X-Men: Mission: Fin Fang Foom!!!

[x-dominion.livejournal.com]

The mission starts as the X-Men and Christian Kane begin to infiltrate the casino itself.



There was no other state for the Longtouhuan Casino at night other than opulent. The red neon snaked high up the building front, casting a lurid hue on the droves of people waiting to enter. Most of them would be turned away, due to a lack of money, style, or fame. The Longtouhuan had a reputation, for big money games and high rollers, and was happy to anger thousands of cheap tourists and keno obsessed grandmothers to portray just the right sense of old world entitlement.

Of course, if you were one of the ones that fit what the casino wanted, such things as lines didn't apply to you. Christian Kane had passed along that information during the planning stages. It had become readily apparent once they had returned to the hotel which was serving as their base of operations that they needed a way to get them all on to the floor without drawing undue notice. Kane's experience came to the forefront has he outlined what they were facing. With speed and surety, he broke down the challenges that were involved in breaking into the main chambers of the Mandarin, firing questions and observations at each of them.

During the exhaustive session, he'd squeezed every observation that each had made from their various positions, and constructed a unified whole profile of the casino with them. He then proceeded to create a tactical plan with an efficiency that was beyond anything that an X-Men session or working with Snow Valley had matched. With his long white hair and ready smile, he didn't look like a man had been doing this sort of thing since long before most of the mansion was even born. More importantly, he didn't look like the type of person you'd expect to have once been responsible for the security of an entire world power, sitting in a loose shirt with his white ponytail spilling down his shoulders. Most people would have passed him off for a retired hippie, gone native in the manner of some South American care mission.

Now, they each filtered past the front doors and the guards, with only a slight glance towards the roof where one of their number kept watch. Once past the front security, the familiar sounds of the casino washed over them, and each made their own way to their prearranged station, linked imperceptibly by Haller's telepathic switchboard.

#Seems like we have a very busy night. Excellent.# Christian thought as he took a seat at the baccarat table closest to the door they had targeted. #Any one see anything unusual?#

#This woman is counting cards,# Shiro sent as he passed by a particularly intense game of blackjack. #She is doing too well, and the dealer is obviously growing very frustrated. He will probably call security at any moment.# The smirk of schadenfreude was clear down the switchboard.
Almost simultaneously Jim saw a man in the dark brown jacket of casino security join the table, standing too close to the woman for there to be any mistake as to his intent. He noticed, too, that the act brought the discreet but steady attention of their less legitimate, black-suited counterparts.

#The casino staff aren't the only ones watching,# Jim said as he and Jennie wandered further onto the floor and out of the table's line of sight. #Redundant security, like you thought.# He was grateful for the observation, since it gave him something marginally more useful to contribute to the conversation than his only other previous thought, which had occurred upon Jennie's earlier release of Jan and consisted primarily of the urge to snicker Fly, my pretty, fly!. He really wished there were some way to leave Cyndi home during missions.

#Of course. They can afford to buy the best, after all.# Garrison Kane's mental voice came across clearly as they spread out. Garrison took up station by the bar, casually watching the flow of the crowd near the door.

#That is one of the benefits of a criminal existence, boy. Assuming Mister Sefton is in place,# Christian paused to double up his bet at the table, lifting his cards to see a five and a three. A natural. If he believed in omens, he'd say it was a good one. #Mister Haller, please commence with your winning streak.#

Feeling Kurt's affirmative from his position on the roof, Jim let his own assent leak across the link. He ducked his head towards Jennie. "Feel like trying something, Tricia?"

It was the last thing Jennie wanted to do. There was no way the Elder Kane would have known her history, or at least she hoped that this was the case. It was the reason she was blacklisted from the casinos in Monte Carlo. It was ironic that on her very first mission, she was being asked to do the same. "I really don't want to do this, Jess," Jennie muttered.

Oh, no. He'd wondered if this was going to become an issue. This wasn't something for the link, either. With a brief nod Jim walked the girl to a corner with a potted plant where they were less likely to be heard, hoping they hadn't fallen far enough into a spy movie that a frond was going to turn out to be bugged.

"I know this is probably setting off associations, but we need the distraction," Jim said, his voice as low as he could get it and maintain some intelligibility over the crowd. "This is the way that's least likely to cause problems. For us or anyone else."

Jennie ducked her head, but the flush in her cheeks was unmistakable. She was nervous, and in Jennie's world somehow that came out as anger. "So what? I didn't sign up for this, this is not why I'm here. I'm not going to abuse my powers so some double-o-dickhead can relive his glory days. Did anyone bother to inform him what happened last time I did something like this? How about showing him the bill Xavier's got?" Not that she had spoken up about it herself when the plan was laid out, but it was the principle of the thing.

Yeah. Definitely not something for the switchboard. "No, Mr. Kane doesn't know anything about you," Jim said, voice calm, "but I'm guessing you didn't read his records, either. Has he actually done anything to deserve you taking potshots at him? Insulted us, grandstanded, taken stupid risks? Anything?" Not that it would have made a difference. He'd known Jennie for a while now. The counselor was well aware of Jennie's issues with authority -- not even any one particular person, but simply the very idea of it. And that, he knew, could be problematic. If Jennie wanted to be an X-Man she was going to have to learn that necessity didn't often make allowances for preference.

Jim leaned back, shaking his head. "Jennie," he continued, milder now, "people are counting on us. This isn't for gain, or abuse. All he asked is that you do the job you came for -- to help because you're needed. That's all. Will you do it?"

Jennie said nothing, just stared at the floor and its garish carpeting, fingernails digging into her palms. It would not look good if she balked during her first mission and stormed back to the blackbird like a spoiled child. But every instinct was screaming at her not to go through with it. It didn't matter that allowances were made so there was no real danger of a lucksnap. She tried to push away the image of Manuel's twsited body on the street, shutting her eyes and breathing evenly. After a few charged moments, she looked back up. Her expression was cold. "Fine. I'll do it. But I'm not happy about it." She tossed her hair over her shoulder with a flick of her head, scanning the room until she spotted the Roulette tables. "Roulette's our best bet. Know how to play?"

Inwardly relieved, Jim looked at the table, then back to Jennie. "Um, no. But considering our cover I think that might help." The arched eyebrow he gave her did nothing to indicate the fact that he was privately informing Kurt of the slight hitch. Everyone had their areas. It was best to keep an eye on them. Jim crooked an elbow at her. "Lead the way."

As they slipped in and out of knots of happy gamblers and brushed past some security, Jennie relayed the rules of Roulette to Haller over the mindlink. She hadn't been familiar with it until the previous summer, card games had been more of her forte. But Monte Carlo had been famous for it's Roulette, and so Jennie had learned. And out of everything on the floor, the lines that shimmered over by the Roulette wheel would be the easiest to manipulate.

#What we want to do is make an inside bet and a couple of outside bets. Pick a number and a color, and an odd or an even. We should have you win on the outside bet first, then move to a couple of insides. Don't wanna make it look rigged.# Jennie's mouth twitched as she relayed that. When they arrived at the table, the cold expression that a lesser person would have called pouting had faded and Jennie smiled beatifically at the dealer, and then turned and tugged at Haller's arm. "Jess, honey, let's try this one."

"Sure, why not," Jim replied, sliding into his chair. As he placed his bet he was acutely aware of the brown-coated security guard a few yards away. But he could sense Shiro and the two Kanes on the floor as well, which was comforting. And, in the event his acting skills turned out to be abysmal to disastrous proportions, there was always Kurt.

Jennie placed one hand on Haller's back, hand glowing ever so slightly. She was also bending over in such a way to ensure that no one was looking at her hand. Just for good measure she brushed the chips to be placed on the table with the other. #Try 13, it's my lucky number,# she sent.

To absolutely no surprise on Jim's part, with Jennie standing over him it quickly became apparent nothing wasn't a lucky number. He made sure to throw in the odd minor loss, as he'd been warned to do to prevent early eviction, but the number of chips in front of him was definitely on the increase. Jim tried to divorce himself from the fact that a bouncing marble and a pile of plastic discs represented more money than some people saw in a year.

Not that they were planning on making this an issue.

#I think we're getting pretty close here,# Jim sent as the wheel spun again in the midst of an increasingly thick crowd. #Jan, how are you doing?#

Jan flew up high where no one could swat her and the cameras couldn’t see her, not that she figured the cameras would notice her anyway. Still, she stayed out of what she assumed was the focal point for the security cameras. Reaching the control panel, she hovered close to them waiting for the superspy guy to give her the signal.

#Okay. Jennie, give it a nudge, please.#

The girl lifted an eyebrow slightly, and directed Haller to place a large amount on red 12, with smaller amounts on two other numbers. There was a hush of anticipation in the crowd, and she could feel them pressing into her back. Their audience had grown steadily larger, along with several security officers. They were looking for a show, and she and her teammate were going to give them one. The marble clacked and rolled, spinning several times as the crowd watched with baited breath, before dropping into the red 12 slot. There was a huge cheer.

I may not like it, but damn I'm good. Jennie thought as the croupier announced Haller's big win.

As the crowd grew, security began to close on the table, where the crush of the spectators wanting to see the big winner pushed them into a tight circle. It was slowly moving some of both the uniformed security and the less official triad members over and away from the comprehensive cover. Christian smiled to himself as he raked in another pot. #Miss Van Dyne, if you would be so kind to commence.#

#Sure thing# Jan agreed. #Commencing with… shouldn't we have some cool name for this? Oh well, commencing anyway.# Jan held both hands over the panel for a moment, pulled them back, then quickly hit the control panel, blasts of bio-electric energy leaping from her fingers even before she had touched the panel. #ZAP!#

The red lights on the camera went dead, but there wasn't any other indication that it had worked until Kane made a slight gesture over to security. The two guards at the door were now reduced to one, as they spoke into their headsets, and one began to fight his way through the crowd. As they had planned, losing the cameras over a table in the midst of a hot streak would definitely draw a great deal of attention; a tactical slight of hand that would hopefully give them a chance at the real target.

#Excellent.# Christian said over the mental link. #And now the door panel. Mr Haller, we should have you out of there in a moment.#
Jan flew over to the door, where another panel was just waiting for her to give it a nice good zap. All she had to do was get by the guard blocking the panel and they would all be good to go.

The guard was a well-trained guard. He did what he always had to do. He was never to leave his post until his relief came on, not for anything. And he never did. His coworkers were secretly in awe of him. He didn't even take bathroom breaks.

So of course he didn't move when the fly buzzed by him.

Jan flew up to the panel and pressed her fingers to it, firing off a blast of energy. #Done!#

The lights on the panel flickered for a moment, but did not go out. Obviously the panel had some kind of grounding that was bleeding off just enough of the energy from Jan's blasts to prevent her from being able to kill the electronics inside like they'd planned.

#The panel is still on.# Garrison said over the switchboard, resisting the urge to move over there.

Jim frowned. The clearest move was that Christian or Kurt should be consulted on the next move, but there was a limit to how long security could be kept focused on the table, and another part of him -- the part that had walked through Jennie's mind and knew exactly what she was capable of -- was thinking quickly.

And, possibly, receiving aide from the part that had more sympathy for adolescent issues with authority than it should have.

#Jennie,# Jim sent on impulse, # go help her.#

Jennie's eyes widened as she received images of what Jan was going through. She turned down to look at Haller, but he was concentrating on the game. She swallowed and then leaned down, looking like she was whispering in his ear about needing the restroom, and then smiling at the crowd, slipped through.

It wasn't until she was somewhere in the vicinity of the craps tables she realized that Haller was now all on his own. She hesitated a bit, but then pushed on. Following the map she had been provided via the psi-link, she spotted the door and the immobile guard across the way. Thinking quickly, she traced a line skipping across the crowd. She turned and walked a few paces to the left, her hand delicately brushing the side of a cocktail waitress headed the other way. No one noticed a brief crimson glow. Careful not to look back, Jennie followed the signs to the restroom.

Behind her, the waitress tripped, spilling her drinks on a man in an expensive suit. He stood angrily, knocking his own drink across the blackjack table. The other gamblers cried in dismay and one tried to help himself to another's chips as they tried to dry themselves off. The would-be thief was spotted immediately by his target, who promptly punched him in the eye. Which lead to the would-be-thief's friend socking his assailant, and which due to a combination of alcohol and a bad night, lead to the start of a sizable brawl. One the security guard in the corner could not ignore.

Jennie allowed herself one brief glance over her shoulder, and couldn't keep the slight smile off her lips. #Hopefully that's enough.#
Back at the table, the croupier turned to look at the chaos on the floor as one of the guards murmured into his earpiece. "What is going on over there?" the man muttered.

"Excuse me," Jim pointed out mildly, "I think I had a bet going?"

The croupier gave him a dirty look as he called for final bets, but Jim only sat and gave him a smile. In fact, it was actually taking some effort to keep it below suspicious levels, because between the substantial crowd around the roulette table and the brawl just yards away from the back door the sentry had no choice but to assist.

Jennie doubled back and slipped around the brawl, to the post that guard had recently abandoned. Jennie could see Jan fluttering next to the panel. Turning so her back was to the panel, she reached behind her, fingers glowing red. #Right, on three, we zap it together.# she sent to Jan.

#One! Two! Three!# Again, electricity sparked from Jan's fingers as she concentrated solely on giving her best try to combining her powers with Jennie in order to take out this pesky control panel once and for all. #Did we do it right this time?#

Due to the addition of Jennie's powers, the backup system failed and the panel shorted out. It smoked comically for a minute and Jennie wrinkled her nose at the smell of burnt plastic and copper. #Okay, now back under my hair. I have to go make Haller lose,# she told Jan.

#All right, but no head tossing or neck scratching or anything else that might result in a squished tiny girl!# Jan warned as she reluctantly hid behind Jennie's dark hair. She'd much rather ride on top of someone's head or on a hat.

Walking carefully back to the table, Jennie saw that the chaos she had sown was starting to die down. Improbably, the crowd around the roulette table was still there. She slipped through the crowd careful to not disturb the tiny girl clinging to her necklace. The dark-haired girl finally reached her companion and put her hand on his arm. #All set. Ready to lose it all?#

"Oh, hey, Tricia," Jim said, looking up at the touch. "I was just trying to figure out whether to go again." The question was slightly bemused. While he had been following the girls' exploits it seemed he had come into possession of a slightly larger than anticipated number of chips. Considering he hadn't been expecting any good luck beyond what Jennie offered him he wasn't quite sure what to make of this new development. He paused, to all appearances considering his next move. #Are we ready?# Jim repeated to the others across the link.

#If you would, Mister Haller.# Christian said, getting up from his seat and pocketing the chips. Garrison ghosted up beside Shiro, and the two of them joined Christian's walk to the door. #Now.#

More assent through the link. As he placed his last wager, Jim thought about how strange it was that the bad luck he knew Jennie was sending coursing into his arm, tell-tale red flash well-hidden by the crook of his elbow, felt no different than the good. Such a vital thing, and yet if he hadn't known it was coming he'd never even have noticed .

If it hadn't resulted in a loss of more money than he'd ever seen in his life, that is. But then, he'd never been overly concerned by minor details.

The croupier raked the chips from the table with a definite look of satisfaction as Jim, finished, slid out of his seat and looped his arm through Jennie's. #Good luck, guys,# he sent to the others as he and Jennie, Jan still concealed beneath her dark hair, turned to head back to the hotel room.

The sudden and spectacular loss of a fortune rose a loud cry from the people knotted around the roulette table, and during the noise, the three men slipped through the door, completely unnoticed by any of the guard, or the sentry who returned to take up his guard position. All eyes where on the young man with the wild hair who had just let a bet they all dreamed off ride on the table, and lost. The croupier smiled as he watched the couple leave. Just another loser, to sucker in the fools around to do the same thing.

This, he considered with unintended irony, was going to be a very good night for the House indeed.

In the Blackbird, Sam and Kyle get the first look at their opponent.



It was a moonless night, something that had no real effect on the Blackbird other than to confine the visibility down to little other than the instruments. The lights of the ship below could be seen with the odd pass, as well as more distinct specks that belonged to the Chinese Navy. The northern part of the Sea of Japan had little traffic out, with the movements of the Chinese, North Korean and Russian navies all causing great consternation for the shipping lines. Most had plotted much longer courses, in order to avoid both the potential conflict to the north, and the unpredictability of the typhoon season which was in full bloom across the faster southern routes.

For Sam, it was mostly a question of keeping an eye on the radar, in case the unknown pirates came up unexpectantly, or to keep them out of the paths of jet fighter patrols sweeping the area. As good as the Blackbird was, no stealth was ever perfect, and if he was unlucky enough to be spotted, his presence would only fuel the rising paranoia between the government militaries in the area.

Sam kept a light hand on the controls as he flew the Blackbird in a tight observation loop around the ship. He worked muscle groups in sequence to keep his body limber, at the same time doing mental exercises to stave off boredom and keep his senses sharp. He needed to be ready to react at a moment's notice whenever the situation changed. He spared a quick look for Kyle at the comm station every few minutes, keeping an eye on the younger boy.

Despite having the headset on, and having had the comm system explained to him, Kyle's attention was barely on it. He was twisted around, facing the cockpit, and if he'd been allowed, would've had his face glued to one of the windows. It was all he could do not to talk up a storm about how cool the plane was.

Sam thought briefly about taking Kyle to task for his lack of focus, but then shook his head and thought better of it. He still remembered his first mission as an X-Man, and he had gawked much the same as Kyle was now. He turned back to the controls...

...just in time to see the amorphous blob of a radar contact show up where there had been nothing a second before. And it looked big, too. "Hang on," he ordered Kyle as he sent the Blackbird into a swooping dive to get a closer look.

As the Blackbird dipping closer to the water, they were able to see the ripples kicking up, relflecting what dim illumination there was. The chop spun backwards, like a ship racing just below the surface, although the radar return was clearly not a submarine. The Blackbird banked for another pass, and suddenly Sam was just trying to keep the plane in the sky as a waterspout erupted from the surface of the ocean. At the apex of the plume, a massive figure appeared.

A dragon.

The massive green scaled beast unfurled its wings, and swooped. The giant wings caught the air, with a span at least as wide as the Blackbird was long. The creature had to be at least fifty feet tall, now boring done on the ship where the X-Men waited.

Now Kyle -was- practically glued to the window. "Uh. Sa... I mean, uh, Cannonball?" He fumbled with the comm controls, trying to find the switch to turn it on. "What is that? It's like, a big... man.. dragon..." He finally found the broadcast button and held it down.

"Uh. This is, um, Beast Boy, to, I guess, all X-men? You've, got, uh, Trogdor incoming. " A pause, and then. "It's a big mofo dragon. Seriously."

Thanks to Haller and the trainees, the X-Men regroup inside the casino and towards the Mandarin's home.



Prowling up an exposed hallway was nobody's idea of a good time, Garrison considered, but having to do with a hundred Triad thugs wandering around and with your father in tow was seriously more than a person should be required to handle. They moved silently and quickly, following Christian's vague gestures until they had to stop at the edge of a large, dark window. Obviously the security office for this floor was inside. Kane got to his knees and quickly scuttled to the other side of the window, getting up on the balls of his feet and pressing his back to the wall near the door. He looked over at Shiro and flashed a couple of gestures to the younger man.

This was a classic entry Garrison was proposing, right out of the first page of the X-Men training guide. The super strong person gets the locked door open low while the energy caster went high to immediately neutralize the threat inside. It was a little different without 'bots being involved, but simple seemed best, and they were running against the clock here.

Shiro levitated mere inches off the ground, the carpet beneath his feet slowly turning black under the heat of the currents keeping him aloft. Fists clenched, he was ready to act as human flamethrower, but forced the fire to stay inside until the last possible second. The effort of such control had him sweating, but the only option to ease up on the stress was to activate his fire form, and that would be a bit of a problem. So he nodded to Garrison and waited for the command.

Kane looked over to his father, who nodded. Garrison switched sides, crouched down by the door and bracing himself. With a single kick, the door flew open, the locking mechanism spinning off with a metallic ring as it bounced off the ground. Kane had pushed himself flat, leaving a clear view off the room for the firey mutant hovering behind him.

There was no hesitation as the short Japanese mutant burst into flames, the built-up tension erupting from him in a controlled cloud of solar flare. The force of the explosion sent the guards and technicians flying across the room, slamming against walls and consoles and falling to the ground in unceremonious heaps. They'd hurt when they woke up, but they'd survive no worse for the wear. Shiro wiped the sweat from his forehead as he landed and extinguished himself, then followed the Kanes inside.

"Subtle." Garrison muttered, looking at the unconscious men.

"We only need a few minutes without the alarm being raised." Christian said, clapping Shiro on the shoulder as he went past. "I always like to see efficiency first, after all. Wisdom wasn't much different at Shiro's age."

The old man reached into his pocket and pulled out a simple looking long, flat box, which he took over to the mass of wires feeding in and out of the terminal. Quickly, he located the CC feed, and clipped the device into it, leaving it hanging after doing so. With the utterly unremarkable nature of the device, it looked as though it had always been there.

"And now, we'll see if this works. Mr Haller, Mr Sefton, are you getting anything yet?"

Back in the commandeered hotel room, Jim opened his eyes. "Got anything yet, guys?" he asked, looking over at the two girls fiddling with their laptops.

Jan quickly minimized her game of Hearts, trying her best to avoid looking guilty. You could do two things at the same time, right? Plus she didn’t want to be bored. “Yes, sir, Mr. Haller, sir!” she said, trying to sound professional and failing miserably. A bored Jan was not a very good thing to have. “Oh look, there it is! Yes, we have the link!”

Jennie's computer made a grinding noise as it tried to load, and the girl slapped it. Video screens popped up on her monitor as well. "Yes, we have visuals.... Did I really just say that?"

"I think you'll find yourself asking that question a lot on this team," Jim remarked. His eyes unfocused again as he turned his attention back to the link. #We're clear. Everything's good on this end.#

"I have a clear view", Kurt confirmed from the roof, studying the image to learn every detail.

#Mister Sefton, you can come in at any time." Kane said, while relieving the guards of their pistols. #Mister Haller, yell if anything untoward appears on the monitors. Otherwise, we should be at the Mandarin's door in no time.#

As soon as Kurt was sure he knew what he was seeing well enough to make the risk as small as possible, he wasted no time teleporting in.

"Now that we're all here, we need to reach the access elevator at the end of the next hall, which is a direct route into Tong's private quarters. Any answers are going to be found there." Christian said to the three X-Men. #Mister Haller, we'll be counting on you to let us know whether or not reinforcements are on the way. Our window of opportunity will be quite small before the entire building knows something is wrong, and swamps us.#

#Understood,# Jim replied, shifting around on the bed to give himself a clear view of the laptops. He glanced from one screen to the other and then added, carefully off-link, "And, um, Jan? Mission."

"Unless the Mandarin fits his men with heat-insensitive uniforms, then we have a clear path ahead now." Shiro turned from the door to face the Kanes, his eyes briefly clouding over as his vision shifted from infrared back to the visible spectrum.

"I am ready", Kurt confirmed from the place he'd been told to wait.

"Very well. Garrison, take the lead for us. If something gets in the way, bring it down, but don't stop moving, not even for an instant. If we get bogged down here, the Mandarin will be gone before we know it." Christian said as they started down the hall. Fortunately, only one person happened into the hall at the wrong time, and Kane's neural blast dropped him before he had a chance to register what was happening. They reached the elevator and stepped in. There was no additional security, this deep inside the Mandarin's private quarters. As the door slid closed, all they could do was wait.

The X-Men come face to face with their mysterious foe; a dragon?



The creature was massive; a giant flying lizard that only too well explained the majesty and power that cultures applied to the legendary dragons. It turned two lazy loops before it suddenly swooped, the wind screaming past the leatherly green scaled wings as it landed with surprising delicacy on the end of the ship. The great head swiveled this way and that, like a king taking stock of his domain, and the low, gravelly voice rolled over the ship and the crew.

~YOU HAVE COME WITH TRIBUTE ONCE MORE. IT PLEASES FOOM, AND EARNS YOU THE HONOUR OF BEING INGESTED FOR YOUR SERVICE~ The Chinese was archaic and nearly incomprehensible, but the menace it carried transcended langauge, as Foom planted both sets of claws into the deck, and almost delicately, immolated one of the crew who was standing in the lookout perch. The man's scream was cut off almost as soon as it started, Foom's breath destroying any trace of him, and leaving the metal a twisted, acid-burned mess.

Despite his invulnerability, Cain winced at the sight of the disintegrated sailor. "Oh, that's it," he grumbled. "I've been waiting all day to punch something in the face, and they give me a dragon. Suppose someone's gotta play Saint George here..." He flexed his hands, feeling the black iron armor form around him as he stepped out onto the open deck.

"Hey! Yeah, you! The low-rent Godzilla knockoff! Over here!" Cain bellowed, grabbing a shipping container in one hand and flinging it like a missile directly at the dragon.

Foom swatted the container away with a sweep of his great wings, and turned, moving with snake-like speed to tower over Cain.

~TROUBLESOME FOOD.~ He atoned, before staring straight down at Cain and unleashing a gout of his fire-like acidic breath. The wide beam of charged acid all but obliterated Cain from sight, only the orange gases of the breath and the black metal smoke able to be seen at the point of impact.

When the cloud of acid cleared, Cain stood unharmed in the center of a pitted expanse of decking. "Okay," he drawled casually, "that stunk. Better hope you got more than some serious halitosis, because I'm about to tie those fucking wings in a knot."

Taking one step back to brace himself, Cain charged for the dragon, leaping into the air with one fist cocked back, ready to strike with the force of a meteor.

Cain first punch rattled Foom, and the dragon skittered for a moment on the deck like a cat on a tile floor. Cain's followup blow never landed as Foom snatched him off his feet and slammed the man through the top of the deck, smashing through solid steel with Cain bearing the full force of the impact.

Crawling up from the hole, Cain shook his head, the armored helmet ringing like a bell. "Oh yeah?" he taunted with a beckoning gesture as he stood on the deck once more. "That the best you got, huh? I'm gonna rip your goddamn heart out, you overgrown tadpole..."

Shouting something incomprehensible and likely obscene, Cain ran forward, stepping up off of a barrel and then a shipping container to launch himself once more at the dragon.

This time, however, Foom pivoted, one massive wing slapping against the leaping form of the Juggernaut with a sound like two icebergs colliding, and Cain found himself cartwheeling through the air out over open ocean to land with a giant-sized splash.

Foom roared as his opponent was knocked clear, and extended his massive neck to belch forth another wide fiery acid stream, this one roaring over the containers and washing into the command tower.

Once he'd figured out how to guess at distances from as far up as the Blackbird was, directing Clarice wasn't so hard. What was really hard was ignoring the giant -dragon- that the X-men were fighting. Kyle kept his attention on the water, and not the big lizard, but it was hard - and the glances over at the fight meant that he caught the blur of black that was Cain being swatted into the water. "Clarice! Shit, I mean, Blink! Juggernaut's in the water, uh, about I think, three hundred feet to the east.. no! west! WEST!"

Clarice diverted her attention from evacuating sailors at Kyle's direction and dove into the water after Cain. She couldn't teleport oceans of water out of her way, but she could increase her submersion by diving into teleportation disks until she reached Cain. This allowed her to save her breath as well since Cain fell like, well, a rock. Grabbing his arm, she wrapped herself around him and squeezed the disk as close to them as she could, teleporting Cain was difficult in and of itself, she didn't need to add umpteenjillion gallons of ocean with it.

With a resoundingly wet splut, they dropped back down on the deck of the ship, Clarice gasping for breath. "I am so getting scuba lessons after this," she muttered, annoyed that she'd had to get wet while wearing leather and not her bikini. "And a deep conditioning hair treatment," she added as an after thought.

Cain nodded, the armor fading into ash around him and wafting away on the wind. "Put it on my tab. Now, I believe I was in the middle of some ass-kicking..."

Angelo finds himself unexpectedly playing guardian angel to a trio of sailors.



The acid literally disintegrated the two men standing by Angelo, as the force blew in doors and windows. Where the acid touched steel, it melted, and where it touched anything flammable, it ignited with terrific force. The fire teams were struggling to bring up hoses, to flush the areas with sea water, but unless someone could tangle up the dragon, they were fighting a losing battle. The acid weakened supports of one of the conns gave way, pitching three men out into the darkness overboard.
Angelo was perfectly placed to see them go flying, and hurried to the gap in the railing where they'd been. Scanning the dark water, he spotted them quickly and stretched down to grab the nearest man - he wasn't sure he could handle more than one at a time, and this really wasn't the time to test it.

The sailors clambered for him. Even in July, the water was icy enough that even a short immersion could kill them from exposure. The weight of three men was too much, although his hold to them kept from being swept away into the open ocean or dashed into the side of the ship. One of the men started yelling at Angelo, and finally made himself heard over the waves and the roar of battle.

"There's a cable line to your left!" The man screamed, straining to be heard. "Your left!" One of the massive straps used to help secure the cargo containers sat in a neat heap not more than ten feet from where Angelo fought to keep the men from getting killed. If he could get it over the edge, between it and his powers, the men should be able to climb back aboard.

He was only using one and a half hands to hang onto the sailors, leaving him a few fingers free for the cable line. Sending that skin flying to the left, he yanked at it and tried to throw one end overboard.

The sailors scrambled for the rope, and helped each other grab a secure hold. With Angelo's help, one at a time they walked themselves up the side of the ship, and collapsed over the railing and on to the deck. One of the men weakly pulled himself to his feet, and leaned on the wall next to Angelo. "Fuckin' hell, mate. Dragons, men wit' super stretching fingers and the rest of you lot… no ones going to believe it enough to get free drink out of this sea story."

He smiled weakly as, with Angelo's help, the three made for the dubious safety of the below decks.

With the appearance of Foom, the skies are getting uncomfortably full for Sam.



In the inky black night, the sudden gouts of orange flame luridly lit the sky. In the air above, strange thermals buffeted the Blackbird as Sam struggled to keep the plane close enough to the ship so that Kyle's position enabled him to keep track of the fight for the X-Men. But the chaos was drawing other observers, and multiple contacts sprung on the radar as Russian and Chinese fighters began to enter the local airspace.

Without even sparing enough time to shout "hang on" to Kyle, Sam jammed the throttles of the Blackbird to their stops and pulled hardat the controls, sending the plane clawing skyward for a brief moment before heeling over and plunging for the ocean in a violent corkscrewing maneuver. A missile passed through the airspace they had occupied the barest of moments later and exploded, close enough to rattle both of their teeth. Sam murmured nonsense words as he attempted to watch his airspeed, altimeter, and radar display all at once.

-Now- he understood the five-point restraints. Kyle dug the claws of his free hand into his leg to keep from swearing. "Holy... hang on,
Blink, we're kind of, uh, holy fucking shit what was that?" So much for not swearing, he thought. But at least he'd managed to keep on the comms. "Uh. You're on your own. I think we're, uh, being shot at."

Sam nearly cut loose with an uncharacteristic swearword himself as the threat indicator emitted a series of loud beeps that meant another
missile was coming dangerously close. He threw the plane hard into a sideslip, then hauled back on the stick and flew into a tight
Immelmann turn. In the time the plane was flying upside down before Sam rolled back to level flight, the missile was clearly visible from
the windows, close enough to read the Mandarin ideograms stenciled onto it.

Kyle had relayed a "Uh, Cannonball's a little -busy- right now" over the comm headset and was simply repeating to whoever was on the other end that there were other planes and that ''Cannonball was making like Top Gun or something." and trying not to claw up his leg any more then he had. This was supposed to be -safe- observation, away from anything that could blow him up, not right in the middle of it!

Kyle's chatter over the comm link was completely tuned out. Sam danced the Blackbird nimbly through the skies, never staying in one place or flying in one straight direction long enough for any of the Russian or Chinese fighters to get any kind of lock on him. More than once the plane darted out of the way just before a missile or stream of tracers arced through the spot they had just occupied. Throughout the aerobatics, he struggled to keep the water and ship in sight so that Kyle could keep spotting for Blink.

What Kyle -wanted- to do was go throw up. Even with the healing factor, the rapid changes of direction were upsetting his stomach, along with the case of absolute terror that came over him every time one of the other planes came into view. What he -could- do was stay put and keep his eyes on the water whenever it was close enough to see anything and force himself not to look anywhere else.

Just when it seemed that there wasn't going to be much room for the Blackbird to maneuver between the circling fighters, the cloud of aircraft began to melt away. One of the Russian pilots mistakenly transmitted in the clear, rather than over their encrypted tactical channels, and Sam breathed a sigh of relief. "Higher ups are calling off the dogs, sounds like," he turned to tell Kyle as he put the Blackbird on a straight level course once again.

Kyle nodded, and gave Sam a weak grin and thumbs up, still relaying locations of sailors over the mic. After a few minutes of calm, with the plane as steady as it ever got, he pulled the headset off one ear and looked over at Sam. "Can you take this for like, a couple of minutes? You'd think I'd have booted up during the crazy, but uh, not so much. I think I need to barf."

The rest of the X-Men continue a desperate battle.



I have seen stranger things than dragons, Scott reminded himself, moving as quickly as he could up the ladder - the ship was swaying badly, and it wasn't as if any of them had had sufficient time to get their sea legs - to a spot where he could at least get a good view of what was happening. Not to mention a clear shot. He reached the top finally, grabbing onto the railing as the ship pitched sideways, so violently that he nearly fell.

"All right, where are you," he muttered - and instinctively ducked as the dragon made another pass over the bow of the ship. Left a perfect opportunity for a shot, however, and Scott took it, a wide-beam optic blast slamming into the flying beast.

Foom rolled at the blast, digging his claws into the tower in order to keep from being pitched into the sea. With a roar, he hauled himself back up, clinging to the boat as he towered over Scott, releasing another blast of the acidic breath directly at the mutant.


Back down the ladder! was Scott's not entirely coherent thought as he threw himself back over the railing, managing to catch himself a couple of times on the way down and slow his descent. He still landed hard, and bit back a snarl of pain as one leg buckled beneath him. But the dragon was still looking in the direction where he'd been, and Scott fired off another blast, at its head this time.

~TINY INSECT.~ Foom roared as the blast snapped back his huge head. This was proving to be a more difficult prey than he was used to. The dragon sent another blast of acid down in Scott's direction, before dropping off the side of the boat with a thunderous splash.

Watching the silhouette of the hit the water and then disappear, Kyle was pretty sure he'd seen this in a movie. That horrible remake of Godzilla with the guy from Ferris Bueller in it. "Trogdor's under the boat!" He relayed, practically yelping. "Blink, there's... two guys in the water, same side as scaly."

There was a roaring sound as he swam around the bottom of the boat, and re-emerged with a massive water spout on the opposite side of the ship.

Jean flinched slightly as water washed over the deck, but the boat was thankfully too big to rock overmuch even with such massive quantities of water pushing at it. Her feet firmly placed and one hand gripping the railing possibly a tad too tightly, she scowled at the dragon. She wasn't sure which was worse, the vast quantities of water or the vast quantities of DRAGON, but if they got rid of the second she could get away from the first. "Go. Away," Jean said, reaching out to slam the dragon with tightly controlled telekinetic force.

The blast landed like a cudgel, and Foom's reaction was an erratic dip in his flight, as he crashed into the cargo containers on the deck, scattering them like children's blocks, and crushing several of the crew in the process. His clawed hand swept up one of the containers, and threw it spear-like back at Jean's position.

The dragon falling to the deck did rock the boat, and if anything Jean's grip on the railing and her mental focus became even tighter and she reached out and swatted the container flying towards her out of the air and into the water. "Hate the water. Hate the dragon. Want to go home," she muttered, and a second sharp blow to what was more or less the center of the dragon followed the first.

"Everybody, check in!" snarled Scott over the coms. He'd managed to get to his feet, only to discover that his knee was not precisely working properly, and goddamn it, this was not the time to be hopping on one foot out to where he could get a clear shot at the dragon again. He hobbled instead, ignoring the pain and holding onto the container beside him to keep himself upright, and managed to get to a spot where he could see the dragon just as Jean hit it again. He followed up her telekinetic sledgehammer-blow with another optic blast to the dragon's head.

It was a good thing they had the coms, Jean thought faintly in a corner of her mind as she heard Scott's call and responded with a vague, "Phoenix here." If she'd had to, of course she'd switchboard for them, but she was pretty sure it would have been more unpleasant for everybody than usual. Nobody really needed to see the inside of her head right now, and while the panicky portion of it that was going water water water everywhere too much water was tightly suppressed and held down as she'd learned to do back with Alison, if she'd had to concentrate on too many extra problems, things might have gotten... messy.

A pile of debris was shoved aside, and Cain ran forward, following up Scott's optic blast with a two-fisted blow of his own to the dragon's jaw. As the massive green head reared upwards, Cain gripped the edge of one flared nostril and found himself yanked into the air, still punching repeatedly at the beast's snout. "Juggernaut here!" he shouted aloud as well as mentally. "Don't worry about me, I think he's about to say uncle..."

Foom reached up and snatched Cain off his face, holding him so he could inspect him eye to eye. ~BASTARD DEMON VESSEL. THIS IS NOT YOUR REALM, LITTLE GOD~ The dragon muttered, and reversing his hold, began to use Cain to batter at the tower of the ship, smashing through the steel and wielding an increasingly disoriented Cain as a cudgel.

"Blink here!" Clarice yelled, ducking debris as Cain flew about. It was rather impressive in a completely terrifying way. She used her disks to catch any debris about to hit her, sending it to fall back down on top of the big dragon. It didn't get rid of the falling crap, but it at least worked to hopefully annoy him further. "Can I stab him through? Just a little?" It certainly couldn't hurt at this point. At least, it wouldn't hurt her.

"Stab him? With what?" On the other hand, this wasn't the time for detailed discussion of tactics... "If you can hit him, do it!" Scott yelled, blasting at the dragon's leg, hoping to get him to drop Cain.

Score! With a wicked smile, she formed a pool cue thin disk and sent it through the dragon's knee. He probably couldn't use it in his stomach, but she had to put it somewhere and inside him was as good as anywhere. This wasn't a nice thing to do or even polite, but they were losing and they needed an edge. As Foom's leg failed to support him, she prepared another disk. She could keep that up without any problems for longer than he could.

Cain found himself tossed unceremoniously towards the front of the ship, his fingers digging furrows in the metal as he slid. Remaining prone for a while to let the dizziness pass, he growled and pushed himself up, then froze as he saw where the ship was headed. "Oh shit..." he mumbled, before looking back over his shoulder. "LAND!" he bellowed.

"God, no..." Jean whipped around, eyes widening. She'd been (understandably) distracted by the dragon and lost track of her primary mission - protect the ship. Her hands flew out in an involuntary motion as she triggered her telekinesis at full power, doing all she could to keep away from the boiling water of the shoal, knowing even as she did that it wouldn't be enough.

Clarice's power did not go unnoticed, and small tendrils of green lightning flickered around the wound she had inflicted. The dragon reached out, snake-fast and snatched up Clarice before she could teleport away. ~YOU ANNOY ME, PURPLE ONE. I WILL SAVE YOUR DEATH TO SAVOUR.~ Clarice found herself unceremoniously stuffed down the front of the purplish wrap that clad the dragon.

Foom took three loping steps, one of them crashing down on Cain and smashing the man through the deck, before he leapt out over the edge. With a spread of his massive wings, Foom grabbed the front of the ship and pushed, forcing it in the direction he wanted it to go.

This was grosser and nastier than anything Clarice had experienced until now. Not to mention smellier. Foom's running wasn't very pleasant either. Attempting to keep her lunch was a chore, but she was determined not to lose it two missions in a row just on principle. Once Foom's movements stabilized, she was able to cut a square out of his shorts so she could peek out. Teleporting blind was a Very Bad Idea. Bearings found, she teleported down, back to Cyclops, making a face as she reappeared. She was going to need way more than a deep conditioning for her hair after this. She was going to need to do an entire body scrub.

Foom's massive strength fought against the ships engines, and incredibly, the supercarrier, weighing hundreds of tones, began to change direction. The motion threw people to the deckplates as ship shuttered and shifted. Hollinger bounced off his command console, taking a minute to clear his head before pulling himself to his feet. Royce had rushed into the bridge, but the captain waved off any attempts to help.

"He can't be moving the ship!"

"He is, sor!" The Irishman said. "He's got us pointed right at that spire island."

"Cut the engines."

"Have. We're still going into it."

"If he manages to get us up on those rocks, we'll snap in half." Hollinger cursed as he fumbled his headset back on. "Get all hands to pump and fire stations. Make ready to abandon ship if the hull is breeched. I'll try and get those heroes to stop this thing in time."

Royce left on a run, not hearing the Captain final muttered reflection. "And if they can't, God help us all."

The X-Men and Christian come face to face with the Mandarin.



As soon at the doors of the elevator opened, Garrison was moving, using his enhanced speed to catch the guard unaware and dropping him soundly with his baton. This far inside the Mandarin's sanctum, there were few guards, and speed was their best protection. Kane looked either way to be sure that they were clear, and motioned to his father.

"Which way?"

"Down there." The elder Kane pointed at a door, richly carved with the Imperial Dragon motif. "Five toes on the dragons. He obviously styles himself the next Emperor. I must say I'm looking forward to ruining that. Mr Sefton, I believe this is the X-Men's speciality now." Christian said, passing over the team to Kurt.

"You might say that", Kurt said with a faint smile, glancing at the door. "You know the plan, everybody, as far as it goes. Time to take him down."

"This is my favorite part," grinned Shiro, fists aflame. "On three, two, one!" As soon as the sound escaped his lips, the likely very expensive doors exploded inward in a shower of timber and splinters. He was in the air less than a second later, zooming like a rocket through the dust cloud and heading straight for the biggest red blob he could see in IR. The Mandarin may have put up a challenge to them in San Francisco, but Shiro was ready for his tricks this time.

The largest red blob turned out to be a massive Fukanese man, covered in tattoos, that was felled like a tree at Shiro's flying blow. The other X-Men were through the door behind him, using the explosion as a distraction to close with the Triad members.

Kane heard the familiar sounds of the stunned Asian chatter, sounding just like any drug bust he'd been involved with in Vancouver; an oddly comforting feeling. His baton flickered out, and the Canadian had two men down before they could even react to the threat.

Christian, on the other hand, dealt with things much more directly. With a low, measured tread he entered the room. "Tong!" He yelled, and the figure at the end turned. Unlike last time, the Mandarin wore an elegantly tailored silk suit, a gold thread dragon curling down his red silk tie. Christian brought up his pistol and fired three times. The first two bullets brought down Tong's bodyguards with a single round between the eyes. The last, meant for the Mandarin splashed against the green shield which appears in front of the Chinese man.

"I am growing very tired of these interruptions into my affairs." He said, sounding confident. They had surprised him, but they were still outnumbered three to one, and that wasn't counting the Mandarin's abilities. Remy LeBeau, one of the most dangerous hand to hand combatants to pass through the school, had barely fought him to a standstill, which made the Mandarin a threat to be respected.

"Then maybe you should just shut the fuck up and go to hell," growled Shiro as he lobbed two fireballs at the Mandarin, whose shield stood steady, but the force of the explosions sent other nearby guards to the ground.

"Keep your cool, Sunfire", Kurt warned. "When your opponent is, that is the only way to win."

"You are wrong, my demon friend. With me, there is no way to win." The Mandarin said, as his men started to advance. Oddly, Christian's eyes were no longer on his opponents, instead drawn to a large porcelain vessel, richly painted a deep green and covered in dragons. The top of it pulsed with a weird luminance, and the elder Kane smiled.

#Boys, I need you to destroy some art.# He said, and the X-Men looked over to the vessel. With a motion, the vessel exploded into a thousand pieces, and a strange green flare crackled and throbbed through the room.

"The spirit fount!" Tong screamed, and made to step forward. Unfortunately for him, the energy seemed to be growing, and his henchmen began to flee from it. They were criminals; ruthless men who would kill for money without a second thought. But working for the Mandarin had been an immersion into their Imperial past, and with it, a healthy respect for old superstitions. The energy coalesced for a moment, and the form of a dragon appeared in the centre of the room, twisted and snapping jaws made of green fire. The rout became complete, and in moments only the Mandarin remained. With a final, paled look, Tong fled as well, forcing the X-Men from following with a burst of deadly energy from his hands as he did so. Once they had re-emerged from cover, Tong was gone, as well as the dragon.

"What the hell was that?" Garrison said as he got to his feet.

"It think it was our target, boy." Kane said, and cocked his head. #Before the rest of the Triad comes to their senses, it's time to leave. Excellent work, all of you. Back to the hotel, and we'll see if Summers tells us we did any good.#

The X-Men face the final reckoning, as a seemingly unstoppable Foom attempts to break the ship in two.



"Cyclops, that thing is about to crack the hull!" Hollinger yelled over his headset as he clung grimly to his conn. He had felt the impact of his ship against the spire-like island, and killed the sounds on the alarms, all of which were going off. "The ship won't last more than a few minutes!" All the dragon needed to do was keep pushing, and the thick steel would simply part.

Foom roared in triumphant as he directed his massive strength against the side of the ship. It was the most difficult one he'd faced, and still the vessel could not withstand his strength. The insects aboard had put up a struggle, but they couldn't win against a creature born of the Gods themselves.

Cain looked from one end of the island to the other, gauging distance. He looked across the deck to find his purple-skinned teammate. "Blink!" he bellowed. "Get me to the far side of that shoal, pronto!"

"I live to serve," she replied sardonically, but obediently ran over and teleported Cain and herself. It was beginning to get easier since she hadn't passed out yet. Or maybe he had lost a metric ton of weight. She was betting on it getting easier.

Patting Blink on the shoulder, Cain set his feet and judged the distance along the shoal to the ship. Eyeing the dragon, he began his run.

The impact of the ship against the shoals had shaken Jean's grip off the railing, but she didn't have time to think about it, or even to be afraid. The boat was much too big for her to lift on her own, but it's buoyancy in the water helped as she reached out with her mind, straining to keep the ship as far away from the shoals as she could. It wouldn't be enough, she was afraid, but it was the best she could do.

Foom felt the sudden resistance and lashed again at the hull. Nothing could challenge his will. The ship rocked dangerously as Foom battered it further up on the rocks. Cargo containers weighing tons danced on the deck like children's blocks, crashing dangerous tumbles and forcing the crew inside, trapped if Foom was successful in gutting the hull.

And the cargo containers weren't the only things knocked about. Up in the ship's heights, her concentration fully on the rocks ahead, Jean lost her balance and went toppling over the railing and into the dark water below. A brief, sharp mental scream escaped before she could help herself, although she cut it off immediately, clamping down on her instinctive panic, and it was only the absolute focus she had to maintain on the boat which kept her from losing her head entirely.

As soon as Cain saw Jean hit the water, he focused on the dragon's massive form. His feet hammered the rocky terrain as he charged, stampeding footsteps like rapid-fire howitzers in a staccato counterpoint to the whining of the steel in the ship's hull. Three hundred yards away... two hundred... one hundred and Cain narrowed his eyes and drew his fist back.

"Call me a little god, will you?" he growled as he slammed into Fin Fang Foom's lower body with the force of a meteor.

Scott had frozen for a moment, as Jean had gone over, but she was still there on the link and conscious, and he was going to have to have faith that she could get herself out. He gritted his teeth. "Keep at it, Juggernaut," he snarled over the coms, and aimed his next optic blast at the dragon's head - and the one after that, too. Maybe constant pressure would do it.

Foom had been driven from the boat at Cain's hit, slamming up on the rocks of the island. He ignored both optic blasts, taking a moment to drive Scott back with his breath as the creature struggled to right itself and regain its bearings. The mutants had hurt it, and they were keeping him from his goal, and the rage grew easily for Foom.

Holding tightly onto her panic, Jean used her telekinetic hold on the ship to pull herself out of the ocean, some of the tension in her stomach releasing as she flew free of the water. Scream later, ship now.

Foom launched himself in the air, shrugging off another of Scott's optic blasts, preparing for a headlong rush with the crackle of green energy washed over him. The creature writhed for a moment, fighting as if being electrocuted. As the energy dissipated, Foom started forward again, and then collapsed, slamming full length down on the rocky island. With a thunderous crash, the great head landed to the stones. He lay there for a few minutes, his great body twitching, and then with a noise like a deep sigh, his body faded, as if no more substantial than mist. Where the great dragon had lay was now covered with naked, groaning men, lying in various states of shock, groaning on the rocks. Foom turned out to be some kind of communal form, and the ninety-nine men lying on the tiny island were obviously the parts of the whole.

By the time the Chinese had arrived, with tugs to pull the stricken ship from the rocks, and military to collect the men on the tiny island, the X-Men were gone, their presence as seemingly insubstantial as Foom turned out to be.