Thirteen Days: Down Under

[x-cyclops.livejournal.com]

It's par for the course - rescuing Scott is not a simple pick-up, and not just because he had to be different and land on another continent.


Under any other circumstances, two X-Men trainees would not be on the ground alone in a potentially hostile situation. But it wasn't like the team was swimming in manpower at the moment, and neither Jennie nor Marius could fly the plane. With them on the ground and Ororo in the air, the combination of different reconnaissance methods had the best chance of finding Scott. He was here somewhere in the area, according to what Charles had sensed with Cerebro.

It was simply that a mangrove swamp was not the easiest terrain in which to find a stray X-Man and a couple of lost cosmonauts. Especially when they were, according to the Professor, on the move.

Marius braced a lightly-clawed hand against the trunk of a tree and tilted his head back, breathing in the air. Trees, mud, water, assorted animal-life and materials in various stages of decay -- it was at once everything he'd expected and nothing they were looking for.

"Nothin' as yet," he reported, opening his eyes as he turned back to Jennie. "You sure it's this way?"

"Positive," Jennie said, opening her own eyes. "I'm getting a ping of 'thataway,'" She pointed to northeast of them. "Of course, it's not an exact science so I'm not sure what we'll find. We might find kangaroos for all I know."

"Beauty. I'd rather one of those than another bloody MRE." Marius pushed off the tree and sloshed closer to his teammate. There were lumpy things in the mud, which was a little too soft for his taste. "Sorry I'm not much for the assist here. Smells are a bit overpowerin'--" he sneezed, sending his curly hair flying in a riot. Marius straightened with great dignity. "Additionally, catchin' scent is awkward when insects are doin' their level best to fly up one's nose. Ah, how I miss the motherland. Small wonder I return only to trounce villainy."

"Makes you wish you never left, huh?" Jennie said, raising her hands to her temples like she'd seen the other telepaths do. She frowned. "I don't know why they do this, this doesn't really help," she sighed, dropping her hands. "Just more 'thataway.' Shall we go on?" She picked carefully through the mud. "Stupid wet...stuff."

"By all means. Incidentally, if we ever again find ourselves assigned to a similar locale, remind me not to borrow from the bloke whose powers make shoes a less desirous option. I will be displeased if I return from this mission to find myself riddled with parasites." Marius flexed his bare, clawed toes against the muck. What was collecting beneath the nails at the moment he did not care to know.

"Didn't you once tell me that Australia has more venomous ...things per capita than any other place in the world?" She ducked under a tree branch, holding it out of the way for her companion. "Look on the bright side," she added as he passed, "if you get bit, you heal. If I get bit, I turn pretty colors. Before I, you know, asphyxiate and die."

They trudged along in silence for a few moments, before something in Jennie's vision twigged. "Hang on, what's that?"

Marius cocked his head, a distant sound catching almost simultaneously with Jennie's assertion. He turned, triangulating on the noise. 'That' turned out to be two men, splashing desperately through the swamp. Both wore filthy coveralls marked with Cyrillic lettering, and were bloodied and exhausted-looking. The older of the two men shouted at them in Russian, waving frantically as if to say 'Run!'

"You livin' up to your codename, it seems. An', amazingly enough, not in the filthy sense." Marius cupped his hands and yelled at the flailing figures, "Oi, we're the rescue team. There a one-eyed bloke with you?"

Neither of them seemed to be inclined to answer in English. They just kept shouting, and before Jennie or Marius could try another method of communication, a third figure all but exploded out of the mangrove trees behind them. This was definitely not a third cosmonaut, given that the Russians were unlikely to have sent a very large winged man with scaly red skin into space.

Lemuel Krug snarled, showing a mouth full of razor-sharp teeth, and dove at the two cosmonauts.

Before the winged man thing could get any closer, Jennie flung a red disk at him, and when it connected a sudden draft of wind knocked him head over heels. "Perhaps there's more rescuing needed," Jennie said, lowering her outstretched hand. "What is he, Choopie?"

The ecoterrorist who'd called himself Bloodhawk before a protest bombing had gone badly wrong and landed him in Russian custody recovered his balance in the air before he could land in the swamp. He stayed where he was, his wings flapping aggressively as he sized up the two younger mutants. Then he dove again, weaving back and forth in the air with surprising speed, making it difficult for Jennie to successfully strike him with another disk.

Casting a quick glance at the fleeing cosmonauts, Marius turned his attention back to the thrashing form of their attacker. Recognition was instantaneous.

"Shapeshifter," Marius said, yellow eyes flicking across the angles of Krug's body, "an' lackin' any secondary mutation at that. Although that does us little good whilst our opponent so rudely persists in remaining airborne." His brow furrowed for a moment, then he turned to Jennie. He was smiling. "Any chance of remedyin' this unfortunate detail?"

Jennie's eyes went from the winged man to Marius's claws, and then back again. "Right," she said. She squinted, sharpening the lines. A bright red disk formed in her hand. "I think if you run thataway I can arrange something," she pointed with her other hand.

Marius grinned. The opponent was out of reach, but on a hunch he shucked the jacket of his greys as he began to move. Krug was above them, baring his mouth full of teeth and clearly torn between which of the targets to attack. By a fortuitous coincidence, his attention happened to be focused on Marius when Jennie hurled her disc.

Krug was highly maneuverable, but there wasn't quite enough room for him to evade the mangrove tree behind him as years of dry rot suddenly split with a thunderous crack.

"Ta for hittin' the villain this time," Marius remarked as the red blur of Krug hit the ground in a shrieking tangle of wings and branches.

"I do try," Jennie said, torn between looking away from the inevitable, and keeping her eyes on them both in case Krug tried anything. She stood alert, one half-formed disk in hand, casting a glance over her shoulder. A thread of white suddenly sharpened, and there was the unmistakable sound of a zak! in the distance.

"Uh-oh," Jennie said.

Marius' head snapped towards the noise. "Ah, the tell-tale zap of the optic blast. It seems we're in the right--"

Krug, snarling and cursing, was hauling himself out of the debris of the debris, flinging aside shattered wood with an increasing fury. "X-Men," he snarled, shaking his wings in agitation. He was visibly bleeding from a number of scrapes and small puncture wounds. "Traitors to your own kind... I'll kill you both."

Marius considered informing Krug that technically this was his first time betraying the mutant race, but under the circumstances the detail seemed rather inconsequential. "No worries, Jackie. I suggest you away to back up the fearless leader. She'll be right." Marius' legs widened in a stance of readiness as his scarred hands flexed, claws sliding out of his nailbeds. Head lowering, Marius' eyes locked on the staggering Krug.

"Dude, are you sure?" Jennie said. Marius's opponent was large, winged, and pissed off. She figured that Marius might be able to to take him on his own, but the two of them could probably have Krug down even quicker. But then there was another zark in the distance. Followed by a loud crash, and another frantic zark.

Marius' eyes flicked off in the direction of the sound, and in that opening Krug lunged. The motion was caught in the corner of his eye. Instead of dodging, Marius responded by launching himself at the attacker. Krug's wings beat the air, taking him from the water. The only difference this made was that the body part Marius collided with happened to be Krug's knees.

Wings strong enough to break bones thrashed. With Marius' arms locked around his opponent's legs, the two men spun in place for an instant -- and then into the water.

Marius raised his head, hair plastered across his eyes and a terrorist struggling beneath him. He managed enough of a breath to shout:

"Quite!"

His response was a wave and then a flash of black and gray as Jennie darted out of the meadow towards the sounds of struggle in the distance. "Back us up when you're done, otherwise we'll find you!" she called over her shoulder. She wasn't worried about Marius. Marius had a handy dandy healing factor. Fearless leader did not, as well as an unhealthy disregard for his own personal safety. She disappeared into the trees.

Krug flailed at Marius with taloned hands, clawing at leather and skin and spitting curses. "Kill you," he raved, "kill you, traitor-" The man might as well have had 'unbalanced' written across his forehead. Russian custody had not been kind to him, and he hadn't been the sanest ecoterrorist in the world to begin with.

"Didn't get hired on for your creativity, did you?" the boy grunted. Water began stinging into the wounds being ripped across his arms and torso. With Kyle's power the injuries wouldn't last, but he was disinclined to wager he was absolutely going to be able to keep Krug from going airborn again.

Which was, of course, why he'd made sure to discard the jacket early.

Marius hissed as a talon sheared across his upper bicep, biting deep. As the hand slashed past he saw a claw had been snapped off at the base. Blood dribbled down his hand, almost imperceptible against the red scales.

Beauty.

An olive hand shot out, seizing Krug's wrist. The tendons felt like steel wrapped in leather, and only got tighter as their owner struggled to free himself -- but Marius only needed a moment. Forcing his shoulder forward into an awkward angle, the trainee grit his teeth and plunged the afflicted finger into his own still-open wound.

Krug snarled and thrashed, teeth snapping dangerously close to Marius's face before he jerked away violently, using his wings to gain some altitude and distance. Although he still looked enraged, there was a little confusion there, too, of the Why did the race traitor do that? type.

Marius overbalanced and fell forward, hands slapping against mud. Now having experience on the receiving end of an attempted bite he was doubly grateful he'd made a personal oath to avoid employing the move himself. Even so, a small, practical part of his brain insisted it would have been better. If he hadn't gotten enough from that . . .

His lip curled reflexively, the memory of salt blood and slipperier things rising in the back of his throat. Nevermind.

The boy pushed himself to his feet, water streaming from his leathers and clutching his tanktop to his body. Beneath the throbbing pain he could feel warmth was spreading from his bicep, which he fervently hoped was not the precursor to some kind of bacterial infection. Well, one way to find out.

Flinging his sodden hair from his face with a toss of his head, Marius cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, "Oi, Goliath! Any truth to those rumours that have you fatherin' a brood of squishy human children across three continents? No worries, you're hardly the first purported speciesist to succumb to the allure of the baseline--"

Krug dove at him again with a howl. "THIS IS NOT A GAME!" he screamed, taloned hands outstretched to grab Marius.

Krug's talons closed around Marius' shoulders, puncturing flesh --which began to writhe even as the talons began to close. The skin became stiffer, rougher -- and grey.

Dangling from the terrorist's talons, heels skimming water, the boy looked up at Krug and smiled up with a face beginning to flatten and stretch.

"Cheers," Marius said, grinning horribly around a lipless mouth full of fangs, "new mutations always do better with that extra push."

And his new wings snapped open.

Krug dropped like a stone, having had a fairly appalling two days, after being out of gravity for nearly ten. Compensating for the sudden drag wasn't happening. He actually lost his grip on Marius entirely as they hit, tumbling through the water and into some inoffensive mangrove trees.

If there was one thing more startling than being dropped on one's back, it was landing on two new appendages. Since the new leathery grey wings mercifully contained more joints than Marius had imagined, hitting the water merely crumpled them like a folded umbrella. Krug's, on the other hand, were bent at an awkward angle. Marius felt a faint pang of hope. If he were very lucky, maybe he wouldn't have to reveal he had no clue how to fly.

"Sorry, mate," Marius commented, rolling over in the shallows after an awkward moment of inadvertently trapping a wing under his own elbow, which he was going to pretend hadn't happened, "anythin' you can do, I can do better." Or at least heal faster from. "Considerin' you seem to have started a bit crook, perhaps you should give some thought to the sorely underrated option of unconditional surrender."

Krug stumbled back to his feet. One of his wings was definitely broken, and he staggered, glaring at Marius. "I'd sooner die," he said, taking an unsteady step towards the younger mutant. "Die trying to rip your throat out, if I have to..."

"Shame. Even your banter isn't entertainin'. Ah, well . . ." Marius flexed his fingers in readiness. Krug's talons had mixed with Kyle's retractable claws to create an odd hybrid that made his hands stiff and over-heavy. Furthermore, his shoulders still stung from where Krug had impaled them; the wounds were deep enough that even the borrowed healing factor was going to take some time repairing them.

He could die here, Marius realized. He was, after all, facing an opponent with nothing to lose and impulse control he would hazard to guess was nonexistent. Curiously, this awareness didn't seem to have much urgency for him. This didn't feel like potential death -- not in the same way as being in a room surrounded by FOH, or thrashing on the floor of his room with his soft tissues seared away.

Claws extended, wings sweeping over his head, Marius smiled. Ah, but of course this would be different.

This time I'm in it as an X-Man.

Krug was slower, definitely clumsy. The broken wing was clearly hurting his balance, and he was too angry and too exhausted for any sort of finesse. He charged Marius head-on, teeth bared and clawed hands outstretched.

Marius stood his ground, legs braced and hands raised. Then, at the last possible moment he slid to the side as he'd been taught, grabbed Krug's wrist, twisted his body, and abruptly dropped backwards. He took a deep breath before his head plunged underwater, and his leg came up to plant itself in Krug's stomach. Just a final burst of force to aid the momentum, and Krug was flung head-over-heels into a massive knot of half-submerged roots.

Krug landed on the broken wing, and his shriek of pain was audible even under water. By the time Marius was upright again, the terrorist was moving feebly, moaning. He had rolled off the injured wing, revealing the white of bone poking through torn skin. He didn't seem willing or able to get back to his feet.

Marius sloshed forward, swiping now extremely-stiff hair from his eyes. Between the bloodloss and the shapeshifting he wasn't feeling much better than Krug looked, but there was no reason to give that away. He paused a few feet from the groaning figure, breath coming just a little too hard. "Mate," he said, "I think your point has been proved. Sure it's not sufficient to nearly die in the attempt?"

The moan turned into a growl, and Krug swiped feebly at Marius, the fact that he was trying to hit someone standing a good three feet away a definite sign that there wasn't all that much fight left in him. He slumped forward with another moan, going limp.

"I shall take that as agreement," Marius remarked. He scanned the ground quickly, but there was no obvious means of restraint lying around. If Krug was faking, or the unconsciousness proved transient, there'd be nothing to keep him.

Sod it. Krug was in no shape to pose any further threat, and Marius had places to be. It was a risk he'd take.

With a final shake of his head, the boy turned away and began to slosh in the direction his friend had run.


--


He'd missed. The bastard had been standing right there, and he'd missed him with that optic blast. How the hell had he moved that-

The thought didn't finish forming in Scott's mind before Nimrod was on him. He tried to dodge, but injuries and fatigue had taken their toll hours ago, and a fist like a sledgehammer caught him directly on the jaw. Something cracked, and Scott stumbled and went down, aware of nothing at first but the pain in his jaw. By the time he registered the fist clenching around the front of his torn and bloodied shirt, he was already being hoisted into the air and thrown.

He slammed hard against the trunk of a tree, falling face-down in the swampy water. Veres was ranting in Hungarian, the snarling getting closer. A booted foot caught him in the side, and Scott was flung nearly upright by the force of it.

Jennie really didn't need her powers to find Scott. The loud crashes and the optic blasts were rather obvious. She felt a small fear in the pit of her stomach as she got closer and closer. If the first big, red, ugly guy was any indication, whomever had Fearless Leader occupied was not going to be asking for hugs.

"'Go on ahead, Jen, I can take this one...' No worries Marius, I like being suicidal..." Jennie muttered under her breath as she drew closer to the clearing all the noise was coming from.

Scott reeled back to his feet and staggered backwards, doubled over in pain as he gasped for air. Can't breathe- a panicked part of his mind said frantically, but instinct was surer, and took over. He blasted at the blurred shape he knew was Nimrod, and heard a satisfying grunt as the blast made contact. There was a loud splash, and Scott reasoned dimly that moving away from the sound would be good. His vision didn't want to clear - blood in his eye or something - but he'd worked blind before. And away would definitely be best. Where had the cosmonauts gone? He had to find them...

He didn't get ten steps. Nimrod slammed into him from behind like a human tornado. "One thing," the Hungarian snarled, propelling Scott face-first into another tree. "I will be able to tell him that I did one thing - that I killed you, after you took the chance to save our people from him!"

He needed to blast the asshole, Scott knew. Hand-to-hand with him wasn't going to work. Except that he couldn't seem to stand up, couldn't get a clear shot at him. It felt like Veres was hitting him from every direction at once, and his feeble attempts to block weren't working at all. Most of the punches were connecting, and his grip on consciousness was slipping, like it or not...

With a snarl of rage, Nimrod took a step back from the crumpling X-Man, letting him fall and delivering a few more vicious kicks to his prone body. Scott moved, as if trying to get up, and Nimrod gave him a purely malevolent smile, bright with hatred. He knelt down, pushing Scott's head back below the surface of the swampy water.

Veres was intent on his mauling of Scott, he didn't even look up when Jennie reached the clearing. Oh. This was so not good. One hand going to her ear, she quickly radioed Storm again, and frowned when she received the ETA. That wasn't enough time. She was going to have to do something before Veres killed Scott.

Jennie hesitated before stepping out, suddenly aware of the fact that the one with the healing factor was hundreds of feet in a different direction, and just how fragile she was. Jennie'd read the files on Veres. Invincible, and crazy as well. And she'd read the the scenarios for engagement if you were not Marie or Cain. It was one word. Don't.

But Marius was occupied and Storm wouldn't get there in time. That left only one option.

Her fists clenched compulsively, and she opened them and shook them out. In one fluid movement she shed her outer jacket to allow for more mobility. She had a feeling she needed it, and the extra armor was a moot point for someone who could crush bone with his pinkie. Faster than it took most people to blink, she sharpened a line, and tossed out a red disk.

The tree beside Scott and Nimrod collapsed suddenly. Nimrod jerked, batting it away with a curse. It didn't harm him, of course, but it did make him let go of Scott, who floated, face-down and quite still, in the water.

There was a shrill whistle. Behind Veres stood a teenaged girl in a sleeveless grey version of the uniform of the man lying next to him. She tossed her bangs out of her eyes with a businesslike flick of the head. "Hey! Tall dark and crazy! Are you gonna prove how manly you are by continuing to hit the unconscious man? Because seriously, so not impressed."

One of Scott's first and foremost rules was: 'Don't taunt the enemy.' However, Jennie figured he was unconscious and face down in a swamp. He could lecture her later.

Nimrod looked moderately crazed for a moment, as if his eyes were about to pop out of his skull at her effrontery. His struggle for composure was visible on his features, but successful; his eyes narrowed as he rose, kicking casually at Scott. "Dead man," he said, and the lack of a reaction from Scott didn't do anything to contradict that. "Do you want to be dead, too, little girl? Little X-bitch," he said, his eyes raking over her, assessingly. "Maybe I'll take some time, with you..."

"Eugh," Jennie made a face. "Why is it that the bad guy always has to threaten the whole 'I'll use you as a plaything and then I'll kill your dog' thing?" Jennie used her fingers as quotation marks as she and Veres began to circle one another. "Dude, I know you're like, all crazy and stuff? But could you at least be original? Threaten to eat the aliens in my head or something?" And move just a few more feet to the right before Fearless Leader drowns...

"Not the sort of plaything you think. But not to be preferred - and I will do it." Veres bolted at her, a full-frontal charge that would not have ended at all well for Jennie - had he not tripped over a submerged tree branch, courtesy of another flung luck disk. At the speed he'd been going, the force of impact was considerable, and he swore, thrashing to try and free himself from the sucking mud as Jennie darted past him and towards Scott.

"Yeah, you'll have to catch me first, jackass," Jennie muttered as she reached Scott. She didn't have much time, the lines of chance were changing rapidly around them both. She rolled Scott over so he was no longer on his face, checked his pulse, and then grabbed him under the armpits to haul the unconscious man towards dry land. She could actually feel Veres struggling behind her. Her eyes flicked to the sky.

"Come on, Storm," Jennie said. "It's a supersonic jet, hurry up..." She looked back down in time to see a line change, and to throw herself out of the way of an oncoming punch.

"Clever," Nimrod said. A grip like iron clamped down on the back of her neck, lifting her into the air. "Clever little reality-warper...that just makes this interesting."

The man swung her around to face him. Jennie gasped for air and clawed at the hand around her neck. Almost on instinct, one shaking hand reached out and brushed the side of Veres's face, fingers glowing crimson.

Nimrod dropped her and staggered backwards, a look of blank incomprehension on his face as he clutched at his skull. He said something in Hungarian; it sounded disjointed, more like babble than anything else. None of the optic blasts he'd been hit with today had done much damage at all. The one that had struck him in the head two years ago, however, had. Veins that had torn that day broke open again, old weak spots giving way.

Jennie coughed and gagged, scrambling to get to her feet and get away from Nimrod. She looked towards where Scott was slumped on the ground, and then back up towards the sky. "Come, come on come on come on..." She still had to keep Veres occupied until Storm got there. And to keep him from killing them both.

"Come on, asshole," Jennie snarled. "Show me what you got," she said, holding up one red disk in a clenched fist.

Blinking rapidly, he snarled at her in Hungarian and charged. Moving frighteningly fast, still, despite the damage done by Jennie's powers. He seized the front of her uniform and spun, throwing her, even more easily than he had Scott. The mangrove trees broke her fall, too.

Well, that was stupid, Jennie thought to herself in midair.

Unlike Scott, Jennie's fall was cushioned by the trees, and she only had the wind knocked out of her. She got to her feet and hurled a red disk at the same time, causing Nimrod to get hopelessly tangled in some marshweed. The girl looked around desperately for something heavier to hit him with. Now she had two objectives. Keep both her and Cyclops alive until Storm came, and stay the hell away from him. She was now keenly aware just how squishy she was.

Nimrod didn't come right back at her, even when he freed himself. He stopped for long enough to acquire a club, tearing a tree virtually in half with no apparent effort. "Not enough variables, little reality-warper," he spat at her. "I know how it works."

"Gold star for the crazy man! Anyone can tell how reality warping works, you moron," Jennie said, "now see if you can dodge." She hurled another disk, this one causing Nimrod's 'club' to disintegrate. A second caused his pants to fall down.

He staggered, but didn't fall. The laughter was more than a little disturbing. "Slow me down if you want, little girl," he said, jerking his clothes back into order. "Only so many things you can change, and I'll get there eventually..." He wasn't running as he continued to approach. He was picking up on how she was attacking the variables, and realizing that he needed to give himself enough time to react to what she might throw at him.

"Well then, bring it, bitch," Jennie said, a wicked gleam in her eye.

The air was supercharged with tension as the only sounds were the slow sucking footfalls of the large Hungarian. The girl stood alert. She had one small advantage that most reality warpers didn't. The smears of light that crawled and changed at the edges of her vision, letting her know when the lines of probability were about to change. A second before Nimrod suddenly lunged, the lights in her vision went red. And impossibly, just before he reached her, Jennie jumped and landed on his right shoulder. She used that as a springboard to launch herself several feet away from him, smacking him in the back of the head with a red hand as she did so. When Nimrod swung around in midstride, he tripped over a buried root, and he went sprawling in the muck.

Jennie rolled when she hit the ground like she had been taught, getting to her feet quickly. "Ah-ah," she taunted, wagging a finger like a schoolmarm.

He was still laughing, as he got up. To all appearances, he was enjoying himself. Given his anger earlier, the totality of the change in his mood was more than a little disturbing. "Cocky," Nimrod said -and threw the fist-sized rock that he'd come up with in his hand. The one she hadn't seen. He aimed for her midsection, rather than her head. Looking to cause pain, not to kill.

Given that this was the man who'd knocked out Cable with a coatrack from across the street, the amount of force behind the throw, from comparatively close quarters, was considerable.

Even attempting to dodge with her luck powers, the rock still connected with Jennie's side, knocking her down. It was due to her luck powers, that the rock didn't go straight through her. Even so, her world went black temporarily. She tried to stagger to her feet, holding her side. Her vision wasn't focusing. And she couldn't see Nimrod.

Then someone was pulling her to her feet from behind - by her hair. "You're clever, but young," Nimrod said, grabbing her right wrist and twisted her arm behind her back until bone grated on bone. That he'd taken the time to notice her which was her still somewhat-dominant hand for disk-throwing was a little disturbing. "Not all that experienced, I'd wager. Ten years from now, maybe you'd be a threat. Right now you're just a challenge."

He pushed her away all at once, landing a carefully measured kick to her leg as he did. It was enough to send her to her hands and knees, if not to break bone.

Jennie saw stars as white-hot pain shot up her thigh. She was shaking, and she couldn't focus beyond the pain to concentrate on the lines. Instinct twigged at the back of her neck and she rolled out of the way as Nimrod's booted foot landed a few inches away from her. She threw out a wild disk as she did so, hoping that it would connect with something.

"Shall I critique your performance?" Nimrod's voice was coming from a different direction. Jennie heard the snap of wood. The club slammed into her arm as she tried to throw another disk. Again, the blow was carefully measured. Enough to throw off her aim and hurt - a lot - but not enough to break bone. "Forgive me these half-hearted taps, little girl. You look very fragile. I don't want you to pass out."

It was at that moment that Jennie realized that she was on her own. The entire fight had been only to keep Nimrod at bay until backup arrived. But backup wasn't there, Cyclops was unconscious, Marius was God-knew-where, and it was just her and the Hungarian.

Breathing heavily, she tried to focus beyond the pain in her side, and the salty taste of blood in her mouth. "Untouchable and unafraid," she whispered, repeating it over and over like a mantra. "I am untouchable and unafraid," Her fingers clenched, squeezing muck. She could die, Jennie realized. Die before either Storm or Marius came. But if that's what fate had intended for her, she would make sure that Veres would remember her. She wouldn't be one of his faceless victims. Her vision focused. She wasn't down yet.

Jennie turned and glared at the man, hate blazing from her eyes and spat blood. She wasn't as experienced or as powerful as some of the team, but she had a vicious streak. It was something that had kept her alive growing up, and it was something she was not afraid to use.

She rolled again when his arm came down, dodging off to the side. Her eyes flicked to his head, where there was a concentration of red. The old injury she'd aggravated earlier. Not holding back, she flung another disk at his head with a snarl.

Nimrod stumbled backwards, dropping his club with a groan as he clutched at his head. Blood was trickling from both ears, and he seemed to have trouble focusing on her.

"I liked the game better," he said, his words slightly slurred, and then lunged at her. His coordination was none too good, but he was close enough that it didn't matter. "The game... it means something," he said, and broke into jumbled-sounding Hungarian as he hauled her back up by the back of her uniform. The punch to her kidneys felt like he'd hit her with a crowbar. "Now... now you'll never learn," he mumbled, sounding almost sorrowful as he lifted her bodily and threw her.

Jennie had screamed when he punched her, and when she landed she couldn't keep from crying out again. Still conscious, she looked up. Nimrod was moving slower, almost like a drunk man. It gave Jennie time to shakily get to her feet. Something had torn above her hairline, making blood and sweat dribble into her eye, and she hissed at the sting. She swiped at it with a trembling hand and came to a decision. It didn't matter if the man was injured or not, he could still kill her. He would. And when she died, he would kill still more people. There wasn't much left in her, but she still had one remaining option.

In her entire life, she had never let go of her power. Several times her powers had gotten away from her, causing people to get hurt or large amounts of destruction. Unconsciously, she'd always kept a tight reign over her power, scared to let it go for fear of what it was do.

Today however, that fear was overpowered by her desire to live.

Jennie concentrated, blue eyes staring out from under damp black hair and blood smeared across her face, bringing her hands slowly upward. As she did, red energy concentrated in her outstretched palms, lighting her face with an eerie crimson glow. Hands shaking with the effort, Jennie pulled all of the power that she could reach towards her, not even caring about the potential of a lucksnap.

And with an inarticulate cry, she flung it at Nimrod like a powerful red wave.

Nimrod stopped. Just stopped, that was all. He didn't obligingly fall over, or bleed any more quickly. Just growled and started for Jennie once more.

But there was a very large dark shape coming in for a fast landing directly behind him. A big black plane which suddenly skewed wildly as the red wave hit it - and an engine stalled. The woman at the controls was a superb enough pilot that she didn't crash the plane into the swamp as a result. But it wasn't a great landing. The Blackbird managed to stop just short of the prone Jennie, with some judicious use of its VTOL engines.

Which meant that its left wing struck Nimrod, knocking him face-down in the swamp, where he was right in the path of the engine's stabilizing blast. Needless to say, at that point, he wasn't moving.

Panting heavily, Jennie looked at the wing of the jet that was just feet from her face. She giggled nervously, and pulled herself to her feet while clutching her side. She then peered over to the other end of the 'bird, where two booted feet stuck out under the wing like she was Dorothy and had just dropped a house on the wicked witch of the east.

"That's why you don't fuck with the Jedi master, son," Jennie muttered, spitting out another mouthful of blood. Pushing away from the plane, she hobbled over to where she had left Cyclops.

Scott was precisely where she'd left him, sprawled on one of the few pieces of solid ground in the area. He didn't move as she approached. Under other circumstance, it might have been an opportune moment to say something about how wrong it was that he'd slept through the spectacle of one of his trainees tackling a member of the Brotherhood.

The fact that he didn't appear to be breathing did a good job of killing that impulse dead.

"Shit," Jennie dropped to her knees and checked for a pulse. It was there, but weak. How long had he been in the water? How long was she fighting Nimrod? She was too tired for this. She looked back at the 'Bird and yelled for Ororo, and then turned back to Scott. Fuck, how did it go? Clear the airway, listen for breath, two finger widths from the bottom of the ribcage? Or was sternum? Oh screw it.

Jennie gave his chest two quick pumps before administering a breath. Then more chest pumps.

"I should so totally never have to do comms again for this," she said in between breaths.

Sloshing behind them. A huge figure shambled into view: winged, grey-skinned, and torso draped only in the tattered remains of a blood- and grime-smeared tanktop. Dark liquid still dribbled lazily from puncture wounds around its shoulders and various gashes. Slowing in its approach, it sagged like a man who'd just run a marathon and sought the trunk of a tree for support.

Then its yellow eyes widened on the plane, then the trainee and CO, and the flattened face opened its mouth to say in a familiar voice:

"What--"

In other circumstances, one in which Jennie was not muddy, bruised, attempting CPR on her CO and with her face half-covered in blood, she would have probably recognized her best friend. However, she had just hit the nigh-invulnerable Veres with the Blackbird, and all cylinders were not firing.

So she could be forgiven for the undignified shriek and the jumping back of several paces one hand already raised to toss a disk if need be.

The faint flicker of red jerked Marius' arms up instinctively, wings mantling just as fast. "Oi, Jen, it's me! I had to stack! No more trees!"

"Jesus fuck, Marius," Jennie panted, lowering her hand and clutching at her chest. "You scared the shit out of me." She took in her friend's new appearance quickly before going back to their fallen CO. "Quick! He needs CPR! Nimrod had him in the water for I don't know how long. Can you do chest compressions with those things?" She pointed at his claws.

Marius pushed away from the tree, making for the pair. "Mate, in case you haven't noticed, lips were the collateral for these fetching new appendages. I haven't got much alternative." He dropped down across from her and laced one hand over the other, tucking in the claws as best he could. "Go. I'll handle the compressions."

Jennie settled herself by Scott's head again as Marius did the countoff. On the 15th, Jennie administered a breath. 15 more compressions, another breath. "Come on, Summers, Dr. Grey'll kill us both--" Jennie muttered. Another breath, and then, mercifully, Scott coughed and gagged. His eyes fluttered, and his breathing and pulse were steady, but he remained unconscious.

"Oh my God," Jennie sighed, sitting back on her heels and looking at Marius. In the distance 'Ro was trying to calm both the cosmonauts she'd picked up and climb out of the Blackbird towards her teammate and the trainees. "Dude. You look like I feel."

Marius slumped away from Scott, hands still locked together. He took a deep breath. "Like a bloody great bat-thing?" he inquired vaguely as he gingerly worked the talons apart. Something very unpleasant was happening to them.

"Yes," Jennie said, distracted by Marius's convulsing hands. "Exactly that," her eyes drifted slowly up to his face, which was completely unrecognizable.

There was an awkward pause. Then: "I hit Nimrod with the Blackbird."

Marius' attention was absorbed in what was going on at the end of his wrists. His hands weren't shaking, they were spasming, and in a way he more than remembered. His physical reserves were depleted -- and, even though the mouths had long closed, laying his hands on another mutant in this state couldn't help but trigger the kinesthetic memory. Nonetheless, that last was a bit difficult to ignore.

Raising his head slowly, Marius looked at Jennie, then at the Blackbird, then back at his friend. There was another awkward pause.

"Well," the boy said at last, "I withdraw my earlier comment. Henceforth I shall consider trees more than acceptable punishment."

"Fine. Next time you go try and take on the crazy invulnerable Romanian guy. And I fight the winged man," Jennie said. The adrenaline was still coursing through her system, and she knew her crash off of it was going to be spectacular. Of course, after she ate everything she could get her hands on in the Blackbird. Her stomach accompanied that thought with a gurgle. In the background, 'Ro had finally disengaged from the cosmonauts and was rushing over.

"Speaking of, I hope you left him in a worse condition you are." she looked back towards Marius. "I think mine's still stuck under a wing."

"That would depend on your definition of worse. He was more inclined towards the stabby than I. Should think he'll be off flyin' for a bit, however." Scott's breathing seemed fairly steady, and the convulsions in Marius' hands were ceasing as well. Pressing his twitching palms against his knees, Marius squinted at the Blackbird. There was nothing much to see, which was slightly worrying. He cocked an eyebrow at Jennie. "Eh . . . incidentally, your one -- he all right down there?"

"He's--" Jennie turned back to the Blackbird and broke off. "No way," she said. "No fucking way."

She climbed unsteadily to her feet, limping a few paces towards the 'Bird. "No, no... he didn't-- he couldn't--" she looked around frantically, almost stumbling when she put weight on her leg and a sharp pain made her tear up. "Oh God," she said.

Nimrod was gone.