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xp_logsWith the team in place around Strucker’s lab in Germany, Remy preps Doug to con his way into the complex and access their security.
"Ten minutes until game time, homme." Remy turned his chair around carefully. There wasn't much room in the van, especially with the bank of monitors and equipment that Remy was using to keep track of the team. Doug sat at the other end, putting on the last of the uniform for the couriers that Strucker used as cover to receive his smaller illegal shipments.
"You sure dat you up for dis?"
Doug frowned as he put on the last piece of the uniform. He was a little nervous, and Remy's question didn't help his nerves subside any. The fact that he was the perfect person for the job, with the Munich native accent he'd picked up from Kurt, as well as looking like he could have walked off a Nazi recruiting poster, didn't help significantly either. But he -was- the perfect person for the job, and the job needed doing. That was what kept him from throwing up in the corner of the van at the thought of all the ways this could go wrong. "Yes, I'm ready, Remy," he replied a touch irritably. "If you'd have tried to foist that horrible mustache off on me again, there would have been words though," he joked almost normally.
"Don't think dat Remy didn't consider it. Believe it or not, dat mustache is not just for amusement purposes." Although the main reason why Remy kept giving it to him was because he thought it was funny. He pulled himself back to the mission profile.
"Alright, Remy going to assume you've memorized all de layout, so we're not going to review dat. What you get is a crash course in de short con. Rule one, you can read body language. Dat means when dey don't believe you, you should be able to tell. If dat happens, you abort immediately."
"-When- they don't believe me?" Doug asked. "Are you expecting them to not believe me? He spoke with a false bravado to cover the nervousness. "Everything's in ordnung, right? Why -wouldn't- they believe me?"
Remy did not look terribly impressed. "Just make sure dat you ready to abort if you see it. Strucker's not de type to just call de cops, neh?"
Remy looked the other man up and down for a moment, satisfying himself that he didn't see anything off. "Alright, de key in de short con is relaxed boredom and general affability. De person at de front desk has to like you while you dere, and forget about you de second you leave. Dey going to be associating de uniform more den de person in it, and you need to ensure dat happens."
Just treat it like you're going on stage, Doug told himself. Marie-Ange's barbs about there being no Doug aside, being able to put on a mask of sorts was exactly what this job required. Slouching back in his chair, he looked at his nails, projecting every ounce of boredom he was currently feeling at Remy's instruction. "Like this?" he asked wryly.
"Close, but not quite. Remember, you're on de job. Not caring means slacking, and slackers are remembered by prissy assistants." Remy said. "You need to keep de character in mind. You a courier, doing long hours in a boring job. De only real interaction you get is wit' dat front desk. So use it."
"You make a lame joke, ask if it's been busy. If it's a pretty femme, flirt wit' her a bit. De whole time, what's running through your head is dat you tired, can't wait to go home, change and have some fun. Take de girlfriend out dancing and den see if you can convince her to give you a blowjob before work tomorrow." Remy almost winced at how much he was sounding like the man who'd first taught him. At least Doug wasn't getting the wire hanger beatings. "People subconsciously pick up lies through physical expression; tiny tells dat demonstrate untruth. Even if they don't know it, dey will have a 'feeling', and either doublecheck things, or just make an extra effort to remember you."
"Right," Doug responded, concentrating on absorbing what Remy was telling him. Whether or not he liked the Cajun, Remy knew what he was talking about. He'd been taught by the best in the business. It wasn't a very -nice- business, but there you were. Doug swallowed a snort at the mention of a girlfriend, though.
"Good. You going to do fine, homme. Remy be in you ear de whole time. Now, I've got a little gift for you." Remy pulled out a pen from a small box and handed it over. "Dat is one of my little gadgets from de Agency days. It's a compressed air fired dart. Inside de pen tube is a long needled dart with a powerful sedative. Can render a two hundred pound man unconscious in three seconds or less. You fire by clicking de end of de pen. When you reach de security system room, dere's potentially going to be a technician on. Use dis to get him out of de way. If not, dis is you last ditch escape if things go bad. Tranq de receptionist and just walk out. Be de time dey know what's happening, you already halfway back here."
This was a serious job, and it wouldn't do to make James Bond jokes. This was a serious... "Gee, thanks, Q. I'll try and bring this equipment back in pristine order," Doug quipped in a British accent. Mentally, he threw a hand over his face. Way to go, Doug, he admonished himself.
"Just bring de rest of you back in pristine order and Remy be happy." Remy took a deep breath and passed over the clipboard of documents and the package of CDs. "It's time. Straight out dat edge and through de front. Remember, I'm on de comms, so if it gets tricky, Remy talk you through."
"Happy? Remy, I didn't think you cared," Doug joked as he took the CDs from the other man. "Wish me luck," he said as he opened the door to the van and hopped out.
“Good luck.” Remy said to the closed door. After a moment’s hesitation, he wheeled himself back in front of the communications bay in the large van, nine screens currently giving him nothing but snow. He’d been lucky to get a hold of it at all, considering the short timeframe, but a quick e-mail to Wisdom had dug up a contact, and money cured the rest of the issues.
Remy pulled up his laptop and hooked it in, doubling checking all of this systems were ready to go. Finally, he switched open the full comms and ran a brief check, getting back hushed affirmatives that everyone was in place. Remy checked his screens one more time.
“Alright people, Doug is almost in place. Dose of you who are new to dis, remember your X-Men training. Much as I dislike de Professor and his favourite pupil, dey gave you a through grounding. If anything happens, rely on dat instinct. If I give de retreat signal, no hesitation. You bug out immediately and follow de escape procedures we went through.” Remy killed the main comms and brought up Betsy’s alone.
“So, now we committed.”
“I hate to say it, but this better be worth the risk. Even if that means we find some genetic superman waiting in that lab.” Betsy whispered over her comm..
“Dat happens, you ask him to dinner. Bon chance, Betts.”
“Merci, Remy.” He cut the comms and everyone sat in silence.
Remy brought up the mikes he’d installed on Doug, listening to the sounds and wishing he could see what was going on. He heard Doug break into the arranged spiel, his German far more natural than LeBeau’s ever was. The tone of the response was bored, functionary, and Remy smiled. After almost fifteen years as an operative, the sound of suspicion had a distinctive ring, and there was none of it in the front desk. Doug went past with a slightly dirty one-liner, causing a small bark of laughter across the desk before the sound was killed by the door.
“Good job, Doug. I think dat he bought it. Nice improv wit’ de joke. I never heard de one about de nun, de rabbit, and Tom Cruise.” Remy brought up the map on his laptop and switched angles, timing Doug’s movement by the sounds of the footsteps. There was a paused, and a jangle as he heard the swipe reader bypass come out. A door clicked open, and Doug’s puzzled request for directions received an answer mixed with a yawn. There was the sound of the door closing, and then a thump.
“Doug, you clear?” There was a long silence, and Remy fidgeted nervously. He was impressed with Ramsey. Doug had natural instincts, and a quick mind. With the addition of his powers, you could make one of the best espionage infiltration agents ever. Still, right now he was still greener than any sane person would entrust this mission to, and he still hadn’t checked back in. “Doug?”
There was a crackle, and the screens in the van suddenly went from snow to clear pictures of the inside of the labs. Remy’s laptop ported into the controls for the security system.
“That what you wanted, Remy?”
Remy grinned. “Dat is it, merci. Get moving on de rest.” Remy clicked back the open comm to the rest of the team.
“People, we are a go.”
Betsy, Doug and Amanda arrive at the genetic sample lab, only to discover Strucker’s exploitation of Xavier’s allies doesn’t end with Moira.
The guard slumped, drooling a little as Betsy withdrew the blade of psionic energy from the back of his head. "That's the last," she said, quietly. "I'm shielding us from any others that might come wandering past, but let's not waste time, shall we?" She opened the door and led the way inside, nodding with the slightest hint of a smile as Amanda immediately shadowed her. The girl was learning.
The place reminded Amanda of a hospital, which wasn't doing a thing for her nerves. Talk about being out of your depth... She stuck close to Betsy - but not too close, Amanda didn't want to crowd her - as they slipped down the silent hall, making for the rendezvous point with Doug. This so isn't evil cultists in Nepal. If anything happens, I'll just get out of the ninja lady's way...
Up ahead of them, a door opened. Amanda suppressed a squeak of alarm and got behind Betsy without even being told to.
"Good evening, ladies," Doug greeted the pair dryly, with a half-wave and a grin at where Amanda was peeking out from behind Betsy. "Security grid's down, so we should have a relatively clear path to the lab," he told them. "Dunno if there are any patrols between here and there, but that's what ninja-lady is for," he hiked a thumb at Betsy.
"Don't leave home without one," Amanda added with a grin. "So, you've got all the blueprints for this place memorized... want to show us the way?"
"This way," Doug replied with a half-bow and extended arm. "Ground floor, housewares, electronics, and totally gross quasi-scientific Nazi experiments," he joked weakly. He wasn't sure what to expect when they reached the lab, but his imagination was already providing him plenty of disgusting mental images.
Amanda gave Doug a faint smile. The jokes weren't great, but they were taking her mind off the sheer panic that was threatening to engulf her. I just hope no-one gets hurt, she thought, hitching the small pack holding their basic medkit (and quite a few explosive charges) up further on her shoulders.
"No-one will if we do our parts." Betsy's voice was crisp and businesslike, answering Amanda's unspoken thought. "The laboratories, Doug. Lead the way."
***
Amanda had seen death before, had experienced cruelty. She considered herself difficult to shock. But as the three of them worked their way systematically through every part of the laboratories looking for the samples and possibly any survivors to rescue, she realised that she was blind to the true horrors that existed. Or had been - finding herself looking at the surgically eviscerated corpse of a teenage girl younger than she was, Amanda wished she'd remained in her state of ignorance. Only the steadily growing anger kept her from fleeing the scene.
This ends tonight. Fuckers are going to pay.
It was all so clinical, that was the worst of it. Sabretooth had torn Alison up as effectively as any of the lab subjects here, but everything was so sterile, so clean. No blood spatters on the walls, no rack of torture devices. It looked just like a hospital, only the patients were all dead, stripped of their organs, their blood, their DNA and reduced to rows of jars. One room obviously served as a morgue, a cremation oven in the corner and Amanda found herself wondering how many had passed through its doors and disappeared as thoroughly as Kitty's extended family.
Swallowing heavily, Amanda tried the next door, steeling herself for another ravaged corpse. True enough, there was someone inside, but still alive, and worse, familiar. The air seemed do go out of the room and distantly she was aware of Betsy asking in those crisp tones of hers if she was okay.
"Sarah?" she managed in a choked whisper.
Her former schoolmate lay strapped to an operation table, angry red scars covering her torso. The drugs they kept her on were beginning to wear off, and she lolled her head to the side to attempt to see. It hit back against the table with a loud crack. "I'd say I'm dreaming, but the pain says otherwise. You here to rescue me?"
"I... we..." The paralysis ended as Betsy moved past her, stalking into the operating room like a spirit of vengeance. Amanda joined her at Sarah's side, already checking for any fresh injuries whilst Doug said something about keeping watch and disappearing outside the door. "What the fuck are you doing here?"
There may not have been any gaping wounds on her body, but the scars were witness to repeated incisions, without enough time to heal in between. Sarah hissed sharply as they helped her up, and even slow movements like these made her feel like she might tear everything open again. "Vacationing," she finally gasped, shooting a dark look at Amanda. "All the cool kids are doing it."
The younger Brit blushed and kept her tongue as she supported Sarah's weight. It had been an extremely dumb question.
"Can you walk?" Betsy asked, face carefully blank but her eyes speaking volumes and slow painful death for the persons responsible for this. "We're taking this place apart, but we'll need to be quick about it. Amanda or Doug can take you out of here."
Sarah blinked, testing her balance as the room began to spin ever so slightly. Her grip on Amanda tightened. "Give me a second, and I might be able to manage a stumble."
"We still need to find those samples," Amanda pointed out, bracing herself as Sarah leaned on her. "And take down this Von Strucker bloke. I can get Sarah out of harm's way if you and Doug stick with the plan?"
There was an amused snort as Sarah steeled herself to stand up on her own. It was surprisingly easy to move once she got that far. "Excuse me? These assholes decided that my guts were in this season, and I'd like to explain to them that I'm not their personal organ farm. Messily."
Doug turned towards Amanda, face paler than usual, with disgust at what had been done to Sarah, and the others. The corpses had been bad enough, knowing they'd been vivisected, possibly more than once, if Sarah's scars were anything like an indication just made it a million times worse. He wanted to throw up. And couldn't, because it would just waste time. "Believe me, I've got no problems blowing this place to component atoms if that's what we need to do."
"Oh, there will be plenty of opportunity for explosions." Betsy gave Sarah an assessing look, obviously considering the complications her coming along represented. "If you feel up to it, it's probably safer to have you come along," she said to the Morlock, taking her other side. "But the first sign you aren't fit, you find somewhere to hole up, you hear me? The best revenge is living, never mind the well part." Her grip where she held onto Sarah's arm was firm, but gentle.
"I've gotten this far. Not planning on up and dying now." Sarah glanced back at Betsy, and gestured towards and already boned over shoulder. "I'm ready for this."
"Samples first, then bloody revenge," Amanda said grimly. "Doug, the main sample storage area's where again? End of the hall?" She had promise to keep, after all. To bring Kevin home.
Doug nodded. "It's just through here."
Marie-Ange, Wanda, and Kitty successfully make it to the computer lab, only to discover that their worst ideas about what Strucker might be up to with Kevin MacTaggart’s DNA were no where near bad enough.
If the bushes had poison ivy, Wanda was going to murder Pete. Completely and utterly. It wasn't him that was crouching amongst potentially ivy laden leaves with the part of their new team. Well, and Marie-Ange but she was simply too useful to leave at home.
"Is everyone doing alright?" she asked, counting heads. Oh good, no one had wandered off or died so far. It was looking up.
"So far," Kitty said, eyeing the ground between their hiding place and the back walls of the building. Not that far, and she couldn't see any guards...
Marie-Ange shifted her weight, trying to take some of the strain off her calves. "Other than a beetle trying to make my shoe it's new home, I am fine.." She answered quietly.
"Alright, then in we go. Kitty, how many can you phase at once? If you can bring in all of us, that would be perfect. If not, you and I will go in first and I will keep watch while you bring in Marie-Ange." Wanda pressed closer to the building. "The faster we do this, the better the results, I am thinking."
"The faster we are done, the better. I think perhaps getting finished committing crimes this close to my home country would make me less nervous." She just didn't know enough about the German legal system to know how bad of a crime they were technically committing not to -be- nervous.
"Shouldn't be a problem," Kitty said, holding out her hand to Wanda. "I've done more mass than this in practices with Moira. But everybody, hold on tight. Letting go in the wrong place would be very,
very bad."
At that warning, Wanda held on as tightly as she could without squeezing off the younger woman's hand. "Ready whenever you are," she said, taking deep and calming breaths. She'd never done this before and it was a little nerve wracking.
That was not helping Marie-Ange be any less nervous. But she -had- to trust Kitty, she didn't have much other choice, and it wasn't as if she was getting feelings of foreboding doom. Still, if she clung a
little tightly, she hoped Kitty might understand. Or at least not complain.
Kitty didn't even wince as the two of them gripped her hands - she'd far rather the pain than a mistake. Phasing them all out wasn't a problem - she could sense the greater mass shifting with her, but it
wasn't difficult. "Let's go," she said, starting off towards the wall as quickly as she could with the two of them hanging onto her hands.
If it Wanda hadn't been preparing for it, she might very well have dropped Kitty's hand at the weird sensation. But she didn't, waiting for the moment they had passed through the very solid walls to the
other side. It was a startling sensation but a very interesting one at the same time.
"If I never have to do that again, it will be too soon." Marie-Ange said, once they were through. She'd had her eyes squeezed shut the entire time, and it hadn't helped a bit. Composing herself took reaching back
to make sure the wall they'd just passed through was solid, and that she would not pass back through it, even without holding onto Kitty's hand.
Kitty managed not to smile - after all, she had years of practice to get used to the whole thing. "Where do we go from here?" she asked, keeping her voice pitched low.
"According to Doug and what he found for the blueprints," Wanda said softly, "down the hall to our left, third door on the right. We need to get some actual information from the computers and we should be
inbetween guard rotations."
Slipping down the hallway, Wanda kept a sharp eye out for any guards that might happen to check out the hall they were in. The last thing they needed was to set off any alarms so early into the game. Once
then got to the door Doug had told them would hold the computers, she had Kitty take a peek inside.
When that room came up empty, she gestured them all inside. "Let's get to work on getting that information and any samples," she said quietly, shutting the door behind them.
Kitty nodded, taking a seat at the main terminal as the others spread out into the room, seeking out their targets. The terminal wasn't even secured, so it was a matter of seconds to begin downloading the information she'd been told to find. She was hardly giving most of the files more than a moment's notice as she worked, but one of them caught her eye and, pausing to make sure the download was progressing, she opened it up and began to read.
"Wanda..." she said after a few minutes, eyes wide as she processed what she was looking at. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but, on the whole, we would consider, um, mutant super-virii to be bad things, yes? Because there's something here you need to see."
Wanda looked at the screen and frowned. “Remy, do we still have Conner’s on-line at Muir?”
“Looks like. Why?”
“I’m sending this info you to. He should take a look.” Kitty said, shifting the data over to the brand new account that Doug had patched them into to. She went back to pulling the rest of the details from the computer and searching for all research that was even remotely related to the projects using Kevin’s DNA.
Remy uploaded the data and shot it to Conners, switching over to a clear comm channel with him. “Doc, you getting this?”
“I am. Give me a minute.” There was a long silence, and Remy kept double checking security alerts. Finally, a slightly shaken sounding Curt returned on the line. “Alright, LeBeau. Looking this over in brief, extremely briefly in fact, it looks like someone is trying to mutate the ebola virus using Kevin’s DNA to make it environmentally adaptable.”
“I need dat in dummy talk, Doc.”
“A virus that can transmit via which ever method is environmentally optimal at the time. Maximum coverage. According to the notes, they’re also playing around with the virus’ manipulation of the cell’s DNA to produce proteins to replicate itself.”
“Meaning?”
“If they can modify the virus to only react to certain DNA patterns or key sequences of nucleotides, they can tailor the virus to specific characteristics. It’s not possible with our current technology, but if they think they can use Kevin’s own genetics as a way to brute force the reactive triggers.” Conner’s voice was starting to strain. “I’m looking at their development tests, including the one that is headed ‘live subjects’ and it looks like they’re making headway.”
“That created dis stuff?” Remy said, alarmed.
“No, I don’t think so. But they’re going in the right direction to do so.”
“So what does dis all mean?”
“Remy, if you wanted to kill a specific type of people, like say anyone that wasn’t your idea of a master race, this is the perfect way to do it. And I doubt anything could stop it once it was released.” There was a long silence, before Remy finally found his voice through the horror. As vile and evil as Gambit had been, it wasn’t even in the same league as the kind of murderous intent you needed to consider this.
“Merci, Doc. I’ll get back to you.” Remy flipped over the comm channel to Betsy’s line alone. “Change in de plan, Betts. Once you eliminate all de traces of Kevin’s DNA and any research wit’ it you can find, I want you converging on de main lab. We’re taking out de whole damn thing before we leave.”
Baron Von Strucker’s mad plans revealed!
Baron Wolfgang Von Strucker had spent seventy years to get to this day. It had started back as a student in Germany, and had possessed him ever since. Eugenics had long been relegated to the realms of hate literature and crackpot science, but Strucker knew that didn't mean it had been proven wrong. As he had spoken about, it meant that the truths were too hard for people to hear. It wasn't necessarily any sort of genetic superiority, like his fellow scientists in the thirties and forties had been so keen to prove. Strucker took a more pragmatic approach. Aryan societies were innovators, explorers, and reason based. The Asian races hampered themselves with overbreeding and stagnation, the African with violence and disease.
The reality was that the planet was of finite resources, and the only way to truly make the next step as a race was if those societies were unhampered by the demands and needs of other degenerate ones. Strucker didn't care why it was the Aryan blood had embraced these traits, simply the fact that history bore out their nature.
Where was success in improving the human condition with such a range of unsuitable ones there to take advantage of it? Imagine a thousand petty warlords in Africa allowed a double lifespan to commit their atrocities in? Or the greedy backwards kings of the Middle East, perpetuating their medieval beliefs and autocratic stranglehold for more than a hundred extra years? Strucker believed the planet would be taken down with the rest of them; the great human experiment poisoned by its own unreasonably embraced waste.
It had taken many years, especially in the dangerous ground of the postwar Germany to find a coterie of men that believed as he did. They had worked in secret, behind his veneer of respectability that his medical industries provided. Since the seventies, he'd become obsessed with improving his own health and lifespan. His work was too important to let basic frailty stop him. It was funny how close the science between prolonging life and propagating death ran and intermixed.
But what a strange thing fate is. Mutants, considered by some the ultimate degeneration of humanity, also held the next step in life. They'd experimented crudely, grafting mutant traits from gutter trash into more fitting subjects, but with limited success. There had been rumours that the Americans had successes, but no hard evidence, and despite a vast monetary offer, the hoped collaboration with Doctor Nathanial Essex had been rebuffed.
But then the breakthrough. Less than a year ago, a sample had been purchased by one of his men. A sample who's properties had been so beyond expectations that it had jumped up the work of his projects by decades. An infinitely reactive genetic structure that seemed to naturally adapt to the protein coding they had grafted. The more they experimented, the more the sample seemed to be able to do.
A virus, able to transmit by the most advantageous method possible depending on the conditions. Able to sidestep any type of vaccine, mutating around each person's system to best deliver death. The only protection existed in the basic genetic makeup in a person's DNA. They were very close to tailoring it to shut itself down harmlessly when encountering the minute differences in genotypes between different races. There had been long conversations about at what level to focus the virus, to either avoid making it too general or too specific, each of which would compromise their goal. There was still much work to be done before they would have it ready. But unlike twelve months ago, they knew that they would be successful, in the span of months rather than decades.
The other was more personal, and more important. The severely reduced population would need decades to stabilize the planet, and harness the changed world effectively for the challenges of a new era. That meant they needed more years than normal humans had, and that was Strucker's obsession. He was nearly one hundred, age stealing away his strength even after every treatment his wealth could buy. But the sample solved that too, opening up areas of treatment that were years away, bridging restrictions that even the most advanced labs hadn't found answers for.
Like everything, Strucker had planned the treatment in meticulous detail. They had experimented on animals first, but to no success. Finally, they had used one of their kidnapped subjects as a test, and the results were remarkable. The accrued damage of sixty years of life rolled back by half. It wasn't the Fountain of Youth, but it dramatically altered the psychical attributes of the subject, making that sixty year old man medically a healthy thirty. Even following his vivisection, there were no side effects they could find.
Strucker had begun the procedure last month. First they clogged his entire digestive tract with sterilizing putty, destroying the fluid and bacterial cultures that grew there. Next was to fill the lungs with oxygenating silicone fluid, cutting off the air. Those two processes killed off most of the body's internal bacteria, which could alter the regeneration process. Finally, the brain-blood barrier was scrubbed free of the capillaries in the skull, and the cerebrospinal fluid replaced by a sterilizing saline fluid, as Strucker was immersed into a deep coma.
The centerpiece of the main lab was a massive sealed tank, inside which Strucker was submerged in a gelatinous mixture of support fluids. His internal metabolic needs were supplied by a newly attached umbilical. Once that was complete, the bloodstream and lymphatic system were opened to the support vat for the remaining period of the process. Red blood cell production shut down and the plasma replaced by a fluid toxin to any cell which was not mammalian. The human body is rigorously multicellular, and the process needed all commensal organisms in the human body destroyed.
With the bacteria now utterly annihilated, his team began their hunt for viruses and prions, tagging and coding the genetic grabbag of imbedded human viruses in every person. It was three weeks to complete, destroying the vast metabolic range of prions in the body, shivering apart the rogue proteins using magnetic resonance techniques. By the end of the procedure, the man named Strucker was now barely recognizably human; an antiseptic mass floating in an amniotic gel culture.
Then began the DNA treatments, which the cells of Kevin MacTaggart had made possible. Intercellular repair involved the lossening of the intracellular bonds to facilitate the access to the cell surfaces of the body as a whole. Strucker's skinless body partially melted into the support gel, and swelled to three times its normal size as it was fluidized. Flexible plastic tubing was inserted into the form, pincushioning it with piercings to allow total access.
Specific procedures took place in the marrow of the femurs, the spine, the ventricles of the brain, the sinuses and other deeply interiorized spaces. Toxic buildups and precipitated mineralized bodies in the arteries, gall bladder and the lymphatic system- especially the coacervate deposits in the pineal gland- were reduced or eliminated. During this time, the attending scientists studied Struckers cells for cumulative replication errors. Precancerous and junk-burdened cells were tagged with artificial antibodies, and once again MacTaggart's DNA provided a bridge to creating an artificial phagocyte to remove the tainted cells.
Finally, the surviving cells were treated with a neo-telomeric extension, a process that had eluded all research as the final great barrier, and which Kevin's unique genetics provided a pass through. The telomeric ends of the chromosomes where the keys to aging, wearing thin as the cells approached the Hayflick limit of allowable replications. With Kevin's DNA, the cultures spliced new telomeric information on to the chromosomes, tricking the aging cells into believing themselves in youth again. Inside the tank, cells began to replicate furiously, as Strucker's body underwent a period of rapid growth.
As Strucker's form floated, skin was regrown on the body. New commensal bacteria was slowly reintroduced, and the interior fluids replaced with natural substances. Within a month, a man almost a hundred years of age had been reduced to a brain attached to a body broken down to the most basic elements, and now, in the tank, floated a man who looked less than half his age. There had been arguments of whether to wake him or allow him to emerge naturally. As a compromise, they had stopped the chemical treatments that allowed him to stay in the deep comatose sleep, and simply waited for him to emerge.
It was with great shock that they greeted the sudden alarm, indicating a breech in the main lab security. With the scientists and doctors were Strucker's own guards, two pairs of twins, each having been the recipient of the most successful mutant organ grafts. The four men were military veterans of the Kommando Spezialkrfte, Germany's special forces, and they hefted their rifles with professional precision, moving towards the entrance to the lab.
X-Force hits the main lab, finding the vat of Von Strucker, a small group of genetically modified guards and a lot of places that look like they could use some explosives before finally escaping into the night.
Both teams waited outside the door as Remy ran the overrides and opened it. He had to set off the internal fire alarms, starting the sprinklers going in the rest of the building to allow access to the subroutine to cycle the main lab access. Alarms fought for attention over his voice.
"De door is open. Move!"
Well, here we go... Amanda thought as the frontrunners burst into the lab. She was doing her best to stay in the back, out of the way with the pack containing the remaining charges (and the flask containing the samples) securely on her back. Now to just make it past the Nazis and to the equipment...
A flak vest between her shirt and jacket was not exactly Marie-Ange's idea of protective gear, but it wasn't as if she could have worn her leathers. But it would do. For now. And she had no inclination to worry about it overmuch. There was more to do than just make the Nazi-emblemed guards unconscious. Destroying the lab, preventing this from ever being done again was vital.
And so Marie-Ange hung back as well, eyeing the guards warily, and palming one of her cards. And if they underestimated her, because she was not throwing herself into the fight, all the better. More time to think, to plan - and to keep them away from Amanda and the explosives.
Glancing at the tall redhead sticking close by her side, Amanda nodded a little grimly. What they'd seen in the lower labs had deeply shocked her. "You and me a team, just like with the zombies in New Orleans, huh?" she said with a brief, fierce grin. "Fuckers won't know what hit 'em."
"Except hopefully less -zombies- this time." Marie-Ange answered. Nazi zombies would have just been too much to deal with. And it was entirely absurd anyway. She did a mental check, edging around the wall of the room along-side Amanda. One card in hand, two up the same sleeve, two in her jacket, and one down the front of her shirt. And the one in the back of her jeans, but she -desperately- hoped not to have to use that one.
Even if she'd brought the Knight of Cups anyway, out of habit.
"I dunno, the bloke in the vat's looking pretty undead already," Amanda joked, then winced and ducked as something exploded. Apparently the heavy hitters were letting loose. "What do you reckon? Go for that fancy-looking stuff over there while everyone's distracted by the ultra-violence?"
"You did not get a checklist of expensive things to blow up?" Marie-Ange asked, just before a shout came, the only word of which Marie-Ange could understand was "zwei" and a pair of guards, obviously of the night guardsman variety ran over, brandishing tasers.
Tasers. She'd trained for tasers. And trained for electrogenetics to boot, which means tasers were nothing. Keep them out of reach, and try to get the tasers from them. Tasers might be useful. Before the guards got close enough to even grab at the pair, Marie-Ange had a staff out, the image springing from card to her hands smoothly, and swinging around to crack against one of the guards' hands, knocking one of the tasers across the floor.
Amanda had been about to respond along the lines of "Well, if you know what any of this stuff actually looks like, let me know" when the guards attacked. "Fuck," she exclaimed with feeling, edging back and looking for cover. Tasers bad, especially when you didn't have anything to use against... "Woah," she breathed, watching Marie-Ange do a perfectly good job of dealing with said tasers. There were times she forgot about the X-Men training, given it wasn't something she'd had cause to see Marie-Ange using. However, it seemed to be pretty damn effective.
Although standing around watching Marie-Ange smack around Nazis, entertaining as it was, wouldn't get the job done. Time to start doing what she was supposed to.
The first guard's taser skittered across the floor, well out of reach for now, and Marie-Ange muttered a "Merde.." under her breath. She was too close to do much of anything with the staff, instead driving the heel of her foot into the second guard's knee, and throwing him off balance. Which gave her room, which meant she could swing the staff under her arm, cracking ribs and knocking the breath out of a guard. A rotation of her wrists, and the staff came back down on the back of his head.
One down, one to go. And only one taser, which she kicked towards Amanda, hoping she'd see it.
Not only did Amanda see it, she pounced on it. Remy tended to dislike her relying on weapons, but these were Nazi guards and they really weren't going to fight fair. Besides, self defence only. She tucked it into the side pocket of her jacket for emergencies and scuttled across to the bank of expensive-looking equipment: Amanda's basic rule of thumb was if it looked expensive and complicated, it was probably something important. And therefore should be blown up. Fishing the charge out of her bag, she tried to remember the instructions Pete had given her. And not be too distracted by the fighting going on around her.
An elbow into the throat put the other guard down, breathing raspily if not actually unconscious, and Marie-Ange darted over towards Amanda, letting the staff disappear as she did. The fewer things in her hands, the less she had to worry about them getting used against her, and she could always bring it back if she needed to.
"Hail the conquering hero," Amanda said with a brief grin as she clamped the plastic explosive carefully to the side of the bank of machines. "Impressive moves, Frenchie. You made me go all 'gosh!' there for a minute." Her tone was humorous but there was a definite serious note to it - Marie-Ange's fighting skills had definitely made an impression.
"Merci." Marie-Ange said, seriously. She still did not enjoy fighting, but understood now that sometimes it was necessary. She looked around the room, and frowned. "How many machines does one mad scientist need?" It seemed like every wall had, at least, one piece of equipment that she could not identify. And two that looked like they had come right from an evil version of Dr. MacTaggart's labs.
"Everything and the kitchen sink, it seems." Amanda carefully pressed the wires from the timer into the explosive before peeking over the top of the machine at the mayhem being inflicted by the rest. "That's
that one. Now to pick the next." She touched the earpiece. "Remy? Little help?"
Remy's voice crackled over the comms, sharp and insistent. "Time to take some away, neh? 'manda, take Marie-Ange and dat satchel. Dere's a set of load bearing pillars along de east wall."
Remy's hands flew over the keyboard, pulling up cascading views of the main lab from the structural plans and trying to think. "Drop de others to Doug and Kitty. Dere's three more along de west wall, and a metal lattice on de south. I want charges at each of dose points. Betts, you and Wanda up to keeping de others off de kids back?"
The sound of a perfectly executed kick slamming into flesh answered him, over which Betsy's voice punctuated tightly but humourous. "Of course, luv. I haven't kicked anyone's brains in all damn day."
Speaking into the mike, Amanda replied. "Got you, Remy. Angie, think you can give me a hand to plant a few of these us cover to give some of the nice explosives to Doug?"
Sarah might have been slightly concerned when she'd first gotten up. Not that she would admit it to anyone, but when the room started spinning, for a moment Sarah was scared. Scared that they'd done something else to her; that she was physically damaged in addition to being fucked in the head. Her chest felt like it might burst, like movement would strain the fragile scars to tear open again, and leave her useless and helpless here in the Nazi circle of hell. But she began to feel better almost immediately, as the drugs began to fade and her healing factor hit high gear. For all they had done to her, she had to admit that they had kept her well nourished during her captivity, feeding tubes allowing her healing factor to force her to stay alive as they kept her strapped to the table and sedated. The irony that this would be the reason that she would be able to help tear their operation down was not lost on her. If she had been in a better mood, she might have laughed.
She hadn't been in a fight in a while, but when the guards came after her, it was something that just came as naturally as anything else you did on instinct. "Don't you dare fucking touch me. I've had enough of being your personal fucking guinea pig." Punches with bone covered hands were followed by quick strikes with bone shards, and she forgot about the pain for a while. All that was here were these assholes and their experiments, and they needed to be stopped now.
Kitty had been phasing at least a hand through every piece of electronics she'd seen ever since they'd gotten what they needed off the mainframe, just in case. When they'd gotten to the main lab, though, she'd known that wasn't going to be enough. "There's no way of knowing which of these are backed up, and I can only disrupt the machines, not wipe their disks," she muttered, then looked over at Doug. "A big enough boom ought to do it, though..."
"Someone say boom?" The voice was Amanda's, coming from the other side of one of Marie-Ange's constructs.
Kitty looked up, startled, then nodded, a hint of a smile on her face as she took the profered explosives. "Someone did, indeed, say boom. Perfect." Handing over several to Doug, she added, "You go that way," pointing off to the left, "I'll get this side."
Wanda had been hanging back, keeping on eye out for any other guards that would be heading their way. Turning her head, she grinned at Amanda, hands held up as the red light pulsed softly. "Whatever someone does, I can certainly make sure it hits an even higher range of boom."
"Or you can stop that bloke." It came out as a slight squeak from Amanda despite the bravado as one of the Baron's personal guards charged at them.
Kitty phased out instinctively as the new factor entered the equation, but she knew that dealing with him wasn't her job. She and Doug needed to get the computers down, permanently. Keeping an eye out for others, though, she hurried over to the side of the closest machine, setting up and prepping the explosive as she'd been shown.
The guard had caught sight of what Kitty had done and, eyes bugging, gone after her. Having heard Amanda's warning, Wanda caught sight of him before he could get very far. Stepping up, she knocked the weapon in his hands to the floor with a simple kick. Obviously, he'd been too focused on Kitty to notice her coming from the side.
But he saw her now.
With a snarled curse, he threw a wild swinging punch towards her head, off balance thanks to her approach from the side. Blocking with her left hand, she managed to trap his tightly against her side and snapped a quick punch to his nose.
Disoriented, the guard didn't try to hit her with his free hand, just tried to reel back and away from her attacks. Wanda grunted, grabbing the front of his protective gear with the hand that had punched him and with some effort, lifted him a few inches off the ground. It allowed her to sweep a leg against his, helping him descend very quickly towards the ground.
As he fell, she realized that he'd probably just have the wind knocked out of him and they needed him out of the game. She let go of his flak vest and, with his one arm still tightly trapped and stretched, smashed her palm against his bicep.
Right before she landed the blow, she'd seen a weak spot through her powers...a place where she couldn't affect much outside of hitting it...a shatter point. And that's what she was hoping, that the bone would snap due to the pressure and being hit just right.
What Wanda hadn't realized was that very recently the guard had injected something into his muscles, a body builder trick, to pump up the biceps to appear bigger. And with the muscles already straining under that and her grip, the bone didn't give but the bicep muscle certainly did.
The guard screamed as the muscle suddenly exploded, ripping and tearing the overlying skin slightly. In shock, Wanda dropped his arm as he hit the ground, her hands unclenching in disgust as everything rippled.
Turning to the rest of the group, she gritted her jaw. "Let's go."
"What about...?" Amanda jerked her chin in the direction of the vat and the figure within it who seemed to be stirring. On the other side of the room, scientists and the ordinary guards were fleeing through another doorway to escape the onslaught of Betsy and Sarah. "Shouldn't we, I dunno, get him out of here before the place blows up?"
"Oh yes, vat boy. Alright, let's break it and get us all out of here, shall we?"
"Out of here would be good," Kitty said, moving back towards the rest of them. "Charges are all set on this end."
"All four of the modified guards are down, Remy. Looks like they were grafting mutant organs into them. What about the vat?" Betsy said over the comms. Remy's voice was taut as he stared at the vat in the centre through the building's own systems.
"Wanda, hit it wit' something on de way out. Everyone out. Fire, police and emergency units are less den five minutes away. Remy meet you at de airport."
As requested, Wanda turned and unleashed a single hex bolt at the vat before ducking out the door. It hit but seemed not to affect it at all. The rest of the team was out the door and splitting up into the prearranged escape patterns, disappearing as quickly as they came.
Inside the vat, Von Strucker suddenly jerked into consciousness, thrashing wildly for a moment before getting control of himself. Obviously the procedure was complete, and he'd been in the final effects of the coma. Slowly, he touched the side panel and the controls there, starting up the removal process. They had taken out all of the remaining links days ago, so only the monitors of his vitals remained on his body. The gel drained down with a sucking sound, and as soon as his head was clear, he immediately vomited up a copious amount of the oxygenated fluid.
Strucker was dizzy and disoriented, and even the gloomy interior of the tank seemed too bright. But he could see and feel well enough his body, running his hands over flesh that had been liver spotted and sagging for years, now whole and firm. He had been right! The treatment looked like it had cut his age in half, replacing the frail dying old body with one he hadn't seen since the fifties. He was in his prime again, and if the rest of his experiments were any indication, he could have another hundred years to focus on his goal.
Slowly, he worked the controls to open the tank, wondering why none of his men had already done so. As the door opened, he peered out squinting into the lab. He could make out human forms on the floor, and hissed. Something was wrong. Strucker keyed on his comm.
"Werner, where are you?" He said in German. The voice that responded definitely wasn't Werner's, despite the perfect fluency.
"Good evening, Baron Von Strucker. You don't know me and you never will. I'm one of the people that found out exactly what you've been up to, and decided that it offends us." Strucker recoiled at the words, still disoriented from the process. "The shadows are no longer safe for people like you. My only regret is that I can't ask you to pass that warning along to other like you."
Remy cut the comm, and sent the computer virus Doug and Kitty cooked up into the system. According to them, in less than ten minutes, the entire security system, including all of the digital recordings of audio and video traffic would be reduced to less than a tenth of a percent of retrievable data. With one last look over the monitor at Strucker, struggling with the comm trying to raise anyone, Remy triggered the charges. The explosives gutted the lower support structures, sending the roof, along with the mountain of heavy HVAC and biohazard security installations, crashing down into the lab.
Remy carefully turned off the last of the monitors, climbed into the front seat, and drove away into the night. So that, he considered as the night swallowed the van, was what a job well done felt like.
"Ten minutes until game time, homme." Remy turned his chair around carefully. There wasn't much room in the van, especially with the bank of monitors and equipment that Remy was using to keep track of the team. Doug sat at the other end, putting on the last of the uniform for the couriers that Strucker used as cover to receive his smaller illegal shipments.
"You sure dat you up for dis?"
Doug frowned as he put on the last piece of the uniform. He was a little nervous, and Remy's question didn't help his nerves subside any. The fact that he was the perfect person for the job, with the Munich native accent he'd picked up from Kurt, as well as looking like he could have walked off a Nazi recruiting poster, didn't help significantly either. But he -was- the perfect person for the job, and the job needed doing. That was what kept him from throwing up in the corner of the van at the thought of all the ways this could go wrong. "Yes, I'm ready, Remy," he replied a touch irritably. "If you'd have tried to foist that horrible mustache off on me again, there would have been words though," he joked almost normally.
"Don't think dat Remy didn't consider it. Believe it or not, dat mustache is not just for amusement purposes." Although the main reason why Remy kept giving it to him was because he thought it was funny. He pulled himself back to the mission profile.
"Alright, Remy going to assume you've memorized all de layout, so we're not going to review dat. What you get is a crash course in de short con. Rule one, you can read body language. Dat means when dey don't believe you, you should be able to tell. If dat happens, you abort immediately."
"-When- they don't believe me?" Doug asked. "Are you expecting them to not believe me? He spoke with a false bravado to cover the nervousness. "Everything's in ordnung, right? Why -wouldn't- they believe me?"
Remy did not look terribly impressed. "Just make sure dat you ready to abort if you see it. Strucker's not de type to just call de cops, neh?"
Remy looked the other man up and down for a moment, satisfying himself that he didn't see anything off. "Alright, de key in de short con is relaxed boredom and general affability. De person at de front desk has to like you while you dere, and forget about you de second you leave. Dey going to be associating de uniform more den de person in it, and you need to ensure dat happens."
Just treat it like you're going on stage, Doug told himself. Marie-Ange's barbs about there being no Doug aside, being able to put on a mask of sorts was exactly what this job required. Slouching back in his chair, he looked at his nails, projecting every ounce of boredom he was currently feeling at Remy's instruction. "Like this?" he asked wryly.
"Close, but not quite. Remember, you're on de job. Not caring means slacking, and slackers are remembered by prissy assistants." Remy said. "You need to keep de character in mind. You a courier, doing long hours in a boring job. De only real interaction you get is wit' dat front desk. So use it."
"You make a lame joke, ask if it's been busy. If it's a pretty femme, flirt wit' her a bit. De whole time, what's running through your head is dat you tired, can't wait to go home, change and have some fun. Take de girlfriend out dancing and den see if you can convince her to give you a blowjob before work tomorrow." Remy almost winced at how much he was sounding like the man who'd first taught him. At least Doug wasn't getting the wire hanger beatings. "People subconsciously pick up lies through physical expression; tiny tells dat demonstrate untruth. Even if they don't know it, dey will have a 'feeling', and either doublecheck things, or just make an extra effort to remember you."
"Right," Doug responded, concentrating on absorbing what Remy was telling him. Whether or not he liked the Cajun, Remy knew what he was talking about. He'd been taught by the best in the business. It wasn't a very -nice- business, but there you were. Doug swallowed a snort at the mention of a girlfriend, though.
"Good. You going to do fine, homme. Remy be in you ear de whole time. Now, I've got a little gift for you." Remy pulled out a pen from a small box and handed it over. "Dat is one of my little gadgets from de Agency days. It's a compressed air fired dart. Inside de pen tube is a long needled dart with a powerful sedative. Can render a two hundred pound man unconscious in three seconds or less. You fire by clicking de end of de pen. When you reach de security system room, dere's potentially going to be a technician on. Use dis to get him out of de way. If not, dis is you last ditch escape if things go bad. Tranq de receptionist and just walk out. Be de time dey know what's happening, you already halfway back here."
This was a serious job, and it wouldn't do to make James Bond jokes. This was a serious... "Gee, thanks, Q. I'll try and bring this equipment back in pristine order," Doug quipped in a British accent. Mentally, he threw a hand over his face. Way to go, Doug, he admonished himself.
"Just bring de rest of you back in pristine order and Remy be happy." Remy took a deep breath and passed over the clipboard of documents and the package of CDs. "It's time. Straight out dat edge and through de front. Remember, I'm on de comms, so if it gets tricky, Remy talk you through."
"Happy? Remy, I didn't think you cared," Doug joked as he took the CDs from the other man. "Wish me luck," he said as he opened the door to the van and hopped out.
“Good luck.” Remy said to the closed door. After a moment’s hesitation, he wheeled himself back in front of the communications bay in the large van, nine screens currently giving him nothing but snow. He’d been lucky to get a hold of it at all, considering the short timeframe, but a quick e-mail to Wisdom had dug up a contact, and money cured the rest of the issues.
Remy pulled up his laptop and hooked it in, doubling checking all of this systems were ready to go. Finally, he switched open the full comms and ran a brief check, getting back hushed affirmatives that everyone was in place. Remy checked his screens one more time.
“Alright people, Doug is almost in place. Dose of you who are new to dis, remember your X-Men training. Much as I dislike de Professor and his favourite pupil, dey gave you a through grounding. If anything happens, rely on dat instinct. If I give de retreat signal, no hesitation. You bug out immediately and follow de escape procedures we went through.” Remy killed the main comms and brought up Betsy’s alone.
“So, now we committed.”
“I hate to say it, but this better be worth the risk. Even if that means we find some genetic superman waiting in that lab.” Betsy whispered over her comm..
“Dat happens, you ask him to dinner. Bon chance, Betts.”
“Merci, Remy.” He cut the comms and everyone sat in silence.
Remy brought up the mikes he’d installed on Doug, listening to the sounds and wishing he could see what was going on. He heard Doug break into the arranged spiel, his German far more natural than LeBeau’s ever was. The tone of the response was bored, functionary, and Remy smiled. After almost fifteen years as an operative, the sound of suspicion had a distinctive ring, and there was none of it in the front desk. Doug went past with a slightly dirty one-liner, causing a small bark of laughter across the desk before the sound was killed by the door.
“Good job, Doug. I think dat he bought it. Nice improv wit’ de joke. I never heard de one about de nun, de rabbit, and Tom Cruise.” Remy brought up the map on his laptop and switched angles, timing Doug’s movement by the sounds of the footsteps. There was a paused, and a jangle as he heard the swipe reader bypass come out. A door clicked open, and Doug’s puzzled request for directions received an answer mixed with a yawn. There was the sound of the door closing, and then a thump.
“Doug, you clear?” There was a long silence, and Remy fidgeted nervously. He was impressed with Ramsey. Doug had natural instincts, and a quick mind. With the addition of his powers, you could make one of the best espionage infiltration agents ever. Still, right now he was still greener than any sane person would entrust this mission to, and he still hadn’t checked back in. “Doug?”
There was a crackle, and the screens in the van suddenly went from snow to clear pictures of the inside of the labs. Remy’s laptop ported into the controls for the security system.
“That what you wanted, Remy?”
Remy grinned. “Dat is it, merci. Get moving on de rest.” Remy clicked back the open comm to the rest of the team.
“People, we are a go.”
Betsy, Doug and Amanda arrive at the genetic sample lab, only to discover Strucker’s exploitation of Xavier’s allies doesn’t end with Moira.
The guard slumped, drooling a little as Betsy withdrew the blade of psionic energy from the back of his head. "That's the last," she said, quietly. "I'm shielding us from any others that might come wandering past, but let's not waste time, shall we?" She opened the door and led the way inside, nodding with the slightest hint of a smile as Amanda immediately shadowed her. The girl was learning.
The place reminded Amanda of a hospital, which wasn't doing a thing for her nerves. Talk about being out of your depth... She stuck close to Betsy - but not too close, Amanda didn't want to crowd her - as they slipped down the silent hall, making for the rendezvous point with Doug. This so isn't evil cultists in Nepal. If anything happens, I'll just get out of the ninja lady's way...
Up ahead of them, a door opened. Amanda suppressed a squeak of alarm and got behind Betsy without even being told to.
"Good evening, ladies," Doug greeted the pair dryly, with a half-wave and a grin at where Amanda was peeking out from behind Betsy. "Security grid's down, so we should have a relatively clear path to the lab," he told them. "Dunno if there are any patrols between here and there, but that's what ninja-lady is for," he hiked a thumb at Betsy.
"Don't leave home without one," Amanda added with a grin. "So, you've got all the blueprints for this place memorized... want to show us the way?"
"This way," Doug replied with a half-bow and extended arm. "Ground floor, housewares, electronics, and totally gross quasi-scientific Nazi experiments," he joked weakly. He wasn't sure what to expect when they reached the lab, but his imagination was already providing him plenty of disgusting mental images.
Amanda gave Doug a faint smile. The jokes weren't great, but they were taking her mind off the sheer panic that was threatening to engulf her. I just hope no-one gets hurt, she thought, hitching the small pack holding their basic medkit (and quite a few explosive charges) up further on her shoulders.
"No-one will if we do our parts." Betsy's voice was crisp and businesslike, answering Amanda's unspoken thought. "The laboratories, Doug. Lead the way."
***
Amanda had seen death before, had experienced cruelty. She considered herself difficult to shock. But as the three of them worked their way systematically through every part of the laboratories looking for the samples and possibly any survivors to rescue, she realised that she was blind to the true horrors that existed. Or had been - finding herself looking at the surgically eviscerated corpse of a teenage girl younger than she was, Amanda wished she'd remained in her state of ignorance. Only the steadily growing anger kept her from fleeing the scene.
This ends tonight. Fuckers are going to pay.
It was all so clinical, that was the worst of it. Sabretooth had torn Alison up as effectively as any of the lab subjects here, but everything was so sterile, so clean. No blood spatters on the walls, no rack of torture devices. It looked just like a hospital, only the patients were all dead, stripped of their organs, their blood, their DNA and reduced to rows of jars. One room obviously served as a morgue, a cremation oven in the corner and Amanda found herself wondering how many had passed through its doors and disappeared as thoroughly as Kitty's extended family.
Swallowing heavily, Amanda tried the next door, steeling herself for another ravaged corpse. True enough, there was someone inside, but still alive, and worse, familiar. The air seemed do go out of the room and distantly she was aware of Betsy asking in those crisp tones of hers if she was okay.
"Sarah?" she managed in a choked whisper.
Her former schoolmate lay strapped to an operation table, angry red scars covering her torso. The drugs they kept her on were beginning to wear off, and she lolled her head to the side to attempt to see. It hit back against the table with a loud crack. "I'd say I'm dreaming, but the pain says otherwise. You here to rescue me?"
"I... we..." The paralysis ended as Betsy moved past her, stalking into the operating room like a spirit of vengeance. Amanda joined her at Sarah's side, already checking for any fresh injuries whilst Doug said something about keeping watch and disappearing outside the door. "What the fuck are you doing here?"
There may not have been any gaping wounds on her body, but the scars were witness to repeated incisions, without enough time to heal in between. Sarah hissed sharply as they helped her up, and even slow movements like these made her feel like she might tear everything open again. "Vacationing," she finally gasped, shooting a dark look at Amanda. "All the cool kids are doing it."
The younger Brit blushed and kept her tongue as she supported Sarah's weight. It had been an extremely dumb question.
"Can you walk?" Betsy asked, face carefully blank but her eyes speaking volumes and slow painful death for the persons responsible for this. "We're taking this place apart, but we'll need to be quick about it. Amanda or Doug can take you out of here."
Sarah blinked, testing her balance as the room began to spin ever so slightly. Her grip on Amanda tightened. "Give me a second, and I might be able to manage a stumble."
"We still need to find those samples," Amanda pointed out, bracing herself as Sarah leaned on her. "And take down this Von Strucker bloke. I can get Sarah out of harm's way if you and Doug stick with the plan?"
There was an amused snort as Sarah steeled herself to stand up on her own. It was surprisingly easy to move once she got that far. "Excuse me? These assholes decided that my guts were in this season, and I'd like to explain to them that I'm not their personal organ farm. Messily."
Doug turned towards Amanda, face paler than usual, with disgust at what had been done to Sarah, and the others. The corpses had been bad enough, knowing they'd been vivisected, possibly more than once, if Sarah's scars were anything like an indication just made it a million times worse. He wanted to throw up. And couldn't, because it would just waste time. "Believe me, I've got no problems blowing this place to component atoms if that's what we need to do."
"Oh, there will be plenty of opportunity for explosions." Betsy gave Sarah an assessing look, obviously considering the complications her coming along represented. "If you feel up to it, it's probably safer to have you come along," she said to the Morlock, taking her other side. "But the first sign you aren't fit, you find somewhere to hole up, you hear me? The best revenge is living, never mind the well part." Her grip where she held onto Sarah's arm was firm, but gentle.
"I've gotten this far. Not planning on up and dying now." Sarah glanced back at Betsy, and gestured towards and already boned over shoulder. "I'm ready for this."
"Samples first, then bloody revenge," Amanda said grimly. "Doug, the main sample storage area's where again? End of the hall?" She had promise to keep, after all. To bring Kevin home.
Doug nodded. "It's just through here."
Marie-Ange, Wanda, and Kitty successfully make it to the computer lab, only to discover that their worst ideas about what Strucker might be up to with Kevin MacTaggart’s DNA were no where near bad enough.
If the bushes had poison ivy, Wanda was going to murder Pete. Completely and utterly. It wasn't him that was crouching amongst potentially ivy laden leaves with the part of their new team. Well, and Marie-Ange but she was simply too useful to leave at home.
"Is everyone doing alright?" she asked, counting heads. Oh good, no one had wandered off or died so far. It was looking up.
"So far," Kitty said, eyeing the ground between their hiding place and the back walls of the building. Not that far, and she couldn't see any guards...
Marie-Ange shifted her weight, trying to take some of the strain off her calves. "Other than a beetle trying to make my shoe it's new home, I am fine.." She answered quietly.
"Alright, then in we go. Kitty, how many can you phase at once? If you can bring in all of us, that would be perfect. If not, you and I will go in first and I will keep watch while you bring in Marie-Ange." Wanda pressed closer to the building. "The faster we do this, the better the results, I am thinking."
"The faster we are done, the better. I think perhaps getting finished committing crimes this close to my home country would make me less nervous." She just didn't know enough about the German legal system to know how bad of a crime they were technically committing not to -be- nervous.
"Shouldn't be a problem," Kitty said, holding out her hand to Wanda. "I've done more mass than this in practices with Moira. But everybody, hold on tight. Letting go in the wrong place would be very,
very bad."
At that warning, Wanda held on as tightly as she could without squeezing off the younger woman's hand. "Ready whenever you are," she said, taking deep and calming breaths. She'd never done this before and it was a little nerve wracking.
That was not helping Marie-Ange be any less nervous. But she -had- to trust Kitty, she didn't have much other choice, and it wasn't as if she was getting feelings of foreboding doom. Still, if she clung a
little tightly, she hoped Kitty might understand. Or at least not complain.
Kitty didn't even wince as the two of them gripped her hands - she'd far rather the pain than a mistake. Phasing them all out wasn't a problem - she could sense the greater mass shifting with her, but it
wasn't difficult. "Let's go," she said, starting off towards the wall as quickly as she could with the two of them hanging onto her hands.
If it Wanda hadn't been preparing for it, she might very well have dropped Kitty's hand at the weird sensation. But she didn't, waiting for the moment they had passed through the very solid walls to the
other side. It was a startling sensation but a very interesting one at the same time.
"If I never have to do that again, it will be too soon." Marie-Ange said, once they were through. She'd had her eyes squeezed shut the entire time, and it hadn't helped a bit. Composing herself took reaching back
to make sure the wall they'd just passed through was solid, and that she would not pass back through it, even without holding onto Kitty's hand.
Kitty managed not to smile - after all, she had years of practice to get used to the whole thing. "Where do we go from here?" she asked, keeping her voice pitched low.
"According to Doug and what he found for the blueprints," Wanda said softly, "down the hall to our left, third door on the right. We need to get some actual information from the computers and we should be
inbetween guard rotations."
Slipping down the hallway, Wanda kept a sharp eye out for any guards that might happen to check out the hall they were in. The last thing they needed was to set off any alarms so early into the game. Once
then got to the door Doug had told them would hold the computers, she had Kitty take a peek inside.
When that room came up empty, she gestured them all inside. "Let's get to work on getting that information and any samples," she said quietly, shutting the door behind them.
Kitty nodded, taking a seat at the main terminal as the others spread out into the room, seeking out their targets. The terminal wasn't even secured, so it was a matter of seconds to begin downloading the information she'd been told to find. She was hardly giving most of the files more than a moment's notice as she worked, but one of them caught her eye and, pausing to make sure the download was progressing, she opened it up and began to read.
"Wanda..." she said after a few minutes, eyes wide as she processed what she was looking at. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but, on the whole, we would consider, um, mutant super-virii to be bad things, yes? Because there's something here you need to see."
Wanda looked at the screen and frowned. “Remy, do we still have Conner’s on-line at Muir?”
“Looks like. Why?”
“I’m sending this info you to. He should take a look.” Kitty said, shifting the data over to the brand new account that Doug had patched them into to. She went back to pulling the rest of the details from the computer and searching for all research that was even remotely related to the projects using Kevin’s DNA.
Remy uploaded the data and shot it to Conners, switching over to a clear comm channel with him. “Doc, you getting this?”
“I am. Give me a minute.” There was a long silence, and Remy kept double checking security alerts. Finally, a slightly shaken sounding Curt returned on the line. “Alright, LeBeau. Looking this over in brief, extremely briefly in fact, it looks like someone is trying to mutate the ebola virus using Kevin’s DNA to make it environmentally adaptable.”
“I need dat in dummy talk, Doc.”
“A virus that can transmit via which ever method is environmentally optimal at the time. Maximum coverage. According to the notes, they’re also playing around with the virus’ manipulation of the cell’s DNA to produce proteins to replicate itself.”
“Meaning?”
“If they can modify the virus to only react to certain DNA patterns or key sequences of nucleotides, they can tailor the virus to specific characteristics. It’s not possible with our current technology, but if they think they can use Kevin’s own genetics as a way to brute force the reactive triggers.” Conner’s voice was starting to strain. “I’m looking at their development tests, including the one that is headed ‘live subjects’ and it looks like they’re making headway.”
“That created dis stuff?” Remy said, alarmed.
“No, I don’t think so. But they’re going in the right direction to do so.”
“So what does dis all mean?”
“Remy, if you wanted to kill a specific type of people, like say anyone that wasn’t your idea of a master race, this is the perfect way to do it. And I doubt anything could stop it once it was released.” There was a long silence, before Remy finally found his voice through the horror. As vile and evil as Gambit had been, it wasn’t even in the same league as the kind of murderous intent you needed to consider this.
“Merci, Doc. I’ll get back to you.” Remy flipped over the comm channel to Betsy’s line alone. “Change in de plan, Betts. Once you eliminate all de traces of Kevin’s DNA and any research wit’ it you can find, I want you converging on de main lab. We’re taking out de whole damn thing before we leave.”
Baron Von Strucker’s mad plans revealed!
Baron Wolfgang Von Strucker had spent seventy years to get to this day. It had started back as a student in Germany, and had possessed him ever since. Eugenics had long been relegated to the realms of hate literature and crackpot science, but Strucker knew that didn't mean it had been proven wrong. As he had spoken about, it meant that the truths were too hard for people to hear. It wasn't necessarily any sort of genetic superiority, like his fellow scientists in the thirties and forties had been so keen to prove. Strucker took a more pragmatic approach. Aryan societies were innovators, explorers, and reason based. The Asian races hampered themselves with overbreeding and stagnation, the African with violence and disease.
The reality was that the planet was of finite resources, and the only way to truly make the next step as a race was if those societies were unhampered by the demands and needs of other degenerate ones. Strucker didn't care why it was the Aryan blood had embraced these traits, simply the fact that history bore out their nature.
Where was success in improving the human condition with such a range of unsuitable ones there to take advantage of it? Imagine a thousand petty warlords in Africa allowed a double lifespan to commit their atrocities in? Or the greedy backwards kings of the Middle East, perpetuating their medieval beliefs and autocratic stranglehold for more than a hundred extra years? Strucker believed the planet would be taken down with the rest of them; the great human experiment poisoned by its own unreasonably embraced waste.
It had taken many years, especially in the dangerous ground of the postwar Germany to find a coterie of men that believed as he did. They had worked in secret, behind his veneer of respectability that his medical industries provided. Since the seventies, he'd become obsessed with improving his own health and lifespan. His work was too important to let basic frailty stop him. It was funny how close the science between prolonging life and propagating death ran and intermixed.
But what a strange thing fate is. Mutants, considered by some the ultimate degeneration of humanity, also held the next step in life. They'd experimented crudely, grafting mutant traits from gutter trash into more fitting subjects, but with limited success. There had been rumours that the Americans had successes, but no hard evidence, and despite a vast monetary offer, the hoped collaboration with Doctor Nathanial Essex had been rebuffed.
But then the breakthrough. Less than a year ago, a sample had been purchased by one of his men. A sample who's properties had been so beyond expectations that it had jumped up the work of his projects by decades. An infinitely reactive genetic structure that seemed to naturally adapt to the protein coding they had grafted. The more they experimented, the more the sample seemed to be able to do.
A virus, able to transmit by the most advantageous method possible depending on the conditions. Able to sidestep any type of vaccine, mutating around each person's system to best deliver death. The only protection existed in the basic genetic makeup in a person's DNA. They were very close to tailoring it to shut itself down harmlessly when encountering the minute differences in genotypes between different races. There had been long conversations about at what level to focus the virus, to either avoid making it too general or too specific, each of which would compromise their goal. There was still much work to be done before they would have it ready. But unlike twelve months ago, they knew that they would be successful, in the span of months rather than decades.
The other was more personal, and more important. The severely reduced population would need decades to stabilize the planet, and harness the changed world effectively for the challenges of a new era. That meant they needed more years than normal humans had, and that was Strucker's obsession. He was nearly one hundred, age stealing away his strength even after every treatment his wealth could buy. But the sample solved that too, opening up areas of treatment that were years away, bridging restrictions that even the most advanced labs hadn't found answers for.
Like everything, Strucker had planned the treatment in meticulous detail. They had experimented on animals first, but to no success. Finally, they had used one of their kidnapped subjects as a test, and the results were remarkable. The accrued damage of sixty years of life rolled back by half. It wasn't the Fountain of Youth, but it dramatically altered the psychical attributes of the subject, making that sixty year old man medically a healthy thirty. Even following his vivisection, there were no side effects they could find.
Strucker had begun the procedure last month. First they clogged his entire digestive tract with sterilizing putty, destroying the fluid and bacterial cultures that grew there. Next was to fill the lungs with oxygenating silicone fluid, cutting off the air. Those two processes killed off most of the body's internal bacteria, which could alter the regeneration process. Finally, the brain-blood barrier was scrubbed free of the capillaries in the skull, and the cerebrospinal fluid replaced by a sterilizing saline fluid, as Strucker was immersed into a deep coma.
The centerpiece of the main lab was a massive sealed tank, inside which Strucker was submerged in a gelatinous mixture of support fluids. His internal metabolic needs were supplied by a newly attached umbilical. Once that was complete, the bloodstream and lymphatic system were opened to the support vat for the remaining period of the process. Red blood cell production shut down and the plasma replaced by a fluid toxin to any cell which was not mammalian. The human body is rigorously multicellular, and the process needed all commensal organisms in the human body destroyed.
With the bacteria now utterly annihilated, his team began their hunt for viruses and prions, tagging and coding the genetic grabbag of imbedded human viruses in every person. It was three weeks to complete, destroying the vast metabolic range of prions in the body, shivering apart the rogue proteins using magnetic resonance techniques. By the end of the procedure, the man named Strucker was now barely recognizably human; an antiseptic mass floating in an amniotic gel culture.
Then began the DNA treatments, which the cells of Kevin MacTaggart had made possible. Intercellular repair involved the lossening of the intracellular bonds to facilitate the access to the cell surfaces of the body as a whole. Strucker's skinless body partially melted into the support gel, and swelled to three times its normal size as it was fluidized. Flexible plastic tubing was inserted into the form, pincushioning it with piercings to allow total access.
Specific procedures took place in the marrow of the femurs, the spine, the ventricles of the brain, the sinuses and other deeply interiorized spaces. Toxic buildups and precipitated mineralized bodies in the arteries, gall bladder and the lymphatic system- especially the coacervate deposits in the pineal gland- were reduced or eliminated. During this time, the attending scientists studied Struckers cells for cumulative replication errors. Precancerous and junk-burdened cells were tagged with artificial antibodies, and once again MacTaggart's DNA provided a bridge to creating an artificial phagocyte to remove the tainted cells.
Finally, the surviving cells were treated with a neo-telomeric extension, a process that had eluded all research as the final great barrier, and which Kevin's unique genetics provided a pass through. The telomeric ends of the chromosomes where the keys to aging, wearing thin as the cells approached the Hayflick limit of allowable replications. With Kevin's DNA, the cultures spliced new telomeric information on to the chromosomes, tricking the aging cells into believing themselves in youth again. Inside the tank, cells began to replicate furiously, as Strucker's body underwent a period of rapid growth.
As Strucker's form floated, skin was regrown on the body. New commensal bacteria was slowly reintroduced, and the interior fluids replaced with natural substances. Within a month, a man almost a hundred years of age had been reduced to a brain attached to a body broken down to the most basic elements, and now, in the tank, floated a man who looked less than half his age. There had been arguments of whether to wake him or allow him to emerge naturally. As a compromise, they had stopped the chemical treatments that allowed him to stay in the deep comatose sleep, and simply waited for him to emerge.
It was with great shock that they greeted the sudden alarm, indicating a breech in the main lab security. With the scientists and doctors were Strucker's own guards, two pairs of twins, each having been the recipient of the most successful mutant organ grafts. The four men were military veterans of the Kommando Spezialkrfte, Germany's special forces, and they hefted their rifles with professional precision, moving towards the entrance to the lab.
X-Force hits the main lab, finding the vat of Von Strucker, a small group of genetically modified guards and a lot of places that look like they could use some explosives before finally escaping into the night.
Both teams waited outside the door as Remy ran the overrides and opened it. He had to set off the internal fire alarms, starting the sprinklers going in the rest of the building to allow access to the subroutine to cycle the main lab access. Alarms fought for attention over his voice.
"De door is open. Move!"
Well, here we go... Amanda thought as the frontrunners burst into the lab. She was doing her best to stay in the back, out of the way with the pack containing the remaining charges (and the flask containing the samples) securely on her back. Now to just make it past the Nazis and to the equipment...
A flak vest between her shirt and jacket was not exactly Marie-Ange's idea of protective gear, but it wasn't as if she could have worn her leathers. But it would do. For now. And she had no inclination to worry about it overmuch. There was more to do than just make the Nazi-emblemed guards unconscious. Destroying the lab, preventing this from ever being done again was vital.
And so Marie-Ange hung back as well, eyeing the guards warily, and palming one of her cards. And if they underestimated her, because she was not throwing herself into the fight, all the better. More time to think, to plan - and to keep them away from Amanda and the explosives.
Glancing at the tall redhead sticking close by her side, Amanda nodded a little grimly. What they'd seen in the lower labs had deeply shocked her. "You and me a team, just like with the zombies in New Orleans, huh?" she said with a brief, fierce grin. "Fuckers won't know what hit 'em."
"Except hopefully less -zombies- this time." Marie-Ange answered. Nazi zombies would have just been too much to deal with. And it was entirely absurd anyway. She did a mental check, edging around the wall of the room along-side Amanda. One card in hand, two up the same sleeve, two in her jacket, and one down the front of her shirt. And the one in the back of her jeans, but she -desperately- hoped not to have to use that one.
Even if she'd brought the Knight of Cups anyway, out of habit.
"I dunno, the bloke in the vat's looking pretty undead already," Amanda joked, then winced and ducked as something exploded. Apparently the heavy hitters were letting loose. "What do you reckon? Go for that fancy-looking stuff over there while everyone's distracted by the ultra-violence?"
"You did not get a checklist of expensive things to blow up?" Marie-Ange asked, just before a shout came, the only word of which Marie-Ange could understand was "zwei" and a pair of guards, obviously of the night guardsman variety ran over, brandishing tasers.
Tasers. She'd trained for tasers. And trained for electrogenetics to boot, which means tasers were nothing. Keep them out of reach, and try to get the tasers from them. Tasers might be useful. Before the guards got close enough to even grab at the pair, Marie-Ange had a staff out, the image springing from card to her hands smoothly, and swinging around to crack against one of the guards' hands, knocking one of the tasers across the floor.
Amanda had been about to respond along the lines of "Well, if you know what any of this stuff actually looks like, let me know" when the guards attacked. "Fuck," she exclaimed with feeling, edging back and looking for cover. Tasers bad, especially when you didn't have anything to use against... "Woah," she breathed, watching Marie-Ange do a perfectly good job of dealing with said tasers. There were times she forgot about the X-Men training, given it wasn't something she'd had cause to see Marie-Ange using. However, it seemed to be pretty damn effective.
Although standing around watching Marie-Ange smack around Nazis, entertaining as it was, wouldn't get the job done. Time to start doing what she was supposed to.
The first guard's taser skittered across the floor, well out of reach for now, and Marie-Ange muttered a "Merde.." under her breath. She was too close to do much of anything with the staff, instead driving the heel of her foot into the second guard's knee, and throwing him off balance. Which gave her room, which meant she could swing the staff under her arm, cracking ribs and knocking the breath out of a guard. A rotation of her wrists, and the staff came back down on the back of his head.
One down, one to go. And only one taser, which she kicked towards Amanda, hoping she'd see it.
Not only did Amanda see it, she pounced on it. Remy tended to dislike her relying on weapons, but these were Nazi guards and they really weren't going to fight fair. Besides, self defence only. She tucked it into the side pocket of her jacket for emergencies and scuttled across to the bank of expensive-looking equipment: Amanda's basic rule of thumb was if it looked expensive and complicated, it was probably something important. And therefore should be blown up. Fishing the charge out of her bag, she tried to remember the instructions Pete had given her. And not be too distracted by the fighting going on around her.
An elbow into the throat put the other guard down, breathing raspily if not actually unconscious, and Marie-Ange darted over towards Amanda, letting the staff disappear as she did. The fewer things in her hands, the less she had to worry about them getting used against her, and she could always bring it back if she needed to.
"Hail the conquering hero," Amanda said with a brief grin as she clamped the plastic explosive carefully to the side of the bank of machines. "Impressive moves, Frenchie. You made me go all 'gosh!' there for a minute." Her tone was humorous but there was a definite serious note to it - Marie-Ange's fighting skills had definitely made an impression.
"Merci." Marie-Ange said, seriously. She still did not enjoy fighting, but understood now that sometimes it was necessary. She looked around the room, and frowned. "How many machines does one mad scientist need?" It seemed like every wall had, at least, one piece of equipment that she could not identify. And two that looked like they had come right from an evil version of Dr. MacTaggart's labs.
"Everything and the kitchen sink, it seems." Amanda carefully pressed the wires from the timer into the explosive before peeking over the top of the machine at the mayhem being inflicted by the rest. "That's
that one. Now to pick the next." She touched the earpiece. "Remy? Little help?"
Remy's voice crackled over the comms, sharp and insistent. "Time to take some away, neh? 'manda, take Marie-Ange and dat satchel. Dere's a set of load bearing pillars along de east wall."
Remy's hands flew over the keyboard, pulling up cascading views of the main lab from the structural plans and trying to think. "Drop de others to Doug and Kitty. Dere's three more along de west wall, and a metal lattice on de south. I want charges at each of dose points. Betts, you and Wanda up to keeping de others off de kids back?"
The sound of a perfectly executed kick slamming into flesh answered him, over which Betsy's voice punctuated tightly but humourous. "Of course, luv. I haven't kicked anyone's brains in all damn day."
Speaking into the mike, Amanda replied. "Got you, Remy. Angie, think you can give me a hand to plant a few of these us cover to give some of the nice explosives to Doug?"
Sarah might have been slightly concerned when she'd first gotten up. Not that she would admit it to anyone, but when the room started spinning, for a moment Sarah was scared. Scared that they'd done something else to her; that she was physically damaged in addition to being fucked in the head. Her chest felt like it might burst, like movement would strain the fragile scars to tear open again, and leave her useless and helpless here in the Nazi circle of hell. But she began to feel better almost immediately, as the drugs began to fade and her healing factor hit high gear. For all they had done to her, she had to admit that they had kept her well nourished during her captivity, feeding tubes allowing her healing factor to force her to stay alive as they kept her strapped to the table and sedated. The irony that this would be the reason that she would be able to help tear their operation down was not lost on her. If she had been in a better mood, she might have laughed.
She hadn't been in a fight in a while, but when the guards came after her, it was something that just came as naturally as anything else you did on instinct. "Don't you dare fucking touch me. I've had enough of being your personal fucking guinea pig." Punches with bone covered hands were followed by quick strikes with bone shards, and she forgot about the pain for a while. All that was here were these assholes and their experiments, and they needed to be stopped now.
Kitty had been phasing at least a hand through every piece of electronics she'd seen ever since they'd gotten what they needed off the mainframe, just in case. When they'd gotten to the main lab, though, she'd known that wasn't going to be enough. "There's no way of knowing which of these are backed up, and I can only disrupt the machines, not wipe their disks," she muttered, then looked over at Doug. "A big enough boom ought to do it, though..."
"Someone say boom?" The voice was Amanda's, coming from the other side of one of Marie-Ange's constructs.
Kitty looked up, startled, then nodded, a hint of a smile on her face as she took the profered explosives. "Someone did, indeed, say boom. Perfect." Handing over several to Doug, she added, "You go that way," pointing off to the left, "I'll get this side."
Wanda had been hanging back, keeping on eye out for any other guards that would be heading their way. Turning her head, she grinned at Amanda, hands held up as the red light pulsed softly. "Whatever someone does, I can certainly make sure it hits an even higher range of boom."
"Or you can stop that bloke." It came out as a slight squeak from Amanda despite the bravado as one of the Baron's personal guards charged at them.
Kitty phased out instinctively as the new factor entered the equation, but she knew that dealing with him wasn't her job. She and Doug needed to get the computers down, permanently. Keeping an eye out for others, though, she hurried over to the side of the closest machine, setting up and prepping the explosive as she'd been shown.
The guard had caught sight of what Kitty had done and, eyes bugging, gone after her. Having heard Amanda's warning, Wanda caught sight of him before he could get very far. Stepping up, she knocked the weapon in his hands to the floor with a simple kick. Obviously, he'd been too focused on Kitty to notice her coming from the side.
But he saw her now.
With a snarled curse, he threw a wild swinging punch towards her head, off balance thanks to her approach from the side. Blocking with her left hand, she managed to trap his tightly against her side and snapped a quick punch to his nose.
Disoriented, the guard didn't try to hit her with his free hand, just tried to reel back and away from her attacks. Wanda grunted, grabbing the front of his protective gear with the hand that had punched him and with some effort, lifted him a few inches off the ground. It allowed her to sweep a leg against his, helping him descend very quickly towards the ground.
As he fell, she realized that he'd probably just have the wind knocked out of him and they needed him out of the game. She let go of his flak vest and, with his one arm still tightly trapped and stretched, smashed her palm against his bicep.
Right before she landed the blow, she'd seen a weak spot through her powers...a place where she couldn't affect much outside of hitting it...a shatter point. And that's what she was hoping, that the bone would snap due to the pressure and being hit just right.
What Wanda hadn't realized was that very recently the guard had injected something into his muscles, a body builder trick, to pump up the biceps to appear bigger. And with the muscles already straining under that and her grip, the bone didn't give but the bicep muscle certainly did.
The guard screamed as the muscle suddenly exploded, ripping and tearing the overlying skin slightly. In shock, Wanda dropped his arm as he hit the ground, her hands unclenching in disgust as everything rippled.
Turning to the rest of the group, she gritted her jaw. "Let's go."
"What about...?" Amanda jerked her chin in the direction of the vat and the figure within it who seemed to be stirring. On the other side of the room, scientists and the ordinary guards were fleeing through another doorway to escape the onslaught of Betsy and Sarah. "Shouldn't we, I dunno, get him out of here before the place blows up?"
"Oh yes, vat boy. Alright, let's break it and get us all out of here, shall we?"
"Out of here would be good," Kitty said, moving back towards the rest of them. "Charges are all set on this end."
"All four of the modified guards are down, Remy. Looks like they were grafting mutant organs into them. What about the vat?" Betsy said over the comms. Remy's voice was taut as he stared at the vat in the centre through the building's own systems.
"Wanda, hit it wit' something on de way out. Everyone out. Fire, police and emergency units are less den five minutes away. Remy meet you at de airport."
As requested, Wanda turned and unleashed a single hex bolt at the vat before ducking out the door. It hit but seemed not to affect it at all. The rest of the team was out the door and splitting up into the prearranged escape patterns, disappearing as quickly as they came.
Inside the vat, Von Strucker suddenly jerked into consciousness, thrashing wildly for a moment before getting control of himself. Obviously the procedure was complete, and he'd been in the final effects of the coma. Slowly, he touched the side panel and the controls there, starting up the removal process. They had taken out all of the remaining links days ago, so only the monitors of his vitals remained on his body. The gel drained down with a sucking sound, and as soon as his head was clear, he immediately vomited up a copious amount of the oxygenated fluid.
Strucker was dizzy and disoriented, and even the gloomy interior of the tank seemed too bright. But he could see and feel well enough his body, running his hands over flesh that had been liver spotted and sagging for years, now whole and firm. He had been right! The treatment looked like it had cut his age in half, replacing the frail dying old body with one he hadn't seen since the fifties. He was in his prime again, and if the rest of his experiments were any indication, he could have another hundred years to focus on his goal.
Slowly, he worked the controls to open the tank, wondering why none of his men had already done so. As the door opened, he peered out squinting into the lab. He could make out human forms on the floor, and hissed. Something was wrong. Strucker keyed on his comm.
"Werner, where are you?" He said in German. The voice that responded definitely wasn't Werner's, despite the perfect fluency.
"Good evening, Baron Von Strucker. You don't know me and you never will. I'm one of the people that found out exactly what you've been up to, and decided that it offends us." Strucker recoiled at the words, still disoriented from the process. "The shadows are no longer safe for people like you. My only regret is that I can't ask you to pass that warning along to other like you."
Remy cut the comm, and sent the computer virus Doug and Kitty cooked up into the system. According to them, in less than ten minutes, the entire security system, including all of the digital recordings of audio and video traffic would be reduced to less than a tenth of a percent of retrievable data. With one last look over the monitor at Strucker, struggling with the comm trying to raise anyone, Remy triggered the charges. The explosives gutted the lower support structures, sending the roof, along with the mountain of heavy HVAC and biohazard security installations, crashing down into the lab.
Remy carefully turned off the last of the monitors, climbed into the front seat, and drove away into the night. So that, he considered as the night swallowed the van, was what a job well done felt like.
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