Writer: Rowland Wells
Disclaimer: I am in no way any part of Marvel Comics or any affiliation of their enterprise. I do not own the X-Men or any Marvel Characters.
Alternate
X-Men
#19
"posted eviction notice"
The stationed cameras all positioned within the blue room of the Whitehouse focussed on the President striding purposefully to the large bank of microphones placed for this national address. The announcer who had stood at the same pedestal only moments before went aside and motioned for the proud leader to welcome the press conference. Glancing cautiously at the leagues of reporters, politicians, Whitehouse attendants and photographers, McCormick Johnston let nothing show on his stern and austere features. On the podium, while flashlights buzzed left and right like fireflies, he waved to the audience and beamed a procedurally smile ahead of gripping the stand tightly. Both wrists faced inwards; he was informed by his staff that the crowd would make more of an effort to trust him in such a stature. He cleared his throat, and silently prayed the security was tightened at every entrance and corridor within the historic building.
'My fellow Americans,' he began, looking at the tiny speech cue cards placed on the stand for him 'this is a time in which two distinct peoples of our fair nation will inevitably clash on the same grounds and on the same earth. Mutants – Homo Sapiens Superior – are an emerging evolutionary branch of humankind that exists alongside ourselves, and although many of us may regard them as separate beings that live in our cities, our neighbourhoods and buildings, I can assure you that they present no danger solely in their differences. The way in which mutants are dissimilar to human beings is in the actions of a select few. The nature of their activities does not itself define the race to which the actions evolve from – the same way that humankind can not be expected to be judged by mutants for the methods that only a few people may use against them. I cannot stress this principle enough, because as much as history has taught us; our very human nature allows this fickle aspect to filter through the surface no matter how many times the same distinction may have been repeated in the past. It is part of the human condition.' He looked out to the crowd, watching for muddled reactions to a controversial address.
'Now I am present today to elaborate on the rumours of a mutant gang war issuing forth from the heart of the Bronx, New York City. Only days ago, did uproar escalate on the highway stretch entering the area, and it was subsequently rocked with explosions and catastrophe. Just over an hour later Bronx County General had its ground floor torn out by rogue terrorists seeking to create political unrest among the mutant situation on the East coast. These examples of behaviour are one-offs, and do not reflect the beliefs and conduct of mutantkind in general. Anyone who has heard of these events and has already prejudged the presence of mutants among us in a negative respect is gravely mistaken for no few can speak for the general public of a society.' He paused, letting the information seep in as several more camera flashlights flicked onto his raised form. 'And that is what they are – a society that has blended with ours to form a united front within one country. We cannot allow for media hype and spiralling hypocrisy to percolate into our heads when the axiom of the circumstances is right in front of our eyes. We live in a day and age of mutual understanding and intellectual comprehension – where one man can make a difference in his life, and be allowed to live peacefully without threat of persecution and discriminative bullying, regardless of nationality, skin colour, spoken language or disability. Mutants are affected by these same elements themselves, and as long as they exist in this country and under my political protection, then I shall see to it that they are treated with the same respect and due diligence that we Homo Sapiens are. Because of the threats coming from terror actions in the heartland of one of our proudest cities, we cannot label a nation for which we have no authority to do so over. Humans and mutants who step out of line to combat each other's concern will only have the law, order and me included to answer to. No-one is above the authorities in America.'
It had been a historic speech, he thought, still standing stock-still while the sweat welled down his arms and back. Talking about the mutant threat is the hardest political discussion and therefore trap to fall into – I can never allow myself to show fear in the face of an overwhelming situation, he continued, staring out at the people as they reeled from the lecture. Hands shot in the air, cameras whirred and flashlights went off as the reporters decided to have a field day on this newest confirmation of mutant acceptance. McCormick Johnston caught sight of one right hand of a well-know reporter fly up for attention.
'Harris Casio for the New York Times; upon reflection of this new-found sympathy, Sir, what is your opinion now of the Mutant Registration Act that was so swiftly implemented once it became international knowledge of mutant existence, and therefore the threat of unparalleled danger that accompanies it?'
The President smiled on his surface expression. 'The Mutant Registration Act is still in effect.'
* * *
He had been trained for these kind of procedures a thousand times before, and granted, he couldn't quite recall the precise moments where such tutorage had occurred, but breaking into his home estate was no different from sawing his way out of the Weapon X installation weeks earlier. It would require stealth and agility not to trigger the alarms and gun batteries Xavier had lodged in the green grass of the lawns, but if he were to cross a trip-wire, then the entire barracks of 1407 Graymalkin Lane would come at him with everything they had.
Logan's absence from the students was sure to cause unrest once he met up with them again. They would view his departure in the middle of Weapon X's trauma as abandonment, and therefore betrayal as he took none of them with him. It would be a harsh lesson, trying to teach them that he left for fear of a repeated torture, and that his escape could have obviously only entailed him, but he hoped that enough of a sense-knocking session with each would allow his presence back into the ranks of Xavier's elite. What Logan didn't place money on was the fact that he would be assumed as a criminal – a corroborator of the Acolytes madly fanatical cause, which would lead to a harsh show-down and a rather brutal and pointless tussle.
He was in prime condition still; all scars had healed, wounds had joined together, and it was difficult to tell whether he had been splashed along the highway, skewered, crushed and burnt all within the past two days. Dark hair brushed back into a spiked helm, he brushed the dust off his clothes, and stalked up the road leading to Graymalkin Lane. Cortez's mission concept had been clear-cut for Logan to see, but it wasn't as if he was going to listen to the demented lap-dog Spaniard, even if his words were backed with Magneto's powerful threats. Logan was arriving back at the Mansion to warn the students of the impending disaster that could escalate into another confrontation on the Whitehouse lawn. His fear for the worst could be one of the only things to aid the X-Men in this future struggle that no-one could predict the full outcome of. However Logan viewed it in his mind's eye, nothing short of a nuclear winter or secondary holocaust could satisfy both sides of this unending evolutionary debate. He may not have been the sharpest knife in the drawer, but Logan knew when to look for help.
He had done this before, he remembered, when breaking into the Mansion's grounds for the first time. It had been tough, but not impossible, and with the Professor not actually present, such a task shouldn't present a formidable challenge. Hoisting his frame over the main brick wall, a shocking sight captured Logan's full attention. What the hell has gutted this place? He wondered, staring at the scene of a still half-devastated Mansion. Logan had, of course, not been looking over the walls when he was at the same spot only the evening before, and ahead of Sabretooth's assault weeks earlier, Logan had never realised the Mansion had been destroyed by the Weapon X operatives. He grimaced angrily, and stopped straddling the brick wall as his body landed on the grass below.
The overcast sky couldn't illuminate his body as it flitted in between the border-lining trees with ease. He sniffed the air, coming close to the main path, and recognised the scents of familiar faces and people just at the steps outside the Mansion's lobby. His eyes picked out almost every student present, but he kept low. Jean and Scott scrambled out of his newly-repaired red Porsche to greet everyone there, but sad expressions and dismayed faces were all they could see. From his vantage point, Logan made out the wreckage lining the cracked walls and smashed windows; it almost added to the antiquated ambience of the estate's dated exterior, but not quite. This better go to plan, he hoped, stepping out into the light. Leafed shadows receded on his body, and he walked toward them, hands raised slightly for all to observe.
* * *
The clamour of the two teenager's homecoming was abruptly interrupted as an old face made an appearance on the scene of a dishevelled Mansion grounds, and a depressed crowd of students without a teacher. The momentary happiness from convivial joy broke, and Tessa was the first to speak. Her opinion of Logan's actions was at rock bottom, but the fact was he still deserved a chance to explain, even if she had already made up her mind, and concluded a judgement. 'Hold it.' She intoned, placing a hand at her temple. Jean and Scott swivelled around to gaze at Logan's nonchalant expression. It was a face long remembered, but not without pain and regret. 'I ain't gonna "hold it" darlin', it's about time I showed up to incite some more angst around you lot.' Saying such a sentence to potential enemies who might show him no quarter for his previous abandonment might not have been the best idea for Logan to come up with, and he was starting to feel like he had been an ass again. Still on edge from this irritable reunion, the hyper-sensitive mutant caught the scent of a highly familiar body in the same area who he couldn't quite associate with the Mansion. 'Wait a damn minute, 'fore ya'll jump to a conclusion about me.' He stated, raising his palms as an anticipated white flag. The scent became suddenly much stronger, and immediately he caught sight of a flaring orange card being hurled toward the huddled students. Barely having time to register the impacting explosion designed to disorientate and scatter, Logan splashed to the pebbled path in a flurry of unexpected excitement.
Scott's red Porsche spluttered quietly, and then the bonnet sprung open, striking the standing teenager as he attempted to recompose himself after the lightening interruption. Shocked, and thinking the fireworks a result of Logan's estranged bitterness, Tessa flung out a bubble around the feral mutant, trapping him in stasis. 'Pin him down! He's responsible for this, and we aren't going to let you go now Wolverine!' She yelled to Kurt and Bobby, assembling themselves on the broken lobby steps. Another flash-bang burst rocked those same steps, and both mutants tumbled off in a haze. 'Get me out of here; you're making a mistake – Tessa!' Logan cried, unable to fully twist or turn in the invisible vice. Kurt teleported from his floored position on the snapped concrete and to Logan's suspended body; he hit, eventually pulling them both toward the dirt below while the German vanished before impact. Their expected enemy scrambled to his feet while Jean was left dazed and confused in the explosive display. Logan managed to see a blurred form leap from the shadows and dash towards the dispersed brawl. 'Gambit – get the hell back, or I'm gonna spike you with all six! Don't make me, you unruly bastard!' Logan howled, popping each claw.
'Monsieur, I beg t'differ –' Remy whisked another card from the deck in his jacket pocket and deposited a charged blast straight into his former-ally's chest.
Jean propelled the two quarrelling mutants onto their backs while Hank and Ororo emerged from the Mansion lobby with Betsy in tow. All three bore witness to this jumbled melee of entangled bodies and blasts amid a wailing, high-pitched whine of the alarm system. 'Oh my god it's Logan – we have to help against him, Hank! You know he's a one-man army!' Ororo shouted. She attempted to gust herself into the air with a bellowing torrent of wind while Hank leapt into the fray. An explosion mushroomed into the air as Scott's red Porsche blossomed into death, and Betsy endeavoured to contain it in a psychically enforced bubble while it threw Ororo out of her hovering pattern. Jumping to his feet, Scott flicked off his ruby glasses and unleashed a full-force blast into Logan's rising form. 'Stay away from us Logan, or I'm going to send you into the goddamn afterlife!'
The students stood back and gazed at this sudden and vengeful display of imposed will power. Caught by surprise, but with the purchase of a lowered body position, Logan managed to take the hit well despite being hurled into the front wall of the Mansion. A shower of bricks and mortar coated Kitty and Bobby, but Betsy prevented the worst of the outcome with her strong mind regardless of her damaged physical condition. A resonating roar echoed about the estate as Logan's scream cut through the crowded mutants. 'Son of a bitch…' Scott muttered angrily, grabbing for his glasses.
'Look out!' Jean called out of panic as Remy struck a sharp blow across Scott's back, bringing him to his knees. 'Your pardon, mes braves, mais je veut à en demeurer là.' The devilish-smiling Cajun flicked out another card at Jean's feet and it blew her clear off-balance. He flashed another grin at the mutants as they protected themselves from the blast, and proceeded to scoop the redhead up in his jacketed arms. Her insensibility made it much easier to egress in his manner, but that still couldn't stop Logan from making an effort in chasing the swamp rat. 'Jean!' He yelled, shrugging the dust and dirt from his exhaustedly bruised shoulders. 'I ain't gonna let you slip away a second time – I'm coming after you!'
'Like hell you are!' Scott screamed, supporting himself on the burnt car bonnet. He gripped the bridge of his glasses delicately. 'I bet I speak for everyone here, Logan, when I say that you're off the goddamn team!' Ripping the protective barrier away from his eyes, the red beam flowed forth into the scattered area. Ducking reflexively, Logan managed to twist out of the way, all the while the escaping Remy and Jean in his sights. 'Take it to someone who gives a shit!' He cried slamming three extended claws through Scott's left arm.
Wincing with the sudden agony of cutting impact, Scott staggered into a wounded heap. 'Fuck you Summers!' Logan retorted, gazing into his opponents crippled features. Scott sobbed, and grappled hold of his glasses once more, venting a thorough blast of destruction through Logan's wretched face. The mutant dodged as the beam struck over the Mansion's roof tiles. An ample cascade of disjointed, hardened material flooded over the balconies, and Kitty barely had time to leap for Bobby's unflinching form before it coated their unprotected bodies. Kurt managed to escape with Betsy in his arms, but the resounding stone crash of falling rubble masked the nearing roar of hurtling police car sirens. Only did Ororo witness the arriving flurry of dazzling red-on-blue lights from her suspended vantage point. 'Cops!' She barely had time to cry; a launched net was propelled from the stopping barrage of law-enforcers and its tangled clinch tossed her delicate body from the air. Hank managed to catch her, but that left Logan free for his timely exit as the alternative action.
Choosing his moment carefully, he gave Scott one last despising look of petulance ahead of about-turning and fleeing for the unguarded high brick walls of his entrance. Tessa took steps following him, but stopped short of the main pebble pathway the coursed toward the disembowelled Mansion itself. A riot of police vehicles burst through the closed iron gates and skidded to a halt just short of the muddled crowd. Scott let it be; his injury was too severe to leave the wound open while his dash kept him secure. The armoured men jumped out of their wheeled cages in a torrent of garbled radio speech. Guns flashed and shields glimmered even in the overcast half-light of the dismal morning. 'Don't move! You're all under arrest for causing public disturbance!' The leader announced.
Tessa threw another bubble up around the separated mutants as the lawmen sprung to a lively alert. Assisting their escape, Bobby strode from the roof rubble and managed to materialise a wall of arctic-white solid ice before them. Reacting sooner than they anticipated, the mutants scrambled to the desecrated lobby and into the Mansion as the ice shattered with a resonating thud of a small explosion. Nets were hurled from roof-top guns on each swat van but missed their targets; bullets pinged and shattered segments of brick wall and broken-down rubble.
Kurt grabbed for Betsy's half-immobile body, but she shook his hand off.
* Let me be – save yourself first. * She called in his mind.
'Ich verstche nicht…' He responded somewhat detached and letting her go as he leapt through the entrance, hoped to evade the fresh onslaught.
'X-Men move!' Hank screamed, bouncing off walls with Ororo still in arms. They tumbled down the smashed and battered corridors while the ever-gaining thump of police footsteps chased them to their exhausted end. Adrenalin coursed through every vein at lightening speed as the mutant procession surged through the Mansion. A line shot for the danger room in the basement, and the stairs would be the only option to fit all of them on. An elevator might snap if they all got in. The lights burst and popped as the power was cut on the outside of the Mansion grounds, but Hank and Tessa at the front knew the grounds better than anyone present. Flashlights blared behind them, and Bobby, who was bringing up the rear, flooded the passages with slippery-smooth ice. His actions paid off as a stumbling, sliding mass of black-armoured bodies piled up behind them.
The mutants tunnelled further into the bowels of the Mansion, attempting to escape the inevitable capture, while each became progressively more exhausted. Machine gun spitfire echoed through the halls, and Kitty and Bobby just managed to escape a dazzling display of power as it burst the corner apart just before them. More darkness enveloped their escaping forms as the staircase came into view. Tessa skidded to a stop at the locked door, typing frantically at a keypad half damaged from the power cut. 'Come on, they're right behind us!' Hank yelled, placing Ororo on her feet once more.
'I can't get the blasted door to open – it's stuck for the loss of power. Help me with it.' She replied, the sweat pouring off her. Hank threw his fist straight into the controls, it the door clanged open. 'Do it like that, or don't do it at all…' He muttered, bouncing down the flight of steps like a blue ball. The rest of the mutants plummeted down after him as the strobe light dazzle effects of a million flitting flashlights shrouded their escaping forms.
Arms groped out from the huddling mass of captors and Kitty felt herself slipping from the rest of the running group. She screamed as the grasp fastened on her shoulder, and Bobby was just fast enough to fling the rapists backwards with a flooding stream of solid ice. A tranquilliser dart embedded itself in his ribs, and Kitty hauled herself away. 'Bobby, don't you dare die on me!' She called, tears welling in her eyes as the mutant stumbled over. He mumbled something inaudible in the thump of crashing black boots, but she couldn't hear, and was able to just phase herself through the floor as more hands reached out for a mutant face.
Slamming backwards and forwards down the reinforced staircase steps, Hank and Tessa came to an abrupt stop as Kitty laid unconscious on the floor just in front, a long, thin dart hanging from her neck. Hank hoisted her into his great grip, and they ran on into the ominously challenging danger room. Ororo took to the air in the wide expanse but paused as the double doors opposite "pinged" open, and another cabal of armoured cops took up position. A megaphone screech echoed through the giant room, and the announcer told them to stand down. 'Stop where you are, or we will be forced to fire – without remorse!' Giving up the fight, and accepting the fevered police pursuit wholly, Hank placed Kitty carefully on the floor, and protruded his wrists to be cuffed. Sharp teeth and a disgusted leer greeted the lawmen's gazes as two sets of manacles were attached to Hank's arms while the other's enjoyed the same fate. An arm leeched onto Kurt's agitated form, and Tessa projected a thought directly to his mind. * Don't try anything – they already have Scott and Betsy. *
'I finally understand your world.' Kurt replied, speaking out in English.
* * *
'Goddamn, what the hell made those marks?' The paramedic exclaimed, hooking an IV line into Scott's bloody vein. The Doctor behind him on this ride-along looked over at Betsy's face, gradually recollecting the images of a fight scene not long ago in which the same girl felt the sting of ten extended nails in each shoulder. She appeared to look much better, even if the injuries were sustained only a few days before, but the pain still showed on the young woman's exterior. 'Claws; they're made by three claws straight into his left arm.' Cecilia Reyes replied as the ambulance jostled left and right along the highway and toward the nearest hospital.
The captured students had been loaded into swat vans and police cars, which were currently thundering along the same stretch of black tarmac used by Logan and Sabretooth only days earlier. Night time had descended on this part of the world, and the evening air couldn't penetrate the interior of each cold carrying package that ferried a mutant to the security-enforced jailhouses in New York City. It wasn't enough that Jean had been captured and Logan allowed his escape without judgement for his crimes, but now everyone was in custody. Everyone, except for Warren who had gone back to his apartment in Washington, and Piotr, who was due back that same evening from Moscow.
* * *
Stars glimmered idyllically in the dark blue sky miles above the peaks of every skyscraper in New York. The reflected the serenity of the everlasting expanse beyond Earth, and hinted at something more supreme at work in the universe than anyone could ever comprehend. These stars seemed like shining beacons in the night, radiating the promise of hope to those who stared hard enough. Right now, one man was hoping against hope that his concentration on other aspects of the atmosphere around him would help to focus his mind and not deter his determination in performing his next act of power. With his feet firmly planted on Terra Firma, Piotr Nikolaievitch Rasputin gazed up at the blue-black space and told himself to stand still. In the flesh, he was positioned on the centre of the black road tarmac on the main highway, practically inviting the oncoming traffic into his body. Earlier, he had seen the breaking news reports of a raid on a newly discovered mutant terrorist colony in the heart of suburban Westchester County. Having immediately come off the arriving plane, he was more than disturbed to see his old comrades on the five o'clock news on every channel. Taking matters into his own hands, Piotr deposited his luggage at the airport lockers for safekeeping, and then ascertained the next moves of the police captors. He might be able to dissuade them just enough to free the students, but for a tall Siberian farmhand, it was a little risky to be dabbling in the affairs of another country's law-enforcement techniques. So he figured not to talk to the police, but try something else. What have I got to lose? Only my sanity and strength… whatever happens, I can never say I didn't try and pursue Xavier's dream to the full extent, he thought, focussing his mind on the abandoned stretch of motorway road. The route led into the city, bypassing the jammed crowds of lit-up casinos, bars, clubs and hotels as well as the street crime, sluggish cars and hordes of tourists. Never mind myself, I must think for the family first, and then exact my revenge upon a certain man at a later date, he thought.
Off in the distance, the approaching headlight beams ballooned over the horizon of dark highway, cutting into the shadows that fell over a desolate length of road. The rising thump and shudder of a hundred million wheels revolving repeatedly in the long convoy resonated underneath Piotr's feet, and he began to sweat. Nervousness crept through his body, and he started to turn his skin into the hardened organic metal that his mutation allowed. Standing astride the tarmac a well over six feet tall, he had become a living, breathing, steel colossus, bracing himself for the speeding impact of the cop-cars and swat-vans that was rapidly enveloping his field of view.
* * *
'Do you remember me? I was the only one left to help you after Sabretooth was frightened off – your shoulders, they seem to have repaired themselves rather nicely after his mauled you.' Cecilia said performing on Scott's bleeding wounds while the ambulance drove behind the train of cars. She placed platted black hair behind her ear, and looked up at Betsy again. 'He's going to be alright, you know, we just need to get him to the hospital. Whoever did this didn't mean to kill him.'
Betsy gazed back and nodded silently. 'It was Logan – whatever we do as a team here, he ends up wrecking it all. A freelance mercenary bastard is what he is. Nothing but trouble is left in his wake.' Her eyes wondered tenderly over Scott, lying half-unconscious on the collapsed gurney. Gazing back to her newfound companion, Betsy studied her features meticulously, just daring to survey the swirling thoughts of the woman before conversing any further. A particular string of consciousness caught her attention.
'I don't know who that is…' The Doctor turned her back for several more supplies behind her on the shelves.
* You were coming to take a look at the Mansion – why didn't you make the journey in the end? *
Cecilia jumped, and stared at Betsy, alarmed. The voice had seemingly gone off inside her mind, being able to speak solely to her, while she was powerless not to listen. 'What did you just do? I swear you spoke up.'
* Don't alert him, or the driver, I don't want them panicking while we do a hundred and ten down this motorway. * Betsy nodded to the paramedic, who seemed obliviously analysing Scott's cuts and bruises.
There was a cry for help abruptly, so high-pitched and with such urgency that it cut through the backseat passengers' concentration like knives. Betsy was too shocked by the alarm to invade the driver's mind, instead, instinctively opting to grab hold of the seat she was on. It did no good though in the swift shake and topple that took the ambulance by surprise.
All throughout the child-like motion of tumbling the driver emitted his loud yell of fear while Cecilia braced the sliding gurney with all her inner strength. The swerving wave along the road managed to tip the ambulance onto its side, and each piece of equipment within the rig began to fly out of its hold and circle the inside space with almost puppet-like manipulation. The paramedic with them was flung to the wall that was coming dangerously close to the racing ground, and clattering equipment spun into his paralysed body while Cecilia hit the gurney with considerable force. Managing to secure some type of hold on a nearby handle, Betsy grabbed for Scott's waking form, but the motion made her lurch forward, tearing fresh pain into the old wounds received from Sabretooth. She let go of the handle as the ambulance finally flicked onto its side and scraped at unimaginable speed along the blackened concrete.
* * *
Elsewhere, the leading cars and vans of the procession screeched to an all too late stop, as Piotr hurled himself into their structures at a terrific pace. His determination and focus thrashed through reams of metal composition while clenched fists broke apart the very chassis of each car. More of the vehicles careened into the piling blockade of stopped and crushed machinery and the very ground they were on shook with resonating explosions that dented the highway construction. Headlights popped and blared powerfully into the night atmosphere at hideous angles while the cars they belonged to were flipped and thrown by Piotr's monstrous power. Crashing, grinding, grating and scraping metal splashed along the tarmac as the following vehicles slowed and tipped over to prevent lethal impact with the stockade ahead.
Roaring with adrenalin-fuelled aggression and vigour, Piotr threw his huge body mass directly into the main swat van's toppled bonnet, spilling machine parts and leaking fluids everywhere. Screeching tires echoed throughout the city, and it wasn't long either before whirring helicopter blades of orbiting news reporters issued into the night sky. Sirens radiated noisily, and the barrage of armed, angry swat men increased suddenly as the able ones escaped the claustrophobic damage of crushed carriers.
Pulled from his exploits by the realisation of city-wide distress and alert, Piotr faced the new threat of the lawmen as they turned on their attacker with considerable retribution. Taking the gathered beatings well, Piotr waded through the raining bullets and swiped the men clear from his path to the nearest vans. Gruff shouting and screaming echoed past radio receivers and into the air as the cops jumped out of their wrecked cars. The men assembled themselves around Piotr, trying to grapple him down, but his giant size merely slowed at the task in hand while they were subsequently thrown off him. Working himself into a fit of rage at their unending consistency, his two tree-trunk metal arms mauled at the side of an abandoned swat car. He hoisted it above his head while they scattered, and then slammed it down the length of the road. The crash exploded mightily, and the resulting smoke cloud tipped the hovering helicopters out of view.
* * *
Tessa perched on the hard metal shelf of the van's interior with a gun in her face, and another at Kurt's. She squirmed uneasily as the constant banging continued outside, and screams of tumultuous panic radiated along the motorway. Being one of the last vehicles to slow, their truck had survived the pile-up, but that allowed the swat members to secure their prisoners without fear of escape. Tessa shifted and looked by her side at Kurt, who was shaking for fear of the impending disaster. She tried releasing some endorphins into his brain, quelling the increasing fright, but he was becoming like a caged animal. Had she not been through so much, her reaction, she surmised, would have been the same. 'Hold on, we're going to come out of this alive. We've still got tricks up our sleeves…'
The man opposite her jostled his weapon offensively and silenced her with a stare. 'Keep ya mouth shut, mutie, or I'll shoot it off.'
An enormous bursting crash of torn metal hit their ears from just outside the van, and the roof of another parked car was split open like a banana. Cries for help went up, but the sickening thud and stomp of breaking bones quieted them. Unexpectedly, a large dent appeared at their side, the reinforced interior creaking under tremendous and sudden strain. It coughed and sighed, trying to bend back into place as the impacted body slumped off its surface. Kurt took that disturbed moment to swing his manacled legs up to the two guards. 'Follow my lead! Mein Gott –' He shouted in sudden alarm as they raised their guns in malice. His flexible toes wrapped around the muzzle of the first weapon, while the raised gun about to fire off its lethal slug was knocked off kilter by his thin, angled, black tail. The fire resulted in a gaping hole just between the two cuffed mutants, and Kurt managed to spring the grasped weapon back, so the guard holding it struck against the inside of the van. Displaying a toothy grin even amid such a ruckus, Kurt peered through the hole and then teleported from his bonds and reappeared just outside, without them. Immediately he took in the scene, his senses went into overload. Fright and terror speared through his soul even as Piotr crushed many of the police cars under heavy hands. Checking the van once more, he teleported in front of Tessa, touched her face with dark hands, and both materialised on the exterior. The two guards fumbled out of the back, but the raven-black haired woman was quick enough to toss them away with a wave of her slender hand.
* * *
Cecilia clambered from the escaped equipment currently deposited all over the left wall of the ambulance, and barked out a string of obscenities. She brushed loose hair from her face, and offered a hand to a struggling purple-haired young Briton. 'God only knows what just hit us – the entire convoy must have gone down from what we heard outside.' She bent down and studied Scott who seemed delirious and oblivious to the destructive treatment their captors were receiving from Piotr's anger. 'We've secured the bleeding, but he won't last long in a fit state if we can't get him to a hospital.'
'How do we get out of here?' Betsy chanted painfully.
Abruptly, her prayer was answered, but hardly in the way anticipated. A gigantic bulge bore into the ambulance's exit doors, shattering both windows and compressing the compartment unbearably. The walls cushioned inwards and the scraping, warping white noise of busting equipment popped in their ears. Forgetting herself in all the ensuing chaos, Betsy backed away, tugging at Scott's immobile body while Cecilia tried to regain her composure in the tightening situation. The space cramped unbelievably, and they might have all been pressed to death if the Doctor had not saved their lives a second time. Focussing intently while the cramp continued, Cecilia projected a visible barrier outwards, holding the structure from his seemingly inevitable embrace. 'Get out the side – take the driver and paramedic with you, you can't afford to have more casualties in this stupid fight!' She shouted, containing their only hope with her concentration. Betsy clambered over the front seats, dragging Scott achingly with her. His weight on her torn shoulder muscles forced many a cry from her lips, but she managed to shove the upturned driver door open. Using her slightly honed telekinetic prowess and ingenuity, she raised herself slightly from the gravity-defying position and levitated Scott and herself out from the devastated ambulance. A further focus of her mind brought the unconscious driver out, but she had trouble locking onto the paramedic's body. Her thoughts were becoming excruciatingly strained with the effort, and before she could aid the downed serviceman, she passed out.
Cecilia could hold the impending crush no longer; she screeched, and forced her barrier through the upturned floor. Axels snapped and wheels popped from their holdings as the metal infrastructure slowly groaned and then tore apart with her sheer willpower. With a final, near climactic yell, she pushed her way through, and fell out the other side as the weight on top crumpled into the ambulance centre. Looking up at her near-death cause, she gasped, and saw one of the swat vans turned completely upside down.
* * *
Taking his time in figuring out a plan of attack, Bobby felt rudely interrupted as his still sleepy brain was aroused by the insane stunts occurring just metres ahead. He was cuffed in the back of a cop car, thankfully not hit by the stuttering blockade in front. Taking a minute to register his surroundings, and the fact that Piotr, the burly Russian addition to the X-Men was catalysing these surreal movie-inspired events; Bobby managed to spill out a confused sentence. 'Sometimes, I cannot believe how screwed up our team is.'
'Shut the hell up, you little sod – it's because of you, our buddies are getting killed out there!' The lawman behind the wheel retaliated. He flicked around, facing the youngster. 'I aught to shoot you right now – save the jury decidin' that you're already a threat to society. I keep telling the wife, the only good mutant is a dead one.'
Bobby sneered painfully at him, raising his hands to the wire mesh in plea. 'You wouldn't dare, pig.'
The cop riding shotgun slapped his arm against the barrier. 'You mouth off like that, and we just might. Shut up, and sit tight.'
Bobby looked over to the cup of coffee, nestled idly on the dashboard of the car while all around, scenes of violence and devastation rained. Men flew across the windscreen, and bullets spat into the air as Piotr thrashed wildly about, attempting to rescue his friends from their unjust incarceration.
Contemplating the idea, Bobby stared at the coffee; it was lukewarm, yet still moistening the air around it. Using his talents for manipulation of the cold, Bobby spread a spiralling surface of ice up from the coffee's vapours. The policemen seemed too intent on watching the action from a distance to notice. When they did, it was too late. Freezing ice, courtesy of Bobby bloomed into existence within the front part of the car, and surrounded the two men. They yelped in surprise, and then tried to leap from the confines of their cold prison, but Bobby was unyielding. He enveloped them, and allowed for a long plume to issue through the mesh. Using the narrow width of the ice, he held his cuffs up to the tip until the click of success brightened his face. 'Stay frosty there, guys.' He chuckled, blasting the door next to him open with a fat barrage of his power.
* * *
Hauling a desperate Kitty from the undercarriage of an overturned cop car, Piotr let go, and she managed to materialise on the road effectively. A grin of devious mischief plastered on her face, she stood back as her Russian beau took care of the oncoming swat van arriving from the other direction. The assaulting mutants were becoming surrounded on both sides as more and more enforcers sped in from the depths of the city, all alerted via the numerous helicopters hovering like angry flies around the stretch of motorway. Their floodlights illuminated the ground perfectly, and it was almost as if the students were brawling in midday.
Falling back after too heavy a punishment, Piotr sank to his knees by Kitty's side. 'I can't take much more of this... They are attacking from both sides, and I haven't even found Jean, Hank or Ororo yet.' He panted out his exertion, partially fading his steel form to the original skin one underneath. The menace of the invading lawmen grouped around the area, setting off flares and sirens once more. 'Jesus, don't go back now, we have to evade the authorities or we'll be gunned down in the streets.'
'I know, goddamn it.' He clambered to his feet, shielded by the overturned structure of the van. Gleaming metal radiated out from his body, and he became a force of will anew. 'I have learnt something of my cousin, Kitty.' He breathed tiredly through hissing teeth. 'We have to find Fabian Cortez.'
She grabbed his arm panic-stricken. 'He's in the Savage land, with everyone else, Piotr, but that's not important now! God, we have to run. Don't you get it? We'll be shot if we stay here, and not even you can survive a .45 to the forehead in your real body!'
An explosion of smoky effervescence rocked the body of the collapsed van, and Kitty would have been thrown forward if not for her instinctual ability. The helicopters shouted down rioting commands through whining megaphones, but everyone below seemed oblivious to the constant information, instead opting to focus on the tragic chaos before them.
* * *
Smashing through the debris with only her mind as the weapon, Tessa quickly dispersed the wreckage, to find a locked door of the back of a swat van. The men had disappeared, hoping to find their medals and honour by hunting down Piotr's rampaging act, but they had left behind an unguarded treasure. Signalling the receiving X-Man on the other side, Tessa backed away as the doors buckled under immense stress. Freeing themselves from restricted confines, Hank pulled Ororo through the gap with a strong arm, and she managed to concentrate hard enough, calling down a thick fog that darkened the already obscured light. The helicopters weren't prepared for the unnerving atmospheric conditions and began to disperse. The haze covered everything around the hectic stretch of road, blanketing the lawmen and mutants alike. In the mist, the students became separated, desperate to escape the closing forces. Kurt and Tessa bailed out from the unguarded entrance to the fog along the road in the opposite direction to the city, while Bobby was quick to group with a newly discovered Hank and Ororo.
'I hear some more technologically sound helicopters approaching.' Hank said, ducking amid the downed wreckage to avoid piercing swat-men stares. 'I think it's safe to assume they might be the FBI or even SHIELD.'
The grey fog was slowly lifting, but it kept the mutants secluded for the time being. The deafening roar of rotor blades passed over them and landed a little after the beginning of the palisade, ready to unload the prepared troops.
'I can't maintain this condition for long…' Ororo whined, crouching alongside her fellows. 'Our means of escape – I'd like not to be the only one asking where the hell they are.'
'The side of this elevated bridge – if we can climb down, we might be able to take cover among the buildings, and find a little shelter before the hunter's track us down.' Hank said. He peered out from behind the seclusion, and waded through the spreading fog. Searchlights speared into the greyness, seeking out the inhuman presence among all the discarded vehicles. Ahead of encountering further resistance, Hank took Ororo and Bobby by the hands, and wrenched them over the side of the highway. As he was about to make the leap himself, a hand lurched out behind him, grabbing a blue furred shoulder and holding steady. He spun around to face Cecilia, lost in the fog. 'Take me with you; I was going to join up anyway.' She gasped, the exertion of her search showing through.
'We might not exist as a team after much more of this treatment, Doctor.'
'I can hack that possibility, but I need to hold onto something after what happened in the hospital… I can't explain it, but this is the move that makes the most sense right now; even if it's totally ridiculous.' She threw her arms around his neck, and in a fluid motion, Hank gripped the concrete side, and launched his large mass over.
* * *
The hazardous mess that decorated one of the main roads leading to a complex and fattened city was stretched for nearly half a mile along its surface by the time the chaos started to close. The smoke and fog previously billowing around the night sky was rapidly being sucked through many whirling rotor blades, and eventually the terrain cleared. Search beams and flashing floodlights lit up the atmosphere incredibly beautifully, creating a serene and somehow detached post-war television coverage spectacle for Americans to witness and gape at during all their favourite programmes. The entire world would know of this conflict by the next morning.
On-the-sight reporters were jostled to and fro while paramedics, soldiers and SHIELD personnel scampered around like busy ants. Cameras recorded the very core of the fateful events, and even though the investigation began immediately, elements of the fantastic brawl were still present and some yet unaccounted for. The lawmen had lost almost all of the mutants in captivity, and precious few results had come of trying to locate them within the suburban night life. They had disappeared without trace, leaving only two of their kind behind. SHIELD riot-enforcers were the first to scoop up Betsy and Scott, but before they could be interrogated and charged with any number of crimes to the state, Fury specifically ordered their delivery to a secure hospital.
As an added bonus, one other person was plucked from the skirmish, known to have been a catalyst in its events. Ahead of him protesting like a child in the throes of a tantrum, the SHIELD operatives placed him with a concealed unit in the city. Fury would see to his condition and questioning personally. Not only could this one man be the key to the entire set of events in the past weeks, but his gluttonous lust for mindless revenge and violence might lead the world to an altogether different future than the one shaped by many creative visionaries.