Chapter Twelve: Breakdowns and Break-ins
"Jesus fucking Christ, Riptide!"
Vertigo narrowed her eyes at the mass of man who was hissing profanity at their teammate. "Shut the fuck up, Blockbuster," she whispered, words dripping with venom. "Do you want to wake them up before we planned?"
"Who made you the brains–?" the hulking idiot scowled at her like a spoiled child.
She opened her mouth to argue with him–
And was promptly silenced before she even spoke, by a large hand over her mouth.
She panicked, inside. Reached for her power, finding the psionic burst inside of her that she knew would take out whoever the fuck–
"Enough," a deep voice said, as she was released. "We have a job to do. Bitchfight later."
She smirked at the man, Scalphunter, as he stalked away from the cliff, toward the house. He was digging in that vest of his again. Probably about to pull out some particularly wicked metallic projectile. Possibly containing a bomb or something equally delicious.
"Yeah, bitchfight later," a snide voice said at her ear.
Vertigo looked to her left, and there was Riptide. Smirking and raising one eyebrow suggestively.
He was just lucky he was sexy.
"Let's go people," Harpoon flashed one of his larger guns, and grinned– all teeth. "Time to scare us some X-Men."
There were many questions Jean-Paul would've liked answered, at that moment. Too many for his mind, which didn't have the luxury of processing things quite as fast as his wayward best friend's, to actually handle. So instead, he was flying.
It was nearly evening now, and he was flying, in his uniform, straight toward the Brotherhood house.
How did Mr. Logan know about the Brotherhood? What the fuck was the matter with Scott? Was Jeanne-Marie really as alright as she seemed? And god, dear god, was Pietro still in Transia, on this ill-conceived quest for answers, for sanity, for... whatever the fuck it was that was keeping him up at night.
There was no time for that, however, not now. They had to go, and soon. And he'd promised Lance, so he was coming for him, now. The more recruits they could take with them, the more of a chance they'd be able to help the Maximoffs. He wasn't certain why he knew they needed help...
But it probably had a lot to do with the undeniable proof that all pointed to the fact that Wanda and Pietro were well and truly fucked. Just as he'd known they would be. Just as they'd known they would be.
Dieu, how he wished now that he'd never let him go. Or even that he'd gone with them. That night, when Pietro had told him... would he have agreed to let him come along? They could have told Sam, or Lance, or someone else, and he could have gone with them. He should have gone with them. If they were hurt... if anything had happened...
It was his fault.
He landed on the doorstep of the ramshackle Brotherhood Boarding House, and opened the door without even knocking.
The floorboards creaked, as he made his way through the foyer, trying to calm his heart so he could speak properly. Explain himself. Rational and calm were what he needed right now; what everyone needed. Flying off the handle in front of the X-Men was one thing. Not excusable, but Scott had deserved it, and much more. And he'd get it before the day was out, doubtless.
But right now... calm.
The house smelled vaguely like a swamp, with a slight hint of burnt toast. Like old water and green and Freddy's cooking. The smell made his stomach jump. He hadn't been here since Pietro had gone...
The TV was flashing, but the curtains were drawn against the dying light. And there was Lance Alvers, slouched in a black t-shirt and slashed jeans, dark hair wrecked, leaning his head on one hand, elbow propped on the arm of the ratty red couch on which Jean-Paul had spent so many nights. His legs were splayed wide, and he was slouched low, in a stereotypically male posture. All he needed was a Miller High Life in his other hand, and he'd complete the picture perfectly. He didn't even look up, when the X-Man entered the room. He kept watching the TV. Something black and white.
He never would have pegged Lance for a black and white kind of guy.
The rock-tumbler flexed his strong jaw, pushed shaggy hair out of his eyes. And after a long moment, where neither of them spoke, he finally said, "Figured you'd show up eventually."
Oui. Of course he had. "The Maximoffs are in Transia."
Lance looked up now, dark eyes reflecting the movie he had formerly been so engrossed in, eerily. His expression was unreadable, but Jean-Paul assumed he knew what the question would be, that was taking shape on his lips as he parted them to speak.
He didn't get the chance, however, as a voice came from the foyer, "Transia? Where's that, yo?"
Jean-Paul turned and watched as Todd hopped past him, to the couch, then planted himself on the opposite side of it from Lance, drawing his thin legs up underneath him and squatting on the cushion. Amber eyes reflected the television even more eerily than Lance's dark ones, and his face was strangely thoughtful. Serious. The speedster stared at the younger boy for just a moment, head cocking as he took him in. Funny, he'd never really paid him much attention. He was just... rather like his best friend's annoying little brother, in his mind. Or the strange fellow who followed Wanda around.
But looking at him right here, right now... despite his singular form of suffixing half of his sentences with "yo"...
The X-Man suddenly felt like he'd been unfair to him, because Todd was very truly concerned. It was obvious in his face, the way the corners of his mouth twitched down, the way he seemed to want to curl in on himself as he crouched there.
Odd, how he was feeling more kindly disposed toward the Brotherhood than his own "teammates," at the moment.
"Near Romania," he finally replied.
"Oh," Toad blinked, rapidly. "Why they go there?"
"Nightmares," Jean-Paul replied, quickly. He felt kindly disposed, perhaps, but he was not a patient fellow, by any stretch of the imagination.
"Oh," the other boy furrowed his brow now, and blinked some more. "Why didn't they tell us?"
"Magneto," he practically snapped, deciding that ought to be enough of an explanation. And too bad if it wasn't.
"Oh," Todd said, once again, causing Jean-Paul's right eye to twitch ever so slightly. "Why–?"
"Alright, enough already," Lance stood up, suddenly, and came to stand less than two feet in front of him, heavy work boots clomping on the worn floor as he did so. His eyes were locked on to Jean-Paul's and his jaw was set. Hard. "When can we rock and roll?"
He shook his head, "It's uncertain, right now. They're making preparations, but there was talk of some kind of plan being needed."
Lance smirked, and shook his head, the expression on his face clearly saying, typical.
At the moment, Jean-Paul wouldn't have been surprised if his expression had matched the other boy's exactly. He was furious, still. Despite his every effort to calm his heart, he was fucking furious.
With himself, mostly. But better to focus it at the X-Men and their stalling.
"Who's going?"
"Most of the X-Men," Jean-Paul replied, "And you." With that, he nodded to Lance, and then to Todd, who was still crouching on the couch, watching with glowing eyes.
"They're in big trouble huh?" The amphibious boy suddenly spoke again, sounding extremely distressed.
The X-Man nodded, slowly. Trying to control his breathing. "Bigger than I can explain. And it's not just about them. There's an entire corporation funding ways to neutralize mutant capabilities, and the man who's behind it has them."
Lance's brow furrowed, and Jean-Paul couldn't help but observe, despite his frustration, anger, fear, and guilt, that he was strangely... neanderthal, when he was confused. "What the fuck...?"
"Sinister." The speedster knew very well that one word could explain everything.
Toad was up, however, before the rock-head could respond, and he hopped to Jean-Paul's side. "We gotta go man. Now."
Jean-Paul looked down at him. Sincere and scared. And nodded. Todd looked exactly how he felt. "Tomorrow morning, I'll call. Be ready to go." He looked back up at Lance now, locking eyes with him once more. "Be there."
"Wouldn't miss it," Alvers growled in return.
"She okay, man?"
Warren looked up, and over his shoulder, surprised to see Scott, hands in his pockets, coming toward him. He ruffled his wings, slightly irritated with himself– he hadn't even heard the younger man come out onto the porch.
He was thinking too hard.
Warren nodded, however, as Scott came to stand next to him, resting his hands on the railing, and gazing down at the grounds from behind ruby shades.
"Yes," he answered, finally, once the X-Man was situated. "I believe she is. She knows it's all in her head, but she feels so powerless against it, at the same time... and I just want everything to be... alright."
Scott nodded, solemnly. "Yeah, I hear you, man. She's a hell of a girl..."
"You said as much not so long ago, as well," he smiled.
The other boy looked up, and just barely smiled, wryly. Remembering, maybe. Like him. Before Jeanne-
Marie had been hurt, again. "Thanks for taking care of her, Warren. I don't know why JP lets you, but I think they both really need it, right now."
"Is he okay?" Warren asked, raising his eyebrows and shifting his position to lean one hip against the railing. He tucked his wings up and under, tight, and cocked his head at his friend, weighing his expression with the practiced eye of a businessman. He had been sure that Scott and Jean-Paul were going to start a fist fight in that meeting a few hours ago. Really, very sure. And Jeanne-Marie had agreed with him, when they'd spoken after the fact.
And Warren wasn't exactly sure why, considering JP's infamous temper, it had been such a surprise. Maybe it was that Scott had seemed out of character too, temper-wise. But it didn't take a genius to realize that lately, Jean-
Paul Beaubier hadn't been himself. And yeah...Warren was worried.
But Scott only shook his head, looking just as worried as he felt, still watching the grounds like he thought something was going to come out of the woods and attack them. Nothing but worry. And... a little regret, maybe? "He's not okay. And I shouldn't have pushed him, either. I feel like a complete asshole. I just...," the younger boy's shoulders slumped now, and his jaw flexed. "I'm having a really bad day, Warren."
Right. Definitely regret. Warren crossed his arms over his chest, and considered. Should he push it? He wasn't terribly used to "normal" human interaction these days– unless one counted Jeanne-Marie. Which he wasn't entirely sure one should, no matter how much he loved her, or how "normal" she made him feel. But Scott was a friend... one of the few he had. So he asked, "Can you tell me what happened?"
Scott gripped the rail a little harder, evidenced the whitening of his knuckles. "Broke up with Jean," he said, through his teeth. "Found out that Alex is on top of Sinister's Christmas list. Had a fight in front of the whole team with one of my best friends."
The last one, he knew. But the first two... okay, the lesser of the two evils first, perhaps. "I suppose the Jean breakup was coming," he took a deep breath, remembering their conversation in his kitchen, weeks ago. Christ, had it only been weeks? Felt like forever ago. "But... Alex?"
The jaw was working again, and Scott shifted, suddenly. He stood straighter, chest out, shoulders back. Took a deep breath. "Gambit and Kitty found a list of mutants, compiled from the "mental files" Sinister recently acquired from his new test subject, or captive, or whatever you want to call it. We're guessing it's Magneto. Alexander Summers was at the top of the list. And it was a list of mutants he wants."
Warren felt his brow furrow, and his wings give an involuntary shiver. "Jesus... for what?"
Still staring out, over the back yard, Scott replied in a steely voice, "Not sure. Experiments. Evil henchmen. Hell if I know."
"Why Alex?" he had to admit a certain... morbid curiosity. The happy hippy surfer boy Warren had met seemed more likely to follow in his brother's footsteps as a superhero than to end up going to the dark side...
Now, Scott looked over at him. His eyes were hard, under the shades, and he looked more like someone's father than big brother. "Apparently, it's also a list of the most powerful mutants in the world."
Warren's mouth opened, but for a moment, no sound came out. Alex? The one with the 70s hair who said "dude" every other word?
Scott nodded, obviously understanding his shock. "The Professor has been working with him, showing him how to get rid of some of the energy he builds up safely, since it gives him headaches if he doesn't let loose once in awhile. I asked Xavier today, honestly, what he thought of Alex's power," he shook his head now, brow furrowing. "And he told me that he thinks the kid could level Bayville without breaking a sweat, with his kind of power. He just doesn't know how to use it."
"Damn...," was all Warren could manage, in reply to that. Partially because he honestly couldn't imagine what the hell to say to that kind of news. And partially because of the sudden scraping sound he heard, on the other side of the porch.
As one, both young men turned to see what it was.
And jumped back, into defensive postures, when they saw the huge man flying up and over the railing. His eyes were wild, and he had giant... spears strapped to his back. Warren's mind whirled, as he tried to comprehend just what the hell was happening.
Scott solved the problem, however, by hissing, "Harpoon," then smacking his ever-present communicator, instantly. "X-Men, secure the mansion. We have a breach, it's the Marauders– regroup at–,"
But he never got to finish. While he was talking, the huge spear-man had taken two steps forward and leveled a mechanical crossbow at them. With three of the hugest bolts imaginable aimed right at them, dead bang.
Warren was off the ground in an instant, and he heard the click of the trigger being pulled. It echoed far more loudly than it should have, like he was hearing it in slow motion, like nothing else in the world existed. He could still hear, however. The "thwip" of the bolts releasing over the sudden pounding of his heart in his chest. The rush of blood in his ears, the beating of his wings as he flew upward.
Scott let lose with a wide blast that took out two of the huge bolts zooming toward his head. Warren felt the third whiz under his feet. And knew what he had to do, without even looking at Scott for confirmation.
Close range. This guy, Harpoon, he was vulnerable at close range. He was huge, but Warren knew damn well that he was just as strong himself. His body was extraordinarily light– but not because he lacked muscle mass. His bones were the thing that gave him that edge, hollow, yet inordinately strong. And he could use that to distract this guy, so Cyclops could take him the hell out.
Wings beating hard now, he lanced himself downward and out, as the spear-man produced yet another rocket-launcher-looking-gun, this time with a wickedly dove-tailed spear point protruding from the barrel. He aimed his shoulder at the man's side, knowing that there was nothing Harpoon could do to stop him. His wings were powerful enough to build up the kind of momentum that even a flying spear couldn't impede. The adrenalin coursing through the tight muscles in his wings pushed him to his limit, within two beats.
The spear released, and Warren heard the blast from Scott, but his shoulder impacted with his enemy's rib-
cage a moment later. Harpoon took the hit, staggered backward with the unstoppable motion of it, but when he hit the ground... he kept going. He rolled with it, to his back, using Warren's inertia to keep himself moving, and planted his feet in the winged man's stomach, halfway through the roll.
Panic, for a split second, and then adaptation. His power was being used against him, so he waited, as the huge man's boots pushed all the air out of him, crushing his stomach and lungs, carrying him op and over the man's head as he rolled backward. He flapped his wings just as Harpoon was about to flip over– instead, the man went into a handstand, pushing himself straight upward on arms like tree trunks and stopping the momentum with a disturbing amount of strength and control, just like that. If Warren hadn't beat his wings, the sudden upthrust would've folded him in half, instantly.
Luckily, he had, and he beat again, hard, sending his own legs up and over, so that he landed facing away from the Marauder, touching down lightly. The familiar sound of Scott's optic blast caught him whirling, and he saw that Harpoon was still upside down, balancing all his weight on one hand as he launched another spear in Scott's direction with the other. Warren spun just in time to see the projectile open, this time, in midair, and become a net, weighted around the edges with wickedly spiked metal. Scott's blast, a thin, localized one, obviously adjusted for the spear he'd expected to be dealing with, tore through the net and knocked one of the weights off-track, but the thing spun as he tried to dive out of the way. One side swung around him, the other hit the side of his visor with a sickening crack.
There was barely time to see the visor detach itself on one side, and the skewed net wrap itself around Scott, before Harpoon had sprung to his feet again, facing Angel, leering. He pulled back, with his gun-hand, and Warren immediately pushed off the ground hard, flapping his wings in mid-spring as his opponent swung the heavy metal thing at him. There was no time to think– he needed to get to Scott, needed to help...
The gun connected with his ankle solidly, and Warren bit back the cry of pain that rose in his throat as he felt it shatter, bone crunching against bone. A shot of pure red ripped through him, burning him up– anger and agony.
He couldn't let him win. This sonofabitch had kidnapped Jeanne-Marie.
And yeah, he was good, obviously. But not that fucking good. He was going down.
Gritting his teeth, Warren spun in the air as the Marauder reached for another projectile, using his wings to whip him around fast, and slammed his uninjured foot into the other man's face. Blood spurted on impact, and Harpoon gave a garbled "argh!" as his nose was crushed, staggering backward, clutching at it.
Warren had kicked some ass, in his time as a superhero. But he'd never felt quite so gratified by the sight of blood as he did in that one moment. And he was far too pissed off to be worried by that fact.
He shot a quick glance at Scott, while the enemy staggered, and saw that his friend almost had his hands freed of the net, but the visor was hanging from one side, and his eyes were shut tight.
A few more seconds. Warren could give him a few more seconds.
He landed a foot from his opponent, who was still spurting blood, resting his weight on his uninjured leg, ignoring the other completely. Instantly, he swept the wing on his strong side around him, slamming into the bleeding man and sending him reeling to the side again. He meant to follow up with a hook to the jaw, but when he tried to hit him, Harpoon suddenly reached up and caught his fist.
For a split second, they struggled one-handed– pure muscle against muscle. Warren was still seeing red– he barred his teeth and pushed himself as far as he could go, until the muscles in his arm burned.
And then, Harpoon started to give.
Warren's moment of triumph was short-lived, however. Eyes blazing, breathing hard through the wash of blood dripping into his snarling mouth, Harpoon dropped his gun and grabbed for his wing with one hand, latching on to the ridge of it, digging his thick fingers in.
Which would have been easy enough to slip out of, for Angel. If not for the fact that the Marauder's heavy black combat boot suddenly slammed into his shattered ankle at the same time.
Warren hit the ground on his knees, blinded by the pain, but bit down hard on his lip to keep from screaming. He would not scream. He caught himself with one hand, his wing otherwise occupied. Sweat. Blackness. His leg felt ready to explode. Ankle pulverized. Red. Black. No air. A few more seconds.
He looked up, struggling to free his wing. And froze when he saw what was happening. The man had somehow produced a giant spear– a real, honest to god harpoon. And his free arm was drawn back, aiming it right at the joint of his wing.
Warren's heart stopped. No...
The enemy smiled, labored breath causing blood to bubble from his mangled nose. "How good would you be without your wings, bird-boy?"
Another ragged breath. Warren's mind was frozen, addled with pain and the most gripping, consuming, black terror he'd ever experienced. No... god, no... anything else...
"Feel free to scream your fucking head off," he pulled his arm back further–
"Angel, down!"
The sound of Scott's voice suddenly drug him out of his black terror, and Warren jerked backward, landing on his backside. His wing jerked back as well, pulling Harpoon forward and off balance, and the X-Man threw his legs out in front of himself, ignoring the pain for this one. Last. Kick. Both feet slammed into the Marauder's knees with a sickening crack, and he screamed through bloody teeth. Warren bit down hard on his lip again as his ankle crunched, shooting another wave of sickening pain up him like lighting. Tasted his own blood as the other man started to fall, at least one of his knees bent at a ridiculous angle.
On his back, cradled in his wings, Warren braced for the coming impact, lifting the one leg he still had control of, ready for 250 pounds of supervillain to land on him.
A burst of pure red energy caught the falling man, however, before it could happen, ripping through the air over Warren's head and slamming Harpoon twenty feet backward, right through the stone railing, and over the side of the porch.
Warren didn't even hear him land, two stories down. His head hit the porch with a dull thunk, and he sucked in a long, pained breath, letting it out with a frustrated growl, tasting salt and metal. "Gah... fuck... ow...," he breathed, wincing and unable to string together a logical sentence.
Cyclops appeared over him, briefly, holding his visor together with one hand. "Alright?"
Nodding as best he could, Angel forced himself to sit up, and swallowed a mouthful of blood. "Fine. Let's get him."
Scott was already at the shattered railing, however, before Warren could even try to stand. "Shit. He's gone," he barked, hitting his comm unit again. "Harpoon is loose, but he's injured and armed. Report in, X-Men."
"Cyclops, it's Jean. Vertigo is out, but we need someone down here. Something's wrong with the Beaubiers."
Sam watched, brow furrowed, as the heavy metal doors closed behind the firebug and his roommate.
Dammit. He should be with them.
Normally, it was just fine with the Kentucky native– he loved his team, he loved the training, he loved being one of the New Mutants. But today, it was eating him up.
They were going after Wanda. And he was stuck here in a damn bomb shelter. Waiting.
It had happened just how he'd known it would. He still couldn't fault Wanda, or Pietro, for the choice they made. It was go or deal with insanity by sleep deprivation. But he'd known, from the moment he'd seen her letter to him, that it was a trap. And now, it was all turning out to be true.
And it was a damn nightmare.
"No way I can stand bein' cooped up in here...," he mumbled aloud, shaking his head.
A hand fell on his shoulder, and he looked up. Alex. Shaking his head. "Man, I know you wanna go– I do too. I hate the idea of Scott doing all this shit without me there. And I know it's for Wanda, but, dude–,"
"Alex, I don't usually argue with the powers that be," he looked over at the surfer-boy, one corner of his mouth twitching up just a bit. Wryly, he was sure. "But this is one case I think I gotta take exception on. I ain't seen her in... too long. And I had a bad feeling about this from the beginning. I know I can help."
"You knew?" Alex's brown eyes grew wide.
Sam nodded, "She left me a letter with JP, saying she was leaving. And I figured out where to myself."
The other boy looked around, chewing on his bottom lip. And then raised an eyebrow. "Dude... let's go."
Well. That was... unexpected. Sam's mind started to whirl immediately. If they walked out of here– which they could, since the door would only open from the inside, they'd have to face a whole world of pain from Xavier. Not to mention Mr. Logan. And really... why should Xavier let them help with this one, whatever the hell he decided to do? They weren't X-Men– maybe they'd just be in the way?
But he took another good look at his friend's face...
And he knew he had to try at least, or he'd never forgive himself. So he nodded. "Come on. We can still catch Bobby and that nutcase before they get to the house."
Alex grinned his trademark thousand-watt grin, and patted his shoulder again, then started walking.
Sam followed, holding his breath.
When Alex opened the heavy door, and his face lit up with the dying light from outdoors, he was smiling. For about a split second. Then, his face lit up from a completely different kind of glow– the kind from a giant, fiery explosion. "Oh shit, Sam, we got company," he turned wide eyes to his friend. Before he launched himself out the door, head first.
Sam swung around the door now, and saw what it was Alex had been talking about. Bobby and John were out there... fighting some kind of crazy fellow with long, black hair and a utility vest that rivaled his daddy's old fishing one for the amount of metal stuck into it. He scanned the situation quickly– Bobby had just iced up something, some kind of small projectile, and Pyro was busy trying to melt half the metal on the stranger's vest, apparently. Giant bursts of flame, shaped like huge arrows, were flying constantly between the two combatants. Bobby's head was bleeding, from just above his ear, looked like, and he had another cut on his face, across his forehead. The nearest tree was covered in ice. And he wasn't moving so fast.
Enemy-guy had his arm pulled backwards, but he turned to look right at Alex, as the Hawaiian boy exited the bunker and pointed his blasters right at the guy. He let off a round of bright red energy, with that familiar Summers-sound of his. The man dodged it, moving out of the way quickly, and coming directly toward him. Pyro, by this time, had a lovely fire-giant built up, and he was laughing like the madman he was, sending the thing stomping after Mr. Bad Guy. Bobby was hanging on to a tree, looking like he was just trying to breathe.
A decision was needed. Did he go after Bobby and get him to safety, and let Pyro and Havok handle this badass? Or did he slam the guy into the nearest brick wall at Cannonball speed, and hope that Bobby was gonna be okay?
"Alexander Summers," the random bad guy was sneering, startling Sam out of his momentary trance. He didn't even seem to care about the fire giant on his ass. Not one damn bit. He was just walking straight toward Alex, who had his hands out, clenched into fists.
Which meant he was getting ready for a big one.
Shit. Sam slammed the door to the bunker behind him, but he could still hear the Bad Guy talking as he did that. "Havok. Ability to metabolize cosmic radiation into concussive plasma blasts, or explosions, centered on himself. Massive destructive capabilities. Possibly more than any other mutant on the planet."
The fire giant was on him now, but dark-haired bad guy didn't even turn around. John's laughter made it all-too-obvious where he was coming from, apparently, because the Bad Dude simply chucked something black and flashing with little red and green lights over his shoulder. Sam watched as it morphed, changed into some huge, spiky insectoid... bomb thing, within a split second. Pyro never saw it coming. The thing exploded right beside his leg, in midair, and the fire-giant died. The Aussie was on the ground, and the bad guy was coming at Alex.
And Alex was ready to blow, Sam could tell from the way his hands were shaking. He knew what he'd see on the surfer-boy's face, if his back hadn't been turned. And he knew it'd be scary. Nothing in the world as weird as seeing the happiest guy on earth suddenly turn into a walking WMD.
"Get down, X-Men," he yelled, jumping and activating his propulsion blast shield at once, sweeping Pyro up off the ground. Bobby could get behind the tree and be okay– he was far enough away. But Alex was counting on him to get John out of the way, and he knew it. That's why they were a good team, the New Mutants. They knew each other like that. Decision made.
He dropped John behind a far off tree, and landed as best he could, making a giant furrow in the yard with his head as he slammed into it. No time for precision. He stood up just in time to see Alex let loose, eyes rolling back in his head as a visible ripple of pure plasmic energy exploded out of him, right from his center.
Bad Guy, who was still walking forward, folded over like a piece of paper. He fell straight back, just like every blade of grass, every little thing in the path of Alex's wave, all facing out from him, the center of their new universe. In unison, Alex dropped to his knees and the huge bad man hitting his back, straight-legged and shocked, clutching yet another of his weird black gizmos.
And no way he was getting to use that. Sam jumped into action again, lighting up and grabbing the huge guy up in mid-air before he had a chance to recover from whatever the hell getting slammed by Havok had done to him. He felt the guy start to twitch, so he kicked it up, pushed his propulsion to the limit, heading straight for the house, praying that no one would be on the other side of the wall. He knew damn well that his blast shield would protect not only him but whoever he was carrying from the impact. So he had to time this just right...
A split second before he hit the house, Sam cut propulsion, counting on his inertia to carry him through, and the villain in his arms to cushion the impact until he could separate himself from him. A deafening crash, the undeniable crunch of his body against the bad guy's...
And they just kept right on going. Through the wall. Instinctively, Sam let go, and slammed his blasters into reverse. But the guy with the dark hair kept right on going. Through the next wall. Slamming into it in a decidedly uncomfortable position, his arm looking awful bloodied up, his eyes closed.
The guy was out like a light.
Sam wondered to himself if it was wrong of him to want to laugh, as he slammed back through the wall, the way he'd come, to check on his teammates. Because he was pretty sure that guy was gonna have one hell of a headache when he woke up.
But damn... who the hell was he? And how the hell had he known Alex?
"I still haven't spoken to Jean-Paul," Jeanne-Marie leaned heavily on her friend, warm and comfortable, as she sat next to her on a bench in the front yard.
Jean leaned back, shaking her head. "Scott says that no one has. And he left after the meeting, right away. I thought they were going to kill each other... again."
JM smiled, wryly. She'd thought her brother was going to leave Scott with a bloody nose, at the least, during that hellish meeting. Luckily, Mr. Logan had taken control... but she was worried. It wasn't like Jean-Paul to stay away from her– and he'd been so worried when she'd left. Had he seen that she was fine, and simply taken off to attend to business? Would he come back and sit with her for hours, like he used to, before?
And dieu, why couldn't she feel him? Was he just shutting her out? And if he was... why did it feel... wrong?
It made her nervous, and a little sick to her stomach.
But she was okay now. Everything was okay.
"Scott and I broke up."
The Canadian girl felt her eyes widen, and she turned to meet Jean's. "When?"
"Earlier today," Jean's expression was a little sad, but the corners of her pink lips were turned upward, just slightly. "It was time."
Jeanne-Marie put an arm around her friend, offering a sympathetic smile. She knew how close the two of them had been, and for how long, and she knew what break-ups were like. "You're alright?"
A sad smile, and the red-head patted the other girl's leg. "Yes, I'm–,"
But she never got to finish. The comm unit JM wore around her arm beeped, suddenly, and they heard Scott's voice. "X-Men, secure the mansion. We have a breech, it's the Marauders. Regroup at–,"
Both of their eyes widened as the transmission cut out, and Jeanne-Marie felt something in her... change. Her heart sped up, her blood started to race, and her eyes shifted quickly. Without even calling on it, the vibration in her began. She felt hot, but in a good way. Hot like her light.
Movement. There. Behind them.
On pure instinct, Aurora propelled herself forward. Not quite Moving, in the normal human sense. She simply willed herself forward, grabbing Jean, pulling her away from the immediate threat. She stopped after a second, arms still around her friend, upper lip curling. She hadn't come as far as she should have– and it hadn't felt as fast. Perhaps she was still sluggish from the procedure... she hadn't actually tested how fast she was moving, only that she could speed her molecules normally.
The questions in her mind were a mere flash, however, because she spotted the source of her sudden shift.
Green hair. Seventies kevlar bodysuit from hell. And a smirk on her lips. Standing there on the bench they'd just been sitting on, a hand on one hip, and a huge semi-automatic pistol strapped to her right leg.
Oh yeah. She knew this bitch.
"Vertigo...," Jean growled, echoing her thoughts, her pale, pretty face twisted up into something quite scary.
In the sexiest possible way.
"Take her out," the red-head backed, as their opponent did a front somersault off the bench and started, calmly, to walk their way.
"Let's do it," Aurora smirked right back at the psychopathic Marauder, and launched herself into motion, again, on the molecular level. She aimed a flying kick at the woman's sternum, and connected.
But not hard enough. She knew, instinctively. Vertigo had somehow managed to shift, while she was in the air– somewhere between the time her leg extended and her feet hit paydirt. The green-haired woman staggered off-
balance, as she reached for the gun at her leg, hand on her chest. Aurora landed and whirled on her, stooping into an offensive stance, immediately.
Not fast enough. Somehow. Too slow. Too expected.
She shook her head, clearing her mind the way Mr. Logan taught her, and advanced again. Green-hair had her balance now, squatting low, gun in hand, sneering cruelly. She closed her eyes.
"I don't think so, bitch," Aurora heard her friend hiss, from just behind their opponent.
Vertigo staggered forward, toward Aurora, eyes suddenly wide open and bulging. Jean's eyes were closed, fingers at either temple, face twisted up in concentration and face flushed in anger. "Hit... her," she breathed, through her teeth.
Without thinking, she aimed a spinning kick at the hand swinging toward her, holding what she was very certain was a very loaded gun. Her foot connected with a crack as the gun went off, sending something red flying past her, well wide of her left arm.
Wait... something red? That wasn't a bullet...
Aurora growled, low and fierce, and launched herself bodily at the still staggering woman who'd dared to shoot at her. Vertigo dropped low, wincing, gun falling out of her hand as she used it to hold herself up on the ground. Her leg swept out, and she spun backwards, taking Jean's legs out from under her at the exact moment Aurora landed on her back. The Canadian X-Man could only see in shades of red now– and she heard nothing but the pounding of her own heart in her head as she grabbed a handful of green hair, jerking the other woman's head backward. She jabbed at Vertigo's back, low and to the side, and the Marauder folded at the stomach as her fist buried itself in her kidney. Aurora tightened her grip on the hair, and yanked her back up to sitting. Hard.
The woman might have screamed. Aurora could see from this angle, slightly above Vertigo, that her mouth was open and her eyes closed. Jean was pushing herself up to sitting, nearby. But that was all she caught before the sickness hit her.
Her throat closed up, and she suddenly felt the blood drain from her face. Weak. Dammit. Too weak.
Not fast enough. Should've been faster.
On the ground, a hand at her throat. The edges of her vision were black now. Was that Jean laying nearby?
Hot breath on her face. She wanted to squirm. No air. Choking.
"You little cunt, I should fucking kill you right now–,"
Something pressing into her stomach. Something hard and metal and god there was no air... Aurora closed her eyes tight. And made herself vibrate.
Her eyes snapped open, as something totally unexpected ripped through her, like lightning, hopping from cell to cell, making her...
Explode. Light like she'd never seen before. Light like she and Jean-Paul...
A gust of wind, and she could breath again. She sat up, still shaky, confused, clawing at her own neck. Her breath only came in huge, ragged gulps.
Jean was on her feet, hands at her temples again, and a loud "thunk" caught Aurora's attention. Vertigo landed, a pile of kevlar and green, roughly ten feet from her. Aurora looked up.
And saw her brother in the air. Eyes narrowed, obviously ready to kill. He glanced down at her, quickly. ::Did you make the light by yourself? That big?::
She nodded, and flew to join him, as Vertigo staggered to her feet, reaching out with long fingernails for Jean... who was clearly the only reason they were all still conscious. "Take my hand, Northstar! We have to take her down!"
::Jean, eyes!:: he yelled– knowing very well that the redhead would understand.
Vertigo looked up, licking a thin trickle of blood from the corner of her mouth.
Jean covered her eyes, falling to her knees.
Aurora reached out, and just as she touched her brother's hand.
Everything went black.
"Christ, could one more thing have gone wrong?"
Hank looked up at Scott, and raised bushy blue eyebrows. "Why, yes, I do believe it could have. We could have lost."
The leader of the X-Men shook his head, pulling at his sweaty hair fitfully, and released a long, irritated breath. God... this was definitely not how things were supposed to happen. The Marauders had split up, come from all sides, hoping that divided, the X-Men wouldn't fight as well. And in pretty much every case, they'd almost won with that gamble.
Except for Blockbuster, the big stupid one. Who'd ended up phased halfway through the floor with a slashed shoulder tendon or eight, thanks to Wolverine, Shadowcat, and Nightcrawler. He was down in the brig now, in fact.
But Harpoon had never been found– not him, not Vertigo, not Riptide, and not the new guy who Sam had taken out. They'd all been down. And then they'd all disappeared.
On the up side, their suspicions about Transia were now undeniably confirmed. Rogue had gotten a nice long grip on Riptide, once Gambit had slowed him down with some nicely placed cards, and she'd seen the place. Now all they had to do was find somewhere that looked like that in Transia...
But on the down side...
Bobby had a crack to the head that he swore hadn't hurt him too much, but Hank was observing anyhow, John had shrapnel in his leg, Remy had a gash down his arm that had made Scott sick to his stomach, and Warren's ankle was just... done. They were all on so many drugs right now, he hated to think of what would happen if they had to fight it out all over again.
And then there were the Beaubiers. Who, apparently, now cancelled each other's powers upon physical contact.
And that worried him more than anything else, oddly enough.
But damn... they'd done well. He had to admit. The X-Men had really done well.
And now, it was time to go after those fuckers. For once and for all.
"Good point," he admitted, finally, looking from room to room, shaking his head. "Jesus, Hank, this was a warning. They want to scare us into staying home. Two to one are good odds for these people. We just work together well, that's why we won."
Hank nodded, solemnly, "And why we will continue to win, Scott." His eyes shifted upward then, and over Scott's shoulder. "I must check on our friend Sinjin now. We'll talk later," he excused himself, and headed toward the room where Pyro was passed out.
Scott heard the door open. And knew someone was there whom Hank wanted to let him talk to. Alone.
Which could only mean one thing.
Deep breath, Summers. He doesn't know. He wanted to help.
"Hey, Scott," Alex wasn't smiling, for once in his life, when greeting his big brother. His eyes were wide, still, and he looked pale. Alex never looked pale. He had been baked a permanent golden brown since he was seven, according to him. He came to lean next to the older boy, resting his backside against the table, crossing his arms over his chest. Looking straight ahead, into the room where Xavier was with the Beaubiers.
But Scott was looking at him.
He wanted to yell. He wanted to scream. He wanted to choke the kid.
But mostly, he just wanted to hug him. Really tight. And never let go.
"Look, Scott, I'm sorry," he started, voice dripping with remorse. "I shouldn't have, I know that, but what if I hadn't? Maybe it was just like... supposed to be, man."
Scott closed his eyes against the clinical glare of the medlab, and rubbed at the bridge of his nose under ruby sunglasses.
"I mean... I know I'm not supposed to be an X-Man, I don't even wanna be, I just... Sam was really worried, and he looked so super hella upset, and I know you've been all freaking out lately, so I thought–,"
"It's okay, Alex," he finally pushed out, with a sigh. "I just... I know you wanted to help him out. But... you can't...," he looked over to his right, to look at the kid again. And found that Alex was looking at him now. With huge dark puppy dog eyes, like he used to when he was four years old and wanted to play GI Joes with the big kids.
Fuck.
Scott put his arm around his brother, and pulled him against his side, hard. He kissed his hair, and then leaned his head on the kid's afterward, taking a deep breath. Jesus. He knew he had to tell him. There was no choice, really. If Alex went on thinking that there was nothing wrong, he'd keep doing shit like this– and never see why it was such a big deal. "You gotta listen to the Prof, first of all," he began slowly, dreading actually having to say aloud what it was he had to say. "But mainly... Alex... Sinister has a list of mutants he wants. Powerful mutants. And man...," he squeezed him, and closed his eyes again, "you're at the top. So I can't... you can't come, okay?"
Alex pushed away, just a little, and looked up at him, brow furrowed, bangs falling into his eyes carelessly. "What do you mean...?"
"I mean he wants you, like he wants the Maximoffs. Maybe more, maybe less... I don't know. But... please, just...," gah. He was sounding like an idiot. But he couldn't explain this logically. He didn't feel like an X-Man, saying this... he just felt like...
"Okay, man," Alex nodded, once, and put an arm around him. "I'm not gonna argue, I promise. I just thought..."
"I know," he squeezed him. "You kicked some ass too, kid. I heard what you did out there."
Alex gave a halfhearted smile, at that, and when he spoke his voice sounded completely confused. "Wore me the hell out, dude. Seriously. I talked to the Prof though, he said I could handle a lot more... no idea how though."
God... if he only knew. "You can, Alex. But you don't have to right now."
"No man. Definitely not. The guy, the one we did in...," the surfer boy was chewing his lip now, eyes down, "he knew who I was."
Scott felt his heart seize up, when he heard that. And he pulled his brother a little closer.
"Where's Sam?" Alex suddenly wanted to know.
"He was in with Storm, a minute ago– I think he's coming with us."
Alex only nodded, looking pretty blank. Stunned.
"Hey boys, rough day?"
As one, the Summers looked up, and saw Rogue standing there, one eyebrow cocked, hand on her hip.
Scott smiled, wryly. "You could say that. What's up?"
"Word is that there's no way to confirm Transia as their location," she reported, rolling her eyes. "Remy and Kitty have been over and over the data and there's not a trace of any kind of location crap. But I know what I saw, and when we went through the image files from satellites, and all that National Geographic crap, I was sure. I was lookin' at Transia through Riptide's little pea-brain," she wrinkled up her nose, at that, and wrapped her arms around herself.
Pushing himself off the table, he disentangled himself from his brother. It was almost a relief, really– separating himself physically. Right now, he couldn't afford this. There were four or five other problems in this room... and breaking down and telling his kid brother he could never, ever leave the house again (which was exactly what he wanted to do, of course), really wasn't going to help anyone. At least Alex had agreed to just... stay put. Whatever stupid idea he'd had about helping Sam, or helping him...
Not now. Alex could be a hero later. Not this time.
"That's good enough for me, Rogue," he nodded, partially as a simple affirmative gesture, partially to clear his mind. He was just so tired. God, for a minute there, he'd really thought that bastard was going to spear Warren's wing. And he'd been so tangled up... and...
God. Just a hell of a long day.
"And between that and what Jean-Paul told us about the Maximoffs–,"
As if on cue, the door to the room with the Beaubiers opened.
Scott stopped talking. And all three of the teenagers standing in the medlab simply looked, as Jean-Paul stepped, at a perfectly normal speed, out of the room, and closed the door behind himself. Then looked up at them.
Jesus... he was wrecked. His shirt was crooked, his jeans were stained with grass and someone's blood, his hair was in complete disarray, and his eyes... god, he was going to...
Scott swallowed hard, a wave of guilt suddenly crashing over him. Christ, why had he gone and challenged the guy in front of everyone? Why had he added to the problems, when he should've been helping. This guy was his friend...
"Xavier says we can't leave until we have confirmation of the location," was all he said, standing there, staring blankly. "Did we get it?"
Scott could feel Rogue freezing up beside him. But finally, she replied, "No, not yet. But I know what I saw."
Jean-Paul simply nodded, and started to walk toward the door. Clenching his jaw.
The effort he was exerting to move slowly, to act like everything was fine, was painful. Scott could feel it, and he knew the other two standing there with him could as well.
And he hadn't said a word about Jeanne-Marie. About the fact that he couldn't touch his own sister. Scott thought of the way he'd just been hugging Alex, and how he would've felt if he couldn't do that... ever. It seemed like such a little thing, but over time, especially for someone like JP...
"Jean-Paul," he heard himself saying, before he even had a chance to think it through, "wait."
JP stopped. Turned, and looked at him with very wet eyes. Pale, even in shades of red. But definitely wet.
Scott opened his mouth to say something else... anything else.
But Jean-Paul beat him to the punch. His upper lip twisted into a sneer, and he simply spat, "Save it."
And then, he was gone.
"Fuck," Rogue sighed, "I'll go after him–,"
"No," Scott shook his head, taking her arm, gently. "I'll go. I owe him big."
She looked back at him, cocking her head. He simply looked back, and gave a quick, short nod. Which she returned.
She understood.
He turned back to Alex, and ruffled his hair, "Behave, alright? I'll be back to take you down to the others when I can, but you're alright up here at the house for now."
Alex just nodded, and tried to smile. Still pale. Obviously scared.
His big brother gave him a smile that he hoped was encouraging and went after Jean-Paul, the huge knot in his stomach getting tighter and tighter.
AN: Right, so this chapter could easily have been merged with the next one, which is kinda the unwinding from this constant bloodshed chapter!
But that would've made it, officially, the longest chapter ever. So I thought I'd spare you. Welcome to blood n guts central, in the meantime! Things are actually moving now, and next chapter is a total landmark– the scene that made me want to write this entire fic in the first place will finally happen! Omgwtfbbq?!
So hey, if you like Jean and/or Warren, do us a favor. Go and read my new fic stuff, which was born of an RP Jen1703 and I started over at Homoinferior. You can find us at ff.n under the penname wingsex and the city. Find the link in my bio ;)
/pimp off
Anyhow, right. Shout outs :D
Star-of-Chaos: No Remy/Kitty for you! Wouldn't want you vomiting on my story. That'd just be horrible, obviously! And yeah, writer's block is a bitch. Good luck, and much love!
Minerva Solo: "Furiously in love..." Good description. Could our JP be any other way, I wonder?
Crazyspaceystracey: Yay for Pyro props! He scares me, because a bad Pyro makes me want to weep. I've seen him done well, and I'll never live up to it, but guh. Thank you so much . Hope it's still enjoyable, and I'm still turning them out! Your faithful reviews mean the world to me.
Risty: Mmmm semi-naked hot boys! /Hands you Alex/ Yes, have some! Seriously though, I'm very glad that the Maximoffs didn't drag last chapter (I know, I ignored them here, trust me, they're huge in the next one...)! JM is indeed... strange, to say the least. And yes... Pyro is an odd duck as well. What is it with me and the mentally unstable? At least it's nowhere near my rich playboy problem...
PomegranateQueen: I clearly go for the cheese sometimes too (witness the parting of JP and Pietro... I'm so shameless.) Nothing wrong with that! Also, I like the "happy dance." It's one of my faves :D Party on, dude! Party on! ... Too much Wayne's World is a dangerous thing...
The-M: I miss you when you're not around. And yes, the swearing pleases me too... obviously... we are shallow creatures together. Bless our Evo!Pietro (Draco Malfoy WHAT?!)
Eboni: You printed it and took it with you?! Good god, I'm so flattered right now... Anyhow, enough of that. I'm glad the JP bitchfest was well received, even if it was a bit melodramatic. He is melodramatic though, somehow, inside my head, so I can't really help it! God knows I don't own them these days, they own me. Thanks for reviewing!
DoubleL27: Happy birthday :D Anyhow! The gas actually... doesn't exist. But that's another story for another time! And Sam will (clearly) be getting his day in the sun soon. You know I can't leave him out... because mmmm... Sam. Thanks for the review babe!
DemonRogue13: Yay for JP pushing Scott! He likes to abuse Cyke, what can I say... it's a sign of affection with him. Or something...
UniversalAnimeGirl: Flashlight is, indeed, Aurora. I think that was somewhere in the last fic. Same with Alex's influence on Bobby's lingo– nearly all of the NM boys, in this fic and/or the last, were shown cursing Alex for his influence ;) And yes, power inhibitor bracelets! Much like the collar Mags was shown to be wearing a few chapters back! Oooh and Genosha doesn't even exist in Evo... or DOES it?! ... Okay no, really, it doesn't. But yeah, I think one would do Rogue some good. As for how Wolverine knew about JP having talked to Lance, there is a reason. It will come out later, but it's really not that big of a deal. He's just being Wolverine, let's say.
Jen1703: It occurs to me now that I should've thanked you properly there for reading that Scott/Jean bit to make sure I didn't butcher your kids... I suck. Forgive me? Anyhow, sometimes they need to break up. You know. Like, in favor of wingsex... /cough/
CyberPilate: Yay, you're back for more! You know, you're right, it is a huge balance– put too much of yourself in and it's a Mary Sue. Too little, and it's simply not believable. I'm going to keep a sharper eye on that, definitely. I'm making Jen read my important Jean moments, so she can let me know if I start to fall victim! (Pity her!) As for the Maximoffs, they got the shaft this chapter, but the next one... ohhh the moment I've wanted forever finally gets written! Yay! The entire reason for this fic! Yes, I was going somewhere with this all along! Joy! And if the last chapter was intense, this one was just... way blown out of the water. Alas, the big moments have yet to come, and this is just buildup. More melodrama to come, sad as it is, but I'll keep trying to splice in some humor, in the future, where I can get it to sound not-so-forced. Definitely keep me in check on that one– I like to go overboard on JP (and oh, I will, I promise. ) He just... bleeds so pretty. It's so hard to resist! And on a side note... that goddamn "You're" in there has been the bane of my existence since I posted. I'm so effing lazy I won't go back and re-upload– the mistake simply got missed by me and Sue... but god it irks me, every time I see that damn chapter now... /twitches/ I'm sure it makes you twitch too... apologies!
Regret1701: ... good lord, I have an acolyte :D I'm so much cooler than Mags. ... or not. But still, woot! Anyhow, there's a dream job... Hey Marvel, you hear that? Hire me, dammit!!!
Blaze: I'm sorry, did you just say JP/Pietro pictures...? Guh.
Relwarc: Pyro is one of those characters I never got in 616. He was irritating. And god... GOD that costume! Until, oddly enough, he was about to die, and decided to try and redeem himself. In which case, he became quite interesting. So Evo's take on him was a shocker, and the writer in me was instantly intrigued. Jesus... the places to go with what they showed of him! I'm not even getting close to going as deep as I could, obviously (I learned a long time ago on this fic to pick my battles...), but damn... he's fun. I'm so glad he's turning out to be acceptable. I'm paranoid about him, for many, many reasons. But oddly enough, those are often the same reasons I want to write him, these days. I'm glad, above all else, that Scott's reasons for freaking out were clear. He wasn't just being a dick. As much as I want to stab 616!Scott, I don't want that to come out here– I love Evo!Scott, and I think he'd need a very good reason for that kind of behavior. And well... I know if I heard someone was after my kid brother, I'd flip the hell out in short order. And the bit about him having 'Nam-esque flashbacks was hilarious... and depressing. 3 Thanks so much!
CrimsonObsession: You know, I thought about doing his PoV. Alas, it's JP's story, so he won. But more Toad to come. Without question ;) Love yer!
Amura: Yes, I'm silly enough to have a sequel in mind, god help me. And yes, Alex and Forge's kid would be amazing. He would be victim to the phenomenon Risty and I like to refer to as "shinyhair." You cannot deny its power :D Thanks for reading faithfully, you're amazing!