Cortex 20: Hot Pursuit
James was beginning to wish he had followed Julio after all; at least that way they would know which way they were going, and more importantly where they were supposed to be going. So far they appeared to be going in circles- he was convinced he'd seen that strange scorch mark on the wall before. Even Monet's superhuman hearing and telepathy were not helping; she could hear the sound of fighting better than any of them but something about the layout of the corridors was throwing the acoustics out and making it hard to get her bearings. Suddenly the floor trembled and the walls shook ominously, and they all recognised the signature of Julio unleashing his powers. Monet finally had something to focus on and she sped off down the corridor, so fast the others had to run to keep up. They turned a corner just in time to see a shapely pair of legs vanish through a doorway, through which could be heard the sound of vicious combat. A big mutant with red eyes and long fangs staggered out into the corridor, right into Guido. The man staggered backwards, and his eyes had just enough time to widen in shock and fear before Guido sent him right back the way he had come with a massive punch.
"Nice punch," James congratulated him, offhand. "Well, I suppose we can't really let Monet have all the fun, can we? Come on..." He headed through the doorway, followed by Teresa. The door frame was slightly too small for Guido's muscular frame, but he simply walked right through, taking bits of wall with him. Monet was already thick in the fighting, punches bouncing off her flawless skin like pebbles off a battle tank. James could see a small, hairy shape similarly beleaguered but equally unstoppable, punching and kicking its way through a mob of mutant lowlifes. Guido noticed a mutant with purple flames around its fists taking aim at Monet's back.
"Oh no you don't!" he growled, placing himself right in the path of the fireballs as they shot through the air. They hit him right on the chest, but he simply absorbed the impact and stomped towards his attacker, who blanched in terror. A group of mutants advanced on James and Teresa, but were promptly blasted backwards by a sonic blast that left James' ears ringing. He shook his head to try and regain sense then sighed as he saw what appeared to be a man made out of blue, steel scales approaching.
"Oh, this can't be good," he moaned. He didn't know that his words would prove prophetic, but even as he spoke an old enemy was sneaking up on Monet with a vindictive grin on his face. Bevatron was seeking revenge for the defeat of a few weeks before, and as Monet was momentarily distracted, he saw his chance. He unleashed bolts of electricity that struck her in the back and spread over her body until it looked like a spider had crawled over her, spinning webs of lightning. She couldn't help crying out in pain and Bevatron laughed cruelly as he shot more and more electricity into her. He was so absorbed in his sadistic torment that he didn't notice the tall figure standing at his side until it spoke with a thick Cajun accent.
"That's no way to treat a pretty girl, homme."
"What? Who-?" The end of the sentence faded into an anguished squeal when Remy flicked the end of his staff between Bevatron's legs with deceptive force. Remy swung the staff backhanded and brought the other end into contact with Bevatron's skull, laying the callous mutant out unconscious. Remy made his way over to Monet, who was still suffering a lot of pain. Her normally sleek hair was frizzy and unkempt, and she was breathing very heavily. Remy took her hand and gallantly helped her upright.
"You okay?" He asked. Monet looked at her saviour and was treated to his most devastatingly charming grin, so winningly roguish even Monet felt a slight flutter in her chest.
"Why, thank you Mr...?"
"Cajun! You can flirt after we've dealt with these goons!" Logan bellowed across the room at Remy, who sighed.
"Some other time, chere," he promised Monet, kissing her hand. He then turned away and started swiping at a short but very strong-looking mutant holding a large club of some kind. With his smile gone, the spell he had woven started to fade and Monet soon began feeling much more like her usual self.
"That arrogant..." she seethed. "I am perfectly able to look after myself!" She took out her frustration on the nearest opponent, throwing him against the wall with enough force to break several bones. Remy soon found his way to where Logan was having difficulty dealing with a tentacle mutant who had wrapped his long appendages around Logan's wrists and was holding him in the air out of reach of those lethal claws. Remy ran towards the mutant, but to his surprise more tentacles appeared to sprout from the man's chest and snaked towards Remy with blinding speed. One wrapped itself around Remy's wrist as the Cajun tried to throw a charged card, but Remy simply smiled. His free hand grabbed the tentacle. There was no way he would be able to pry it off, but then again, he didn't need to. Although he couldn't charge organic material, there was nothing to stop him charging his fingerless glove and discharging it into the tentacle. The results were most gratifying; the mutant shrieked and all four tentacles withdrew, writhing and twisting. Logan was slicing away even as he fell and hacked off two of the serpentine limbs, which fell to the floor and faded into nothingness. A large mutant suddenly grabbed the back of Logan's shirt and tossed him through the air, leaving Remy to face off against the many-limbed mutant alone. Four new tentacles had grown to replace the missing ones, and were sent slithering through the air towards Remy.
"You want to dance?" Remy taunted his enemy, smirking, then batted away three tentacles and stamped on the fourth as it tried to grab his ankle. The mutant snarled again and withdrew its limbs, but it seemed to be gathering itself. As Remy started running towards it to close the distance, it roared at him and suddenly there were a dozen tentacles waving in the air, sprouting from the mutant's chest, shoulders and even his forehead. They moved with blinding speed towards Remy, who for the first time began to wonder if his cockiness hadn't been premature.
"Merde," he commented drily, then had to focus all his attention on not being grabbed and killed by tentacles.
The Cortex Investigations Agents were doing a lot better. Monet was still fighting off on her own but the other three had managed to bunch together and were using their powers in concert. Guido was managing to bludgeon everything that came in reach while Teresa used her powers to cover his back from anyone trying to sneak up on them. James was using his powers to make one of the mutants attacking them start attacking other thugs instead and add to the confusion. They managed to fight their way over to where Monet was fighting off four mutants at once and as a quartet they had even greater success, and soon drew the main focus of the gangsters, leaving Remy and Logan to fight off stragglers and those on the edge of the main melee. Julio on the other hand was ignoring the fighting and running across the room towards a door on the far side. He knew that it lead to a flight of stairs that ended at the door of Negative's penthouse, and his main focus was on making sure the Chinese gangster didn't get away. Fortunately for him, it seemed his status as renegade had not spread far and many of the other hoods left him alone, believing him to be on their side. Even the blade-fingered man on the door looked more surprised than alarmed when he saw Julio steaming towards him, and had got as far as: "Hey, Ric, what're you do-" when he was propelled through the space recently vacated by the door.
Julio kicked the door open and stood in the doorway, fully prepared for a violent reception. He knew there was no way for Mr Negative out of the penthouse except through the door Julio himself was now occupying; the man was a gangster, not a supervillain- secret escape tunnels were the stuff of comic-books or Hollywood blockbusters. He knew that Negative would have been hoping for the mob downstairs to handle any attackers, but Julio was not stupid enough not to guess that there would no doubt be some nasty surprises waiting for anyone who got this far. He was surprised when he saw there was only one person facing him, but his heart sank when he realised who that person was: Quentin Quire. The psychic had both telepathic and telekinetic powers; bluffing the man wouldn't work but fighting him didn't really seem an option either.
"So, you are the traitor after all?" Quire asked scornfully. "You dumb shit! Did you really think that you could ever begin to fight us?"
"That was the general idea, yeah," Julio said. He knew his attempts at appearing casual and laidback were pretty much useless, even if the telepath didn't see through his act then he would surely sense the thoughts Julio was desperately trying to repress. However, Julio was like many other people in that when he got nervous he ended up running off at the mouth. While his thoughts were filled with impending pain, more specifically his own, part of his subconscious hijacked his mouth and filled it with lame jokes and defiance.
"You thought wrong," Quire said. He waved a hand and Julio was smashed into a wall, then swung it the other way and Julio found himself flying through the air again, crashing through a glass table. Luckily his coat prevented him suffering too much harm but his hands were cut in several places and there was a long line of blood running up his left cheek where a piece of glass had sliced into his face. He found himself hoisted into the air again and hurled against another wall, but instead of sliding down, he found a mysterious force holding him in place. Several of the larger glass fragments floated into the air and hovered before his eyes.
"I wish I could say I regretted this... but I really, really don't," Quire said.
"That makes me feel much better about you dying," Julio replied. However, there was a distinct lack of defiance in his voice; if anything, he sounded mocking. Before Quire could work out what was happening, there was a sound somewhere between a crunch and a squelch and three adamantium claws were suddenly protruding through his chest. He looked down in disbelief to see blood soaking his shirt and dripping around his feet, then the claws were withdrawn and he fell forwards, landing on his face with a wet thud. Logan was standing there but from the expression on his face, Julio was by no means out of danger just yet. Julio collapsed to the floor, shards of glass tinkling around him.
"Uh... thanks..." He said nervously.
"Thank me by telling me where the hell you were going in such a rush," Logan suggested. He had actually followed Julio on the suspicion that the Mexican was about to sell them out or tip off his boss that the game was well and truly up. The fact that the psychic had been about to kill Julio did not really serve as much as a character reference as far as Logan was concerned. Just because Julio wasn't on the same side as the psychic, that didn't mean he was on the same side as Logan.
"I told you, I'm after Negative," Julio said. "You want to scrap with all those goons down there, then fine- it's your call. Me? I'm going for the head of the snake."
Logan stared at him long and hard, and Julio did his best to meet the ferocious glower. He held out an impressively long time before looking aside, and besides, Logan still couldn't catch the scent of a lie. There was definitely something this guy was holding out on them, but everything he had said so far was true.
"Fine," Logan said, shoving past and making for the door. "Just don't get in my way."
"No way I'm spending any more time with you than necessary," Julio assured him. Logan kicked down the door to Negative's personal office and burst inside, Julio advancing a little more cautiously. Caution turned to apprehension when he heard the sound of gunfire from inside the room. Julio reached the doorway just in time to see a foot plant itself in Logan's chest and propel him back out of the door. Logan roared angrily and swung at whoever had kicked him, but there was the sound of another shot and a bullet caught him straight between the eyes. Normally he would have shaken it off but with the amount of fighting and number of wounds he had sustained fighting this far, his healing factor was already stretched, and from that kind of range the impact of the bullet was enough to momentarily knock him unconscious. Julio ducked back out of sight and looked down at the comatose body. He had not seen all that much of Logan in action but he knew that for the feral X-Man to be knocked down by a single bullet was nigh-on impossible... and he also knew there was one person who could make just such a shot with ease.
"No point hiding yourself, Mr Richter," the familiar cold voice of Mr Negative called out. "If Domino can take down the legendary Wolverine I'm pretty sure she can handle you."
Julio couldn't disagree with that verdict. He had guessed at Domino's presence the instant the shot had been fired, but hearing it confirmed by Negative still felt like a punch in the guts. He stepped out, hands held up in placation. Sure enough, Mr Negative was sitting behind the desk, staring at him coldly. Even as Julio watched, Domino sat on the edge of the desk, a pistol in her hand and one long leg swinging provocatively. His last hopes died as he saw the expression on her face- it was just as cold as her employer's and there was no sign of what they had shared.
"I should have known you were only playing me for a fool, shouldn't I?" Julio asked disgustedly. "I thought, I really thought that you and me, we were... but then I always was an idiot."
"Some things never change" Negative agreed. "But I think you may be doing the lovely Miss Thurman a disservice. When she first came up here, that gun was pointed at me- until I managed to... persuade her otherwise." He placed a proprietary hand on Domino's leg and even in his humiliation and apprehension Julio felt his guts crawl at the sight. Whoever Domino really served she was not some lifeless sack of meat for this odious little scumbag to paw lecherously like that. If Negative noticed Julio's distaste he showed no indication of it, and kept talking. "In fact, I have to admit to being rather impressed by the pair of you. It has been a long time since anyone managed to overcome my powers like that."
That confirmed one suspicion that Julio had been harbouring ever since he had suddenly recovered his real self- that Mr Negative had been the one to brainwash him, and presumably any others who did not join the Chinese gangster of their own free will. It also sounded as though Domino had managed to break through Negative's control as well, only to be recaptured and subsequently restored to his side. Unfortunately that didn't give him any idea how to get the alabaster woman to free herself a second time, nor did it bode well for his own chances.
"I know what you did to me," Julio warned him. "How you set me up like that and how you forced me to go along with your plans. I'm not the only one you did it to, am I?"
"Of course not," Mr Negative confirmed. "Although I rarely have to extend myself. Most people are only too glad to join me when they see what I can offer."
"Yeah, well, most people are dicks," Julio said.
"How cynical," Negative said, sounding amused. "Although not entirely inaccurate."
"So what's in it for you?" Julio asked. "This is where you tell me all about your evil schemes, right? Rub my face in my failure to stop you before killing me..."
"You've been watching too many films, Mr Richter," Mr Negative chided him. "Rest assured, this is merely a set-back in the grand scheme of events. You are of course absolutely correct- I have many plans in place once I escape from here... but I'm afraid I will have to withhold that information from you."
"Oh well... thank God for telepathy, right?" Julio said. Negative's inscrutable expression wavered slightly as he tried to work out the logic behind the apparent non-sequitur. Now it was Julio's turn to gloat over a successful plan. "I mean we don't even have to persuade you to talk when we can just rip it right out of your mind."
"You're not a telepath," Negative snapped, trying to call Julio's bluff.
"That's why I said 'we,'" Julio said grinning. Monet suddenly appeared at his side, glaring at the trapped gangster. She had picked up on Julio's telepathic calling even as she and the others finished off the last of the thugs downstairs. She had managed to link to Julio's mind, learning all the information he had found out as well as 'hearing' the whole conversation between him and Negative.
"That's actually pretty clever," Negative acknowledged reluctantly. "It will be a shame to see those hidden wits splattered across the wall."
Domino raised the gun and pointed at Julio, while Negative looked at Monet warningly.
"Not even you can move fast enough to stop her pulling the trigger, Ms St Croix," he pointed out. "You so much as twitch and Richter's a dead man."
"That's a really tempting proposition," Monet said coldly. "Would scratching my nose count as twitching? I have a really annoying itch."
"I mean it!"
"So do I," Monet said. "We've got the information we need about you, and Julio's done his bit. As far as I'm concerned you can shoot the backstabbing little cockroach and do the world a favour in the process."
"At least some things never change," Julio sighed. Domino brandished the pistol menacingly and he shut up quickly.
"You're bluffing," Negative said uncertainly.
"I'm really not," she corrected him.
"She's really, really not," Julio agreed with Monet. "Trust me on that one."
"In that case..." Negative didn't finish the sentence but powered up into his 'negative' form and ran towards Monet, while there was a loud gunshot as Domino fired at Julio from barely feet away. At that kind of range, the bullet shot right through him and out of the other side, and Domino had lowered the gun before pulling the trigger. Julio was not sure whether she had done it to be cruel or kind as instead of her bullet shattering skull it instead shredded the muscle and arteries of his right thigh. On the plus side, that left him alive; on the downside that looked to be a temporary condition at best and he was in agony as blood oozed from the wound. Monet had been just distracted enough by the shot for Negative to shoulder charge her and ram her into a wall, but instead of trying to finish her off for good he simply ran off with unnatural speed. Domino had already vanished from sight, leaving Monet alone with the injured Julio.
"I'll be fine, get after him," he urged. Monet looked down at him with a mixture of disdain and surprise.
"I was going to," she said scathingly. She sped out of sight and Julio found himself alone in an office, bleeding slowly to death and not mourned by anyone.
"Not the way I planned on signing out," he said out loud. He had never actually thought about how he intended to die, but it certainly hadn't been anything like this. Quite apart from anything else, there was a distinct lack of beautiful, recently-deflowered virgins. His leg gave a particularly painful throb and he felt tears spring into his eyes against his best efforts. "Ow."
Before long, the other remaining members of Cortex Investigations had quickly demolished the remaining members of Negative's private army. Those that were still conscious- and capable of movement- were running for their lives and soon Guido, Teresa and James found themselves sharing the room with only one other person: a tall, lean man in his late teens or early twenties wearing a long coat and brandishing a long staff.
"Either Monet's suddenly turned into a shapeshifter or you've got a lot of explaining to do," Guido commented. In the confusion and chaos of the fight, none of them had spotted Julio's exit or the pursuit by Monet. Remy had of course noticed Logan's sudden absence but had no idea why the Canadian had left or where he had gone. However, he wasn't cowed by the presence of the three mutant detectives, confident he could charm and smooth-talk his way out of his predicament, or at least buy some time for Logan to return.
"We're all on the same side here, mes amis," he assured them. "Why'd I be standing here instead of running if we weren't?"
"To try and bluff us?" Guido suggested. Teresa had found herself under the spell Remy managed to weave over any female in his presence, and although it wasn't enough to fully overcome her suspicions, she felt oddly convinced that it was a simple misunderstanding. James was simply standing and watching carefully, measuring up the stranger and the veracity of his story.
"So you're a SHIELD man?" he asked casually. The reaction to this question would go a long way to confirming James' thoughts about the situation, but instead of the expected surprise or recognition, the man in the trench-coat looked more curious than anything.
"Logan weren't kidding about old Fury then..." he mused to himself. He raised his voice slightly as he addressed the mutant investigators. "I'm no man 'cept my own, but oui, I have had dealings with SHIELD."
"Which tells us exactly nothing," Guido pointed out, annoyed by the noncommittal way Remy had dodged the question. 'Dealings' could mean almost anything, but to Guido's mind the man's reluctance to commit to an answer was clue enough that he was clearly up to something.
"The name's Remy LeBeau," Remy introduced himself. "Better known as Gambit-" he winked devilishly at Teresa and Val- "and if either of you want to know me even better..."
"You don't, trust me on that," a gruff voice interrupted the smooth patter and a short, hairy man with a scowl and metal claws growing from his hands walked up to them as though they were all old friends. His presence and unfriendly air were enough to have Guido squaring up again but the Cortex agents relaxed when Monet appeared at the newcomer's shoulder, her hair slightly tangled and her expression extremely annoyed.
"Where'd Li go?" she demanded. The others looked at her in confusion. None of them had seen Mr Negative during the whole fight and it seemed unlikely that he could evade all of them now the combat was over. She must have guessed the story from their expressions and rattled off an impressive list of French curses. "He must have some other exit," she growled. Remy took the opportunity to further introduce himself and his colleague.
"This is Logan," he began, "but you probably heard of him as-"
"Wolverine," Val breathed. Her voice was tinged with respect and a little fear. The Wolverine was a dark legend to many SHIELD operatives, who had often had their briefings extended by one of General Fury's stories about the times 'he, Cap and Wolverine had taken on this kind of thing and...'. Short of Fury himself or the near-mythical Captain America, Logan was the most respected and admired fighter in SHIELD's collective knowledge.
"SHIELD," Logan sighed in response. He recognised the response and besides, something about SHIELD always permeated the scent of its operatives and he knew them on sight, or rather on smell. He was not surprised that one of Fury's precious little toy soldiers had got herself tangled up in this mess but that didn't mean he liked it.
"Well I guess that makes us all friends," Remy suggested, and although no-one said anything the atmosphere did thaw slightly between the two groups. Admittedly, this left it only slightly above glacial but it was at least a start. Monet was in no mood for cordial introductions, she wanted action, she wanted revenge and she wanted Negative's head between her hands- and hanging around chatting was not going to achieve any of those objectives.
"If he didn't come through here then he must have found some other way," she growled in a voice that Remy could have sworn belonged to Logan save for the accent. She was already storming away from them, muttering under her breath and kicking any thugs foolish enough to stir or groan as she passed. The others looked after her; even the other detectives were surprised, as they had known of Monet's vengeful streak but not guessed how deep it was.
"Such a sweet, caring girl," Guido quipped half-heartedly. They all began to follow the enraged telepath, looking for signs of the escaped gangster. Logan started to sniff the air as they exited the room, and soon lead them down a corridor that looked much like any other to the eyes of his companions. He stopped at one stretch of wall that seemed indistinguishable from the rest and extended his claws.
"Oh, that can't be good." Guido always prided himself on being a quick learner, so it came as no real surprise when Logan started tearing at the wall with his claws, hacking and gouging huge rents in the concrete and muttering to himself about trapdoors and secret passages.
"Allow me," Guido suggested. He elbowed Logan aside and with two massive punches collapsed the door that had been hidden in the wall. He peered down the exposed corridor curiously. "Whoa. This is like something out of a James Bond film... except there's more than one of us, and no hot babes needing rescuing, and we're mutants. Other than that though, it's exactly the same."
"Practically identical," James agreed drily. "But with worse one-liners. But we can discuss Bond Girls after we finish with this clown." He lead the way and the others followed him, with the exception of Monet, who soared off ahead and out of sight.
Negative's Office
Julio had managed to create a tourniquet out of his belt and with it pulled tightly around his leg he could now walk around, although he had turned very pale and every step caused fresh beads of sweat to spring from his skin. Although the pain was beyond anything he had ever felt before, he supposed he should be grateful that he was still alive; in fact, that he could still use his leg at all was a blessing. He wondered at the odds of such a shot: debilitating enough to cause severe injury and prevent pursuit, but not deadly enough that quick thinking and prompt action could not come to the rescue. You had to be very good to make that kind of shot... or very lucky, and Domino was both. Unfortunately she was also very absent, leaving Julio alone with his thoughts and the white-hot lances of pain stabbing up at him from his leg. He spent a few minutes cursing the pain, in the absence of anyone to blame for it... except that wasn't true, was it? Someone had suggested he rescue the others, someone had predicted exactly what he should have- and now had- done. That same someone had made further predictions too- that he would rescue her in turn.
"Fuck that," he said aloud. "Last time I listened to you I ended up having my leg half blown off. I would have rescued the others anyway," he mentally added 'eventually' and managed to convince himself it was true in a general sense. It may have taken longer and he still didn't have a clue how he would achieve it, but he would... in the end. Unfortunately his mind refused to follow the party line and stubbornly kept bringing the face of Layla Miller to the forefront of his subconscious. It got to the stage when he could even recall the precise expression on her face when she had made her predictions: partly hopeful, partly accusatory but altogether certain. She had been convinced of what would happen and for some reason Julio could not bring himself to disappoint her.
"This is a really, really bad idea," he pointed out, though no-one would ever hear him. He hobbled out and down towards the stairs. He limped through the room full of stunned and injured thugs. He kept one eye open for his colleagues but as far as he could tell they had all made it out safely.
He made it to the room where Layla was being held, and was not surprised in the slightest to find that her face was at the window the instant he stepped around the corner, watching his every step. He limped up to the door and began examining it. Whatever had happened to the keys to this place, they weren't available to Julio.
"You know stuff, right?" he demanded. "So tell me where the key is, so I can let you out."
"What about your powers?" Layla asked, confused. Normally Julio would have enjoyed seeing her disconcerted but in this case her lack of pre-knowledge could cost them dearly.
"If I try channelling my powers my femur will snap like a straw," he said darkly. "If I'm lucky, anyway. It's something to do with feedback, I don't know how it works but believe me there is no way I'm using my powers on that right now."
"You'll find a way," Layla said with blithe confidence. Julio scowled at her preternatural confidence and self-assurance. Damn right he was going to find out how to get the annoying brat out of there- so he could throttle her himself. He examined the door again. He had been a decent enough lock-breaker even before his powers had manifested and made his training superfluous, but he could see that this was a door not designed to be broken in a hurry. Hinges, lock, frame, the material of the door itself; all of it was solid, sturdy and apparently damage-proof. He was about to kick the door in frustration when he remembered the condition his leg was in and decided against it. He swore in Spanish and punched a window in frustration. He was about to repeat the process when he was struck by sudden inspiration, looking from his raised fist to the window and back again. He hit the window again, more lightly and experimentally, then searched the corridor-full of prone bodies until he found what he was looking for. One of the less physically-orientated mutants had been carrying a gun, but due to the gulf in class between her and the attackers had not had time to draw it in combat. Julio had no such problems, and as the son of an arms dealer he was perfectly comfortable around firearms.
"Smith and Wesson model five fifty, fires point five hundred S.W magnum," he assessed the gun, a bulky revolver. "You know, if you were a guy I'd make a crack about overcompensating." It was one of the most powerful handguns in the world, if a little impractical. Semi-automatics were more common, and more useful, but this was more than up to the task he needed it for. He checked it was loaded, finding it suitably stocked up, then aimed and fired at the window. He felt the recoil shoot up his arm and a corresponding surge of pain in his leg and dropped it, swearing in Spanish. The huge bellow of the gun very nearly drowned out the panicked squeak from Layla, but Julio could not help smirking as he overheard the noise. He approached the window and was impressed to see it had withstood the shot, although a crack had spider-webbed outwards from the point of impact. As he approached, Layla popped up again and glared at him reproachfully.
"You could have warned me you were going to shoot a gun," she pouted. "If the window had broken I could have been hurt by the glass."
"Oh, you mean you didn't know what I was going to do?" Julio taunted her. Layla crossed her arms and stamped a petulant foot. She very rarely saw specific details in her visions of the future, seeing the outcomes and not the causes. She suspected Julio didn't care about that much though. The Mexican mutant put a hand on the cracked window and sent a surge of power through his arm. It was a very small pulse and not enough to seriously hurt his leg, though he still felt it throb angrily at the use of power. The window shattered and shivered into fragments of glass and Layla reached out with an arm, expecting her reluctant saviour to haul her out. Julio just snorted and crossed his arms.
"I've done my part, you can get yourself out now."
Layla managed to scramble out and looked up at Julio expectantly. She knew that somehow he would get her out, but the specific details were a mystery; the exact moves were still up to him. Julio paid no attention though, instead staring at a wall with a worried expression on his face. He had briefly sensed a surge of concern from a powerful telepathic source, and was sure that Monet had been the one responsible. As far as he was concerned, anything that could worry the self-assured Monet was something to be worried about, but if he had to wait for Layla it would slow him down considerably. There was only one solution.
"Hey!" Layla protested as she found herself slung over Julio's shoulder brusquely. The Mexican ignored her complaint and limped through the corridors, unconcerned by the effect of his bouncing stride on his unwilling passenger. Layla knew that she had no chance of escape on her own, but that didn't mean she had to enjoy it. She complained to Julio's shoulder-blades, the only bit of him she could see. "I really don't think I'm going to like you."
Even in his concern and determination, Julio couldn't help a small, ironic smirk. "I know."