Search and Rescue - Hell hath no fury

[x-jeangrey.livejournal.com]

Ororo's team arrives in Wyoming, and small team or not, the X-Men descend on the missile silo like the proverbial wrath of God. While they're dealing with Lyman's people, Jean slips away to find Scott.

And she does.


The hope that Ororo had felt at locating Scott's whereabouts was quickly mingling with a dozen other emotions, none of them nearly as welcome. Nerves and doubt at her ability to plan an infiltration threatened to quash the optimism she had felt earlier in the day. But I cannot concentrate on that, she thought, remembering back to the strategy and planning sessions at the Mansion she had been attending for years now. Another wave of dread rose in her stomach as she remembered the person who had been her constant companion in those sessions and the danger he was in now. We are coming, Scott. Hold on.

Perhaps part of her unease was the slapdash manner of this mission -it had literally been thrown together on the Blackbird as they approached the coordinates where Kurt and Jamie had contacted them. Of course Ororo trusted her team and their ability to follow orders... it was just the orders she was worried about. Still, necessity demanded action now, and there was no way they could wait for anyone else to make their way to this remote spot before it was too late.

And so here they were, precious minutes ticking by as Ororo reviewed everything - the sparse information they had and the plan she had put together. Finally she knew that the urgency of Scott's situation was beginning to outweigh the possible chances of failure - they had to go now. Looking around at her team one more time, Ororo mustered a sense of assurance that she wasn't sure she had, and nodded. "Let us move out."

Marie nodded at Ororo's order, wondering how she remained so calm. She knew she was visibly shaking – these people had Scott, had picked him up mere miles from the mansion and he had been in their possession for too many days. It felt like the flight had taken ages to reach the coordinates they had been given and now they had to get Scott out.

It made sense for her to go in first since she had the least chance of getting hurt. With what little time they'd had to plan this mission, there was too much of a chance that the unexpected would arise. Flying up, she floated over the silo and began counting guards. She could only spot a handful, which meant there were probably another handful hidden in the surrounding area. And, she realized, they had spotted her. Let's get this started.

Diving down as quickly as she could she grabbed one guard and swung him around to knock out the two guards standing next to him. A sharp rap to his temple and that was three down. Of course, now the remaining five she could see had their weapons trained on her and it didn't look like they'd be asking her any questions. "Now you boys toss your weapons down real nice and Ah'll be on my way," she drawled. The sound of bullets being fired was the all too predictable response.

Calmly walking up to one of the guards as he repeatedly fired at her, she took his gun and broke it in half. "Didn't your momma teach you how to treat a lady?" she quipped as she punched him, watching him fly ten feet and crumple to the ground. She turned to the face the rest of the guards who had scrambled into a haphazard formation. Two guards conferred quickly and then muttered orders that she couldn't quite hear. One man took out a grenade, pulled the pin and threw it at her.

"Ah really don't have time for this," she said in an irritated voice as she deftly caught it and squeezed. The resulting explosion ripped apart some her glove and she looked down at it in disgust.

Launching herself forward, she quickly knocked out the rest of the guards. By moving closer together, they made it easy for her to knock them out, often using the body of one unconscious guard to take out another. Wiping her hands off when she was done, she moved forward to inspect the hatch to the silo. She experimentally hit it as hard as she could and smiled in satisfaction at the dent that appeared. Lifting off she flew up and then dove at the hatch with both of her hands held together, making one fist. The sound of her hitting the door was deafening and she winced. Oh well. One more hit oughta do it. She went up again and then came crashing down, this time rewarded by the hinges of the door breaking and she rode on top of the door until it hit the ground below. At the startled look from the guards on her method of arrival, she smiled and back-flipped. Landing behind a console, she knocked out the one guard next to her and ducked down to wait for her back up.

The few guns that Rogue had left in working condition didn't remain that way. In spite of the way her arm was strapped to her side, Lorna's stride lost nothing in its cold purpose. Cameras shorted out as she walked through, the faint pop-hiss indicating their demise. Alarms screamed in ever increasing panic.

There was fear of course and worry but it was all blanketed over with a thick, numbing sense of rage. Not just wild anger but the utterly detached hatred that she hadn't felt in months. It didn't feel like part of her but then again, she wasn't sure that it was. She didn't care. She just used it.

Guards with their guns trained on the other X-Man didn't even have time to register the new woman in black before the guns they were holding ripped out of their hands and slammed into their guts before kicking back to smash their faces. The barrels crumpled to useless scrap metal.

Lorna held still for a moment, eyes closed, watching the shifting green world that lay under the surface. "We're about to have lots of company," Lorna told the other members of the team. A sharp twist and pull on the EM fields, and Lorna smiled with perfect malice, "They have no guns."

Ororo noticed the look on Lorna's face and considered ordering her to stand down, but no one was dead, and Scott still hadn't been located. Recovery would have to wait until after – though hopefully it wouldn't be too late by then.

The slap of booted feet on concrete began to echo around them as guards poured in the room, still intent on stopping the intruders despite their lack of weaponry. The thick smell of ozone accompanied them, smudging the clean atmosphere of the silo as Ororo stepped into the center of the room. Eyes glazed, she tilted her head back and gathered the moisture in the air and pushed it upwards, at the same time causing the temperature of the room to drop sharply. All of a sudden a cloud bloomed above them out of nowhere, heavy with precipitation and roiling with a growing darkness.

A few of the men paused, looking upwards in confusion and shock. The others continued to approach the leather-clad interlopers, though even they skidded to a stop as a jagged tongue of lightning reached out from the cloud and licked the floor. Seconds later, a downpour began, quickly drenching X-Men and soldiers alike. Through this all, Ororo stood like a statue, barely seeming to feel the gusts of wind or heavy rain as she worked to build the storm stronger and stronger.

Kurt was quick to take advantage of the soldiers' distraction, moving through the room like a whirlwind. It only seemed appropriate to use the manoeuvre on these men that they - or their colleagues - had taught him, and there wasn't a man left standing as he passed.

They literally had no chance. Though a few charged him, Kurt was quite simply not there, usually when they were too committed to their charge to turn and defend themselves when he appeared behind them. He went in and out of reality with dizzying speed, and the stink and smoke of his teleportation was washed away in the torrential rain. In the dark of Ororo's storm, Kurt was nearly invisible.

No chance. At all. If they hit the walls or the floor harder than was comfortable, no critical damage was done. This attack, like those of his teammates, was not about doing damage. Not about looking for revenge. It was about removing obstacles in as fast, efficient, and disciplined a way as was possible under the circumstances.

The man they were here to retrieve would want it that way, after all.

Though Ororo could've kept the storm going much, much longer, giving 'voice' to her frustration and worry, she knew this was neither the time nor the place. Scott had yet to be found, and though they had dealt well enough with the soldiers they had encountered, there was no telling how many more would come. Bit by bit she began to lessen the rain, glancing around to visually check on each member of the team.

Marie was fine, easily using her strength to incapacitate the guards around her. Lorna's face was still slightly twisted, but a quick glance did not show anyone dead or dying in her wake. Kurt was still nothing more than a blur, and Jean... Jean wasn't anywhere in sight. Almost desperately Ororo whirled, searching out the red-haired figure in vain. She wasn't there. Oh, no.

---

He couldn't seem to catch his breath, as if he couldn't physically make his lungs inflate. There were bursts of light in the dark, and the room he couldn't see felt like it was spinning around him. Hurt. Everything hurt, pain nearly blotting out what was left of the world.

"I will ask you again, Mr. Summers-"

Scott heard the familiar hum and crackle even past the roaring in his ears. Someone made a noise that sounded like a moan - couldn't be him, could it? Not when he couldn't breathe. Charles was there, somewhere, but he couldn't feel him as strongly in his head. It was like the pain had driven him out. Was that what had happened? Was he alone again?

"The name of the researcher-"

Jean had the vague sense that someone, maybe someones had tried to stop her. Somewhere behind her she could hear the X-Men fighting, but it didn't concern her any more than the guards she'd simply tossed into the wall concerned her. She'd opened her shields, trying to reach Scott, but the pain fogging his mind was keeping her out and all she could do was follow the mental trail to him, pushing against the walls, begging him to let her in.

He couldn't focus. He couldn't focus, and he needed to focus, because someone was trying to talk to him. All that came out as he tried to answer was another broken moan. His muscles were spasming, convulsions racking his body.

"Just the name, and this will stop-"

The electrodes touched his skin again and he screamed.

The scream echoing down the hall was definitely what broke her. And the door. There had been a door in the way and then, with a crunch and a thud, there wasn't. And there were men in the room, and they needed to not be a problem any more.

Even as they turned towards the intruder the psychic blast hit them, shutting their minds down without turning them off and the men collapsed to the floor, eyes staring at but not seeing the woman wreathed in a faint heat shimmer as she stepped into the room.

The men no longer a concern, Jean turned her attention to the machine Scott was hooked up to. She didn't have the time to figure out how to turn it off, so she simply crushed it as she rushed towards him. "Scott? Oh, God, Scott? Can you hear me?" The electrodes were pulled away from him as she reached him, hands going to cradle his face, the blood noted and filed away as one more thing the men would have to Pay for.

No. It was the one thought he was capable of forming, and even Charles whispering reassurance in his mind wasn't enough, because she wasn't here, she couldn't be here. They'd tricked him before. This was just more of the same. She'd tell him that it was all right, that he was safe, and then try and get the information out of him. Just like before. Just like... Hands touched his face, gentle, and an anguished sob escaped Scott.

The sound echoed down into Jean's mind and in a second the lock holding his restraints had shattered, the small pieces of shrapnel flying in a disturbingly accurate path straight into the nearest torturer's arm. She was more gentle with the straps holding the eyepiece on, carefully lifting it away from his face. "Scott, darling, it's ok. You're going to be ok. We're taking you home."

... she hadn't taken it off before. She... Scott blinked, his eye watering and blurring and his breath catching raggedly in his chest. Light. There was light. There hadn't been light before, and the blurry shape standing in the light moved closer, resolved into red hair and a familiar face...

"Jean."

The not-quite-as-disturbing-as-it-possibly-should-have-been urge to destroy the men who had done this to Scott melted away as holding him became infinitely more important. Jean felt the walls in his mind melt away and she all but tumbled into his mind, sending him all the love and reassurance she could. #I'm here. They're never taking you away from me again.#

Scott slumped against her, fighting for breath. He could hear his own pulse thundering in his ears. #Jean...# She was in his mind, he could feel her. This was real. From somewhere he found the strength to move his arms, abused muscles screaming in protest as he clung to her.

#Shh, shh,# was all she could manage as she held him, burying her face in his shoulder. #Not letting them hurt you.# And very carefully she dulled the part of his mind that was feeling the pain - not taking it away, but making it less pressing, something he could handle more easily. #We're going home.#

Real. Real. "A-Alex," Scott gasped out aloud, but it hurt. His throat was raw. #Is he... is he okay?# There were tears trickling from his eye, or it was watering, he wasn't sure which.

#Fine,# Jean hurried to reassure him. "Alex is fine. Worried, but fine." Looking up, Jean smoothed the tears off his cheeks. "He's waiting back at the mansion."

Scott nearly went limp with relief, another sob escaping. Safe. Alex was safe and this was real, and it was over... he clung to Jean, all of that terrible tension draining away.

Jean clung back, rocking him slightly as she held on, her own tears of relief sliding down her cheeks unnoticed.

Another figure appeared in the door then, her cape fluttering slightly as she skidded to a stop. Ororo blinked, almost not believing her eyes. Scott was there, and Jean, and in one piece... which was almost more than could be said for the door, or the guards scattered around the room. They were comatose, with trickles of blood painted across their cheeks as they lay on the floor. Relief at finding Scott mixed with the cold feeling of dread as she looked at their blank faces. What happened here?

"Jean... Scott. The situation is nearly under control. We need to get out of here."

Jean looked up, almost startled to have someone else near by, then realized what 'Ro had said and nodded. "Yes, out. Home." She turned back to Scott, her focus once more becoming almost absolute. #Come on, love,# she sent, carefully helping him to sit up, wincing with him as the extent of his injuries became more apparent. "I'm not sure he can walk," she said, her voice edging back into that dangerous flatness.

"No!" It came out almost panicky, and Scott clung to Jean, blinking in a vain attempt to clear his vision. The light hurt, but he wouldn't have traded it for anything. "No, I can walk," he managed, his voice a pained rasp. "Have to." He was walking out of here under his own power, even if he faceplanted as soon as he stepped onto the Blackbird.

The flatness was gone in an instant as she tried to reassure him. "Ok, ok, shhh. Scott, shh. It's ok. You'll walk. We'll walk." Cause Jean would be damned if she was moving even an inch from his side.

Ororo stepped up beside the two, for now ignoring the man with the shards of shrapnel lodged in his arm lying next to them. "I want you both to come with me," she said, the steel in her voice unbending as she looked down at Scott's battered face. "We will all go together."