xp_logs | This Savage Land - Part Eight: Regrouping (Reply)

After fighting off hungry allosaurs, Kyle isn't dealing well with the aftereffects. Garrison manages to shock some sense into him, and Angel finds a rather disgusting application of her power.

Angel bolted out of her hiding spot and ran. The section she was running into was too dense and thick to fly through and setting anything else but dinosaurs on fire was a bad, bad idea. The attack seemed to be over for now but she couldn't be sure and kept half an eye out as she ran. She'd seen Jennie go to help Kyle and things had gotten a ltitle frantic after that. But once things had calmed down a little, she'd heard him. And it hadn't sounded good.

She slipped, one hand going to protect her ribs where the creature had smacked her around that morning while the other one shot out to stop herself from falling. "Kyle?" There he was and..."Oh my god."

His hand didn't hurt anymore. It just felt kind of numb all the way to his shoulder. It'd never done -that- before, stopping hurting like that. He still ached, maybe more than ached everywhere else. "sup?" Kyle slurred, brushing his hair off his face with his good hand, and smearing something sticky off his cheek in the process.

She clapped her hands over her mouth as she stared at him. He looked like he'd gotten chewed on. Which was a very strong possiblity. Angel took in the mud, blood and...if possible her eyes widened even further. "Your hand!" she said. "You did get chewed on!" Her stomach churned but she stepped closer, ignoring the bodies of the dinosaurs. "We need to, um, do something..."

"Don't get too far away from the others." Garrison said as he approached. The remaining dinosaurs had been driven off, but that didn't mean they were going to stay that way. They'd nearly lost a couple of people during it, including himself, and the last thing they needed was for another students to get eaten. "Kyle, you alright?"

"Uh-huh." Kyle muttered, bending down to kick at the sticky piles of mud and blood grass. They had to be around here somewhere. "Just need to find them, and then take a rest or something." He watched Garrison cautiously. "You gonna help, or what? It's a lot of ground and they're small."

Angel took a few steps closer, eyes automatically sweeping the ground before looking back at Kyle. "Um, stop the bleeding first and then find the fingers?" she suggested, trying to be helpful . "Because that's a lot of...blood." And it was different than the occassional nose-bleed or split lip from rough housing with the cousins. There was a lot of it and more was coming out and it was from Kyle.

"I'll be FINE." Kyle said, shaking his head. "Either help or stop walking all over the mess, because I need to find my damn fingers." He tried to wave his arm to show them how the fingers were missing, and grunted as his arm just sort of flopped around.

It wasn't hard to guess that they weren't going to help, and Kyle took a step back, baring his teeth at Angel and Garrison. "Fine. Screw both of you. Leave me alone, I'll do it my damn self."

"Angel, back off, eh?" Garrison said, putting himself between her and Kyle. The young mutant was a feral, not dissimilar to Logan, and Remy had seen this behaviour more than a few times up during Wolverine's time in Canada. Between the pain and the injury, he was guessing that Kyle had gone into shock, or at least the closest that his healing factor would let him. Unfortunately, it was obviously conflicting with his body's natural response to injury, since the stumps of his fingers and the ragged knuckle were still bleeding copiously. "Kyle, let's get your hand wrapped up first. Your fingers aren't going anywhere in the meantime." Kane came a little closer.

"Fucking Christ, it'll -heal-, okay?" And why the hell was Garrison inching towards him like that? Kyle watched him take another step closer, and glared. He wasn't backing down, he wasn't some kind of kid who couldn't take care of himself, and he didn't need to be soothed or gentled like some kind of angry dog.

"Yes, but I don't want to leave giant puddles of blood around to attraction other predators." Kane lied smoothly, still approaching Kyle. If the boy had hackles, they would have been raised. Garrison vaguely regretted not having taken the K9 training. A hundred and fifty pound shepard would have come in handy right about now.

As much as she wanted to run to Kyle, Angel listened to Garrison and stayed put. Her hands twisted the hem of her shirt back and forth as she watched, feeling that something was off. While never having seen Kyle have to heal from anything as traumatic as getting his fingers chopped off, she knew he should have at least stopped bleeding by now. But it was oozing out between the fingers of his good hand just like it would on anyone else. Her eyes hit the ground in an attempt to see if she could, well, see the missing digits...but all she could see was blood, mud and...ugh. It looked like he'd gotten sick at one point before they'd managed to get to him.

Obviously talking -sense- to Garrison wasn't working, Kyle thought. The guy just wasn't hearing what he was saying or something. And he had that look - Kyle recognized it from the guards in his coma-dream. It said "Go quietly or get tackled and handcuffed." And he sure as hell wasn't getting handcuffed and he sure as well wasn't going quietly.

Garrison was one of the ones who had dealt with Sabretooth. Kyle remembered that much. Because he was a cop, and they'd have to arrest Sabretooth or something. Well, if Garrison was going to look at him like that, then Kyle would damn well give him something to look -at-. He growled, hair on the back of his neck standing up and took a step forward, almost daring Garrison to say something.

"Don't step up to me, boy." Garrison said, and suddenly the affiable Canadian was gone, and only the cop remained. Police work depended on people viewing you as a cop, and now he was there, daring Kyle to not just challenge him, but also challenge the whole instituation he was now representing.

"Oh, fuck you." Kyle snarled. It was just like a damn cop too. Ask for help, and they act like you've committed some kind of crime. But he wasn't thirteen anymore, and wasn't too short to do anything about it. He was taller than the -cop-, and there wasn't anything Garrison could do about it. Or so Kyle thought, when he ducked his shoulder and rushed towards him.

Even with Kyle's reactions, the younger man didn't even see Kane move. It wasn't even Kane's own naturally enhanced speed, or his chipped reflexes. It was pure instinct, honed over years of training, and as old to the police forces as a badge.

Kyle's feet went out from under him, and he hit the ground with a thud. Garrison's grip was like iron, using leverage to counter Kyle's strength and flexibility. He grabbed the younger man by the back of the head. "Sorry about this, kid." His limbs spasmed as Kane directed his neural stun through the back of his head.

Angel squeaked a little as the dust settled, mouth open slightly in shock. "Is...everything...okay. Well, it's not okay but is it going to be?" She stared around Garrison at Kyle's limp body and swallowed hard. It had to have been done--whatever that was--but it didn't make seeing it any easier.

"Fuck no it's not. Give me your belt!" Garrison flipped the man over and grabbed his wrist. He took Angel's belt and looped it around Kyle's wrist, pulling it tight to tourniquet the wound. The fingers had been bitten off ragged, and angry lines of infection and triteration climbed up against his healing factor. Whatever had eaten them had a sewer for a mouth, which it why it wouldn't stop bleeding. Poor kid's healing factor had to be doing overtime just to hold the infection at bay.

"Angel, come here." This was going to earn a lecture from the Professor. "Kyle's hurt, worse then it actually looks. He needs treatment, but if we don't stop the bleeding, he might not make it there. We have to cauterize the stumps. It'll slow the infection and the bleeding at the same time." That is until the burns got infected.

She froze for a second before hurrying to crouch down next to him. At this range, the sight and the smell were causing her stomach to churn violently but Angel managed to hold that at bay. "I-I can do that," she said softly, taking Kyle's hand in her own shaking ones. "I just...I just need you to tell me when it's enough. I don't know how much is enough."

With one hand holding Kyle's at an angle she could access, Angel concentrated. The fire around her free hand wavered as she got closer to the jagged, bleeding wounds but soon it steadied and the heat and flames increased. She gagged, once, as the smell of burning flesh hit her nose but ignored it as best she could, watching in horrified fascination as the wound smoked and burned under her powers.

Kane let her burn deep, deeper than he normally would, hoping that Kyle's healing factor could bounce back from it. He didn't know how long it was going to be before they got out of here, and the teen could be infected with anything at this point. After a long moment he nodded for Angel to stop. Even the big Mountie was slightly pale from the stench of charred flesh.

Immediately, the flames died out, leaving behind smoke and the scent. Angel didn't let go of his wrist, though her hands were shaking badly enough that she couldn't hang on, and her other hand shot up to clamp tightly at her mouth. After a few seconds, her fingers unclenched and she turned back to Garrison. "Sir? Now what?" she asked quietly.

Kane hoisted Gibney up as if he was a doll. "We get him back and wrap up his hand. Then we need to keep him warm until the shock wears off. He's going to be out for a while, which is likely the best thing for him right now. You're going to have to help out with that, Angel. We need to keep the burns clean, disinfect them the best we can, and keep fresh dressings on it. Can you do that?"

When she stood up, Angel was incredibly pale but no longer on the verge of throwing up. That she could do later when Kyle was out of danger. "I can do that," she responded, recalling the training from RedX. They were simple things but important and as long as she didn't have to cauterize any more wounds, she'd be fine. She breathed through her mouth, though, trying to will the smell away from her nose.

After the students have fought off the dinosaur attack, Forge manages to limp his way over for some medical treatment. The royal treatment, in fact.

Forge blinked as he stumbled through the clearing. The first thing he'd done was have Laurie go get Marie, to let the other chaperones know he was alive and okay. Well, reasonably okay. The adrenalin jolt that Laurie had given him was wearing off, and he was starting to feel the nausea rising again.

He sat down hard against a tree, letting out a sharp gasp. The bandaging that he'd done himself was ill-fitting, and starting to slip. And the large gouge on his shoulder was bleeding again. He reached into the one remaining pocket of his cargo pants, withdrawing the sealed packet of surgical thread and sterilized needles, then paused. As talented as he was, there was no way he was going to be able to stitch up his own shoulder.

Perhaps, he realized, he wouldn't have to. Hearing someone on the other side of the tree, he leaned around and smiled when he realized who it was. "Howdy, Crystal," he said as casually as he could. "Nice to see you're still in one piece."

"Greeting to you too, Forge," Crystal said easily, her eyes narrowing slightly as she took in Forge's less-than-whole appearance. "Of course I am still in one piece. Why would I not be in one piece? I am perfectly capable of preventing myself being ripped to shreds." She eyed him for a moment. "Well, perhaps you are not quite ripped to shreds, either. You managed to be, what? carried off by a rather large creature and the worst wound you suffered is a rather nasty gash? Perhaps the carnivorous dinosaurs prefer the taste of other dinosaurs after all."

"Not so much one large creature as apparently a dozen small ones," Forge replied with as much of a smile as he could manage. "But I managed to stay mostly in one piece. Speaking of, um, how much training have you had down in the infirmary with Doctors Grey and Voght?"

"Well, I have spent more time with Dr. Grey than I have with Dr. Voght," Crystal began. "Really, I do not like to speak ill of people, and I do not like making baseless assumptions, but after having actually witnessed Dr. Voght at what some might say is her best, I... ah, I understand. Unfortunately, despite the vast array of powers assembled here, I do not believe that we have anyone who can create the proper tools we need to..." An eyebrow raised just ever so slightly as she saw what Forge was holding. "Forge. You were carried off by a dozen 'small' flesh-eating animals, received an untold number of bites and scratches, lost most of your leg, had part of your shoulder torn off, and somehow through it all you managed to hold onto surgical equipment?"

"Funny story there," Forge quipped, extending the needles and thread to Crystal. "If you can help suture this gouge on my shoulder, I'll be too happy to relate it to you."

*****

The repeated buzzing was what woke him, the combination of insects in the air and the rhythmic small shocks coming from his leg. Once unconsciousness had started to fade, it was replaced by a sudden wash of painful aches, then a giant stab of piercing pain that caused Forge to sit up and cry out.

His vision was still swimming, but he could definitely hear skittering around him. Blinking, he rubbed at his eyes, patting around half-blind. "Hello?" he called out cautiously. "Kyle? Marie? Marius? Anyone?" He'd hoped for someone's voice to explain what had happened. There'd been... dinosaurs? That wasn't possible. But there they'd been, and then - fire. Another explosion and...

Oh god, he thought, I blacked out, didn't I?

His first reaction was embarassment. Another panic situation, and he'd been useless. Some adult supervision he was turning out to be.

His second reaction, as his vision began to focus, was that he was definitely not in the campsite. A small grotto of some sort, low stone ceiling that he'd just avoided smashing his head on. He didn't recall finding this place - had he been brought here? If so, by whom?

The skitterings and hisses from the mouth of the grotto gave him an answer. Small bipedal dinosaurs, about half a dozen of them, swayed back and forth by the entrance, backlit by the morning sun. Stunned for a moment, Forge began to notice the scattered bones and eggshells around the grotto. Then the final realization came to him, followed by a strange and unfamiliar feeling of righteous indignation.

These little pack-hunting bastards had dragged his unconscious body here for dinner. And from the hungry looks in their reptilian eyes, it wasn't as a guest of honor.

Quickly, Forge reached out and grabbed a long bone, cracking the end against the stone floor of the grotto. Words and taunts would have been useless, and none were coming to mind anyway. This was a case of survival. Something in the back of his mind reminded him that a sharpened stick was the first tool used by prehistoric man, an item used for hunting, for digging, for defense.

The first weapon. And the only one he had at hand.

"Okay, you little walking fossils. Time to learn why homo sapiens is at the top of the food chain, and you guys are fuel for SUVs these days. Bring it on."

As one, the pack of dinosaurs rushed into the grotto, teeth and claws flailing. Closing his eyes, Forge screamed and lunged forward, makeshift spear extended.

*****

Fifteen minutes later, movement stirred from the mouth of the cave. Bloodstained fingers gripped the rock ledge, followed by metal ones, and Forge hauled himself up into the sunlight. His shirt was torn into shreds, and his torso was marked by several very bloody scratches and bites. But in his teeth he held the sharpened bone that had protected him from the pack. For now, it was his only tool, and it was a start.

"Okay, scout," he mumbled to himself, shading his eyes from the morning sun, "Where in the hell am I?" Around him was nothing but jungle, scattered paths of beaten vegetation showing where the park's inhabitants had traveled.

Might as well get moving. Low probability that if the rest of the group's moving, that they'll head specifically this way. Higher probability of two moving bodies intersecting each other's path. It was a principle of particle physics, but it applied easily as well to randomly-moving objects.

Leaning heavily on the spear that was now serving as a walking stick, Forge entered the jungle.

*****

Metal. Metal was good. Especially good, because it wasn't the endless pattern of vines and thick branches and thorns. Extra-especially good because it wasn't moving and trying to eat him. For the past two hours, Forge had been walking in as straight a line as he could manage through the overgrowth, hoping to intersect either the rest of his group, a marked path, or one of the walls of the Conservatory. For the last half of that time, he'd noticed a numbness spreading from where the dinosaurs had bitten him, and he felt cold, despite the sweltering heat. He felt himself sticky from blood and sweat, but was still shivering.

Toxins. Bacteria. Infection. Take your pick, he deduced. The jungle was as septic an environment as anything, and being chewed on by dinosaurs with god-knows-what bacteria in their mouths wasn't putting him on a good footing.

Following the corrugated metal wall around to a corner, Forge smiled. The universal sign for help, a red cross in a white circle, was stenciled on the door. Smashing at the lock with his spear, Forge finally snapped the metal from its moorings and threw the door open.

"I am officially the luckiest man alive..." he mumbled, looking at the interior of the small shack. Cases of bandages, antibiotics, and painkillers lined the walls. This was obviously a first-aid station, and exactly what he needed. Wasting no time, he sat on one of the small benches and began trying to clean and dress his wounds in the mirror. A long gouge ran up the side of his chest and over his shoulder, something that was definitely going to need stitches if - when - he got out of here.

A handful of aspirin was dry-swallowed, along with a random handful of antibiotic pills. God knew what this was going to do to his kidneys and liver, but if he didn't stay awake long enough to get out of this green hell, it wouldn't matter anyway.

In the mirror, a flashing red light caught Forge's eye. He turned, and blinked repeatedly to ensure that he wasn't halluicinating. Before him was a large map mounted on the wall, with blinking red lights labeled "Gates 1A-16H". That had to be where the dinosaurs had been released from. Some simple triangulation let Forge figure out where he was relative to the pens - smack dab in the middle of the conservatory, of course - and where the campsite had been.

Time to move, then. But first, time to gear himself up. Who knew what else had come out of those pens, and what lay between him and his friends. He was going to need something more than a sharp stick for protection, and something to guide him. But he needed materials to work with. Scavenging would take time, he needed something quickly...

Glancing down at his prosthetic leg, Forge steeled himself and detached his small energency tool case from his thigh. Wielding a screwdriver and wrench, he began.

*****

"...and then I saw that pack of big meat-eaters rushing this way, and decided to head for the high ground that way," Forge pointed with his good arm to the hill he'd come down from earlier. "Took one out, passed the bow off to Laurie, and then proceeded to watch as you guys went all Battle Royale on the dinos. Hardcore, totally."

"Yes, the majority of us were engaged in the widespread slaugher of animals who should not exist," Crystal replied as she finished. "We are now well prepared to spring into action should the few remaining survivors of actual known endangered species decide to attack us." She sat back and examined her work critically. "Well, it is not a professional job, but then again, medlab volunteer as I may be, I am a lady, not a doctor." She looked at Forge, smiling a bit. "You did not make a fuss. I am impressed. You will live."

Forge avoided from flexing his shoulder, simply tucking his arm carefully to his chest and arranging a makeshift sling with a loop of vine that he'd cut down earlier. "You are indeed a lady among ladies. I would brag of my manly abilities to endure pain, but-" he held up a mostly-empty bottle of pills. "The good news is that I can thank my good friend hydrocodone for that ability. The bad news is that on a scale of one to ten, I am so high right now... but! Still good news, I can get us out of here." He stood up, then staggered against the tree as the knee joint of his stripped-down prosthetic leg squeaked and buckled under his weight.

"Bad news," he joked, "I'm going to need someone to carry me. Ah, fun times."

He had managed to make his way away from hungry dinosaurs, traipsed through the jungle, found his way here, and now he needed help to travel the last small bit to where the others were gathered? "Would you like me to carry you?" Crystal offered with a smile, hiding all traces of amusement at the thought.

"Just over to where Marie and Garrison are?" Forge asked, extending an arm to Crystal. "I figure they might want to know that I've figured out how to get us out of here."

Wait... what? Was he being serious? "This map that you found," Crystal said, allowing most of Forge's weight to rest on her. "Are you certain that it is real, and not a trick? Oh, and how do you feel about flying?" Already the wind around them had picked up and neither of them were quite on the ground.

Forge's stomach jumped, but he managed to keep his composure. "No joke," he explained. "It led me back to you guys, and this-" he unhooked a device from his belt that had potentially started out life as an iPod, but now flashed a digital arrow on its screen, surrounded by ever-changing numbers, "- is our compass out of here. We just need to get a move on, because as best I could count? We haven't seen half of the animals in here, and I'd rather not stay in one place long enough for the rest to come across us."

He leaned cautiously forward, feeling Crystal's winds carry them smoothly across the campsite, past a number of downed allosaurs and more than one that appeared to have been frozen into lead statues. Smiling, he reached out to gently touch Crystal on the arm. "We're going to get out of here. Just trust me."

Crystal looked at Forge, raising an eyebrow slightly. "Forge. I am not concerned for myself. At any time I so desired, I could leave. I do not have to remain on the ground, and I am perfectly capable of moving around at a higher altitude. However, not everyone can do so, and it would not be feasible to carry everyone out of the park this way. Therefore, I am remaining with the group. It would not do to have people worrying about me needlessly when there are other pressing matters they should be concerned with instead."

"I don't doubt it for a minute," Forge responded. "In fact, that may help us all get out of here and get home even faster. Ah, here we are." He let his right leg bear the weight as Crystal lowered them to the ground behind where the other two chaperones were standing. "Come on, let's go make a plan."

Crystal nodded to Forge, but had to hide a frown as she looked at the two X-Men. The fate of a a large number of Xavier's students now rested in the hands of Marie, Forge, and Garrison. God help them all.

Meanwhile, the rescue team heads out on the Blackbird to find the missing tour group. To say that this is possibly not the best group of personalities to put together on a mission would be the understatement of the year.

Sam gripped the controls for the Blackbird and flexed his hands repeatedly around them. With the sudden dinosaur invasion of New York City, the entire team was stretched to its limits. So the available roster for trying to find the lost field trip was slim at best. And then, of course, Medusa had decided to invite herself along to find her sister. Sam hadn't figured out a way to tell the Attalanian no, and that coupled with the lack of personnel available had led to her joining him, Shiro, Terry, and Clarice on the rescue mission.

Medusa sat quietly in one of the seats, the writhing motion of her hair the only indication that she was not perfectly calm. Her sister was out there with those things running around - it wasn't that she didn't trust Crystal to take care of herself, she just didn't want her to have to, especially with dinosaurs. The word felt foolish even in her thoughts.

Across the aisle, Clarice carefully stretched her shoulders and tried to move despite the close quarters of the blackbird. The burns from a few weeks earlier were healed enough that she could go on this mission, but that didn't mean she was in top shape. "Are we there yet?" she asked, unaccustomed to normal air travel. Even the speeds the Blackbird was capable of were slow to her.

Try though he did, Shiro couldn't resist the urge to roll his eyes. He managed enough civility to bite down on a reply to Clarice, but the quirking of his lips may have suggested that the satisfaction of such a comment was difficult to resist. "ETA?" he asked Sam instead.

"Not very long," Sam replied evenly. "Ah could take her supersonic, but for a trip this short, that'd almost be counterproductive." His eyes constantly scanned the readouts and the air ahead of them, never staying in one place for long.

"Don't roll your eyes at me!" Clarice snapped at Shiro. Why did they have to be on this mission together?! Why oh why? And of course, he had to go and be all formal and official, asking Sam when they were going to arrive. As if she could've done that if she'd wanted to, but it wasn't her style. This was totally sucking.

"You are hallucinating," Shiro spat back, "Stop making things up. My sister is out there, and I will not stand for any lax behavior that could result in harm to her wellbeing."

"Bickering will not aid either of our siblings," Medusa said sternly, her first words since she'd simply told Sam 'I am coming with you' earlier in the day. Turning to face the window beside her, her eyes locked on the scenery flashing by. She was going to rescue her sister from rampaging dinosaurs with bickering adolescents. Great. She shot a glance at Terry, glad that the Irish redhead was there - at least there was someone she could rely on.

They were almost there. They were almost there. Sam kept repeating that to himself to distract him from the interaction behind him. Maybe if he ignored it, they'd magically get sprinkled with maturity or something. A man could hope, at least.