Mutants and Molotovs: Long Afternoon

[x-cyclops.livejournal.com]

Noon, and the situation is far from under control. Ferrying the injured to the triage center, Kurt and Warren run into trouble. Seattle is not a good place to be a visible mutant today.


The riot was getting worse.

That much would have been obvious to the untrained eye, and to those who had been working in the midst of the chaos since the middle of the previous night, it was an unhappy, but not totally unexpected realization. News had come over the communications net that some of the militant anti-mutant groups, the FoH and its international equivalents, had begun to rally in increasing numbers at various points in the downtown. It was an open secret, now, that the police had mutants assisting them, and it had had the predictable effect in those particular quarters.

The clouds had moved in, covering almost the entire sky in a thick, dark gray blanket. Only the horizon, was still clear, and rain was already beginning to fall on the city.

Warren's wings were starting to ache in a way he had almost forgotten that they could, the strain of a long day of ferrying the injured from the scene and to the safety of the triage centers set up to tend to the more seriously injured in the rioting.

"Kurt, how're things looking from your vantage point?" he said into the headset he'd been assigned so that Kurt and himself could better coordinate the humanitarian aid they were providing.

"Not so good", came the grim and weary answer over the headset. "The riot is not dying out. The opposite, in fact."

"Same thing from up here." Warren responded, banking as he caught sight of someone who appeared to have been a victim of the one of the more recent melees.

"I found one Kurt...this woman appears to be pretty badly trampled, I don't know if she's especially flightworthy." he said as he landed next to the bloodied woman, appearing for all the world like the angel of mercy that he was acting like.

"Why couldn't we have talked Blink into helping?" he mumbled to himself as he waited for Kurt's response.

"I will be there in one moment", Kurt answered, 'porting his current patient back to the triage centre before he went to pick up Warren's. "Is she conscious?"

"She is, but it appears that she's terribly dazed at best. I would guess she's got at least a severe concussion." Warren explained to the Bavarian mutant, imagining how the discussion between the angelic-looking flier and the demonic-aspected teleporter must be penetrating her dazed mind.

It wouldn't have surprised him at all if the woman thought she was dead and that her soul was being fought over by an angel and a demon.

Kurt nodded. "It has been known to cause nausea, when I take passengers. But she cannot stay here."

"Who...?" the woman asked hazily, blinking up at them. "... police?" Her eyes tried to focus on the front of Warren's uniform.

Warren kneeled down next to her and made a hushing noise.

"We're here to help. My friend Kurt here is going to teleport you back to where we can get you some medical attention. I warn you, you may feel some nausea but it's perfectly safe." he said in his most comforting voice as he gestured to the yellow-eyed figure behind him.

Kurt nodded, joining Warren at her side and keeping his tail out of sight while trying to work out how best to hold her. "You will be with the doctors in just a few moments."

Too hurt to protest, she just nodded tiredly. As Kurt leaned over her, there was a shout from the end of the street. "Hey!" The young man gazed at them for a moment, eyes wide, and then turned back towards the direction from which he'd come, waving wildly. "There's some of them right here!" he shouted, presumably to companions around the corner. "A guy with wings!"

Warren's attention shifted towards the voice and he stood up in time to see a number of irate rioters come barreling around the corner towards them.

"Kurt, you really need to get going...now!" he said, his wings fanning out to take to the sky and hopefully take the attention away from the injured woman and Kurt.

Kurt was already wrapping his arms around the woman, as carefully as he could, but speed was more important now. "Get out of here, Warren. I will be gone before they reach us."

One of the rioters threw a bottle. It shattered on the rain-speckled pavement a few feet ahead of where Kurt, Warren, and the injured woman were, and she moaned, flinching and automatically shrinking towards Kurt, as if for protection.

"Mutie police!" one of the lead rioters jeered. "What the hell are they going to think of next?"

Warren gave Kurt a nod that indicated he understood before he took to the air in a rushing of wind and feathers, launching himself in the rioters' direction as if to charge them.

Yes, it was a stupid thing to do, but at least it would give Kurt the chance to get out of there before anymore projectiles were tossed in their direction.

That... wasn't quite what Kurt had had in mind. But he had his patient to worry about. With her firmly in his arms, the next moment he was gone.

The rioters scattered, their courage obviously a little questionable when faced with an actual mutant coming at them. One, the one who'd yelled, rallied and rushed at Warren.

Warren was quite relieved when he heard the telltale 'Bamf' of Kurt teleporting away, and as he saw that only one of the rioters had the courage to come and rush him head on, Warren let out a loud laugh of excitement. It was like playing 'chicken' with someone with murderous rage in their heart.

The man seemed to have an inspiring effect on his fellows - and not in the good way. A few of them kept running, but more of them turned back and followed the leader, one more classic example of the mob mentality at work, just like so many others throughout the city today.

Warren noticed the crowd starting to charge him and he let out a soft exclaimation of dismay as he plowed into the guy in what was best described as a flying tackle that took the guy down and left Warren falling into a crowd of rather irate rioters.

And here came the deus ex machina, not that he'd think of himself that way. Kurt appeared at the edge of the crowd, and immediately launched himself forward in his trademark whirlwind move.

There were, however, rather a number of rioters. With numbers came courage, not unexpectedly - or perhaps it was fear. Either way, more of them charged the two X-Men, with what would have been a commendable amount of enthusiasm had it been used for more productive means.

Warren was dazed by the collision, in no way prepared to have half a dozen rioters swarm around him. Trying his best to get back to his feet, he used his wings as best he could to push those closest to him away, hoping to get enough room to get airborne again.

Kurt was doing the best he could, kicking and punching to try and clear a space for them to either fly or teleport out. He was being hit back, though, which complicated things.

"Ugh, what's that smell-"

"Get him-"

Warren, sadly, was still getting terribly pummeled by the attackers, so he wasn't able to get any more airborne than Kurt was able to teleport away. So, he did what next came to mind.

He started fighting back, trying to give the rioters two targets to try to hone in on and divide their attention. It may have been ineffective (and frankly a bit stupid) but desperate times called for desperate measures.

Stupid, maybe, but in the circumstances it was all they could do. Kurt was concentrating on trying to keep himself and Warren from being separated, as well as get them clear.

And then, all at once, there were riot police there. They waded into the crowd with batons, breaking up the melee with practiced efficiency. Their efforts were very clearly directed at getting Kurt and Warren clear, as much as breaking up the crowd.

Warren fought as valiantly as he could, trying to use all the training he'd been given as a member of the X-men. Sadly, Warren was growing tired and he couldn't keep up with the fight as well as he could've earlier in the day. Lucky for him, he got a couple of choice blows in and cleared himself enough room to take flight again, which he did.

"Kurt, can you get away?" he asked into his headset as he gained altitude.

"I am clear", Kurt confirmed, taking a moment to catch his breath and gather himself before he 'ported away, heading back to the infirmary to have his cuts and bruises seen to.

~*~


"Shopping" during a riot is very tempting for some but it can be risky business. Scott and Jean manage to discourage a looter without laying a finger on him. (And not just because Jean is telekinetic.)


Most people, Ed felt, probably looked upon the chaos as a problem. And, he was willing to admit, for most people it was a problem. But Ed Morgans was not most people. Ed Morgans was smart. Ed Morgans was savy. Where other people saw a problem, he saw an opportunity. And what an opportunity it was. The rioters had gone past, destroying just about everything they saw, including the windows of some very nice shops and, of course, the police were all busy elsewhere. Which meant that Ed has his chance, and he was going to take it.

Or so he thought. The redhead standing in his way had other idea.

"You want to put that back," Jean said, nodding to the top of the line dvd player the man was holding. "Now."

"That's where you're wrong, sweetheart."

"Don't call her sweetheart, jackass." Scott stepped over the remains of the window into the store. "She gets angry, and you wouldn't like her when she's angry."

Ed eyed the man, raising an eyebrow at him. "Yeah, right. Like I'm afraid of a chick." Hell, the guy didn't even look that impressive, and the two of them clearly had some weird leather fetish thing going on.

"Calling me a chick, also not a good idea," Jean answered in that frighteningly calm voice she used on the students when she was angry.

She was going to do something unfortunate in a moment, Scott judged, his eyes sliding sideways to her. #You want to take this one? Or at least catch the DVD player if I do?#

#You can have him if you like. I'd probably be over the top...# Not that she wouldn't enjoy going over the top, it had been a long night, but it might be a bad idea.

"All right," Scott said determinedly, moving in on the man. "Put it back on the shelf. Or I drag you out of here and have a very good time doing it." He was too tired to be diplomatic.

"Oh yeah, Slim? You and Legs over there? I don't think so."

"Noticed her legs, did you? To be honest, I'm a big fan of them myself, but really? I love her primarily for her brain." Scott gave him a tight smile. "I find it impossibly sexy if a woman's able to fling cars around just by thinking about it."

Ed blinked, not sure what the guy was talking about. "You wha..." He trailed off as the dvd player was wrenched out of his grip by invisible hands and returned itself to the shelf. The slow comprehension dawning across his face was almost comic. "Oh shit..."

"She moves things with her mind. I blow shit up," Scott said with a crooked smile. "Now. The police have their hands full with people who are being much more naughty than you tonight, Ed. If we let you go, will you go home and stop helping yourself?"

Getting out of this situation would be a very good thing, Ed decided. Getting out of this situation conscious and not in cuffs would be better yet. "Yeah, sure man," he said, backing up slowly. "Whatever you say." And if they left he could...

"If we left, you could go home. And not leave. And not even think about what you're thinking about." Jean smiled thinly. "Oh, didn't he mention, that's the other thing I do..."

Scott managed to repress the laughter until after the terrified Ed had fled the store. "All right," he said, turning back towards Jean. "He is headed home, I'm gathering?"

Jean smiled, glad to have had a confrontation tonight which didn't end with bruised knuckled or a worsening of her headache. "Yep. I do believe we spooked him, Slim."

"Excellent, Legs. Shall we move on and find another victim?"

"Yes, let's." Ducking out through the window again, Jean waited until he was out of the store before lifting the counter and moving it in front of the window. It wouldn't stop anyone who was really determined, but it might discourage someone at first glance. Turning back to him, she shook her head. "'Impossibly sexy' to be able to fling a car?" she asked as they headed down the street.

"Absolutely," Scott said firmly. "Intimidating as all hell, but very sexy."

Jean laughed. "You're a strange man, love."


~*~


Seventeen hours in, and exhaustion's starting to take hold. Nathan and Wanda are swept together by the tides of the riot and do what they can to help handle an angry crowd, including one very hostile plasma projector.


Out of control. Despite the best efforts of the police and the National Guard - and there'd been more of the latter deployed over the course of the afternoon, Nathan knew - the rioting was not diminishing, but worsening. He had been taking a few minutes' break atop another building, using the time to shore up his shields, but then the call had come over the com, telling him that Wanda needed help.

I feel like one of those jumping insects, Nathan thought tiredly, pushing telekinesis through his psimitar to propel him from building to building, and then down in a graceful forty-story leap to the street, ignoring the yelps from a couple of scattered protestors who immediately ran in the other direction.

The bulk of the crowd was down the street and angry, he sensed. Them, a Guard unit trying to break them up, and Wanda doing what she could with some creative application of chaos.

Unable to reach the roofs above her, Wanda had taken to the next best thing in order to physically see as much of the crowd as possible. She crouched carefully on part of the fire escape, trying to keep as many of the men in the guard unit beneath her safe as possible.

Sweat drenched her from head to toe and she had had to stop a few times because she'd been pushing her powers far too much. Sighing, she did it again, smiling a bit when someone tried to throw a rock and it just ended up hitting his buddy who had been about to sneak up on a now-surprised Guard.

But they were starting to gain ground and all of the lines were so red that she was growing leery of using them. That much red meant something would break badly. And that was not what they needed.

Nathan spotted her on the fire escape. Taking a deep breath, he headed that way, but went straight up through the air instead of climbing. "Hey," he said, landing lightly beside her. "You're pushing too hard. Take a break, let me take over for a minute." His psimitar was glowing again, fiercely, and not for the first time, Nathan thought that it felt warm, even through his gloves.

"Watch me complain." Letting herself slump back against the rough brick wall, she stared out over the mob and police. "It feels never ending," Wanda pointed out, lips pressing together. "I think I surpassed my reserves hours ago. Every time I open my powers it is like I'm being rubbed raw."

"Have you stopped at one of the Guard posts or something and gotten something to eat recently?" He was too tired to be subtle. A wall of telekinesis pushed back a couple of dozen rioters, knocking them off their feet, and he sent a quick telepathic warning to the Guard commander as to what he was doing. The man's unspoken reply was startled, but understanding. "Though I shouldn't talk. I think my blood sugar is in the negative values right now."

"Your wife is going to kick your ass. But, yes, right before I went off with Kylun I had some food and something to drink." Wanda peered around him. "They're regrouping on the left, Nathan. It is the situation, I have not felt right since the sky started to crack." Yes, that really only made sense to her but she was too tired to care.

Nathan eyed her for a moment, and then did what Cain had once called 'the invisible bowling ball trick' with the rioters she'd pointed out. "This can't keep going indefinitely," he said tiredly. "They're deploying more Guard units. At some point, the rioters are going to wear down too."

Standing up, pushing herself off the wall, Wanda stood by Nathan and took everything in again. "It's still very red," was the calm reply, "so I am not sure when it will die down." She scrunched up her nose. "My brain feels raw."

"I'm not surprised. Those of us who rely on our brains for these things are almost always at a dis-" Nathan whirled and grabbed Wanda, shielding her with his body - just in case - even as he threw up a TK shield just in time to intercept the bulk of the plasma-blast that came at them from one of the rioters in the crowd.

It protected them, but not the fire escape. It collapsed beneath them, giving way.

The second Wanda felt the metal under her feet slip away, she lashed out, pushing and pulling strings. The last thing they wanted was to land on pieces of jutting metal if Nathan couldn't hold them up. With a shrieking noise, it fell towards the crowd, causing them to scatter.

The shock of the blast hitting his shield prevented him from just levitating them in place, but he managed to slow the momentum of their fall to the equivalent of ten feet or so. And made sure that he landed first - his uniform was considerably more heavily-armored than Wanda's. Still, it was enough to knock the breath out of him.

Nathan was many things but he did not make for soft landings she found out, landing on top of him with a gasp as the air rushed out of her. Pushing herself up, she groaned and then cursed in every language she knew. The Guards, thankfully, had taken up position around them, protecting them until they had managed to regain their feet.

But it seems that the fallen fire escape HAD done some good.

"That," Nathan wheezed, sensing a significant portion of the crowd backing off, shocked by the plasma blast and the collapse of the fire escape, "was actually... really b-brilliant." There were hands there, helping him and Wanda both up, and Nathan ignored the Guard medic asking them if they were all right, instead turning his attention to the particular thought-pattern that had launched that attack.

Somehow, he found the man, even in the crowd. One good telekinetic yank and the other mutant was pulled backwards, though the air and to a bruising landing on the pavement in front of two Guardsmen. Nathan sensed him trying to concentrate, to rally his powers for another blast, and sent an immediate telepathic command to go to sleep.

"If painful," Wanda responded, peering through the crowd where the attacker had come from. There was a small group of people milling about, seemingly unsure of what to do. Movement caught her attention and she turned her head.

Another man was...she tilted her head and blinked. He was running straight for them, hands out...ah. Mutant, touch based powers, she assumed. But she was in no mood to deal with something like this right now.

As he took another step, there was a soft clinking noise as his belt buckle suddenly fell apart. Within seconds, he was face down on the ground with his pants around his feet.

He was not going to laugh, Nathan told himself. Really, there was nothing at all funny about the situation. "Don't make skin-to-skin contact," he warned the two Guardsmen who rushed forward. "Damn it," he muttered to Wanda, "they're not set up for dealing with mutants, none of them..."

"Which is why we're overworked," she replied softly. "Though they are learning but I'm worried it is not fast enough." Wanda tilted her head up to the sky and peered at it with her powers. She smiled, just a bit. "Take a look if you wish, I can see some of the sky through the red--it is lessening."

He did, and a tired smile flickered across his face. "Good to know we're having some effect, at least." Futility was the killer, in situations like this. If there was progress... well, he couldn't speak for anyone else, but that was all he really needed to know.

It was no longer painful to use her powers--or, well, not as painful anyway. The sheer amount of things that could break or go wrong or go oddly had been grating on Wanda since it began. Turning to Nathan, she sighed. "Before we go back into the fray, I would highly suggest some food. Moira would kill me if I let you fall over from low-blood sugar."