Warumbe

[x-cable.livejournal.com]

Ororo and Nathan head into New York to meet T'Challa for dinner. Not unexpectedly, things do not go quite as planned.


"T'Challa's first visit to New York and it snows," Nathan said in amusement, tugging at the collar of his coat as he and Ororo waited to cross the street. It wasn't snowing very hard, just a flurry, really, but it was bitterly cold. Nathan leaned out a little, looking across and down the street at the hotel. No sign of the other man standing out front, thankfully. "Hopefully he's waiting inside where it's warmer."

"My guess is that we may have to coax him out into the cold," Ororo said with no small degree of merriment, enjoying the sight of the delicate dancing flakes in the air around them. Then again, perhaps not, she thought, remembering the jump in testosterone levels that seemed to happen whenever the Wakandan king was around. Male rivalry may be good for something after all.

Nathan looked down at her with an expression that could only be described as amused. "We should have brought Remy," he said mildly. That might have been entertaining.

"Alas, I believe he's busy today." Shooting a grin at Nathan, Ororo glanced back at the streetlights in time to see the 'walking man' flash and stepped into the crosswalk, heading towards the other side of the street. She was only wearing a light jacket and this unusual choice in winter attire drew a few odd looks, but she was used to it. At least that aspect of her powers hadn't disappeared with the others.

He liked it that Ororo didn't raise to easy bait. It made her unpredictable. And fun. Nathan stepped out and followed her, easily keeping pace. "So where are we going, anyway?" he asked; he'd left it to Ororo to pick the restaurant. "Where do you take a king," he continued whimsically, "when he's trying to stay low-profile..."

"As much as a fast-food restaurant would have fit the bill, I think I managed to find a place that is both under the radar and possessed of a menu slightly more varied than 'things fried or broiled or both'. And within walking distance, even. Though I do hope T'Challa partakes of a cab ride while he is here... all part of the New York experience."

"I've never doubted your taste," Nathan said, deadpan, as they reached the other side of the street. "Although I am pretty curious, still." He glanced sideways at her again. "I promise to try not to spend the whole dinner talking about work," he said dryly.

"Just through the appetizer?" she quipped. Turning down the sidwalk towards the hotel, Ororo again glanced ahead, looking for T'Challa. Somehow she had the feeling that even in a crowd of New Yorkers the African man wouldn't be hard to pick out.

And he wasn't. Head and shoulders - and upper chest - above the few other bystanders passing by the front of the hotel, T'Challa was clearly visible as he stepped out onto the sidewalk. Raising a hand to wave at Nathan and Ororo, he smiled broadly. Not unexpectedly, he was well bundled-up against the cold.

"He must have spotted us from the lobby," Nathan said - and hesitated, the rest of what he'd been about to say dying on his lips. Something was niggling at him, although he only paused for the briefest of moments before continuing to follow Ororo towards the front of the hotel. "'Ro, something's off," he said with a frown, thinning out his shields and trying to figure out what he'd sensed.

For a moment distracted by the sight of her friend - she had been looking forward to this visit ever since he had informed them of it over e-mail - Ororo registered Nathan's words and frowned, looking up at the man briefly. "What is it?" she asked as they continued to move closer to the awning under which T'Challa stood.

"I don't-" Mid-sentence, he reacted. A hard push of telekinesis sent T'Challa sprawling on the pavement, even as a TK shield took shape around him. The sniper's bullet ricocheted off the shield and into the wall of the hotel.

The few people standing nearby reacted almost as quickly, screaming and scattering until Nathan, Ororo and T'Challa were the only ones left on that particular stretch of sidewalk. A look told Ororo that the African man was unharmed, and she quickly confirmed that Nathan was as well. "We need to get to cover," she snapped, motioning to the two men.

There were no more shots. Nathan was staring hard at the rooftop of the building across the street, easily twenty stories up. "From there," he muttered. Before Ororo could repeat her order, he ran out into the street, dodging cars easily. As soon as he reached the other sidewalk he launched himself into the air telekinetically, springing straight upwards.

When she was close enough, T'Challa grabbed Ororo's arm, pulling her into the shelter of the hotel's recessed doors and shielding her with his body. "What is he doing?"

"Being Nathan," came the muttered response. Ororo tried to stand on her toes to see over T'Challa's shoulder but it was useless; he was far too tall and broad for that. "I appreciate the thought, but I can almost assure you that I was not the target of that sniper. You are the one who needs to stay hidden."

T'Challa glowered briefly down at her before turning his attention back in the direction Nathan had gone. There was nothing to see, however. Whatever was going on, it was lost in the snow.

--

Nathan swayed briefly, catching his balance as he landed on the edge of the roof. The dark-clad figure disassembling his sniper rifle hurriedly was perfectly visible through the snow. "Hey!' Nathan snapped, starting towards the man with every intention of taking that rifle and tying it into a pretzel, possibly around the bastard's neck.

Though it would've seemed a good idea for the sniper to run from the very irate telekinetic stalking towards him, the gunman did no such thing. Instead he rose, leaving the pieces of the rifle at his feet as he faced Nathan squarely.

Nathan froze. Son of a... The man across from him wasn't an anonymous sniper. Was all too familiar, as a matter of fact, and Nathan found himself trapped in a highly uncharacteristic moment of hesitation as his brain absorbed the fact that the person who'd just tried to kill T'Challa was William Moses.

The sniper's identity was only confirmed that much more when, a moment later, Moses raised his hands and took advantage of Nathan's hesitation by firing an energy blast straight at his chest. Apparently he wasn't interested in keeping a low profile any longer.

The TK shield - around himself, this time - took shape before Nathan had even consciously registered he'd been attacked. But just like the last time, the sheer force of the blast was roughly equivalent to Scott standing ten feet away and shooting at you. The shield held, but only in the sense that Nathan's own body didn't take the full force of the impact. It was still enough to send him back those few steps he'd come and over the edge of the roof.

It wasn't easy to manuever around over six feet of muscle, but Ororo finally edged her way out from behind T'Challa just in time to see something fall from the rooftops above in a gentle arc that ended on top of a parked car across the street. Seeing a golden flare of light on impact allowed her to breathe a little easier - at least Nathan was shielded - but the question of what had caused him to fall in such a manner was worrisome. She sprinted across the street, which was thankfully empty of too many onlookers.

She was greeted by a somewhat breathless string of Askani profanities as Nathan rolled off the smashed car, staggering a little as he came back to his feet. "Other way, now!" he snapped at her. "It's T'Challa's old friend Moses and I'm not up for seeing if he can hit us from the roof!" Moses had already been identified. No reason for him not to use his powers now.

"Oh dear sweet Goddess," Ororo said, biting back the retort that if he had listened to her in the first place there would be at least one less crushed car in the world. Turning on her heel, she charged back across the street, fixing T'Challa with a look that clearly said 'Even though I can't zap you I will still make you sorry if you don't listen'. "We need to get away from here, now. Follow me."

--

"I say we get him somewhere away from people and kick his ass." This from Nathan, who had clearly not gotten any less disgruntled about being knocked off a building in the last fifteen minutes. With no signs of immediate pursuit, they'd paused in an alley, to give Ororo a chance to contact the mansion.

"I would not be entirely adverse to that," T'Challa said grimly. He had been visibly shocked by the identity of his would-be assassin - more shocked that it was Moses than shocked that it had happened, oddly enough - but that surprise had hardened quickly into obvious anger. "Not adverse at all. You have an idea?"

Nathan brightened, if in an oddly savage way. "Now that you mention it-"

"Absolutely not." Ororo glanced around them, not for the first time, and then frowned at the two men disapprovingly. "We are not going to engage him, onlookers or not." She had just finished speaking with Scott, and while they had worked out a plan to get T'Challa out of harm's way, it depended on the cooperation of both her companions. "We are going to stay low and get to a place where we can rendezvous with the Blackbird without trouble."

"We're going to run?" Nathan objected, sounding affronted. "We took this guy down once, the three of us..." And he had a constitutional objection to running when it wasn't strictly necessary. It set a bad precedent.

"With all our powers, and not in the middle of one of the most crowded cities in the world," Ororo pointed out. "Yes, we are running."

There was a discontented noise from T'Challa's direction, but he also seemed more uneasy than anything else as he glanced down the alley. "This is not my home," he muttered. "I'll defer to the two of you. But leaving him behind us and capable of following us seems unwise to me."

Ororo looked towards him, disbelieving. "And confronting him seems wiser? This man has no compunctions about killing you! We are not prepared for this, and it does not seem as if he is intent on harming anyone else. If we engage him here, who knows how many will be hurt, and how much damage will be done?"

"That would be why I said 'get him away from people'," Nathan said - but then seemed to think abruptly better of continuing the argument as Ororo met his eyes squarely. "So we run," he muttered, shoulders hunching slightly. He supposed it made sense. Plus the Blackbird could come bearing reinforcements, which they might very well need at this rate.

T'Challa looked back and forth between them, eyes narrowing at Nathan's sudden reversal. The two men locked eyes for a moment, and T'Challa made a noise that might have been interpreted a number of different ways. He looked back at Ororo. "I would not want any innocents hurt, of course," he said stiffly. "Where do we go?"

"The harbor. It is open enough for the Blackbird, and should be deserted enough that its arrival will not attract any undue attention." It was also not extremely close, but Ororo pushed the doubts out of her mind as she nodded decisively.

Nathan's head jerked around towards the end of the alley. "Too many people," he said distractedly, "but he's got an unusual psi-signature... I think I'm picking him up again." It was hard to filter through the noise, but he didn't think they could afford to take the chance.

"Then we should go," T'Challa said immediately, grimly. "If we are not going to fight, having him catch up to us would be a very bad thing."

Counting herself very lucky that the two had agreed to her plan in the end, Ororo led them back towards the street at a hurried pace. They couldn't walk, of course, and she didn't think chancing a taxi ride to the harbor would be a good idea. That left only one option, and though she wasn't very sure about it, they didn't have much choice. "We are going to have to take the subway," she murmured as they stepped out onto the sidewalk. "Perhaps we can lose him there."

--


Getting away turns out to be more complicated than it should have been, too. (New York didn't need that many subway stations anyway.)


The only problem with taking the subway to the harbor was the need to change trains - twice. The first switch had gone without a problem, but Nathan was more uneasy about the second. It was one of the larger subway stations, with multiple levels and far, far too many people. He couldn't tell if they were being followed or not. Moses's psi-signature had popped up two or three times since they'd left the alley, barely noticeable amid the crowds.

"We need to get out of here," Nathan muttered to Ororo, unable to quite hide his distress. "I couldn't feel him in all this if he came up to me and punched me in the head." He had no idea how Moses was even managing to follow them. Did he have help? A telepath of his own? Come on, I would have sensed that...

The silver-haired woman laid a reassuring hand on Nathan's arm as they stood on the platform, all too aware of the conspicuous group they made. "Soon. We only have a minute more to wait." She glanced at T'Challa then, hoping that he was still on board with the plan.

T'Challa had been looking even more grim and tense since they'd entered the subway, but nodded at her not-quite-questioning look before he went back to scanning the crowd, something much easier for him giving his towering height. Nathan took a slightly unsteady breath and closed his eyes, trying to shut out at least some sensory input so that he could focus on the telepathic atmosphere. Ororo was right, the train would be here any minute.

Beneath their feet, there was a low rumble that might have been the rumble of an oncoming train. Except that the vibration just felt wrong, and cut off after a few seconds. The crack that followed it was thunderous, and a flurry of commotion, including a couple of screams, came from the commuters closest to one of the concrete support pillars.

Immediately the trio on the platform sprang into motion, going towards the sounds of destruction as people started to scatter. Through the crowd Ororo could see the familiar figure of William Moses, his feet planted firmly as he watched the fractured pillar tremble under the weight of the station. "Get out!" she shouted, though it seemed most people already had that idea, streaming towards the stairwell that would lead to one of the higher platforms and then the street.

Moses eyed the three of them, then stretched out a hand and took out another three pillars with one blast. Cracks spiderwebbed through the ceiling, and the stampede for the stairs grew more frenzied. Nathan stopped short with a vicious curse as he realized what Moses was trying to do. Knowing that he was being diverted didn't change the fact that the station was about to come down around their ears, however, and Nathan reached out with his TK to try and bear the weight of the damaged support pillars.

He wasn't quite fast enough. A chunk of the ceiling fell, thankfully not onto anyone. But there was screaming coming from the level above now, too, and the cracks were spreading.

T'Challa swore under his breath. "Moses!" he bellowed over the noise, trying to push his way through the crowd, against the tide. "Face me, coward!" Moses merely smiled slightly and blasted another pair of pillars.

"Stop him!" Ororo didn't approach the man - what could she do against that? - instead angling her steps towards an older woman who was tottering as fast as she could towards the stairs. The ground was now uneven, littered with plaster and chunks of concrete, and more than a few people had fallen in the panic to get away.

The whole structure was shuddering. Nathan swore again, going to one knee as he pushed his telekinesis further outwards, fighting to hold the place together. If a train came through, they were in trouble. He had to keep his eyes open to keep at least part of his attention on Moses, which meant that he couldn't even begin to shut out the screaming and the panicked flight of the people around him.

"MOSES!" T'Challa seemed enraged now. He charged at the other man, moving so fast that he blurred. He hit Moses like a particularly aggressive defensive end, and the two men toppled backwards onto the tracks. Moses got a blast off, but it went wild, hitting the ceiling directly.

Hurrying the bystanders up the stairs as fast as she could, Ororo glanced worriedly over her shoulder. #How long can you hold it?# she sent at Nathan, bodily lifting one young woman over a hunk of rubble.

#As long as I don't have to fight, too!# Nathan flung back at her with some difficulty. It was mostly bravado. Pain was starting behind his eyes and radiating outwards, and he could taste blood at the back of his throat. It wasn't the weight, but the the balance of forces. He was no architect, and he couldn't anticipate how the damage was going to spread...

Another blast from Moses, and T'Challa was flung up and onto the platform, his body skidding across the concrete and slamming into another support pillar. Smashing it to pieces, just to make things worse and a groan burst from Nathan as more of the structure started to crumble.

Moses hauled himself back up onto the platform, his face bleeding but bright triumph in his eyes as he advanced on the now-motionless T'Challa. "Direct enough for you, mkundu?" he spat.

Ororo watched the energy blaster approach the downed Wakandan king, dread washing over her. Nathan was still concentrating solely on holding up the crumbling station, and with T'Challa unconscious there was no one to counter Moses. Gritting her teeth, she surged forward and hauled up the largest piece of concrete she could lift, throwing it at Moses's head with all her strength.

It struck him a glancing blow and he stumbled, cursing, his hand going to the back of his head and coming away bloody. Moses half-turned towards her, his eyes widening and then narrowing. "No lightning bolts this time?" he said more softly, almost inaudible over the sound of the crumbling station and the continued commotion. He raised his hands, the air around them shuddering as energy gathered.

She really hadn't planned beyond that, but Ororo wasn't going to lose his attention once she had it. She ducked one shoulder and dropped into a roll, ignoring the bite of debris against her skin. The blast missed her, barely, and she knew she wasn't going to get many other opportunities like that. Coming to her feet, she picked up another chunk of concrete and hurled it at him, more as a distraction than an honest attempt to knock him out.

Moses dodged, the chunk of concrete just barely clipping his arm. It was enough to make the blast go wild - it hit the floor, sending cracks spiderwebbing through the concrete there as well. Nathan nearly bit through his lower lip as another area of instability was added to what he was trying to hold together.

#Ororo... there is a level beneath us, too...#

#I am sorry!# Without her powers, Ororo was helpless. She couldn't call lightning or even a gust of wind to knock Moses out, and if they weren't able to escape soon all four of them would be crushed beneath the rubble. And there was nothing she could do to stop it...

A glance around at her surroundings interrupted her despair, however, and a desperate idea formed in its place. Edging to one side, Ororo began to maneuver the would-be assassin away from T'Challa, and in the process towards the subway tracks.

Moses eyed the still-unmoving T'Challa for a moment, then glanced at Nathan, almost measuringly. "Him, I'll let live for long enough to make sure I get out of here," he said to Ororo, his voice still low as he moved towards her. "You, I think I owe for that lightning bolt the last time..."

Instead of replying, Ororo dug her heels in and sprang at Moses. She was lighter than him, yes, but she hoped that the element of surprise coupled with the unsteady footing on the platform would be enough to give her the advantage.

It was just enough. The two of them toppled backwards off the platform, Moses landing first and unintentionally cushioning Ororo's fall. He seemed dazed at least somewhat by the impact, unable to react quickly. The moment was all Ororo could have hoped to buy.

Scrambling to her feet, Ororo grabbed hold of Moses's wrist and then lunged across the tracks, her fingers touching the third rail just as the man began to stand. Instantly a jolt of electricity shot through her and into Moses, lifting both their hair on end.

Unlike Ororo, Moses didn't have the small but handy physical mutations that allowed her, even burnt out, to conduct electricity without injury. The shock flung him back against the rails, where he convulsed briefly before going still. His limbs continued to twitch as she watched, but his expression was slack with unconsciousness.

Satisfied that his chest was still rising and falling, Ororo stood, the scarf that had covered her hair fluttering down to the tracks. Just then T'Challa appeared at the edge of the platform, and she accepted his proffered hand to clamber back up.

T'Challa looked past her at Moses, and looked as if he were about to say something - only to freeze as Moses was suddenly flung farther down the tunnel as if an invisible hand had picked him up and thrown him. Into shelter, such as it was. #Go.# Nathan's mental voice even sounded labored. #Up the stairs, now... I'll be right behind you.#

"Come on!" Ororo grabbed T'Challa's arm and tugged him towards the stairs, glancing worriedly behind her at the telekinetic. #Hurry, Nathan.# "Hurry," she muttered to T'Challa.

Leaving was a matter of getting up the stairs and across another crumbling platform to the exit. There were already sirens howling outside, emergency vehicles gathering and paramedics trying to deal with the minor injuries of some of those who'd been inside when Moses had started his attack. Nathan managed to hold the station together until he, Ororo, and T'Challa were properly outside and a good several feet away from the entrance.

Nathan's balance abruptly deserted him and he fell over, hitting the pavement hard. Blacking out, if only for a moment. In the next, he was aware of being pulled upright by T'Challa, who slid an arm under his.

"We should be somewhere else," the Wakandan king said to Ororo forcefully, over the noise of the crowd. "Before we have questions to answer."

"The harbor." The silver-haired woman appeared under Nathan's other arm, setting her jaw resolutely. "Let us go."

--


They finally reach the harbor, but it's not over just yet.


"Let go of me, I do not need to be carried," Nathan grated through his teeth at T'Challa as they made their way into the container yard. At this time of night, it was almost quiet; he'd have made some effort to convince the few workers here to go elsewhere, but his head was killing him.

T'Challa grunted and half-dragged him over to one of the containers. Handy for leaning, Nathan thought, and did just that, trying not to slide the rest of the way to the ground. Fuck, he was tired. "Can you sense any pursuit?" T'Challa asked him gruffly, eyes scanning their surroundings.

"You've got to be kidding me. I can hardly sense you and Ororo right now." You weren't supposed to court burnout a second time in less than two months. Your brain tended not to like you when you pulled dumb tricks like that. Moira was going to kill him.

"Do not worry, Nathan. You have done quite enough this evening." Ororo glanced around apprehensively; the fading light meant that each shadow could potentially hold a lurking mutant. Reaching into her pocket, she thumbed her comm, assured that the way was clear enough for the Blackbird's arrival. "It will not be long now."

"I hope no one was badly injured in that train station," T'Challa rumbled, leaning back against the container himself. His features were visibly drawn in the light from the floodlights at the gate of the yard. With pain, perhaps guilt as well. "I would never have come here, if I'd had any idea that this could happen."

"How could you have?" 'Ro wanted to know. She frowned, shifting from foot to foot as she continued to scan the docks around them. "Moses was in custody, the last we knew. There was no way to know that something like this would happen. Do not blame yourself." She met his eyes then, lips pressed together in a thin line. "This is not your fault."

T'Challa gave her a crooked smile that lacked anything actually resembling humor. "Fault is a very subjective thing, Ororo. I should have kept better track of his status." He sighed heavily, his breath hitching in his chest slightly - definitely with pain, if the hand that went to his side was any clue.

"Listen to you two," Nathan muttered, bending over as if contemplating whether he could put his head between his knees while standing. He was definitely feeling a little faint. "Post-mortem on this is going to be fun, I can tell already-" He jerked upright suddenly, his exoskeleton flaring outwards from his body as instinct took over, pushing the exhaustion aside. The firebird's wings curved around to shield Ororo and T'Challa as another blast slammed into the telekinetic shields.

Through the shimmering field Ororo could see Moses stepping out from behind one of the containers, his face cut and bloodied. Realizing his blasts would do nothing against the telekinetic shield, he raised his hands again and began aiming blasts at the stacked containers around them, obviously intent on toppling them onto the trio.

Oh, now this was a fucking conundum. Going on a gut instinct, Nathan collapsed the exoskeleton from the inside out, wings last; it meant that the tumbling containers glanced off the wings in the instant before they faded, but left them open to Moses's blasts. He lurched forward, slamming into T'Challa and reaching out to yank Ororo down with them too. The blast missed by inches, shattering the container behind them. Shrapnel sprayed outwards, barely missing them.

"I've had enough of this. Distract him!" T'Challa growled, leaping back to his feet and darting sideways, vanishing into the maze of containers.

"Of course, is there anything else we can do for you, Your Highness?" Ororo muttered, pushing herself up against the wishes of her protesting limbs. Moses's attention was immediately drawn away as T'Challa disappeared, and she watched as he began to stalk through the maze of containers in search of the Wakandan king.

"Hiding will not help you! I will find you no matter where you go."

"The son of a bitch has a definite mad on, doesn't he?" Nathan muttered, rising to his feet and swaying a little. His face was scraped and bleeding, but his sudden, tight smile was fierce as he bent to pick up a piece of metal piping. Something from one of the damaged containers, maybe? It would do. "Let's see..." He brought it up to his shoulder and hurled it like a javelin.

There was a fair amount of telekinesis shaping and fueling the throw. Not as much as there might have been an hour ago - Nathan was perfectly capable of impaling someone, pulling a trick like this when he was at full strength - but still, quite a bit. The pipe struck Moses in the shoulder before he could vanish into the container maze, throwing him against the side of one of the containers.

"Pity," Nathan called, bending to pick up another piece of pipe. The air around it shimmered with gathering telekinetic energy as he strode forward. "I was actually aiming for your head. Mind staying still while I try again?"

Apparently Moses did, if the energy blast he sent at Nathan was any sort of indicator. It was weak, however, and one-handed, and the angry mutant couldn't quite muster the strength to stumble away from the container. He did, however, have the strength to speak, the cut on his lip cracking and bleeding anew as he did so. "I have no quarrel with you; leave and I will let you go. Stay and I will end you too."

"I've heard better lines than that from scarier bastards than you. I laughed my ass off at them, too." Watch the birdie, jackass... It was okay to be chatty if you were just playing diversion, and fried telepathy or not, Nathan could - just barely - sense what T'Challa was up to. #Ororo. T'Challa's coming in from above. Cut off Moses's exit to the left.#

Though there was little she could do to stop Moses except provide a momentary speedbump should he decide to break to the left, Ororo nonetheless moved in that direction, hoping that T'Challa would act soon before the assassin fired off any more energy blasts at Nathan.

It was a near thing. Moses was raising his hands again when T'Challa reached the top of the pile of containers above him and jumped, falling out of the sky like a very large predatory bird diving on his prey. He landed directly on top of Moses, and the other mutant's blast went wide, missing Nathan by a couple of feet. The two of them grappled for a long moment on the ground, small explosions of force bursting outwards as Moses tried to get the upper hand and blast T'Challa. T'Challa seemed more focused on landing as many solid hits as he could.

Not a bad thought, but it wasn't going to end well, Nathan realized and started forward again just as Moses finally managed to blast T'Challa away. At close range, and Nathan could swear he heard bone break as T'Challa was thrown back against the container. A tidal wave of anger swept away Nathan's exhaustion, and the exoskeleton flashed back into existence.

Before Moses could move to finish T'Challa off, great glowing talons were snatching him off the ground. He didn't have a chance to cry out as he was flung, very forcefully, the thousand meters or so into the East River.

"Thank the goddess," Ororo breathed, watching the plume of water settle on the river. After several seconds when Moses did not appear she grew vaguely worried; of course, it wasn't too hard to believe that the impact coupled with his other injuries might've killed the man. She hurried to T'Challa's side, wondering not for the first time where the Blackbird was. "Are you badly injured? It will not be long until medical attention arrives..." Having the king of Wakanda die on her watch would be a very bad thing indeed.

"I'm all right," T'Challa muttered, clearly in a fair amount of pain. His attention was more on the direction that Moses had 'flown' than on Ororo, however. Already, he was struggling to get up, trying to use the container behind him to pull himself upright. "We need to find him-"

"Sit down before she kicks your feet out from under you to keep you there, idiot," came Nathan's exhausted-sounding voice from behind them as he sank to the ground himself, the firebird vanishing. "I wouldn't put it past her."

"Our goal was to get away from Moses and keep you safe," Ororo said, addressing T'Challa even as she glanced back at Nathan. "Now that we have done that we are not charging back into the fray. Especially as you are both exhausted and injured."

There was a sound like low thunder, out over the river in the dark. Nathan looked in that direction, slumping further in exhaustion. "Oh, listen. There's our ride. They couldn't have gotten here in time to run him over?" He hoped they had room to land, because he'd be damned if he could levitate a used tissue at the moment, let alone get the three of them up to the 'Bird.

T'Challa growled under his breath. "I would have liked to see that."

"You both did quite well subduing him on your own. You should be proud." Ororo looked over the river herself, sparing both T'Challa and Nathan the sight of her rolling her eyes. It isn't enough to get out alive... you want to see the bad guy run over as well, she thought, loud enough for Nathan to hear it, if not T'Challa. Men.