Although his hand felt like maggots were crawling in it and eating his flesh, Peter had a pretty good idea of what to do when bullets started flying. He rolled off of the couch, hitting the wood hard, and covered his head.
After a moment, he risked a peek up and saw Logan shielding Kayla with his body. His father and Raven were taking cover, shouting something over the rain of bullets. Something about plastic, which would, of course, explain why they were still being shot at.
He weighed his options, wondering why no one was calling for him to do something. He inched a little further, and his hand started screaming again. Right, yeah, that. And the blood loss. If he thought about it, really did, then yeah, he was pretty lightheaded.
Still, it would've been nice to be asked. It had been his damn hand that was injured, not his leg. He lowered his uninjured hand and dug into one of his jacket pockets. The world was slowing around him, just as it always did when he activated his mutation. He smiled, wiping off the blood on the lens before he strapped them on.
Peter jumped to his feet, and looked around the room. A few bullets were headed straight for his dad and Raven, and, grinning, he moved them out of the way. Six were too close to Logan and Kayla for comfort even if they could heal, so those got moved too.
Satisfied, he took off running. It felt like a rush, and he actually stumbled once or twice. He'd never done that before. Maybe this was why everyone was always so upset about him losing blood, because this sucked pretty bad.
He grabbed the gun out of the first man's hands, searching for anything useful in his pockets. He was pleasantly surprised to find a tranquilizer gun, recognizing the design from his time in the Danger Room. Sweet.
Peter shot the man with the tranquilizer at point blank range and hurried on to his next target. There were fifteen others, which was kind of nice, because it meant they sure as hell weren't being underestimated. It also kind of sucked, because he got dizzy after the fifth guy he shot and took his gun.
But he was still on his feet for the rest of them. His hands were getting full, and he considered dropping some of the guns. However, in some of the simulations he'd learned that leaving people with weapons within arm's reach, tranqued or not, was a bad idea. So he kept collecting them and sending the small darts into the men's throats and shoulders.
The world was starting to spin when he got back to the cabin. Normal speed resumed, and he watched in satisfaction as plastic bullets slammed into the wall. His father and Raven immediately turned to him, and, with a silly grin, he dropped all the guns on the floor.
Then his stomach caught up with the rest of him and he fell to his knees, barfing up his breakfast. Black spots started to swim in front of his eyes and his dad was next to him, yanking him back so he didn't pass out face first in his own vomit.
"Thanks," he mumbled.
"That could've gotten you killed," his father said.
"And you're welcome," Peter said, pointing to nothing in particular.
To his surprise, his father gave a low chuckle and helped him back to his feet. That felt kind of nice, since he didn't know what his ability to walk would look like any more.
"Feeling light-headed?" his father asked.
"Understatement of the century," Peter laughed, "I'm feeling high as a kite right now."
"Don't give him more morphine," Logan said, emerging from the space under the bed.
He turned back and helped Kayla out. They were good, which was good. He'd told the Professor he was bringing back Laura's mom, and he didn't want her back with a bunch of bullet holes.
Peter didn't have it in him to carry on much of a conversation with them though, since his mouth still tasted like vomit. His breath probably smelled like it too. He was grateful when his father led him back to the couch, helping him sink down onto the cushions.
"Rest up, and try not to be...try not to be a hero for five minutes," his father said.
"I guarantee you two," said Peter, "Two minutes. Tops"
His father chuckled again and turned away, looking at the pile of guns. Raven was already there, shuffling through the small pile.
"Well-made," she said, "And high-powered. I think they were told to go in heavy, and then sort the pieces out afterwards for confirmed kills."
"But they had a tranq gun," Peter said, "Recognized it from simulations."
The vomit flavor came up powerfully when he spoke. It tasted like eggs. Worst vomit taste ever.
"Tranquilizers?" repeated his father.
"Makes sense," Logan said, wrapping his arms around Kayla to keep her upright, "Bullets wouldn'tve killed me, probably not Kayla either. Bastard probably thought he could collar us."
His father nodded, then shook his head.
"We need to get out of here," he said.
"And push our attack," Kayla said.
Peter turned to her, blinking back the black spots that were swimming again.
"Give me an hour, and I'll be fine," Kayla said, "But I know the layout, and we can't keep hopping around like rabbits trying to figure out what to do next. We can't afford to wait too long or Essex'll pack up and move location no matter what he's promised Yashida."
"And what has he promised Yashida exactly?" asked Raven.
Kayla shook her head.
"He didn't talk too many details around me," she said, "I was a doll to him, but a doll he felt had a chance at rescue. He wouldn't have put the tracker in me otherwise."
She looked distastefully at the ground, and Peter saw the small, bloody disk on the ground. A light was blinking away.
"Want me to break that?" he asked.
"Let it stay," she said, "They might not know I dug it out-"
"Which was totally badass, by the way," Peter said.
She laughed, her hand clenching Logan's shoulder for balance. Now that she was smiling and he was looking at her, really looking at her, he could see the resemblance between her and Laura. Laura's skin was a shade or two paler, but she had those same ashen eyes, the same dark hair. They were reflections of each other, Laura in print dresses and baby fat and her mom with high cheek bones and fatigues.
Then again, their family wasn't any weirder than his.
"If we're going to move into the facility, then we might not have an hour," his father said, "And we have two members of the walking wounded."
"The running wounded," Peter corrected, "And I think I proved I could take it. Just don't ask me to climb Mt. Fuji."
His father shook his head and Raven shook her head.
"We'll need his help if we're going to take out the factory, admit it," said Raven, "And, if Kayla can pull together, I've seen firsthand how good of a shot she is."
Kayla flushed, even though Raven didn't seem to be speaking with any real malice.
"She's better with a sniper rifle, and I know ya brought one," Logan said, "We always had Zero for close shots."
"Trying to keep me out of the heavy fire?" asked Kayla.
"Damn straight," Logan growled, "You're still makin involuntary movements, and damned if I'm sending you in ta do hand-ta-hand like that."
"I'm just surprised you're not trying to dissuade her from participating altogether," his father said.
Logan barked out a bitter laugh.
"Ya don't know her if ya think I could persuade her ta sit this one out," he said.
His father raised his eyebrows.
"I really don't think now is the time for that kind of justification," he said, "I need to know if she can still fight, not if she'll raise hell for being left behind."
Kayla slowly unwound her arm from around Logan's shoulder. She walked over to where her belt was still on the table, a few plastic bullets embedded in the wood. Her footsteps were somewhat unsteady, and Peter could see the jerkiness in her fingertips Logan had referred to.
"You know, my mother warned me not to work with you if I ever ran into you," Kayla said.
Her tone was casual, but Peter frowned. Not what he was expecting.
"Her reasoning was that you were too reckless," she said, clipping the belt around her hips, "Too destructive. Great words coming from her, as I'm sure you know, but she was rarely wrong about those sorts of things. She was good at surviving, my mother, right until she wasn't."
She shrugged.
"And, truthfully, I'm feeling a little destructive too at the moment."
She pulled the gun out of its holster and shot at the back door. The door knob flew off the wood, and Peter whistled. Her hand was shaking afterward, and Peter knew she was still working on standing upright, but she was managing.
Like he would.
"I can take care of myself," she said, "And, let's face it, you need my knowledge, and that's not the kind of thing you can get secondhand. Not with this."
His father tilted his head and, after a pause, nodded.
"Understood," he said, "Grab your gear. Maybe one of these assholes has a car we can use, something to get us in."
"Don't go that way," said Kayla, "They have different codes on the hour, every hour. They'll notice us coming in if we don't have the code. We'll have to sneak in, but the cameras will need to be disabled first."
She tilted her head toward Peter.
"And I think we have someone who is very good with that," Kayla said.
Peter grinned and hopped to his feet. He stumbled, only to have his father catch him.
"Are you sure you're up for this?" he asked.
Truthfully? Probably not. But he wasn't going to pass up an opportunity like this, just like he hadn't been able to pass up the opportunity to break into the Pentagon.
"Totally," Peter said, "Plus, I've already yakked up everything I've eaten, so no more egg vomit taste!"
His father rolled his eyes.
"Just hold onto that thought," he said.
Hank finished his fourth cup of coffee that night. He threw the Styrofoam cup into the trash can as he wandered the hall, sighing. It had been a long day and, between Kevin's visit and Kayla's diagnosis, he was running behind on his camera checks.
He finished the last one and started to head back up to his room. He'd turned a few corners before he saw Carly finish up the last of her files and get up. Her headphones were plugged into her Walkman, her head moving in time with a song he couldn't hear. Hank paused where he was, watching herfor a minute.
It wasn't unusual for her to work late. Because of her blindness, she had to live nearby her place of work. But living in the town required a car. She'd been offered a small apartment connected to the hospital, taking the bus into town on weekends for her groceries.
It was always a small thought in the back of his head that, if he roamed the halls at night, he had a chance of seeing her. If he was honest, it was always a small thought that he always ran a chance of running into her. It was a good thought, one that was almost frightening.
Earlier that day, he'd wanted to have his own chance to tell off the doctor for saying those things to Kurt and Kevin. It was indecent and unprofessional. But something else had started bubbling up when the doctor said those things to Carly, something he hadn't expected.
He swallowed as he thought about it. He wasn't a complete fool: he knew what was happening. Hank hadn't known Carly for very long, but he'd done this before. He'd put his heart on the line and had it discarded, forgotten as the years passed.
At the same time, this was different. It was like he was going down a new path that looked similar to one he'd walked many years before. It was terrifying and, now, when he looked at Carly, all he felt was lost.
What he needed to do was leave. He was at the hospital for Moira, to protect her. Hank needed to focus on that, and then get back to his quiet existence at the school. That was what he needed to focus on, the work he did there, helping protect mutantkind and his students. Not this. He wasn't ready for this. Not again.
He took a tentative step back, and Carly looked up, turning her head back and forth. A small frown puckered her face, and she took off her headphones. Hank's breath caught and his chest twisted painfully as she looked back and forth.
Hank clenched his fists, and breathed in. He quickened his steps, the pain a living, breathing thing. Terror of what all this could mean urged him to go even faster, to flee back to his room. But when he reached the counter, saw her turn toward him, he felt it ease.
"Hank," she said, smiling.
"Hey," Hank said, "Glad to meet you here. Not that, you know, you should be up, you work too hard and it's really late, but, you know..."
He was babbling, but it was like his tongue wasn't his any more. She smiled softly, and his hands relaxed.
"I'm glad you're here too," she said.