You go on ahead." Peter responded coolly, still staring down Apocalypse.
"Don't do anything stupid." Captain Kinkaid responded, before complying.
"Like what, kill me?" Arawn quipped. Peter glared at him.
"Is that a challenge?" Peter returned. Arawn shrugged at him and lowered his gun, apparently deciding the confrontation was over. Then he put his fingers to his lips and whistled. It was startling enough to draw the Kinkaids' attention back to him.
"Your bag, Luv." He teased, dropping it onto the floor and kicking it towards them. Cecily regarded him suspiciously. They could hear the police running towards them now.
"What did you do to it?"
Arawn smiled. There was something old and a tad feral shining in his coppery eyes.
"Oh, my dear girl… as if I would need a tracker to find you." He said. Peter snapped into action, shooting a split second too late. The space around Apocalypse seemed to warp, as though the air itself was rippling around him. There was an odd sort of low, vibrating sound and he was simply gone.
"Damn it!" Peter shouted, kicking a nearby rubbish bin. He eyed Riptide's unconscious form for a split second before jogging over to the Kinkaids. "Let's go. Let the police deal with him."
"Sir?" Captain Kinkaid questioned.
"Police involvement is the last thing we need right now. Come on."
Emma was lying back on her cot, pretending to be comfortable. It was well after lights out and she knew that she was meant to be asleep but she just couldn't seem to relax. This bed actually managed to be noticeably worse than the one in her previous cell. At least, this one was closer to the outside—not that she was supposed to be aware of that fact. She sighed restlessly and attempted to clear her mind.
Just wait it out. That's all this is. You're just waiting for the next one… Is that giggling? Emma stopped to listen. She'd heard something, but she doubted that it could've been… Her eyes snapped open. That was definitely a child giggling. What the hell?
"Ring-around-the-rosie, Pocket full of posies, ashes, ashes, we all fall down." Sang a little girl's voice. Emma frowned and sat up, walking over to the heavily reinforced window of her prison to look out.
"Hello?" She questioned, feeling chagrined. Someone had to be screwing with her. She just didn't know how. The little girl giggled again and she heard the patter of little running feet. "Hello? Who's there?" Emma tried again. There was a thump behind her in the cell. Emma spun around to see a little girl with long, auburn hair had dropped her doll. "How?" Emma gasped, reaching out with her telepathy to try and detect the telepath who was projecting the odd illusion. There was no one.
"We all fall down." The little girl said plainly. Her image flickered and for a split second there was a grown woman in dark jeans and a black leather jacket facing her instead. Her pale face was streaked with tears and her hand was outstretched. It took Emma a moment to realize what she was doing. She was screaming 'Somebody help me!' but there was no sound, other than the little girl's sing-song rhyme. Emma stepped back, knocking into the wall behind her and the specter vanished. Emma's eyes opened and she sat bolt-upright in her bed, shivering. That had not been a dream.
