Ahab -- The Rescue: Part I

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The First Strike.

Warning: Graphic imagery



At Ororo's nod, Nathan reached out and laid a hand against the door. The metal of it warped and tore, the door ripping itself off its hinges. He could have blown it up easily, kicked it down - it would have been very satisfying to do that, right this moment - but they didn't know where the kids were inside the lab. Hence, shrapnel was not an option.

Kurt was standing ready, and was the first through the doorway once it was unblocked. He wasn't being overhasty for all that, though, keeping a careful eye out at every step.

Behind him came Ororo, also moving as quickly as caution would allow. Her hands were nearly trembling with nerves and she steeled herself as they emerged into the lab - an ultimately futile effort, as what she saw there was shocking enough to set them shaking once more.

They were in a theatre of some sort, it seemed; looking up, Ororo could see seats surrounding the sunken area they had just stepped into. The pit was finished in a dingy-looking tile that reflected the harsh lighting overhead and cast a glare into their eyes. Blinking, she resolved the shapes of several figures across the room and angled her steps towards them. The element of surprise was now officially lost.

"What?" Rory stumbled backwards in shock as the door--the metal, well locked door--crumpled like so much tin foil. "X-Men, of course. Too soon, much too soon but this..." He suddenly hissed upon seeing the leather clad people enter. "Dayspring, you sorry son of a bitch, I'll wear your intestines as a hat before this is over."

Turning his head, he pointed with his cane at the now opened entry and snapped at the mercenaries, "What are you waiting for? Get them! And..." He turned back to his Hounds and ran a hand down Marius's head. "Let's see what you three are really made of. Release the Hounds!"

As soon as he'd uttered the words, he calmly turned and left the area. Let them tear each other apart while he safely awayed.

They had been prepared for this. George had warned them all what they would see. But warnings and being faced with the actual reality were something very different.

All three were sitting off to the side, very still. None of them had flinched when Nathan had torn off the door, or lifted their heads at the voices. At Rory's urging, however, they looked up. Three pairs of empty yellow eyes, claws on fingers and bare feet. Each had been dressed in form-fitting red pants and jackets, studded with metallic silver sensors. The girl's top was sleeveless, while the boys were both covered to their wrists. Their muscles that tensed at the unfamiliar signatures at the door.

The smallest of the three got to her feet and took a slow step forward, still crouched over almost on all fours, to challenge the newcomers. Her hair had not been washed or combed all week and it hung limply into eyes which glittered eerily in the light. Her lip curled back in a snarl, revealing fangs. Everything was different, from the way she looked to the way she carried herself, if they hadn't known any better she would have been completely unrecognizable. Jennie was gone, leaving something twisted and animalistic behind.

The dark boy didn't rise, but a clear sense of alertness came over him. Marius' head dipped against the dull red of the suit with deceptive slowness, almost lazily, like a predator fixing on his prey. Minute adjustments to his posture began; bunching muscles, absolute attention. Jennie's movement didn't even draw the flicker of an eye. The three new signatures in the room were his whole world.

The third hung back for a moment, hesitant, crouched close to the ground. Kyle was still tall, rangy, and sharp claws tipped his fingers and toes. But his normally slightly wild hair had been buzzed back nearly to his scalp, and the normally muddy hazel eyes were instead a dirty yellow. His attention was fixed on Jennie, almost as if he waited on her actions to take his own.

Another man stepped into the room, apparently alerted to the visitors by more conventional ways. "Well," Wipeout said calmly, and pushed, feeling, with no small amount of satisfaction, their unwelcome guests' powers break down and fade away. "That should do."

The change was immediate and obvious; the room seemed to deaden around Ororo as the air currents and ambient moisture were plucked away from her control. Powers or not, however, they still had a job to do, and she knew she could trust both Nathan and Kurt to give their best effort no matter what the circumstances. Of course, it would have been nice to have some abilities at her disposal when it came to dealing with the cowardly Rory; there were very few places to hide from a lightning bolt.

Eyeing the monstrous-looking beings that had once been their students hunched across the room from them, Ororo clenched her fists and took a deep breath, heart hammering in her chest. "Let's go, team," she murmured then, and started forward.


***


"Jesus Christ." Narrowly ducking a piece of wall and managing to scrape an arm on a pillar instead, Ruckus twisted, sending a wave of sound back at the redheaded leather fetishist who seemed so intent on kicking his ass. Technicians were scattering - avoiding the fights, but getting in the damn way nonetheless - and the hospital seemed to be falling apart, though his opinion might have biased, since he'd been the one slamming sound into the courtyard walls for what was beginning to seem like a long time. The echoes of violence were feeding into his powers, amplifying themselves tenfold, but the girl was a harder mark than he'd initially thought.

A job like this would happen in New Jersey, wouldn't it. Gathering sound around him, spinning it through whatever it was that made the power tick, he screamed a burst of it at her, putting as much power into it as he dared - those walls weren't looking good at all.

Terry was still swearing creatively after the discovery that her powers were entirely useless against the other mutant. Screaming did no good, it only gave him ammunition. The same could be said for him too--his shout washed over her, blowing back her hair and humming through her bones but not moving her an inch.

But not having a direct attack didn't mean no attacks at all. Hurling another chunk of concrete at him, she pulverized it with a well-timed keen, raining fist sized pieces onto him. But this was a stalemate and she knew it and trying to ignore that wasn't going to solve anything. "Rogue, I need you!" she shouted.

The technicians may have been trying to avoid the fights, but that didn't mean Marie couldn't bring the fight to them. She was in the process of knocking one unconscious when she heard Terry call her name. Pushing off the ground she flew over to land directly in front of Ruckus. "How 'bout you try some of that on me?" she said, spinning around and lifting her leg in an arc towards his jaw.

Ruckus almost dodged it; the blow skidded across his face, and he took most of the impact, leaving him stunned for half a second - until he could regain his balance and open his mouth, sending more sound than was probably strictly safe at the two women.

The whole place vibrated and Terry fervently hoped that Marie's eardrums were as invulnerable as the rest of her or there was potential hearing loss in her future. Ignoring the fight, Terry took a few precious seconds to get a mental map of the area, taking in the trees, the building behind her, the covered walkway... In her head, she reduced it all to the table in the mansion, placing each of them as markers, plotting...and there. That would work. She just needed to get Ruckus into place. "Rogue," she said over the comms, "Move him 25 feet to your left."

"Oh my God!" The cry came from outside the courtyard, where several technicians were fleeing; it wasn't clear which one was screaming, but it was clear exactly what they were screaming about - a large chunk of wall was hanging precariously over their heads, but someone had fallen, and several were trying to get him out, scrabbling in the rubble for some kind of hold. "Help, please! Someone!"

Rogue's gaze flitted from Ruckus to the endangered techs and back again. They deserved to be captured and maybe experience some pain, but the situation was going to grow deadly if she just ignored it. And she couldn't do that. "Siryn, keep him busy," Marie said into her comm as she dashed over to the rubble. Jumping up she got her hands under the wall right before it detached, flinging it into a direction where there wasn't anyone around.

"What?" Terry yelped in response as her teammate abandoned her, "Rogue!" She took her eyes off Ruckus for a moment, tried to track the other woman then focused again when she realized she was stuck in precisely the situation she'd been in a few minutes before when she'd first called for back-up, "Mother Mary, you've got to be kidding." Twenty-five feet, would it have really been that much to ask? Apparently. Instead Terry screamed and let the bounce of the soundwaves lift her over a pile of rubble that used to be supporting the covering of the walkway. Please follow me, she thought hard in Ruckus's direction.

Oh, no, you don't. Ruckus sped after Terry, furiously glad to be rid of the dark-haired one, itching for a chance to put some hurt on the redhead who'd copy-catted his powers. He sent off wave after wave of amplified sound at her, trying to catch her off-guard.

Long hours in the Danger Room didn't actually prepare you for something like this, crushing force bleeding around you and ripping up the ground, Terry reflected frantically as she let one of the waves flip her in the air so she landed in front of a column. Stationary for a moment, she looked around and finally realized why Rogue had abandoned her so suddenly. "Shit." So much for that plan. If she let him take out the support column now, half the techs would be crushed. It sucked fighting amateurs. "Hey!" she shouted at Ruckus, "Why don't you just give up? We're obviously better."

Having moved the techs to safety while knocking them out or securing them in the process, Marie turned her attention back to the fighting pair. "Hope you still want him moved," Marie muttered into her comm as she picked up a hefty sized chunk of rubble and threw it with all her strength to splinter against the ground on his right, spraying large pieces of gravel at him.

Ruckus cursed creatively, forced to jump and avoid the rubble - propelling himself closer to the redheaded one, upon whom he was itching to put some good, old-fashioned smackdown. He landed a few meters away from her and moved purposefully, unmindful of what, exactly, he was walking into.

Oh sure, now she came through. Terry and Marie were going to be having a little talk about timing after this mission. Drawing in a deep breath, she smirked at Ruckus. She'd have quipped if anything had come to mind but since nothing did, she just screamed, letting her voice rebound off him as it had since they'd begun this fight, doubled in strength. The resulting sonic wave ripped at her hair, tore up the ground around her feet. Then she duck and let the full force of it hit the pillar behind her, hearing the concrete shatter with a huge crack.

Ruckus's face changed from rage to horror as he realized the enormity of his mistake: Cracks hurried up the surrounding walls, and suddenly, with a noise that struck him as too loud, things were caving in on him - was that the walkway, swinging down, unsupported? Oh shit, oh shit - and he disappeared underneath a rolling avalanche of debris.

Tucked against what was left of the pillar, her eyes squeezed shut, breath held, Terry prayed that her clever plan wasn't going to get her killed. The dust and crushed rock swirled through the air, covering her in a fine layer of grime. Cautiously, she opened one eye, squinted through the dust-heavy air, shoved away a rock or two and crept out. Marie had dashed off again with a quick word over the comms that Terry hadn't paid attention to, this time to help Shiro against one of the other mutants. Coughing, Terry took a breath and screamed, aiming at disorienting the fleeing techs.

Well, this was going well.


***


Ramrod was standing on the upper level of the large circular room, a good distance away from his target. He had a clear view of the X-Man from his elevated position. The mercenary turned his gaze onto the potted plants that had been lined in a row next to the seats. The roots creeped out from underneath their plastic homes, the branches and leaves growing, mutating at a highly disturbing speed, creating a dense barrier between Kurt and the rest.

It was a long time since Kurt had been anywhere that could reasonably be described as a forest. The snare Ramrod had just created was worse, for several reasons - it was more clogged with branches than most of the forests he knew, and it was inside. Not to mention the fact that the branches kept moving and growing from one moment to the next.

Thus, he began muttering to himself in irritated German and Romany as he pushed his way through the foliage.

"Not flah'ed out already, are you?" Ramrod climbed a little higher up the stairs and stepped up onto one of the vacant seats to get a clearer view of Kurt. He held a piece of wood in each hand. It grew in length and size, destroying everything in its path as it headed straight for the X-Man.

Kurt glanced up at the sound of the voice, and that was enough warning for him. He dropped and rolled, dodging the living wood coming for him. Risking raising his head, he shot back at Ramrod, "You will never be that lucky."

"Wise up ya gack ye! I'm suckin' diesel 'ere!" Ramrod spat the words out as thick roots wrapped itself around Kurt's ankle, hauling him upwards. He wielded control over a branch and speared it in Kurt's direction.

Unfortunately for him, Kurt was just as comfortable upside down and swinging by his feet as anywhere. He stretched out to grab the branch with his tail and one hand, reaching down with the other to start untangling the root.

"Bit of a circus freak, aye?" he snickered. "You've got me gobsmacked!" Ramrod reanimated the piece of wood in his hand, forming it into a spear. Elongating the shaft, he aimed it at the man's neck, cursing as he missed entirely before repeating the strikes, this time at bloody random.

Kurt just rolled his eyes at the comments, dodging the stick - not exactly with ease, but dodging it all the same. "I have heard it all before."

"...jaysus-" It was clearly a wasted effort and Ramrod was going nowhere with it. "...bloody foostering." He drew the branches together and concentrated on closing the gaps between the foliage surrounding Kurt in an effort to buy himself some time to figure out his next move. "You're goin' ta end up in flitters by the time I'm done with ye!"

He didn't close the gaps fast enough, as it turned out, and the blue man came bursting through the leaves towards him. "As some of my students would say... you wish."

"...feckin' gobshite-" The sudden appearance had taken Ramrod by surprise. He took a swing at the enemy with the trusty staff in his hand before backtracking a few steps, having a preference for good distance in combat.

Well, it served Kurt's purposes not to let him have anything he had a preference for. He darted forward, tail lashing out as soon as he was close enough to wrap around the staff and yank, aiming to pull it out of Ramrod's hand.

Letting out an animalistic growl, Ramrod tightened his grip on the piece of wood before breaking it in two halves. Rushing forward, he directed a punch at Kurt's jaw and made a move to stab the jagged edge of his weapon at the man's abdomen.

Kurt ducked the punch easily, sidestepping the wooden edge... then came back up, almost balletically, to kick Ramrod in the face.


***


"White people . . . never know . . . when to give up!" Fists sheathed in golden fire slammed against a grotesquely large jaw, but to no effect. It seemed to Shiro that his foe was growing bigger with every attack, and it was growing more difficult to even faze him. Even a roundhouse to the face had the sole effect of making Shiro's foot throb violently. This couldn't end well.

"Oh bother, must it always come down to xenophobic taunting?" The cultured accent was at serious odds with Slab's ever-increasing mass and shaved head, but the tones of bemusement were rapidly fading as his irritation grew. "I say, four years at Cambridge and post-doctoral work at Oxford, and what do I get for it? 'Slab, go batter around some flying interlopers. Oh, and they're on fire'. Morons. Only one of you is on fire."

"I would be happy to share," offered Shiro. He barely dodged a giant hand and flew back a few feet. The sudden spike in temperature was the only warning before he ignited the air, sending forth a stream of solar flare at Slab. "What kind of educated man kidnaps and harms children?" he spat over the roar of the flames.

The heat made Slab step back, one huge arm covering his face. Adrenalin fueled his power, and he'd more than tripled his body mass, with a corresponding increase in strength and resilience. However, while he was virtually fireproof, that certainly didn't mean that the white-hot plasma didn't hurt.

"One who is being compensated rather sizably, if you must know. Although, not to put to fine a point on it, I myself was not actually present for the abduction to which you refer. The harming, however, there I cannot proclaim innocence. I shall not prevaricate," Slab smiled, teeth like shining dominoes lined in a grim rictus, "Three healing factors are far more interesting to test than one."

The growl that escaped Shiro would have made Wolverine proud. "You vile, twisted asshole!" He erupted in full fire form, the sudden ignition superheating the air around him so much that thunder clapped and the concrete beneath his feet melted. He thrust himself like a rocket at Slab, a trail of fire left in his wake, and aimed an uppercut.

Slab caught the punch in one hand, leaning forward to force Shiro down to his knees, despite the smell of burning skin from his palm. "Young man," he hissed through the pain, "what do you think you're going to accomplish here? You're simply not strong enough."

"Terry, make sure he's..." Marie trailed off as she noticed what was going on with Shiro. "You know what to do," she said hurriedly with a nod at the redhead before sprinting to the other side of the room, knocking a couple techs out of her way in the process. "But I am," she said simply before rocketing a punch to Slab's temple.

The big man's head snapped to the side, his grip on Shiro immediately releasing as he crumpled into a heap. "...now that was hardly ideal..." he gasped, trying to regain his feet. "Now then, try that whilst I'm prepared, you horrible little trollop. I should warn you, I've no compunctions about pounding you insensible and turning you over to Ramrod to be used for whatever purposes that disgusting little Irishman can think of. Well then, what have you?" He raised his fists in a boxing stance, one hand still smoking.

An explosion on the right side of his face answered him. Shiro sat on his knees, cradling his injured hand under an arm, the other hand still glowing from conjuring the fireball. "Your degrees will not do you any good where you are going," he said hoarsely.

Slab rocked back and forth, pointing from Shiro to Marie. "You... and you... I am going to... lie down for a moment." The giant's eyes rolled back in his head as he toppled backwards with a crash, slowly resuming his normal size.

From not too far away came a nauseating scream, more vibration than volume. With Ruckus out of the picture, Terry could disorient the fleeing techs easily with a broad-wave keen, bringing more than one to their knees, retching. The edges of the wave reached Rogue and Sunfire, no more than a bit of buzzing in their heads. Friendly fire wasn't.

Shiro pulled himself up and gingerly let go of his hand so he could examine it. "Ow. I think he broke it," he said, wincing when he tried to move his fingers. He kicked Slab at his temple for good measure, right where Marie had punched him, then looked up at her. "What? I just want to ensure that he is knocked out."

"He was and you know it," Marie said, her tone firm; she understood the desire to seek revenge all too well herself and it wasn't something she was going to condone in one of her friends and teammates. At least not directed at the unconscious. "Save that energy for any of them that are still up and running."


***


The leathers were great for stopping knives, sometimes even bullets depending on range and what kind they were. They were not, however, much good for blunting the impact when you were powerless and getting thrown into a wall. His head spinning, Nathan pushed himself up to his hands and knees, ignoring the pain jolting down his spine, and looked up at the blurred shape of George coming at him.

Pete, your old acquaintances suck...

George stepped up and lunged in, pulling the guy's hands out from under him, sending him crashing to the ground. Oooh, that had to have hurt. He felt a twinge of guilt. Bloody making it look realistic.

Nathan gritted his teeth and rolled - towards George, to buy himself some slack. He had to get that damned explosive charge off his belt and end this already. Otherwise the other man's urge for realism was going to leave Nathan himself needing help, rather than in the position to help the kids, and that was not acceptable.

George stepped back slightly and doubled over, hands on his knees, panting, exaggerating it and looking as though he were about to collapse. He was tired, yeah, but he wasn't that far gone yet and it looked like the other guy needed an advantage. This was going hurt. A lot.

Nathan half-crawled, half-staggered the couple of steps to a nearby chair placed in front of a lab table. He grabbed it, flinging it in George's direction to buy himself a moment as he lurched to his feet, tearing the explosive charge off his belt and setting the detonator. This next part was going to be awkward; he couldn't risk just throwing it. Gritting his teeth, he charged George, noticing that the other man was just that telling second too slow in the attempt to grab him.

He punched the other mutant in the midsection, with the hand holding the explosive charge.

George grunted, gasped for breath and pulled the charge out of Nathan's hand, folding his body around it as though the punch had winded him and felt it ticking down against his stomach. Oh, this was not going to be fun. George grabbed Nathan's arm and threw him, twisting him over his hip and saw the man land next to Jennie and moved a few steps away, behind the lab bench in the hope that that would muffle the explosion.

Nathan nearly missed the denouement of the play-acting; George had thrown him hard enough to knock the breath out of him and leave him sprawled on the floor, seeing stars. His vision started to clear just as the explosion happened, and he raised his head in time to see... pieces, flying in all directions. Grimacing sharply, he looked away, one hand raised to shield his face.

Without his telepathy, he couldn't tell whether or not the other man's psi-imprint was still present, whether the explosives had been just enough or too much. Right now, he couldn't bring himself to care. Breathing was a little more important.

He was interrupted by a high-pitched growl. It came from the figure couched down behind an overturned table, staring at him through lank black hair. Jennie.

There was no hint of recognition in the girl's yellow eyes. Nothing rational, nothing calculating, that all had been stripped from her. She moved her head from side to side with the smooth grace of a predator stalking prey. His unfamiliar signature tensed her muscles, and she growled even louder.

In the space it took Nathan to draw breath, she lunged.

Shit! He could have frozen her in place with a thought, if he'd had his powers at the moment. Of course, a lot of what was going on here wouldn't be happening if he had his powers at the moment. Despite the fact that he was still wheezing, Nathan moved instinctively. Not enough time to get to his feet. Just enough time to get into position to throw her - or rather, send her skidding across the floor in an uncontrolled slide as gently as he could, because he was not hurting her, he was not...

A roll and he came to his feet, turning to grab the table and pull it around between them. Anything to keep her back while he -

Oh, fucking hell! The tranq gun wasn't on his belt. Had it fallen somewhere while George had been throwing him around like a rag doll?

The girl recovered her balance quickly. Whatever had been done to her had increased her speed and agility, and judging from how hard she rammed Nathan from the side and knocked him over, strength. She slashed at him with clawed fingers. There was no conscious choice on her part, just a need to bring down the unfamiliar mutant, and to hurt.

The high collar of the uniform jacket was meant to guard against throat-strikes. But she wasn't aiming for his throat, she was aiming for his eyes, and Nathan, winded again, turned his head just in time to let the claws rake across his cheek instead. The pain was sharp and immediate, but it had the effect of clearing his head. Hating himself, he landed a solid punch in her midsection.

She grunted with the impact, stumbling to the ground and settling back into a crouch, hand pressed to her stomach. She growled, low and angry. She made to swipe at him but she was deflected as Nathan got back to his feet. The girl backed up a few paces before her face contorted with blank animal rage, and she charged again.

But Nathan was on his feet, and no longer at quite such a disadvantage. Yes, he was tired - yes, he wasn't moving quite as easily as he should be, but he had been doing this for a lot longer than Jennie. Heightened physical abilities or not, she was still a lot smaller than him, too. He let her charge and knocked her feet out from under her, sending her back to the floor - and giving him a second or three to back away and look again for the tranq gun. It couldn't have gone far.

There was a flash of red light, and then a shower of sparks as one of the operating lamps near him exploded. Jennie stood, hands glowing with a soft red light, more like her normal posture than the animal-like crouch. But her yellow eyes were still empty.

Nathan froze - just for a moment, just long enough for the realization of what was happening to sink in. In the next, he was turning back towards her, the idea of fumbling around to find the tranq gun gone. She would just have to forgive him for the bruise...

The universe existed on a balance. This balance itself had been built into Jennie's DNA, causing her unfortunate "lucksnaps" whenever things were pushed too far, a genetic failsafe to keep reality firmly where it was. Using her powers for the first time in nearly a week, the universe recognized that something was wrong. The balance had been disrupted somehow, on even such a tiny scale, and now the universe did what it always needed to do when the balance had been thrown out of whack. It reasserted itself. Forcibly.

It really was a bad idea to mess with a probability manipulator's genetic code.

The lights in Jennie's hands sputtered, and a fine sheen of sweat broke out on the girl's forehead. Before Nathan could even get close the girl cried out, hunching over in pain and covering her face with her hands. Small bursts of white light illuminated her body, and Nathan could see traces of bones and muscle in the flashes, like the negatives of an X-Ray.

The light got brighter, and pulsed out.