Disclaimer: I own nothing. This fic has a rating. R&R.
.:The Bayville Bone-Claw Massacre:.
Part Two
Now the rain had finally let up a cry could be heard on the grounds. 'No, no, no! I want to live!' a doomed plushie protested with Ray's voice set to a mocking and above all amused pitch. He'd taken it from Kitty's room. Ray shook the inanimate thing a few times before chuckling and throwing it into the pan of the woodchipper. Bits of fluff and fur spat out the funnel. 'Cake,' he intoned. The machine was such a blessing. Even with the stupid curfew in place and everyone moping around and sulking it allowed him to have some serious fun. He tossed a Twinkie in the pan, and in the split second he had to wonder; wondered what would come out the other side. Satan? No, just bits of shredded Twinkie. 'I love this thing,' he went on as his eyes ran over the ground about the rumbling machine. It was late and he couldn't exactly see well, he probably shouldn't have been out, but he was waiting for Rahne and Roberto to come join the fun as they'd said they would. Nobody seemed to mind. Being on the grounds was hardly breaking curfew. Idly he wondered how long it would take for the work to be finished up and the amazing machine removed. Inwardly he hoped he'd have a chance to shred a hell of allot of crap before then.
Ray paced and turned about languidly. He kicked up the earth and threw a few sticks into the pan; there was nothing about more entertaining. 'P-p-pow,' he deadpanned as fucked up shreds of stick were spat out into the air. Where the hell was Roberto? He thought. Heavy hands fell on the lads shoulders then, giving him a fair start.
'Roberto, you-' he turned and realised it sure as fuck wasn't his buddy and it wasn't grappling him in any friendly fashion. 'Oh shi-' he was cut off as in a flash, before he could even consider using his powers, wickedly hard knuckles lashed across his face and left it contused, leaving him too stunned to think. He tried immediately to squirm away but with ease the lanky boy was hauled up off the floor. His feet grappled for purchase and then found something, something hard and cold, slicked with grassy fibres and moisture. Something slippery that his feet and entire body curled back from. The pan of the woodchipper.
'Holy fuck!' he exclaimed in a breathless and panic as claws took purchase roughly about his chest and shoulders leaving bloody streaks beneath the tears they opened in his clothes. Whatever had hold of him drove him forward with irresistible force and laughed uproariously. Ray screamed as the moist teeth tore the shoes and skin from his feet with mechanical efficiency as he whimpered and his toes curled back in revulsion while a sense of terror overcame him. Nevertheless, the teeth continued indefatigably and indiscriminately drawing him inward and chewing his clothes, his bones, his flesh into a fucked up spray of sickeningly insubstantial juice. He could see it being vomited out the other end as he lurched and railed impotently against his attacker with all he had, while fearless desperation commandeered yet more as all his muscles were to put to a frenzied of unalterably intent resistance. In vain. His screams echoed about all the grounds as the machine choked on his legs before erupting again as he was driven on by the murderous shape holding him. Ray's arms jerked up intermittently of their own accord each time he gagged from the pain. He began to bleed out, loosing his senses, as his legs were crushed and ground into shit. Perhaps a minute ago he'd been pissing off idle seconds for a laugh, and now he was too screwed over and numbed with adrenalin and shock to realize he was fucked. He started trembling, his breathing quickened, and he hacked out a series of convoluted sounds as the machine's progressive onslaught slowly killed him.
Inside the institute Storm came to realize something was awry when she heard the screams. She'd caught Rahne and Roberto heading out and had been addressing the pitfalls of breaking their strict curfew in the foyer when she heard it. 'You two will return to your rooms at once!' she so harshly declared that Roberto immediately began backing up. Rahne stood still; she seemed too shocked to move; Ororo turned quickly however and did not notice. She sprinted outside with a surprising turn of speed and followed the sounds. Now the lush grounds of the institute had become an enemy, a thing to hide in and stalk through, something oppressive and shadowy, but she paid little attention to it.
She went on fearlessly through the press of greenery and charged headlong toward the sounds. There was nothing pleasant about them, and they fuelled her sense of outrage as she launched on at a greater pace, and then bursting in on the scene; nothing. Choked up and frozen, lost for words, Ororo stopped and stared open-mouthed at what was arrayed about the woodchipper. Sprayed out from the funnel was a revolting cocktail of churned up clothes and skin and parts, all red, reduced to a runny liquid and blended with mulched greenery; painting the grass and soil. Something was left in the pan being jiggled and turned by the rotating teeth which hacked and faltered whenever it was caught between them; surrounded by unidentifiable, thicker, pasty remains clinging to the walls and roof of the pan by way of their consistency. There were bloody cords and stringy, fleshy fibres hanging limp there, and they fell and trailed to the ground where Ray's torso twitched. Its open eyes were glassy and still, blood trickled from the mouth. The arms were spread palm up on the floor and from where the fibres trailed off he was gone. An angled line from rib-cage on one side to the waist on the other marked his bodies end, and about it the clothes were all torn and stuck to whatever remained beneath, soaked with blood.
The machine rumbled on and spluttered in mechanical defiance of Storm's complete revilement. A sudden transient flash partially lit the scene as billowing clouds, black as pitch, formed overhead and a pallid streak of lighting forked horizontally across the firmament. She laid her eyes then on a retreating figure; something bulky running with an animals grace. 'Stop!' her voice pierced the sound of thunder now quaking across the grounds. It didn't stop. Emotionally charged and angry beyond words she floated upward into the now chaotic sky. From here she saw the figure, keeping low and moving swiftly, heading toward the institute itself. She soared toward it and chewed through the separating distance with the sky raging in her wake. It slipped inside. Storm was too wrathful to consider the sounds inside as she fell upon the entrance; landing gracefully amid the entropy of now pouring rain and howling wind. As she neared the doors they burst open and a figure only back-lit by the lights inside lunged outward. Bulky, feral and animal in its motions. Furious streaks of lighting fell into her hands and from there arced outward as she drove her palms forward and directed it. The entire scene was washed over in piercing brightness and nothing could be seen for a moment, and then it was still. The rain slowed and Ororo listened to its rhythmic patter as the wind abated. The acrid smell of burnt hair curled upward off Rahne's smoking body. Her transitory form was twisted and burnt after having been driven to the earth in a splayed position. She was clearly dead.
'Get your filthy hands off my donuts!'
'No way, my teenage wife is pregnant. She's eating for two now!'
'I'll clobber you, you minority!'
'Let's dog-pile him! We'll say he had a knife!' it was clear to anyone listening that Jamie and some of his dupes were amusing themselves with a rather stark early morning game of cops and robbers. Having been inspired by the veritable nest of pigs rifling and poking around at the institute after the previous night's events. One of his dupes waved its 'nightstick' menacingly as Roberto plodded into the rec-room in a downcast manner.
'Hey kid!' he called over as the Jamie's all focused on him. 'Dammit, make them quit starin' at me man, it's creepy.' Jamie set off after his fellows to reabsorb them pending this remark. The last one proved rather stubborn and needed to be tackled first, and Jamie fell into a tumble following the motion, crashing into the side of the couch. He shook off the disorientation quickly and looked up at Roberto from the floor, where he now sat. 'Watcha doin'?'
'Gettin' some stuff,' Roberto replied, forcing a smile out.
'Why? What's going on? I saw the police outside, how come 'Oro went with 'em?' Roberto's brow furrowed at this. He did not want to be the one who broke this news to Jamie.
'Ask Hank,' he said at last before picking up several DVDs and other miscellaneous items of his he'd left in the room. Jamie's head listed a little to the right in a curious tilt as his gaze followed Roberto around the room. Eventually the young mutant stood up.
'Going somewhere?' he asked, sauntering around the couch as he spoke.
'Home,' the older student deadpanned as he went around the other side of the couch. It wasn't like he had a choice. When his parents had been informed of not one, not two, but three murders of institute students they'd immediately arranged for him to return for the duration. He wasn't sure if he'd be allowed to come back at all.
Clambering into the couch with immediate interest Jamie knelt on the cushions and peered at Roberto while leaning against the back. 'Finally get bored of loosing at video games?' Jamie questioned archly, a smile crossing his face.
'Naw man-' Roberto started. He immediately stopped when he realised what the little brat had actually said. 'Hey! Dammit, you know that time, my hand, it was all, I'd slept on it and,' he trailed off here to the sound of Jamie laughing. 'You're gonna die!' Roberto menaced in a comical fashion and with sudden playful aggression he lunged at Jamie; leaping over the back of the couch. The boy was quick to react however and slid back off before scampering away toward the kitchen with Roberto in hot pursuit. The two dashed on swiftly and then came to a screeching halt in the kitchen itself when presented with two strangers poking about, one of them making notes. They both realised these could only be police officers. Jamie sauntered in beyond one, the while, casting 'you can't get me' looks at Roberto; who bristled with indignation in the doorway. Putting on his best 'cute little kiddy' face Jamie tugged on the arm of one officers shirt lightly to get his attention. The man peered over from his notebook. 'What is it kid?' he asked.
'You're a cop right?' Jamie asked.
'Yeah,'
'Can I see your gun?' Jamie queried, all puppy-dog eyes. The man screwed up his face a little and wondered why all small children asked this.
'No.'
'Why?'
'It might go off,' it was a cliché, but a good one. Or so the officer thought.
'Oh,' Jamie intoned as his shoulders sagged. 'All cops say that,' he then added with a nod. 'Someone told me it was a very Fer-oy-diy-an-' he made to act as though the word was difficult to pronounce. 'Response, what's that mean?' the officer gave him the sort of look which was often followed by a pat on the head and an invitation to ride the short bus when his partner, who had been listening, began laughing. Jamie widened his eyes innocently as the inference dawned on the man.
'We'll try this one as an adult,' he grunted off in the face of his fellows amusement. Jamie spun his head with this to note that Roberto had gone. He went out after him.
Mischievousness aside he did want to know why the older student was going home. It was only later when the young student learned Roberto wasn't alone in this predicament.
Rogue, Kurt, Jean, Bobby, Amara, Scott, Sam, Jamie, and Kitty were assembled at Hank's request. Bereaved and fully aware of their thinning numbers. To say the atmosphere was tense would have been a great understatement. Not only had three of their number been inhumed, but Roberto and Jubilee had both gone. For the duration the two would be staying at their home, and these two instances of parental concern were not completely isolated. Jean had only remained in the face of her parents ardent requests because she was of legal age, and did not have to return at their bidding, much to Scott's dismay. Kitty was currently negotiating her position, and trying to somehow convince her worried mother and father that she had to stay. Hank had all but directly asked anyone who could leave to do so, but as loyalty could not be easily won; it could not be simply dismissed. So for the most part their only remaining instructors pleas had fallen on deaf ears. Storm was being billed and charged but on what crime they were not entirely sure at this point, and that was perhaps the most bitter pill to swallow. The mansion was in a state of high security and both Logan and Xavier had been informed of all happenings. Both were unable to return at the time however, despite their willingness. Even adamantium claws, it seemed, could not cut red-tape. Pending a rather lengthy monologue over their current state Hank took a deep breath and warmly regarded those who remained.
'It's not going to continue.' he finished. Often his voice rang with a certain docile quality, and it was why now when he spoke in tones injected with such heart and firmness everyone seemed almost shocked that their oft overlooked instructor could induce such a feeling of security. 'With Cerebro on our side, and now that we know this is definitely a mutant there should be no more surprises-'
'What about Storm!' Kitty interjected with suddenness. It was a question playing on the minds of all present. She hadn't been able to wait and see if Hank would get around to it, the need to know was too intense. Hanks face fell with this comment.
'There isn't much we can do,' he said to the collective dismay of all present. 'But, Scott-' he turned to face the senior X-man. 'If you don't mind heading out to the station to see what the situation is...' his voice wavered a little with this as he trailed off. 'I'd go myself but-'
'It's all right,' Scott put in to spare Hank the effort of explaining something they all already understood. 'I'll go.' silence prevailed here for a time. The students sat, some still, some fidgeting nervously; until eventually Jean stood up.
'I'll start with Cerebro,' she said. Sucking up the fact that she wasn't very good at it and that it wasn't going to be easy, and, pending a moment to wait for any comments toward her, she started for the exit. Scott made as if to speak just as she stepped out the door and then stopped. Hank stood up with this and swept his gaze over the assembled. 'It's been a long day,' he muttered almost to himself. The students took this as an invitation to leave and each started off in their own direction, some shared, and left the room all but empty in a matter of moments.
'Kurt,' Hank observed. The fuzzy mutant turned to face him as he spoke. 'Could you keep an eye on Jean and make sure nothing goes wrong?' the young X-man seemed to perk up with this. It was something to do, at least.
'Message received and understood!' he clipped off in a animated manner. Smiling as he saluted sharply to complete the jest before 'porting out. Scott had the luck to pass through the slowly dispersing cloud of acrid smoke as made his way out of the room. He waved a hand in protest and threw a look to Bobby, who was walking beside him. 'You ever get the feeling he makes that smell intentionally?' Bobby broke a smile at this. His response was inaudible to Hank; who remained still as they passed through the doorway.
'She was so full of life! And fleas too, but mostly life!' Kurt bemoaned theatrically in regards to the late Rahne Sinclair.
'Kurt!' Jean exclaimed with near-total indignation.
'What!' he shrugged 'I was only joking!'
'Don't you think it's a little insensitive?'
'Just trying to keep moral up.'
'By talking about dead people?' Kurt's sense of whimsy seemed to hit a wall in the face of this irksome logic. Still it completely failed to deter him in any real way.
'Yeah.' he nodded finally. As if it was completely acceptable and normal behaviour. Jean responded to this only by way of fixing him with an odd look. 'C'mon! Lighten up!' Kurt voiced emphatically. 'You're not dead, you just smell that way,' he threw up his hands with this as Jean shot him a truly foul glare, and took a step back. 'Ok! I'll be quiet!' with this said they both seemed to relax a little. Kurt paced back tentatively toward Jean as she attempted to focus on using Cerebro. Leaning inward intently to try and make sense of the readouts as Jean worked; Kurt thought he could see something.
'What's that?' he quietly asked while two fingers came up to gesture toward something on the display.
'I'm not sure yet,' Jean said. She closed her eyes a moment and opened them to a refreshed sense of determination; setting her jaw as she tried to focus further. 'I think it's what we're looking for-' strain was evident in her voice. '-I'm trying to narrow it down,' Kurt leaned a little closer. 'Dammit!' Jean suddenly exclaimed as she lost track.
'What?' Kurt shot back quickly, stunned a little by the sudden outburst.
'I lost it.' her shoulders fell with this. 'I'm just not advanced enough to-' He struck upon an idea before she finished.
'How far away was it?' he asked, interrupting her.
'I'm not sure, the Marshalling yards, or around there, why?' it seemed to dawn on Jean what Kurt had in mind.
'Close enough!' he announced with a sudden gallant turn in his demeanour, and after taking a single metered step back from her he disappeared.
'Kurt, wait!' Jean's protests came too late and she found herself waving away the acrid smoke of his departure. She stopped for a moment as the smoke dispersed to clear her head and began to think rationally, removing the Cerebro gear. Kurt wasn't gone after all; he was just distant, and for a teleporter and a telepath this was an abstraction and a simple one to overcome. She concentrated for a moment before feeling Kurt's mind and tried delicately to impress an idea upon it.
'Kurt?' She communicated telepathically, and received a positive answer. 'What are you doing?' The communication was a thing of thought and idea; translated into something tangible and comparable to words within their respective minds.
'Just having a look around.' Kurt responded. She could feel him grinning.
'Well be careful, and 'port back at any sign of trouble. I'll tell Hank what we're doing,'
'No!' Kurt seemed harshly opposed to this. 'He'll only worry, right? Let's go to him when we've got the goods,' Jean frowned with thought for a moment over this idea. It did make sense as Kurt could simply teleport back at any sign of trouble. He was in no real danger, yet the idea still made her uneasy.
'All right,' She came back with at length. 'I'll keep working with Cerebro, remember though Kurt, at the first sign of trouble, any sign of trouble, 'port back here right away!' after receiving the mental equivalent of a sarcastic 'yes mother,' Jean's attention returned to Cerebro and she attempted with redoubled vigour to get a bead on both Kurt and their mystery mutant.
Less than two miles away at the marshalling yards, which were deserted at this hour, Kurt paced carefully between freight carriages and PA stations. It was a desolate and uninviting scene, and he couldn't see much through the darkened alleys stretching out between each row of carriages. He made out distant sounds of further trains coming in, the slow decline of their rattling progression echoing through the otherwise silent yards. He couldn't see anyone, let alone anyone who fitted the vague description Storm had put out. As time went on Kurt progressed through more of the uneven labyrinth of impromptu corridors and alleys, and a feeling of tension mounted in the young X-man. He did not want to go back without something, but he couldn't help feeling as though he was attempting something very dangerous. He ventured between the uninviting alleys for some time, how long he could not have said, until his inspection was cut in a most decisive manner. A most worryingly audible crack sounded from his skull as Kurt was smashed into a fuzzy dream, unconscious, shallow breathing marking life to his attacker. Kurt was dragged roughly away.
End of Part Two.
