The bullet ripped down the side of Martinique's leg, finding a final resting place in her foot. Martinique screamed, and Moira saw the two guards go for their guns. She yanked the gun out of Martinique's hands, suddenly unresisting, and slipped behind Martinique.
The shots went wide, but she noticed they were at her feet. So they were truly listening to Martinique's final order. Interesting. She turned and pivoted. Most of her career at the CIA had been spent at a desk. Then, information about mutants had become more valued and harder to find. It had meant more plane trips, more insertions behind dusty lines, and digging up Nazi files that had slipped into the hands of the Soviet Union after the war. If she'd been a terrible shot, then there was no way she'd have survived.
The first one she shot in the head. There was no protection there, no helmets, and the other she managed with a chest shot. A shot skimmed her shoulder, and she realized that Martinique had found another gun.
Moira ducked behind a pillar, and saw that Martinique had fallen to the floor, out of pain or something else, she wasn't sure. The sound of Moira's heart pulsed, filling her entire being. God, that had all happened. After a month of living day to day searching for an opportunity, she finally had one. And it was working.
It wasn't over though. She had to get Emma, and she was already starting to tire. The lack of nutrition and water were already getting to her, so she had to try and end this quickly before she started getting too weak to raise the damn gun.
Emma started a fresh volley of screams. She had to get to her, had to figure out a way to get her out that wouldn't hurt her. Hank had tried to remove the helmet when they'd been with Charles and things had gone wrong. That hadn't worked, but had that just been because Nur was in his mind?
She'd have to find out, and soon from the agony in Emma's screams. Moira peeked out behind the column and slowly trained her gun on Martinique. But her enemy wasn't trying to aim at her. Instead, she was holding her gun calmly in her lap, staring straight ahead.
The room began to shift, Moira's view of the world walls were shifting in color, more like the rich wood of Westchester, and she thought she could make out her son. He was only a few steps ahead of her, a book in his hands and attempting to read while he walked.
It was such a tempting image, but she could still feel the cold of the weapon in her hands. It hadn't quite faded. Nor had Emma's screams. As she slipped into the delusion, Moira raised her gun and shot blindly. Martinique howled and the room came back into focus. Her tormentor was clutching her shoulder, but she was moving.
Moira took a shot, but the gun clicked empty. Frustrated, she rushed forward slammed the handgun down onto Martinique's head. Martinique tried to move, but it made contact, knocking her out.
Panting, Moira snatched Martinique's gun from the floor and looked up, automatically bring it up with her. Regan hadn't moved the whole time during the encounter, and it was plain to see why. She was still holding the gun to Emma's head.
"Nice job there," Regan said, interested, "But try anything and I'll shoot the little princess right between the eyes."
She frowned as Emma continued to scream.
"Might be a mercy the way she keeps going on," said Regan, "You know, funny enough, Essex didn't mention it would do this. He usually does when it hurts people. Interesting."
Ultimately though, she shrugged.
"Unimportant I guess," she said, "But what I said still stands. Now, put your gun down. And don't make any sudden movements."
Breathing hard, Moira wondered how good her aim was. She wouldn't get another chance like this. Once she put the gun down, Regan would keep her captive until Martinique woke up, and then it was off to God knows where for God knew what in store for her and her baby.
Right now though, she could tell Regan was starting to get a little antsy. Impatient. Slowly, Moira removed one of her hands from the gun, and began to slowly bring it down and away from her. Regan smiled slightly, and Moira felt herself tense.
At the last moment, she whipped it back up and shot Regan in the head. Regan's blood splattered and she fell backward, the gun falling out of her hands. Moira breathed out, her hands trembling.
Emma's screams had turned to whimpers, but she still looked in pain. Moira hurried up to her and saw, for the first time, a pane of glass n the back. Had there been a controller there at one point? Perhaps, but they were gone now.
All that meant was they needed to get moving. She could see the way the helmet was lit up, not like the elegant design of Cerebro at Westchester, the one Hank's lovelorn heart had prompted him to give Raven's coloring. No, this one thrummed with electricity. There was a good chance that, if she touched it, she'd be fried.
She looked back at the pane of glass and hurried toward it. The door was open and she gained access easily. All of the dials were switched into the on position, and she found herself wondering if there was a specific order she needed to use.
However, there wasn't exactly a manual lying around. Her mind went back to Westchester's Cerebro, the way Alex's destruction of the machine hadn't killed Charles, just made him collapse. It was a different design, but a risk she'd have to take.
Moira cocked the gun, and started shooting at the control board. The lights fizzed and sparked, frying the panel. A few flames leapt up, but those could wait until later. She hurried up to the chair, shutting the door behind her, and saw Emma slumped over.
Carefully, Moira put her hand an inch away from the helmet. The air was warm. She tucked her hand inside her sleeve, a makeshift oven mitt, as she pushed the helmet away.
Moira gasped, her hand immediately going to Emma's shoulder. The girl had angry burn blisters all over her forehead. Her hair was singed.
"Emma?" Moira asked.
The girl didn't respond. She took a pulse, and it was still there, still steady. Moria immediately began fumbling with the girl's restraints. It was the work of a second to push them off her, but she was still unconscious.
"Emma, please, wake up!" Moira said.
No response. She needed her awake. She couldn't carry her and fight off guards. Not in her state. There was no water around to splash on her face, and Moira didn't want to slap her. Not after all the pain she'd just been through. She settled instead for shaking her, hoping that would be enough.
Emma's eyelids fluttered open. She looked confused, and more than just a little frightened.
"What's your name?" asked Moira.
"Emma," the girl murmured.
"Age?"
"Might be 16," Emma responded, "Why do you want to know?"
"Just making sure there's no permanent damage," Moira said, "Think you can stand?"
Emma nodded, and Moira gripped her arms, helping her to her feet. The girl took a deep breath.
"I saw Charles," she said.
Moira looked at her, her heart turning over in her chest.
"He's close," said Emma, "A lot of people are close. I showed them how to get to us."
"Good," said Moira.
It was all she could manage. Her emotions were threatening to overwhelm her. Charles was coming for her. The X-men were there. She could be telling Charles not to worry about her that night, hold him in her arms. She could see Kevin in a day or two, tell him not to worry either, raise both her children safely.
"We can't stay here though," she said, "It's not safe Emma."
"I don't think it's safe for him either," said Emma groggily, "He was talking to Essex when I was jerked away. Felt like shit."
She touched her blistered skin, and Moira pulled her hand away.
"You shouldn't touch that," she said, "But talking to Essex?"
"Not fighting," said Emma, "Or...I don't know. Essex is dangerous no matter what he's doing, okay? And he's been in my mind enough to know that it's bad."
"He's a telepath?"
"And some other things," shuddered Emma, "Out of his goddamn mind. I don't think...maybe I should warn Charles. I don't know where they are though...not without...hooking back up."
"I don't even know how to safely get you back in that," she said, "Not to mention I shot up the control board."
She managed a smile.
"And you don't know Charles like I do," Moira said, "He's the strongest man I've ever met, and the most gifted mutant."
"I hope he tears Essex a new one," growled Emma.
Moira smiled, but she also looked at the door out.
"We need to figure a way out of here," she said, "Do you know how to get out of this place?"
"No," said Emma, "Just up to a certain point."
Moira thought for a moment, then looked over at Martinique. She was still on the floor, still unconscious, but perhaps she could be useful.
"Can you read her mind?" asked Moira, jerking her head in Martinique's direction, "Find us a way out?"
Emma pursed her lips, but nodded. Moira walked her over, and Emma knelt.
"Touch helps," she murmured, putting a hand on Martinique's forehead.
Moira sat down behind her, feeling her body sing from relief. She was already tiring, and she would need her strength for whatever came ahead in the following hours. Emma's eyelids fluttered, her lips moving.
"Did you find a way out?" asked Moira.
"Yes, but...there's something else," muttered Emma, "Something...something...something else is going on here..."
Emma's eyes flew open, as did the girl's mouth. Her lower lip started to tremble, and Moira saw tears gather in her eyes.
"Emma?" she asked.
The girl's body went rigid, her face contorting with hatred. Underneath her hand, Martinique began to wake.
"You filthy bitch," Emma said, looking at Martinique, "You filthy, lying piece of shit! How dare you!"
A sparkle glittered up and down Emma's arms. Before Moira could move, she slammed her diamond arms into Martinique's chest. Martinique screamed, the snap of bones audible, and Emma drew her arm back for another blow.
"How dare you!" Emma screamed.
"Emma!" Moira cried.
She grabbed her shoulders, stopping her from bringing down her fists on Martinique's head.
"Let me go!"
"Emma, this isn't the way!" said Moira, "You can't just kill her in cold blood like this! You're not her!"
"You don't know what she did!" Emma wailed, "You don't know! You don't..."
The young girl began sobbing, her fragile shoulders shaking. Martinique began to stir, but Moira kicked her in the head, sending her back into the realm of unconsciousness. She slumped, and Moira turned her full attention to the young girl, gathering her in her arms.
"We need...we can't leave..." wept Emma, "Not yet. We have to...there's someone else here. We need to get them."
"Of course," Moira said, "We'll rendezvous with Charles and everyone and we'll-"
"We have to get them now," said Emma, pushing her away and trying to stand, "We can't...they'll take her away if we don't move fast!"
"Emma-"
"You don't understand!" Emma said, "She's only six!"
Emma stumbled, and Moira managed to catch her. The girl's tears were drying, but Moira blanched. A six-year-old? Here, in this hell?
"Please..." wept Emma, "Please, I know you've done so much, but we can't risk leaving her! I can't live without helping her! And I can't do it alone..."
Moira swallowed, thinking of Kevin, her baby, of Charles. She needed to get back to them, that much was certain. But could she look them in the eye knowing that she had abandoned a child to secure her own safety?
She picked up the gun, and helped Emma to her feet, praying she was making the right decision.
"Show me the way," she said.