xp_logs | Phalanx: Just Call Us The Persians (Reply)

The X-Men make their jump. Legion has some difficulties, but finds out that he does not, in fact, need a save.

"Just tell me," Jim yelled over the rushing air as Marie turned from ushering the second-to-last jumper out of the hatch, "how long did it take you to get used to jumping out of things?"

"First time Ah've ever jumped out've a plane," she replied cheerfully, raising her voice to be heard over the noise from the wind. She waited patiently for the tall man to make his way closer to the hatch. If not for the trip to take Yvette home, Marie would've felt strange to be alone with Haller...or as alone was each of them could be with someone else. "Ah usually jump offa things instead of outta them, but it doesn't seem much different...even if Ah couldn't fly, Ah wouldn't really be hurt when Ah landed, so guess Ah don't see much reason to be scared of it." Gesturing at the door, she smiled at Haller. "Ready? Or d'ya need a little help?"

"No, thanks, I'm okay." The time they'd been told to wait between jumpers to avoid possible entanglement had elapsed. Jim was the last. There was no excuse to burden Marie when she needed to watch for problems, even if it was just to give Jean or Nathan or whoever a heads-up, and even though he thought she still would if he asked it of her he didn't look forward to what the voices in his head would say to asking a 21 year old girl to carry him. Jim foresaw Comments. Lots of them.

Jim gave the younger woman a smile as he moved to buckle on his oxygen mask. "I'll see you on the ground."

She smiled back and then took a step back as Haller jumped out of the plane. Readjusting her comm as she waited the requisite spacing period, Marie peeked out the door to scan her teammates spread out below her. Stepping out the hatch door, she hovered in mid air as the wind rushed past, then allowed herself to begin falling, continuing to watch to make sure nothing was going wrong.

After stepping into the open air the hard part of this was over. As he fell Jim could make out the shapes of his teammates moving in the sky below, too far and too dark to distinguish who was who. The parachutes were nothing more than black splotches against the land. Air screamed in his ears, but there was a strange sensation of peace as he fell, held by nothing.

Jim kept his head turned to the side, forcing his breathing regular into the mask. Out of the corner of his eye he caught the flash of movement that was Marie streaking out of the plane to make her own way down. Her presence above him made him feel better. He waited until he reached the appropriate altitude, and then, as practiced, yanked the release.

And knew immediately something wasn't right. He felt the slither of nylon unfolding from pack, but what should have been a strong jerk as the 'chute took the air -- wasn't. He felt weak pressure, a momentary interruption of his fall, and then he began to spin. Downward. Too fast. Fighting back instinctive panic, the telepath forced his head to turn further around the pounding air-pressure and saw the canopy of his parachute was tangled.

Marie watched the series of chutes deploy as each X-Men triggered their parachute at the appropriate altitude. It was strangely pretty, each rectangle expanding to fill the sky beneath her. She frowned as the last in the series didn't burst out as it should. Focusing her attention on the body spinning faster and faster in the sky, she began moving closer to Haller - it wasn't time to panic yet, but it was time to get into position in case she needed to intervene.

Jim's thoughts flashed emergency cord telepathy call Marie Nate Jean Shiro Sam, options options options to save him here -- and then, abruptly, one crystal-sharp realization tore through them all.

We don't need saving.

And just like that his world was closed to fear.

"Rule one is keep body position correct, yes? Flat like paper, fall slow. Skinny like javelin, eh, fall like missile and go boom."

The wind was beating at his face and hair and leathers like a solid thing, but the air wanted to help him take the position of least resistance. That was where he had to go. He drew himself in, arms close and legs drawn together, and leaned forward. As his teammate's flight began to arc towards him the twisted canopy ripped free and spiraled away behind him, every contact point snapped at once.

It always had been easier to focus on things coming at speed.

Crapcrapcrapcrapcrap. There was no time to think, she just needed to react to the situation and get herself moving. Flipping, Marie dove through the air, closing the distance between Haller and herself despite the speed with which he was falling through the air. Her hair whipped behind her as the wind blew by faster and faster as she pushed herself to move quicker through the air. Frowning, she realized something wasn't right. He was falling too fast to make sense. Pushing the thoughts out of her mind, she stretched out her arm, reaching for the cords trailing out from his pack. Just another few seconds and she would grab him.

Something reaching for him, trying to interfere; an extra burst of speed ripped him from fingers a hairs' breadth from grasping the dangling lines, and now there was the ground coming on both of them--

Fifteen feet before critical impact as the young man's trajectory arced sharply. The dirt erupted on pursuer and pursued as all the momentum he'd harnessed to control his fall was driven into the ground before and around, showering rocks and grass. Slowing, slowing, slowing, holding himself horizontal to the ground as he flashed over it, teeth gritting under an application of opposing force used for the first time.

Of course, although Youra was sparse and the jumps had been organized to give the jumpers as clear landing area as they could. His jump area had been remote anyway, but he was already several hundred yards off-target, and had no way to stop cold.

And then there was that cliff.

Luckily for the man hurtling towards the rock face, Rogue hadn't stopped for long at the surprise of the man she'd been trying to rescue purposefully evading her reach. Marie busted through the rocks showering the air, not even taking the time to maneuver around them and stretched to reach for him one last time. She didn't allow herself time to focus on the thought that had popped into her mind - first she needed to keep Haller from breaking his face. Grabbing the parachute harness firmly, she suddenly reversed the direction of her flight and yanked backwards.

Hard.

Breathing heavily as the pair came to a screeching halt, Marie stared at the cliff face less than an inch from Haller's nose, then turned her attention to the back of the man's head. Spinning him around slowly, she found herself staring into hard grey eyes. Arm dropping to her side as her suspicion was confirmed, she quickly took a step back, eyes wide. "Hello Jack."

Dust kicked up by their landing swirled around them in eddies different than those of mere movement. The other man dragged off his oxygen mask and coughed, turning sideways to hawk onto the ground. At Marie's term of address a smirk like the cut of a knife appeared as Haller swiped an arm across his mouth.

"Nice save," Jack said.

"Why are you out?" Rogue asked, the accusation clear in her tone. After all, the last time Marie had met one of Haller's alters she'd been set on fire, so she was understandably jumpy. "And why didn't ya just let me grab you instead of making this mess? Are you trying to announce to the world that we've arrived?"

"Why?" the alter repeated. In the wake of the massive adrenaline dump Jim was quiescent, the switch still strong.

But it was more than that. For the first time in a long time, for some reason he wasn't sure he could even define, Jack felt calm.

The tall man made no move towards Marie. Though his posture was still aggressive, as it always had been, it was self-contained, turned inwards. "Not interested in fighting or feelings right now. Here's the short version. Haller's known from minute one a support telepath is useless here. You know what it's like to need to be rescued. Everything taken out of your hands by people around you, stronger than you, when you can do nothing. When for all the control you're left in your life nothing might as well be what you are." Jack regarded the younger girl steadily through the settling dust. "Yeah. Haller remembers things. Which is why we know you'll have a decent idea of why, somewhere along the way, it got decided David is never living that again."

Control. That one word got her attention, but didn't alleviate her anxiety. "What reason do Ah have to trust you?" Marie asked, her voice low so as to keep the conversation from reaching their teammates' ears. "To trust that you'll do what needs to be done for this mission without hurtin' someone more than they need hurtin'? You don't exactly strike me as the non-lethal type."

Jack's hands slowly began working to undo the straps of his harness; ditch, and then bury. "I'll do what I need to do. That's why he made me." Unblinking grey eyes met the brunette's. "Do you trust Logan?"

Marie's mouth opened and closed several times. "Ah do," was the soft response. "But Ah've seen inside his head. Ah haven't seen inside yours." As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she regretted them. "Not that Ah'm asking ta. Can't dream of what a mind like yours would do to a mind like mine and vice versa - and truth be told, Ah don't ever want to find out." Hesitatingly, she looked straight into the eyes that seemed to be boring a hole into her skull. "You're here now and Ah know how hard it is to shift control between folk. We've got a mission to do and you're telling me you can do it - don't know if Ah trust you, but Ah don't see much choice right now."

"No one should attempt this head." Jack's answering smile was less pleasant than Jim's as he shrugged off his pack, but there nonetheless. Burying it was somewhat defeated by the fact it had to be placed into a huge scar he'd gouged into the landscape, but he did it anyway. He nodded back at her. "We took four years of beatings because Haller wouldn't defend himself. Now he can. Just save the intervention until after the bullets stop flying. That's all I'm asking."

Marie didn't like it. Unfortunately, just as she'd told him, she didn't really see that she had another option. "You mess this up, you hurt someone innocent, then Ah'll personally take it outta your hide. Do not pass go, do not collect 200 dollars. Got it?" Her voice didn't shake though her insides were churning. Something told her she was going to regret this. But something else told her there'd be more to regret if she reported what she knew right away. Easier to ask forgiveness than permission.

--

Sunfire and Cannonball take out the communications center, and Shiro gets yet more proof that yes, he's ready to be back in his leathers.

Shiro adjusted the surprisingly lightweight solar panels on his shoulders for the dozenth time. Not like they'd make much of a difference at night, but being back in leathers (his new uniform, even) required some getting used to. His hand fell to his side, where the sword-shaped disrupter that Forge had developed was hanging. With a nod to Cannonball, he followed his teammate the short distance to their lookout point, from where they would begin their assault.

Sam stifled a chuckle as his own hand subconsciously checked the disruptor hanging from his own hip. As an amateur student of military history, he hadn't missed the humor in Forge modeling them to look like the ancient Spartan spatha. He mused for a moment on the mission, distracting himself from his nerves as he and Shiro made their way silently to their lookout point. If it had been a simple case of soldiers having the tactics of the Spartans, they could have been easily overwhelmed. But what made the Phalanx so dangerous was the melding of the Spartan military ethos with modern tactics and equipment, and the forcible "drafting" of others into their army. As they waited for the other teams to take position, Sam offered up a quick prayer, not only for the safety of the X-Men, but also the Greek units they were back on Youra to rescue.

Shiro was impressed by the design of the spatha, even if it was just a giant meat cleaver. It was ingenious, really, to use an updated Spartan weapon against updated Spartans. He withdrew the sword and quietly took to the air. Keeping his power down, so he was still shrouded in darkness, he flew as close as he could to the lone guard and launched a fireball at him. The distraction was sufficient to keep him dazed long enough to rush over and activate the nullifier. Shiro caught him before he crumpled to the ground in an unconscious heap.

"That felt odd," he muttered. "EMPs make me dizzy." He laid the soldier down and sheathed his sword, waiting for Sam to join him. "On your mark."

Sam darted forward instead of flying. The element of surprise could be a powerful ally in any fight. While Shiro could fly relatively noiselessly, Sam knew that his own blast field sounded like a backfiring truck even at its quietest. Moving up to Shiro, he bent to quickly check the guard's pulse as he carefully removed the coin-shaped device attached to the base of his skull.

"Sunfire and Cannonball in position," he murmured into his comm. "One guard knocked out, disruptors worked perfectly." Not that he had any real doubts, since Forge had made them, but there had still been some lingering uncertainty about ill effects even so.

"What is the plan now?" Shiro asked as he and Sam waited for confirmation to go ahead. Their task was to sack the communications center, but they didn't know who or what would be guarding it. Not to mention that the Greek government would appreciate if they didn't annihilate millions of dollars worth of military equipment. Fire could solve a number of problems, Shiro knew, but not when finesse was required.

"Well, plan A is ta knock out the guards an' shut down the radar and comm from inside that buildin' yonder," Sam pointed at a squat utilitarian building with a variety of antennas on top of it. "'Course, if that don't go well, we fall back on Plan B. Y'know, massive property damage." He shrugged and grinned, waiting for confirmation that other teams were approaching or completing their objectives.

Shiro smirked. "But this is a very pretty country and I would like to be invited back some time." He hrmmed as he shifted his vision into the infrared end of the spectrum. At this distance, he couldn't discern between the different red blobs. "I cannot tell how many soldiers are down there. I think that we should just fly in and take them out in one fell swoop. Their bullets cannot get past our shields, and if I power up enough down there, then I should be able to disrupt their radios long enough for us to manually disable them."

Those three words were magic to Shiro's ears. He hesitated only a couple of seconds behind Sam to give him the first pass, and then ignited his fire form to follow him. The microfins on his uniform would expand at a certain temperature and harmlessly disperse the radiation he emitted, but he was sure that it would still be enough to interfere with their communications. If not, then he'd just have to act more quickly.

With Sam attracting the soldiers' fire, Shiro flew over them and straight through a window into the tower. Plasma blasts from each hand melted the two guards' guns, and then he lunged at them. He couldn't activate the nullifier while still in his fire form, so he had to incapacitate the guards until he could manage the opportunity to power down. At least his proximity to the communication equipment was shorting it out.

Sam whipped through a tight turn and came roaring back toward the building. Rather than crashing through a window as Shiro had, Sam landed smoothly on the roof near a large parabolic dish. He kept his blast field up for an extra moment, scorching the concrete roof as a lone sentry emptied a clip at him. When the soldier's clip ran out, Sam dropped the field and charged forward, wielding the spatha in one hand. The soldier gripped his weapon like a club and used it to turn away Sam's flurry of strikes. Sam grimaced. A standup fight against a soldier with intensive training in hand-to-hand was emphatically not a good idea. He racked his brain for an idea as the soldier took the offensive, ducking away just in time to dodge a buttstroke from the rifle. Cutting his blast field in for the shortest of split seconds, Sam used it to take a standing leap over the Greek soldier, flipping in midair to smack the back of his head and send him sprawling, the disruptor doing its work and disabling the Phalanx programming.

Sam landed in ungainly fashion not much better than the sentry, but still conscious. He levered himself up and crossed to remove the coin from the back of his opponent's neck, listening over his comm for Shiro and prepared to level all the antennas on the roof if necessary.

Muttered Japanese cursing came over the comms from Shiro's end. Even though he was doing a spot-on self-immolator impression, the two guards still managed to keep him on his toes. They'd taken out with billy clubs, and though his force field would protect him from a direct hit, Shiro didn't want them to get close enough to try. They came at him again, and he flew between them, disorienting them enough so that he could fire off another couple of plasma blasts behind him to hit them. As they tumbled to the ground, Shiro flew back, unsheathed the spatha, deactivated his fire form, and swatted both of them with the blade. The pulses made his head spin, but he stayed on his feet while the other two fell.

"Status, Sunfire?" Sam asked on his comm, trying to keep prepared for all eventualities.

"A little help, please," Shiro replied. He'd forgotten that there was someone actually manning the comms, and the fall of his comrades had him leaping off his seat to attack Shiro. This caught him off-guard so he had no time to throw up his fire form, and the soldier was highly skilled at hand-to-hand combat, so he had no opportunity to use the nullifier.

Sam bolted for the roof access and down a flight of stairs, heading unerringly for the room Shiro had crashed into. When he got there, the two-on-one odds allowed them to quickly subdue the last guard and begin shutting down all the equipment.

Shiro exhaled loudly as the soldier joined his comrades on the floor. "Thanks," he said to Sam as he set to remove the coins from the Ephebians' necks. Once he had all three, he joined Sam by the console.

"Cannonball here," Sam said over the all-hands channel that the Greek military was also tied in on. "Radar and comm center taken and shut down." He counted quickly in his head. "Five Phalanx soldiers subdued and coins removed. No loss of life."

--

Rogue and Tinky-Winky take out the island's anti-aircraft guns, and Clarice finds out that years at Xavier's do in fact prepare one for combat fairly well. Imagine that.

"There's two," Marie whispered into Clarice's ear as she watched two men in camos were guarding an anti-aircraft gun. The two girls were hovering behind some rocks off the coast, Marie securely holding her purple friend with her feet dangling in the air. "Can you port us right behind them so we can take them out fast without them raising their buddies?"

"Maybe," she whispered back, "I think they'd hear us. Might try sneaking around," her portals were not loud per se, but they weren't silent either. Displaced air did not like being displaced and protested.

Unfortunately, noise was a factor, and the three guards looked up and in the girls' direction at the sound of a branch breaking. "Tink, take out the one on the right," Marie called over to the purple girl as she advanced on the other two. Flying forward, she grabbed one guard by the strap of his M16, pulling him into her fist. As he doubled over, she kneed him in the head, dropping his unconscious body on the ground. Meanwhile the other two guards had started shouting something to each other, the words gibberish to Rogue's ears.

Clarice dashed from where she had crouched in the bushes, rolling herself into a ball and knocking herself into the soldiers knees. As he began to fall and recovered, "Nerg," Tink had hoped that he'd fall. He was a tall bugger and while she wasn't exactly short at 5'5", she was not a large girl by any means. Quickly she rolled onto her back, kicking with both legs into his kneecaps. This time he did fall and shouted what she supposed were obscenities at he, but he did not get up. "Go non-lethal!" she said, removing his radio and blinking it into two pieces, before tossing off a flippant wave as she ran to catch up with Rogue.

Meanwhile, Marie had delivered a series of quick hits to the third guard. These guards were well-trained and it taken her a few minutes to take him down without hurting him too badly. "Good job," she said with a nod to Clarice. "Do that with theirs too," she continued, pointing at the two guards she'd felled.

Clarice nodded, taking the radios and blinking them in half. Teleporting things into pieces was useful and less chance of someone macguyvering something together. She cut things down to a molecular level, no amount of paperclips and gum would fix that. "Well. Let's get going," she said, wiping her hands off on her uniform. She liked it a lot better than the military fatigues, even if she was still wearing trainee grey instead of x-men black.

Continuing around the island, the two girls quickly came upon the next anti-aircraft gun. This time, there were three guards, all huddled together and talking at a very fast pace. Marie wondered if they had started to realize that their buddies weren't responding to the radio. "Tink, take the gun out, Ah've got the guards. Soon as you've destroyed the gun, blink yourself ahead, Ah'll catch up."

Taking the gun out was easy enough, although Tink decided that up close and personal would be more fun than far away. Teleporting herself onto the turret of the gun she began to slice it into pieces, confident that Rogue would take care of the soldiers. One soldier however, heard her and turned around aiming his gun at her. "Rogue!" she called, pulling up a portal disk just in case he shot at her. The problem was, where should she send the bullets that would be okay?

Luckily, Clarice didn't have to come up with a safe location as Marie flew over, grabbed the barrel of the gun and bent it upwards. Ripping the M16 out of the soldier's hand she smacked him upside the head and spun around to deal with the other two guards before he even hit the ground. A few more punches and kicks later and the soldiers weren't going to be bothering anyone for quite some time. "You alright?" she asked the purple girl as she continued on their circuit around the island. Clarice was still new and Rogue didn't know how she felt about guns being pointed at her.

"Not the first time a gun's been pointed at me," she replied, glad that Rogue had taken care of it and she hadn't had to shield herself by sending the bullets somewhere else, Nathan had been very upset when she had done that in training. Quickly, she cut the gun into several large pieces, effectively destroying it.

As they headed out to complete their circle two more guards ran up from the path in the trees. "Well, fuck," Clarice commented, dropping into a defensive stance and waited to see what the first move was. She was not about to rush them if they wanted to shoot her. Guns were bad, umkay.

"Blink the ends of their guns away," Rogue called out as she charged the guards.

Makes sense. Blinking the guns away like she was told, Clarice rushed one of the soldiers taking grabbing his arm and bending it backwards, forcing him to drop the guns. "Say uncle," she hissed, wrenching it backwards painfully. "How're you doing?" she called to Rogue.

Rogue's guard was already down and she moved to punch the guard Clarice was holding. The guard easily slipped into unconsciousness and Marie smiled grimly. "Let's keep moving," she said. It didn't take long for the girls to finish going around the island, ending up by the first anti-aircraft gun they had destroyed. Activating her comm, Marie reported their status, nodding as she was informed where the two should go next.

--

Dominion lucks out and gets paired with Legion. They get the job done, but these two are unlikely to wind up partners in the field again anytime soon.

"You know, ever since the day we signed on all I heard was the big fucking deal that was Youra. Massive casualties, deep emotional wounds, all that shit. All detailed in mission logs as unto the size of the goddamn Bible." There was little cover available from the terrain, but at least one party on the scene wasn't even making an attempt at subtlety. Pebbles skittered away from steel-toed boots, driven before an almost imperceptible tide of force as the taller man drew up to his teammate to speak his first words he'd offered for the entire approach. "I can't speak for the type of assault you're launching in Canada, but to me this place looks like just another rock."

"Alright, Haller, shut up, man." Garrison muttered. "You've got all these super psychic powers, right? Use them to talk." Or at least figure out how to fucking whisper, Garrison didn't bother to finish. He was goddamn strolling along the ground, kicking up stones with his boots and making enough noise that the mainland could likely hear them. Kane was going to die in Greece of all places. He scowled and edged a little further from Haller.

More pebbles stirred across the ground, a gentle ripple that had nothing to do with the taller man's motionless feet. Jack smiled nastily at Garrison. "Haller's not just a telepath. His psi just doesn't work together. Not that it matters, since unless we slap them in the heads with our little plastic swords first that power's going to do jack-all. Wasn't in the strategy, but you know, I think I feel like a telekinetic today. Get over the part where it makes me a dick and we'll do just fine." He could feel Jim watching him, frustrated at his inability to regain control, but Jack didn't have the time or the patience to waste arguing about who was supposed to be out right now. Especially not after the massive adrenaline-dump of the jump. Name me one use you're going to have in the line of fire, telepathic pacifist. Stand back, shut up, and let me do my fucking job.

The alter dropped into a squat, narrow grey eyes fixed on the tent serving as makeshift field hospital over the rise. The incapacitated Spartans were in there, and more standing guard. Jack turned his head to spit. "Okay. We're supposed to go for heavily armed men pointing guns at us, and there's shit for cover. You've got experience closer to this galaxy. You tell me how we do this."

"I am going to kill Summers for this. And Munroe. And the Canadian government." Garrison was well trained, but he'd never been in a situation where actual soldiers with actual gun were going to actually try and kill him, and his only help was the student counselor who switched personalities faster than MuchMusic switched VJs.

"Alright, no cover, a tent, and we need to clear the better part of two hundred meters." Kane said, calculating. With his enhanced physical abilities, he could clear the distance in seven or eight seconds tops, but he still couldn't outrun a bullet. "All I've got is distraction. You go to the left, kick up as much dust and shit as possible. While they're flattening bullets on your TK, I close and drop the tent on them. They react, you come in and throw your brain at them."

The explosion from across the island startled both men as the familiar sound of Cannonball's blast field kicked in, along with flashes of fiery plasma in the distance. Shouted orders in Greek echoed from below them, and the ominous hum-click of spotlights being turned on.

As luck would have it, one of those spotlights happened to catch the small bit of motion atop the cliff, and a burst of gunfire tore up the cliff's edge next to Garrison and Haller.

"Or the new plan could be there's no plan." Grey eyes slitted at the tear of M-16 rifle-fire. The telekinetic unfolded from his crouch, unblinking, and six feet away the dirt abruptly began to rain with fallen bullets. He turned his head slowly to Garrison, attention not leaving the shooters. "Hey, you got a healing factor?"

"A bit, yeah. Why?" Garrison said, backing away from the edge and ducking low. So this was what being shot at was like. He tried to spot all the shooters, but only the muzzle flashes picked them out, and too many of them seemed to be pointed his way.

"Because the brain-throwing is about to begin. Which means little details like covering your ass just got deprioritized." As Jack cracked his knuckles a bullet buried itself in the dirt six inches away from Garrison's instep. The telekinetic's attention narrowed on the trajectory of the bullets still halted by his own shield. Jack smiled. "Get moving. That plastic sword of yours is about to become the most functional weapon here."

There was a massive crash as the bulb of the spotlight exploded. In the sudden darkness there was a scream from below as a rifle was slammed from a shooter's grip and a finger broke along with it. A second gun skittered to the ground, then a third, the wild blow catching the end of the very end of the barrel to bend the metal. A burst of gunfire zagged crazily as the strike to the fourth fouled the man's aim but didn't disarm him. Jack's lip curled in a snarl and struck at the weapon a second time. Motherfucker drop it--

"Crazy fucking..." Garrison muttered under his breath, putting as much distance between the psionic and himself as he could. Obviously not only was Haller crazy, but his control was next to nothing over his other personalities. The eyes that had looked at him had all but dismissed any interest whether or not Kane survived the next five minutes, which was not exactly comforting to him.

With a burst of speed, Garrison was across the distance between himself and the tent. The combination of darkness and Haller's telekinetic interference was roiling the superbly disciplined men, allowing him to use the tent as partial cover until he got close.

Jack strode after the other man, not even bothering to run. A total lack of augmented vision meant he could either split is attention between a telekinetic assault and a dead run, or let the more suitable teammate handle the blitz attack while he took his time and avoided breaking a leg in whatever the hell was Youra's equivalent of a gopher hole.

Some things, however, the telekinetic didn't need his eyes for. The soldiers were fast, and the bullets faster, but Garrison's speed sent off Jack's motion-attuned sensitivity like a bonfire. Another smile twitched Jack's mouth as yards away the tent's corner support caved. How about that, they actually bothered to pair us with someone who can take care of himself. Now telekinetic blasts were becoming surer and more focused as Jack began to adjust to the unfamiliar concept of combat-application. In the split-second of uncertainty caused by the tent's partial collapse he flung out one hand, telekinetically knocking aside the gun that had swung around to intercept Garrison's sudden arrival. Good.

Two Spartans split up as one of their comrades was telekinetically disarmed, trying to flank Haller and Garrison in a pincer maneuver. Despite the loss of their firearms, their artificially-ingrained warrior instincts took over nonetheless. Almost as one, both men drew long-bladed bayonets and charged at Garrison, one slicing high while the other jabbed low for the Canadian's legs in a seemingly-effortless maneuver.

The Spartans were exceptionally well trained, like their namesakes. The problem for them was their unified skills, which Garrison had spent much of the way to Greece watching. His organic reflexive chip had been soaking up the consistent drills, etching their movements into his reflex responses as if he'd been on the field with them.

His boot caught the fist of the one sweeping low, arresting the path of the blade long enough for Kane to duck under the other blow. He had stepped in close, pivoting to interpose the one Spartan between the other as he drew the plastic sword-like device Forge had developed. The first strike, a vicious jab with the point of the blade was sidestepped, and Kane used the extra reach to swing backhanded into the side of the man's head. He twisted in the air, spinning as he crashed to the ground.

No guns left. Jack's own sword drew in an echo to Garrison's, the short plastic blade reflectionless in the dark. Someone was yelling something at the other man -- orders or rage at the assault on their fallen comrades, Jack didn't know. The rocks around his advancing feet streamed outward in droves now as yards away a Spartan going for the fray found himself pounded to the ground, then jerked again as a second sourceless blow took him in the opposite side.

Another soldier immediately moved to shield him, hurling incomprehensible curses in Greek at the unseen attacker. Inexperience and David's own self-imposed limitations hampered him, but Jack didn't need to do multiple targets. All things in their turn. Still closing on his teammate's position in the same slow, purposeful pace, Jack's blade whipped forward, the motion driving a punch of telekinesis outwards like a ball from a bat.

Once the guns were out of play, the rest of the soldiers weren't much of a threat. Their training was fierce, and the long knives wicked, but they were simply outmatched. Garrison pivoted and kicked out, shattering the kneecap of the one closest to him, tapping him on the back of his head as he collapsed to the ground. One tried to grapple with him for the sword, but was thrown aside like a rag doll, tumbling to a rest at Haller's feet and easily dispatched.

They moved more gently through the wounded, tapping them lightly with the swords as they did, pulling the tent canvas away to make sure their assault hadn't done them any further injury in the process. Garrison set about trapping their wrists with plastic zip ties, a cheap and easy substitute for handcuffs, which he carried. According to the report, once the chip had been deactivated, they would revert to normal. But he didn't speak Greek, didn't trust whichever of Haller's personalities was in charge enough for telepathic communication, and wasn't up to using Pictionary to try and explain the situation to them when they woke.

Leaving Garrison to his brisk, efficient application of restraints, Jack made his way to the tent's partially collapsed entrance. Inside would be the fallen comrades the Spartans had been fighting to protect. The barrel of a bent M16 bumped against his boot. The telekinetic lowered his eyes to stare at it. There was a horrible dull sound as metal flattened as if it had been crushed beneath an invisible foot, cracks spidering across the dry ground.

"Congratulations," Jack said to his teammate, stepping past the crater, "an experimental portion of the Greek army just proved no match for all the training the Canadian government has to offer and the fact Haller may just possibly have manifested stopping bullets. First combat mission in the field and there weren't even any fatalities. I know I'm proud." The taller man paused in front of the heavy flap to turn back to where Garrison was crouched, securing the last of the soldiers, and the subtle lines of tension normally pulling the alter's face were strangely calm. "Are you?"

"Look, I don't know what part of the goddamn chorus inside your skull is speaking right now, but I am sorely tempted to start cracking your skull against the fucking rocks until I get one that is even halfway sane." Garrison snapped, finishing the last restraint with an unnecessarily sharp tug.

"We were supposed to work as a team on this. Not start thrashing about and hope to hell we met in the middle." Kane had stalked up to the tent, holding his finger under the taller man's nose. He'd never actually been shot at before, and anger was a lot more comforting an outlet. "Healing factor? What if I had copped a stray round between the eyes, Mister Wizard? Or you took a ricochet that you hadn't counted on in that brain before we could get something put together? You want to make it up as you go along, eh? Next time you get that urge, you can drop into this alone. Bad enough I've got Leonidas reborn, armed and hard in front of me without having to worry about which asshole personality of the minute is trying to choose between following the damn mission profile and rubbing soup in his hair."

The tone and the finger were not a good combination. Eyes narrowing on Garrison, Jack's hand automatically went to the pocket of his leathers. To the pack of cigarettes.

Sitting beneath her searching amethyst eyes, breath billowing cold and white into the space between, and then one hand raises to touch his cheek.

As quickly as it had begun, the snarl of internal conflict slowed to a limp and died -- to the distant surprise of Jack. The alter dropped his hand from his jacket pocket, his anger cut adrift and dwindling. "Lodge a complaint. There'll be plenty of corroboration from Haller. He'll be right there with you. But for the record there are only two people in this world I hate, and even knowing I was up here the one who spends all his time sitting was the one who allowed Haller into active duty again. Maybe people should wonder why that was. Haller included. Since you have at least half a functioning brain I'm assuming you didn't sign up to parachute onto an island to be shot at for your health. Tell me you don't see what stupid fucking strategy it is to keep banging the toothpick against a can if the Swiss army knife you're holding comes with a can-opener out of principle." Jack gestured to the tent, eyes still trained on Garrison's. "The mission's not over yet. My advice is to save yourself the anguish of second-guessing half the team right now by considering the fact that even the insane can find both reasons and a use if they search real hard. Spinning the chamber and putting the gun to your head, maybe, but if here's where they ended up it means they actually give enough of a shit to look."

The taller man turned from Garrison to enter the tent, but his next words carried not an order, but a quiet question. "They sent us to check the downed. You saw. Any others catch us and they'll fight like hell. I won't catch them coming. Will you watch?"

Oh, this was going to be a fun debriefing. Garrison pushed his anger aside for the moment. Once they were out of the combat zone, then he have the luxury of ripping someone a new one over the use of a completely unstable maniac in an operational plan. It didn't matter how powerful his abilities were; you don't roll dice with your people hoping they don't kill each other.

"Get to work." Kane said in a clipped voice. He ranged away from the tent, double-checking the ground to make sure he hadn't missed any soldiers. Fortunately, the reasons the Phalanx had chosen this area for their med tent, with long views, a lack of hiding places, and clear lines of fire, also made it ideal to defend.

Jack moved his head in a brief nod, as much in acknowledgement of the man's clear anger as the affirmation. Suspicion was fine. And deserved. No one in their right mind had ever put their faith in Haller, not even Haller.

Except for Charles.

"You did yours well," Jack said. "We'll do ours. Those are the rules."

The psi stepped into the tent, and Jim.

--

Cable and Phoenix are left to take down as many of the free-ranging Spartans as they can - and they do. Without breaking much of a sweat.

The urge to trigger his exoskeleton was almost overwhelming - that was disturbing, and something he'd examine more closely later. But right here and now it was a bad urge, a completely inappropriate urge, and Nathan stepped on it hard as he stepped to the edge of the rock face, not particularly caring if he drew fire. No exoskeleton didn't mean no shields, and the more bullets got fired at him, the fewer were directed at his teammates.

Besides, he needed as close to an aerial view as he could get. #Bellwethers,# he sent to Jean as he regarded the 'Spartans'. #In a flock of sheep, you have one who's a little faster, a little hungrier than the rest. Not quite a leader, but take the bellwether out and the rest of the sheep don't know what the hell to do. It's not quite a group mind, but...#

Jean nodded silently, her eyes tracking over the ground spread out before them. There were small teams of the so-called Spartans all about down there, but they were doing their best not to be spotted. A difficult task, though, with a pair of telepaths watching out.

#Those,# Nathan sent, telepathically directing her attention to three particular Spartans in three different teams. #Squad leaders, I think. If we take them down first, it'll take the others a moment to adapt.# He hoped. Their psi-imprints were so strange, just about the strangest thing he'd ever encountered. There was no real way to predict just how they would react.

Eyeing them, Jean tried to scan subtly, but it was, indeed, very odd. #Don't think we're going to be able to just put them to sleep. Ideas?#

#You're not going to like it.# He wasn't sure he liked it -there was always the chance of not quite shielding properly and letting a bullet or two slip through - but he didn't see an alternative. #We need to get down there and just start swinging.# Nathan took his 'sword' in his free hand, glancing sideways at her. #They can't touch us if we don't let them.#

She frowned slightly, but couldn't argue with the logic. #You get to tell Scott,# was all she said, gesturing for him to go first.

Nathan smiled mirthlessly, then projected at her the pattern of a telepathic technique they'd both learned from Askani. Strange as the Spartans' mindset might be, they were still human - they still perceived sensory data in the same way baseline humans did. Their senses could still be clouded. He and Jean didn't have to rely entirely on TK shields to keep themselves from getting shot.

The idea conveyed, Nathan stepped forward and off the edge of the cliff in a controlled telekinetic fall, landing lightly on his feet.

Jean slipped off the cliff herself, reaching out to the three men's minds, and by the time her feet were once again on solid ground the path into their minds had been established, writing a view of the bare rock that she wanted them to see over what their eyes would try to tell them.

Nathan had targeted one of the other teams in precisely the same way, and no sooner had he landed than he was in the air again - not flying, but in a telekinetically-extended leap that took him right up on their heels. While they were still blissfully oblivious, not seeing him, he reached out and tapped the squad leader on the head. The man folded, and the others started to react, caught between the fact that one of their number was down and the apparent lack of an attacker.

Jean couldn't help but remember the orphanage when she, Scott and the others had gone to pick up the quadruplets. It was the same little trick, simply more controlled and refined. And, without the terror aspect that they had instilled in it, there was nothing to fight against it in her targets' minds. In less than a minute, all three men were down.

Nathan saw her take the whole team down through her eyes, as she undoubtedly saw him do the same through his. It was different, with another telepath - there was none of the momentary confusion that there was with non-psis on the switchboard. They meshed perfectly. Then again, they always had. Nathan reversed his psimitar and propelled himself in another leap. A lash of telekinesis knocked down the next team of Spartans like dominos, and he tapped each of them, flinching slightly at the way he could sense their mental patterns change, suddenly and almost violently...

#Phoenix, we've got a team setting up on higher ground,# he sent, sensing the minds above and to his left. #Bigger guns.#

She reacted instantly to get into their minds, but the time it took to set up a believable illusion was just a little too long, and someone noticed a flicker of change, something he thought he'd seen and now didn't. Between that and the men going down, he decided it was enough. #Incoming,# Jean said, strengthening her shields and setting out straight for the new group as they opened fire.

They were turtling up, going defensive - Nathan gritted his teeth and wondered, if this all went well, if he might get just a few minutes alone with whoever had done this Spartan programming. He saw bullets ricochet harmlessly off Jean's shield. She had it under control. He turned for more targets. One team to his left, two stragglers to his right.. and all of them had noticed him. Ah, well... Brushing aside bullets he flung himself into the midst of the team, there among them before they could react. A moment's concentration jammed their guns, and another froze them in place, making them easy targets.

Tap, tap, and they all fall down... Nathan squelched the somewhat manic voice in the back of his head and stepped over the twitching body of one of the Spartans, looking towards where Jean had been headed.

The easiest way through their defenses, Jean found, and most effective (although far from the most elegant) was to simply haul them bodily up to get them in range of the little sword. Dumping the last of this batch back to the ground as his mind shut down she felt Nate's attention shift towards her and looked back, nodding. Clear on this side.

The two stragglers were... running for each other. Two being better than one. Part of the programming, Nathan knew. He tilted his head as they reached one another and went into defensive mode, opening fire on him. The bullets stopped well short of him, bouncing off his shield, and Nathan raised the little sword to eye level, sheathing it in a TK bubble - and flinging it.

It moved like a boomerang, in a perfect arc, the bubble melting away so that it could strike the head of the man on the left, then pause as he fell before it flew on to do the same to the man on the right. The sword came back to him, end-over-end, and Nathan looked back in Jean's direction, even as he cast his mind outwards.

#I think all of ours are safely down. You sensing any others still on their feet?# It was quieter than it had been. Much quieter. It reminded him of... no, it reminded him of nothing, Nathan thought savagely, forcing his thoughts back onto track.

#Not in our range. Some of the others still have targets, but don't seem to be in any immediate trouble.#

Nathan crouched down, his head lowered as he listened to the minds of the last few targets change as Forge's solution was forcibly applied. The sudden reorientation of their thought patterns was even more jarring, when you paid closer attention to it. "Weird parallels," he murmured, more to himself than to Jean, even as she came over to join him. He had laid his own sword down and had both hands on his psimitar now, some vague memory of clinging to it, the last time he'd... no, focus. "I think we're all clear," he said very quietly, then looked up at her. "Would you check, and tell Cannonball?" Already, he was drawing his shields in more tightly around his mind, gently ending the link they'd shared up until now.

All over except the clean-up. And this was when it would get hard, when there wasn't a fight requiring his attention...

Jean didn't take his shutting her out personally, knowing how hard this must be for him. Instead she simply nodded, turning to begin one last scan of their assigned area.

Nathan took a deep, slightly unsteady breath and rose. He could check on the felled Spartans, while she was talking to Sam. He needed to.

And they were alive, which was something. Or more like everything.

--

Nightcrawler and Wolverine take out the Spartans' boats, and then, their leader. The job is done with a minimum of fuss.

Logan extracted himself from his chute and looked over to his admittedly very hard-to-see partner. Silently, he gave him a thumbs-up to indicate that he hand landed acceptably well. First order of business - secure the chute! Logan gathered his up and crammed it back into its satchel, leaving it under some brush where, with luck, it wouldn't be discovered.

Kurt was already bundling his up, and stepped over to tuck it next to Logan's - better for them to be in the same place as far as possible, for easier recovery later. He glanced up when he was done and nodded to Logan.

They had a lot to do and not a lot of time to do it in. First objective - sabotage the Spartans ability to get off the island. If their maps and intel were to be believed, the jetty should only be maybe a half-click to the east. Motioning to Kurt, he set off in a quick jog in the right direction.

This would be so much simpler - not to mention quicker - if he could teleport. But although the jetty was within his range, looking at maps didn't quite give him enough knowledge of a place he hadn't been to for over a year to do that safely. So Kurt just hurried after Logan, matching his pace.

They covered that half-click in excellent time - Logan could see quite well in starlight and Kurt apparently didn't have too many problems keeping up. The jetty itself was lightly guarded, with only two men keeping a rough eye on the Zodiac boats. Piece of cake. Logan looked over to Kurt and gestured for the other man to take the guards out.

That he could do, quickly, easily, and non-lethally. They never even saw him coming, though they probably smelled his brimstone, before they were both lying unconscious on the jetty.

Inside the main cultural center, Leonidas Nikostatis paced back and forth. A sand table representing the Grecian coast lay before him, and his two trusted lieutenants braced themselves every time he snapped his head around as if to bark another order.

"~Stelios,~" he growled, gesturing to one of the lieutenants. "~Inform the eastern gun platform to fire on the next Navy ship that comes into range.~"

"~...yes, Tagmatarchis,~" Stelios nodded, giving Leonidas the respect of his formal title. His hesitation, though only for a second, earned him a backhand slap from his superior.

"~Do not question me!~" Leonidas bellowed. "~The Hellenic Navy, servants of the pretender government, will respond by sending in a raiding party. When they do, you will lead your phalanx to their ship and overtake it. Thus we will have gained naval capability. One step closer to restoring Spartan glory!~"

"~For Sparta!~" both lieutenants drew themselves up straight, fists pounding their breasts in unison. Proud despite the reddened mark on his cheek, Stelios turned on his heel and marched outside.

Logan slipped into the water slowly - no noise, no splash. It was bitterly cold for January but Logan didn't let that slow him down.

Much.

He slipped under the boats and sent them to Davey Jones's Locker with the simple expedient method of an adamantium claw through the keel of each. Not a large puncture but big enough so that they'd take on enough water to sink in maybe ten minutes or so. After the last boat went down, Logan climbed out of the water and tried not to shiver.

It could have been anything, the peculiar glint of moonlight off a patch of water that somehow seemed less reflective than the others. But something caught Stelios' attention by the boats. Glancing towards the docks, he peered from side to side, trying to catch a glimpse of the sentries.

"~Georgio, Phillipi, report.~" he grumbled into his radio. After a few seconds of silence, he turned as if to return to the cultural center. "~Tagmatarchis Leonidas, this is Stelios, I have no response from the sentries in sector one and--~"

His report was interrupted by the familiar roar of a blast field igniting, and a series of plasma flashes from over the ridge, followed by an explosion that sent his radio into fits of static. A few flashes of lavender light from the area of the gun platforms confirmed Stelios' fears as he threw down his useless radio and unslung his rifle.

"~Attack! Spartans, we are under attack!~"

Not good, was the thought running through Kurt's mind as his head snapped up at the noise. The next moment, he'd teleported towards the man and kicked him in the stomach before he could bring his rifle to bear.

Surprised as much by the puff of brimstone as the blow, Stelios stumbled briefly to one knee, the silver disc of the Phalanx implant exposed on the back of his neck.

Logan rushed towards where Nightcrawler was engaging hostiles, his wet leathers squeaking with every movement. He popped his claws with the old familiar flash of pain and moved past Kurt's melee to engage any further hostiles that may still be in the building.

The short respite before the man got back up was just long enough. Kurt produced his spatha, pressed one end of it to the implant, and activated it.

The small pulse sent Stelios to the ground, like a puppet with its strings cut. For all intents and purposes, the Spartan soldier appeared to be in exhausted sleep.

Inside the cultural center, Leonidas and his lieutenant had already drawn weapons and were taking up a defensive position along the farthest wall from the entrance. Once the radios went out, every Spartan knew the drill - retreat to the nearest structure and form a defensive perimeter. In ancient times, the phalanx would close ranks, locking shields together and readying their deadly spears.

Today, flak vests and automatic rifles would suffice, as the two Spartans awaited the assault to come.

And the assault came in the form of a dripping-wet clawed X-Man. His first attack cut the assault rifle in the lieutenant's hands in half while the second, launched a split-second after the first, shredded Leonidas's flak jacket into flak confetti down the front.

"~Fast! He is too fast!~" The lieutenant gasped, even as he threw himself in between Logan and Leonidas. Spartan training had overtaken reason - Leonidas was more valuable than any one of his troops, each of them knew this. If the lieutenant's death bought time for reinforcements, somewhere in the back of his mind a voice tinged with someone's idea of Spartan ideals told him that the price was acceptable.

Kurt had left the three men on the jetty, after taking a few moments to "treat" the two sentries just to make sure Stelios would be safe if they happened to wake up before him. He entered the cultural centre at a run, spatha raised, stopping when he saw the scene. "There is no need for death, Wolverine. Just make them be still."

Logan ignored Kurt for the time being - instead, he pulled the lieutenant off-balance and face-first into a nearby wall. That should have taken the starch out of his shorts but he failed to reckon with the durability of Spartan training. Still, he left him for Kurt to neutralize and advanced on the leader.

Leonidas took a step back, glancing at the two black-suited invaders. "Americans," he spat out in heavily-accented English. "I should have expected such cowardice. Is this what Greece has fallen to? To hide while others fight? No more, I say. ~For glory! For Sparta!~"

With that epithet, Leonidas moved like a tornado, discarding his shredded flak vest, and in the same motion whipping a pistol out of a holster, firing three times at Logan's back.

Kurt turned from dealing with the lieutenant - which had meant acting fast while he was still stunned, then easing him to the ground to sleep it off - just in time to see this. He froze, but not out of indecision or fear. It was more caution, as he didn't know how many more rounds Leonidas had in that pistol, and the man was fast.

Of course, he was faster, if only because he didn't need to walk across the ground between them. The next moment, he was standing behind Leonidas' shoulder, grabbing for his wrist.

Logan was thrown like a ragdoll by the force of the impacts. The pain almost incapacitated him, but he and pain were old friends by now. Unbidden, in his mind's eye a figure in yellow-and-black looked down at him with shielded eyes, holding out a hand for Logan to take. A hard shake of his head brought him back to reality, though, and he kipped up heedless of his body's screams of pain.

Leonidas threw his weight forward in a classic wrestling maneuver intended to force Kurt to release his hold or be smashed to the ground. However, such maneuvers were never intended to be effective on an opponent with a prehensile tail and preternaturally enhanced balance and agility. In a matter of seconds, Leonidas found himself face-down on the floor, his wrist twisted painfully up between his shoulder blades.

His momentary pride at downing at least one of the Americans was dashed, however, when he glanced to the side to see Logan spring back to his feet. As he watched through eyes clouded by pain, three bullets worked their way out of the holes they'd made, falling quietly to the tile.

Looking at his downed leader, the last remaining Spartan narrowed his eyes, lunging at Logan's throat with both hands outstretched. "~If I die, I die standing!~" he shouted in Greek, closing with the X-Man. "~For you, Leonidas!~"

"No one dies today", Kurt said clearly, wasting no time in giving Leonidas his "treatment" and letting him go then standing up himself. "Wolverine, hold him."

Without thinking Logan dropped to one knee and slashed out with his claws. They managed to miss the femoral artery but bite deep into the meat of the lieutenant's leg. The man collapsed with a hoarse scream and Logan climbed to his feet. "Unlock this one while I secure the CO." he said, perfectly calmly while reaching for a zip-tie out of one of his uniform pockets.

Kurt wasn't sure there was any need to tie the CO up, but on the other hand, it wouldn't do him any harm in the long run. He teleported quickly to the fallen man and activated the spatha with a touch to the implant. Then he set about binding the wound in his leg.

Logan zip-tied the CO with his hands cranked just at - or maybe slightly beyond - the point of comfort. Once secured, he opened up his comm and tapped out the pre-arranged signal for "Mission Accomplished". Then he looked over to Kurt. "Miller time, elf." he said with a grin. "Figure once we mop up, go out lookin' for some of those famous Greek women and some ouzo?" he added.

"I think someone should try to keep you out of trouble", Kurt said with a grin, standing up as he finished his own work. "So count me in."