Sangue Puro, part 2/2

[x-cyclops.livejournal.com]

Inside the school, two of the young hostages are clinging to their courage when rescue appears, quite literally from above.


Luiza Otelo had begun to believe that this would be her last day on this earth. The terrorists - wild-eyed, terrifying men who looked at her and the other visible mutants huddled here in the library with such contempt - had begun to joke some time ago about how they would kill her and 'all the other freaks'. She knew that she, with scales instead of skin, would probably be one of the first to die when it came time. One of them had already sneered at her, calling her 'lizard girl'.

She hoped that some of her classmates, the ones who were mutants but not obviously so, might escape. Like Roberto, who could pass as human with no difficulty at all. No one would give them away, she knew that much. Several of her non-mutant friends had already refused to identify their mutant classmates; Helio had even spat in the face of one of the terrorists, but the man had merely laughed.

She must have whimpered, or let out some sound, because Helio was crawling to her side suddenly, putting an arm around her. "I told them," he murmured in her ear. One of the terrorists looked briefly in their direction, but left them alone. The men didn't seem to care what they do, so long as they didn't move towards the doors. "They know that they need to help us soon."

"How?"

"My phone. A text message."

Luiza smiled a bit shakily. "Too brave," she whispered, her voice catching, and hugged him back. "Thank you."

"They'll help us," Helio said, softly but vehemently. "They will. We just have to-"

Luiza would always wonder what it was Helio had been about to say when there was an appalling sound, shrieking metal, and as the noise of the rain abruptly grew louder, she realized that it was the roof being torn away. Then the terrorists were shouting, firing their guns upwards, but the bullets bounced away from the two figures floating there. Did one have green hair? Luiza thought wildly, but then screamed as some of the gunfire came in their direction. Some of the others did as well, but Helio merely pushed her flat to the ground, staying there on top of her. Shielding her?

It wasn't necessary, in the end. None of the gunfire reached them - Luiza saw a bullet bounce away as if off an invisible wall, barely a foot above her and Helio's heads. And then the terrorists were shouting in obvious panic, something about their guns.

More gunfire, out in the hall, and other strange noises, almost like thunder. Men shouting words she couldn't make out. Luiza squeezed her eyes shut, trying not to cry.

#It's all right,# a voice said in English. Inside her head. #It's almost over.#

Almost as soon as she registered the words, the gunfire, even out in the hall, stopped. There was still shouting, but calmer-sounding. And as Luiza opened her eyes, she saw the terrorists here in the library with their hands up, calling out that they surrendered.

"It's raining in the library," Helio said, still on top of her and sounding a little bewildered.

--


After all the shooting is done, Kylun notices a suspicious pair in the crowd outside and gives chase.


It was entirely possible that they might have been overlooked, the two young men at the police barriers with the rest of the curious crowd. In the middle of the night, in the pouring rain and the baleful flickering lights of the emergency vehicles, with so many people around, they were unremarkable. One was speaking urgently in Portugese into his cell phone, while the other was staring almost blankly at the terrorists being lined up in handcuffs and hustled into a police van. Blankness... or shock.

Kylun would not afterward be able to list the reasons he was scanning the crowd. The infiltration had gone well--gratifyingly well, with no casualties among the children despite their captors' fanaticism. Still, there had been a few too many near-missteps, little off-beats in the rhythm of the takedown: a muttered word, a wrong glance. It had been nothing he could confidently bring to Cyclops' attention. Just a sense of unease, a flicker of instinct--instinct that Kylun had learned to trust.

Instinct flickered again as his eyes fell on the two men; he handed off the children he was shepherding to one of the emergency workers, and veered in their direction.

The one man was half-turned away, still talking into his phone. But the other saw Kylun approaching and his eyes all but popped out of his skull. He tugged frantically on his companion's arm, pulling him back into the crowd. The one with the cellphone turned to snap at him, and then spotted what he was looking at. At which point, he seemed to decide that his friend's course of action really was the best way to go, and the two of them started pushing backwards through the crowd.

That was more than enough for Kylun; he quickened his pace and concentrated on the light link that he hoped Nathan was still holding, despite the nominal end of the mission.

I have two probable hostiles attempting to flee the scene. Cable, can you see them through my eyes?

There was a moment's pause. #Get them,# Nathan responded, his 'voice' tight. #They're why the terrorists knew the police were moving in on the building. They were in contact with their eyes and ears outside in the crowd. It's a damned good thing Polaris and I were as discreet as we were getting up on the roof.#

#Only fitting that they join their companions before the seat of justice, then,# Kylun replied. He broke into a run, weaving adeptly through the crowd.

The shorter of the two men looked back over the shoulder, his expression going from worry to outright panic at the sight of Kylun in pursuit. He picked up his pace before turning back to look where he was going, and slammed hard into a woman, both of them hitting the ground. The second man, the one who'd been on the cellphone, kept running.

#I'm directing a few of the SWAT team members over to grab the one who just fell. Yell if you need help with the other,# Nathan sent, the thought overlaid with a scorching and noticeably self-directed aggravation. #I should have thought to check the crowd more carefully.#

#That would be why we work in a team,# was Kylun's dry retort. He redoubled his speed again, leaping straight over the heads of a startled tourist couple.

Ahead of him, his quarry turned an abrupt corner into a narrow alley; Kylun took to the air again, using a balcony railing to slingshot into the turn. As he'd hoped, his feet caught the fleeing man neatly in the back of his knee, sending him sprawling.

Kylun rolled to his feet. "If you can understand English," he said clearly, "know that you will not escape me. You will save yourself pain if you surrender now."

"Va' se foder!" the young man spat in Portugese. The tone was unmistakable. He started to struggle back to his feet, reaching into his jacket for something - something that seemed to be caught in the fabric somehow, to judge by the additional panicked curse that slipped out.

Well, that wouldn't do at all. Kylun had no desire to get shot, not when the day was going so well. He pounced, flipping the man over onto his stomach and pinning both of his arms. "Enough," he growled. "Now you will join your fellows. And if you ever harm another child . . ." He jerked the man to his feet, tightening his hold for emphasis. "I will find you."

"Deixou-me vai!" the man snarled. "Sujo criatura–"

"Bastantes! Voce e travado, cabrao," snapped a different voice from the opening of the alley, and one of the senior SWAT officers came striding towards them, the two officers accompanying him taking custody of the terrorist. The young man, still struggling and snarling, was quickly frisked, one of the officers removing a handgun before they hustled him back down the alley. The senior officer lingered, giving Kylun a quick smile, tired but sincere. "You have good eyes," he complimented him in only faintly accented English. "The other is handcuffed and with his compatriots already."

Kylun grinned, nodding respectfully. "The Romans may have pictured Justice blind, but we who serve her had best not be. I was glad to help."

"Shall we?" the officer asked, inclining his head towards the lights of the emergency vehicles. "I cannot speak for you, but I think after a night like this, there are a number of reunions taking place that I would be very happy to witness."

Kylun chuckled--the man had put his finger on perhaps the greatest advantage his new career had over his old one. The Necromite cult, as he could personally attest, seldom left enough survivors for such reunions. "I would not miss that for the world."

--


Scott and Haroun are catching their breath and taking stock of a job well done when Sam relays some rather alarming news from the mansion.


The rain had, if anything, only picked up. Still, the lights of the various emergency vehicles provided more than enough illumination to see the joy and relief on the faces of both parents and kids. Reunions all over the place, Scott thought tiredly, leaning up against the side of one of the ambulances and waving off a paramedic who came over to see whether he was injured.

Haroun was chatting with one of the paramedics for a few moments before waving her off to go deal with the next set of people who needed aid. Grinning, he walked over to Scott and clapped him on the shoulder. "Good plan, Chief." he said. "I don't envy those kids their nightmares but we got them all out."

It had gone almost perfectly according to plan, in the end. He didn't know quite what to think of that. "Doesn't look like there's a scratch on any of them, does it?" Scott asked, his gaze roving over the rescuees.

"I don't think so, but things got a little hectic in there." he grinned. "Be a good training sim, though. See how the other teams handle things. This is what we should be doing."

Scott mustered up a smile, after a moment. "And absolutely no singing involved..."

Haroun growled. "No singing." he gritted out.

"Sorry. Couldn't help myself." Scott patted Haroun's arm, then tilted his head, blinking as he listened to the coms. "Huh. Nate and Lorna will be with us in a few minutes. Apparently they're fixing the roof."

"Good for them. Once they're done it's time for us to bug out, right?" he asked. "A shame, I was kinda hoping to spend some more time down here. I wanted to go see if I could sit in on some Brazilian jiujitsu classes. Bunch of the SWAT guys are absolute fanatics, they'd be fun to train with."

"You need to go on a martial arts vacation," Scott joked, pushing away from the ambulance. "Touring the world, hitting various hand-to-hand hotspots..."

"I was born good-looking, not rich." he commented. "I've got money and no time for a trip of that magnitude."

"Could always write it off as a training expense? I'm not being serious, Haroun," Scott said with a sigh.

Haroun sighed. "Sore subject." he admitted. "Speaking of vacations - you could probably use one. Why don't you stay behind for a few days, soak up the sun on Ipanema Beach, drink tequila and sample the nightlife?"

"I'm on duty this week," Scott pointed out as they headed back towards the command post. His lips curled in another slight smile. "Would make more sense for you and Alison and Miles to take a vacation, really."

"I don't nearly have the stick in as far as you do." he said plainly. "Tell ya what - we'll even fly Jean down, and the two of you can do what you do best - and no, that isn't be a sadistic bastard - together."

"Stick?" It was a sign that he was tired, Scott reflected, when metaphors escaped him completely like that. "What about a stick... oh." He shook his head at Haroun. "Okay, the sentiment's appreciated, but really - entirely too much to do back home to be running off with Jean." However tempting an idea that might be. And it was really, really tempting.

"As I seem to recall someone telling all of us over and over again, that's what XOs are for. Take a rest, Chief. Do I have to call Xavier and get him to overrule you?" he asked pointedly. "Threat-board's relatively greenish. Intel's being their usual busy-bee selves. Give duty over to Blue or Black and take a break before you fall apart!"

"Your CO is in no shape to be on duty," Scott pointed out, "and Blue crashed the Blackbird last week, remember? They don't get to play with the nice toys unless they promise to be more careful."

"Now you're making excuses." he grumbled. "And don't remind me about the crash. I still wake up in a cold sweat."

"She got us down here just fine for having her feathers singed last week," Scott said whimsically. "It's too bad we can't--" He stopped, listening as Sam's voice suddenly came over the coms, relaying something from the mansion.... "Oh crap," Scott said vehemently. "Oh, fuck me."

Haroun straightened up. "Sitrep?" he asked, dropping Haroun in favor of Jetstream.

Scott looked at him, aghast. "Moira's in labor."

Haroun shrugged. "Shit, and I thought we had an emergency." he said, relaxing again. "We're not done here, and X-Men do not leave a job half-done, remember?"

"She's going to kill me." ~Sam? Do NOT let Nathan know just yet, all right?~ That done, Scott eyed Haroun for a moment - and then punched him, not quite lightly, in the shoulder. "I trust you won't complain if we finish the job with a certain amount of judicious haste?"

"Why would she kill you? She's too busy right now screaming for Nathan's balls to be handed to her on a plate." he smirked. "But yeah, let's wrap this up and get on home before Nathan dies of anticipation."

--


Meanwhile, as they fix the school's roof, Nathan and Lorna talk about the events of the evening, and the upcoming changes in her life. Then Nathan hears the news and tries to fly home. Seriously!


Nathan gave Lorna a sideways look as he watched her reshape the roof beams back into their original position. "You all right?" he asked measuringly. The rain was almost a solid curtain of water at this point; he was keeping it off them with a very large telekinetic umbrella. No one would notice or care, he suspected. Everyone was very much concerned down below with seeing to the rescued children and hustling the now-handcuffed terrorists away. "Nervous few minutes, there..." A couple of the terrorists had been very quick on the trigger, as they'd expected, and had opened fire when the roof had peeled away. Upwards, thankfully, at him and Lorna instead of at the kids.

The metal band currently holding her hair out of her face had actually been formed from the bullets she'd caught. The elastic hair tie she'd been using had snapped sometime during the short conflict and she'd been forced to be inventive. "Yeah, I feel fine. Why, am I green again?" She glanced down her hands but with her gloves on it was a useless gesture.

"Maybe a bit," Nathan said, reassembling some of the broken wooden portions of the roof. Easy enough to repair; it wasn't taking much concentration, even. "You're just... very quiet." He gave her a slightly defensive grin. "No, that wasn't me suggesting that you usually talk too much. I have some sense."

"Oh." Lorna smoothed out the beam she was working on before moving to the next. "Just thinking, I guess. I was in high school for Columbine. Had study hall and a teacher who let us watch tv instead of working. The news reports cut into the soap we were watching." She shrugged, "This went better than I hoped."

"It was a good plan and we stuck to it," Nathan reminded her. "There's no universal rule that someone has to throw a monkeywrench into things. It just... happens a little more than it really should," he said with a faint smile, reassembling roof tiles. "Still. Not a bad likely last mission for you before you head off back to real life."

Lorna sighed, "Real life…yeah." Can't I just skip that and do this instead? she thought wistfully. It was stupid to be more nervy about that than risking her life here but… "I'm officially on hiatus as of Monday. It's weird, I never really wanted to do this in the first place."

Nathan glanced sideways at her, smiling a little more normally. "I'm going to miss my training buddy," he said, his tone light but the words sincerely-meant. "Still. You can always come back if the mood takes you. I suspect there's never not going to be a place among we leather-wearing idiots, and what you're doing..." His expression was almost wistful. "I'm envious. I really enjoyed my time at college, believe it or not, even if it was very part-time and even then getting constantly interrupted by 'work'." 'I have a paper due next week!' had not been an acceptable reason to skip missions in the eyes of the Mistra directors, sadly.

"I rather liked it the semester I was there before." She smiled, "Little known Lorna secret there, my short life at big kid school. Dad still hasn't forgiven me for transferring to Hawaii instead of back to UCLA. Of course, now it's all upper division work that I'm going to be walking into. I kinda feel like I cheated the system. I'm starting as a junior after only one real semester at college." She riveted the next beam into place. "I'm still not sure how I'm going to explain my thesis to my advisor. 'See the current magnetometers need to be recalibrated…how do I know? Well, I can feel it?'" She laughed, "That should go really well."

"Either that or he or she will consider you the niftiest thing since sliced bread," Nathan said whimsically. "Think of how much use you could be in the lab." The roof was coming along very nicely, he thought, pitching in to do his part with the non-metallic pieces.

"Except that I don't want to spend all my academic career in the lab. I'd rather spend it out doing field research." She blinked several times as her eyes unfocused and then refocused. Better finish this up soon. "They're doing this really fantastic research up in Canada to determine who owns a particular area."

"I read something about that," Nathan said thoughtfully, laying the shingles down in even rows. "Sounds really interesting, actually. I think--"

~Cable, Polaris,~ Scott's voice came over the com. ~Just about done up there?~

~Give us a few more minutes,~ Nathan responded, picking up the pace a little. If Scott wanted to get out of here quickly, he couldn't blame him. Press would be bad.

~Uh, might want to hurry it up.~ A pause. ~The mansion called. Moira's in labor.~

With a hastily constructed loop of metal, Lorna grabbed the ceiling tile that Nathan had just dropped and bolted it into place then streaked after her rapidly vanishing teammate. Complaints about how hard it was to fly using TK looked a little ridiculous right now. "Cable! The jet is faster!" she shouted at him, to prevent him from making the flight across the Atlantic solo.

--


On the flight back, Haroun deals very well with a rather agitated Nathan.


Haroun glanced down at the controls and leaned back. "Good to be back up in the air." he said to no-one in particular. "Still wanted to hit the dojo before we left, though." he grumbled.

Nathan appeared abruptly in the cockpit, startling a yelp out of Sam, who muttered something about 'needing a snack' and wisely vacated the premises. "Where are we?" Nathan asked in agitation. "Geography-wise, I mean."

Haroun glanced down at the flight radar. "Central America. Mexico, specifically. Why?" he asked, trying to hide a grin at his friend's obvious agitation.

"Because the plane is not going fast enough!" He was going to beat Scott, Nathan decided in agitation. Go back there, shake his CO out of his admittedly well-deserved nap, and beat him severely.

"Yes it is." he said calmly. "We're at a good cruising speed. Yeah, we could go faster, but we'd lose our stealth profile and waste fuel. We'll be there in a few hours. Go take a nap or read a book or something."

Nathan made a noise of frustration and dropped into the copilot's chair. "To hell with that. Kylun wanted me to meditate. Do I look like I want to meditate?"

"The plane's a little too small to spar in." he said sadly. "So unless you want to get out and walk, your options are kind of limited."

Nathan glared at him. "You are so completely unsympathetic," he growled. "Have I mentioned that?"

"Yes." he replied, still playing it straight. "And you will undoubtedly mention it again. If it wasn't risking Death By Optic Blast, I would suggest you go ask Fearless Leader if he would grant authorization to pour on some extra speed. You could even pick up the fuel bill when it was all said and done."

Nathan grumbled again, slouching in the chair. "He's a little strung out," he mentioned, trying to distract himself. "That went just fine, though. The rescue, I mean."

Haroun nodded. "Yep. It was a good plan, and we executed damned near flawlessly." he said with a grin. "Just about textbook, really. And damn, I do love me my flashbangs."

"You're a big kid," Nathan said. "Anything that goes bang or boom, and you're sold." He slouched a little further in the chair. "I can't believe she's in labor. I told her not to do that."

"Oh, and I'm sure her body listened to you." he smirked. "And there is _nothing wrong_ with things going bang or boom. After all, to hear some folks tell it you were quite the gunbunny for a while there."

"I probably made it happen," Nathan said mournfully. "Running off on a mission, stressing her out. Either that or she and the munchkin conspired to have it happen this way, just so that I would never be allowed to live it down..."

Haroun rolled his eyes. "Am I going to have to sedate you, or do you think you can keep the angst levels low in this cockpit?" he warned.

"I'm not angsting! Bite me!" Hitting him upside the head telekinetically while he was piloting would be a bad thing, Nathan told himself. Really. Even if the autopilot was on.

"Yes you are. You're channeling your inner Clarice. At any point now you're going to go write shitty poetry in your journal." he smirked, unable to keep a straight face any longer.

"Bastard," Nathan said halfheartedly. "You'll be laughing when they carry my dead body back out of the delivery room, won't you? Just laughing..."

"Probably. And then I'll be joining you in Hell as Moira murders me next." he laughed. A considering look, and he goosed the throttle forward. "You know, I've been meaning to look into that problem." he commented to no one in particular.

Nathan raised an eyebrow. "What problem?" Hell, if he focused on the conversation, he could maybe stop fussing. Quite so much.

"Throttle keeps slipping towards the high end." he said sadly. "So if I'm not really careful, things like this happen." he said, as he goosed the throttle open a little more. "See? Now we're accelerating again."

Nathan blinked, and then grinned. "Well, yes, you can't really let something like that slide for too long, can you? Not as a responsible maintainer of such a lovely plane..."

"It's just a damned shame, how much we keep on accelerating like this." he said, as he throttled forward again. "It's really wasteful of fuel. But unfortunately, the technique has limits, and we just reached them. Unless you want to theorize, implement, and test a new high-speed stealth system that can beat milspec radar?" he inquired. "Any faster and we outrun our stealth envelope."

They were going marginally faster. Any amount faster was good, Nathan told himself. "I wonder how Lorna does with EMPs," he mused aloud, thinking about those radar stations. "Joking," he said immediately. "Mostly."

"I don't know." he said. "And I am not willing to kick off a huge lightning strike at her or start detonating nukes to test the theory." he said firmly. "I'm wary of EMP, for obvious reasons."

Nathan snorted. "Obviously. And you're talking to the man who, even if he wishes a certain green-haired magnekinetic could manage some focused EM strikes to take out radar stations just now, very much knows better. Tends to make my powers go just a little haywire, remember? And I may want to be in Westchester now, but I also want to be in Westchester intact."

"True enough." he said mildly. "Make yourself useful and punch me up a weather map from NOAA, please? Maybe there's some nice winds we could ride, shave some time off of things."

Nathan leaned over to do so. "Kind of symmetrical, no?" he asked as the computer summoned up the weather map. "We save a bunch of kids, then race home for the birth of one of our own..."

"As much as I will vigorously deny saying this, I wish Ororo was here. There's nothing like getting your own personal jetstream..." he laughed.

--


Getting closer to their destination, Scott talks to Bobby, who's sitting the coms shift, and discovers that he's not in danger of murder-by-Scotswoman just yet.


Scott slid on the headset, then relaxed back into the seat. "Blackbird to mansion," he said. "We're somewhere over..." Hell, he didn't know where they were. "Land," he said with a weary sort of humor. "Please tell me if Moira's given birth? I need to know so that I can turn the plane around so we can all make a break for it if so..."

Bobby checked their position with a nod of satisfaction. "No baby yet. You're safe, still." He paused, and then added under his breath, "for now." He was glad he hadn't been anywhere near the chain of information on that little tidbit of news.

"Thank God." Scott meant that quite sincerely. "And we haven't had to sedate Nathan yet. I think Kylun's making him meditate." He mustered up a tired smile. "When did Ororo stick you with the coms shift?" he asked, hearing but not really registering the slight slur to his words. "Sneaky woman..."

"Not until all the fun was over," Bobby reassured him, leaning back in the chair, eyes scanning the monitors in front of him, slipping back into the old routine effortlessly. God, it felt good. "Congratulations on the mission, by the way." He didn't know the details yet, but had asked Ororo how it went, as he took over. The thumbs up and wide grin had said all he really needed to know.

"Kids again," Scott muttered, closing his eyes and focusing only on what he could hear. Bobby's voice through the headset and the ambient noise of the Blackbird. "Not nearly as bad as Youra, but bad enough. We got them all out unhurt, though..."

Bobby nodded. "That's the important thing, right?" He wanted to ask for details, because sitting at coms was making him itch to get back into the leathers, get back out on missions, but he was sure Scott had no desire to rehash it just now. He sounded tired. Beyond tired, really.

"Mmm. Lorna and Nathan yanked the roof right off the school," Scott murmured, his mind reviewing the events of the night. "Perfectly according to plan. Drew the gunfire upwards, away from the kids. Then the rest of us and the police came in the front way."

"That's fantastic," Bobby said wistfully, picturing it in his mind. "I mean--not the situation, but..." He trailed off with a sigh.

"It went pretty well." Scott's eyes opened and he stared off into the dimness of the cabin. Kylun and Nate and Lorna were in the cargo hold, Sam and Haroun in the cockpit... he felt very alone, suddenly. "Could have gone so wrong, though," he muttered, his mind suddenly full of the image of muzzle flashes in the dark.

"But it didn't," Bobby reminded him, absently monitoring with a slight frown. "Just focus on that, right?"

"They had people outside, too. Should have thought of that." They were just lucky that Nathan and Lorna's entrance had created such a diversion, or there would certainly have been casualties among the police at the very least. "I'll do the report when I get back," Scott said, trying to focus. "Have you and some of the others do tactical analysis of it..."

"And then you'll sleep." Bobby's voice held a hint of a smile in it, and he was more than prepared to tattle to Jean, if needs be. "You need it, boss man."

"I napped on the plane," Scott said. "Just now..." He smiled a little. "Boss man. Missed that, you know. Not that I mind the other nicknames. No one calls me Captain Fuckwad anymore..."

"Not to your face," Bobby retorted cheerfully, grinning. "And don't think you're getting out of sleep with a 'supposed' nap on the 'bird. I'll tell Jeeeean..." he singsonged, double-checking the Blackbird's flight path with a practiced glance.

"Not at all, I hope," Scott muttered. "But I will sleep. Once I do the retort... report. I don't think there was any press there that saw us," he said, his mind going right back to one of the things that did worry him. "We were trying to stay out of sight..."

"Stop stressing, man. You did good. Mission accomplished, everyone alive. Stop sweating the small stuff--there's nothing you can do about it." Not that Bobby had any illusions that his words would have any effect--Scott may have mellowed some, but he was still type-A as all hell.

Scott heard what Bobby was saying and registered, at least to some extent, the sense behind it, but it didn't really sink in. His thoughts were going in (admittedly sluggish) circles, and didn't seem to want to stop. "Was thinking about how useful you could have been tonight," Scott murmured. And he had been, his mind running through all the X-Men and trainees available, how he might have put them to use if his preferred team hadn't been available.

"Yeah? Well, I'm ready as soon as you think I am." Of course, he still had a ways to go physically before Scott was likely to clear him as a full team member--but mentally, he was ready, and had no problem letting Scott know this.

"That's good. More manpower. Always good. Jean too, did I tell you that?" But thinking about that made him feel vaguely ill, and he swallowed hard. "I should... when I get back, remind me to run you through the rest of those tactical tests this week. Get them out of the way so that we can get you back into scenarios as soon as possible."

"Sounds good. I'm ready." Bobby looked up as Ororo's head popped around the doorway, updating on the labor. He gave her a thumbs up and relayed the message. "Baby update--still nothing but a pregnant Scotswoman I don't want to get near."