xp_logs | Blessed Are The Peacemakers: All Along The Watchtower

Jean and Saidullayev have a throwdown for the ages, while Nathan and Trask fight a very different battle.

"There must be some way out of here" said the joker to the thief
"There's too much confusion", I can't get no relief
Businessmen, they drink my wine, plowmen dig my earth
None of them along the line know what any of it is worth.

The wall disintegrated under Jean's power, rubble flung outwards into the forest. As was Saidullayev, whose shielded form smashed through several trees before he came to an abrupt stop in a snowbank. But he pushed himself right back up, a tight smile spreading across his face as he saw Jean coming. A tree uprooted itself from the ground and swung at her, like a baseball bat being wielded by an invisible giant.

"Yeah, right," Jean said, pulling up well short of the swinging tree and dropping to the ground. Saidullayev was crazy, but he wasn't stupid, so the chance that the same trick would work a second time was minimal. This time Jean blasted the ground out from under him, trying to keep him off balance.

Saidullayev's telekinetically-assisted leap carried him up and away from Jean's blast. He actually ricocheted, pushing off one tree and coming back to the ground well to the right of where he'd been. His eyes flickered to the house and then back to Jean, as if the urge to go back to Trask was warring with the need to apply himself to the fight at hand.

"He won't kill her," he said under his breath, as if coming to a conclusion, "but I will kill you." Sharp fragments of wood from the trees he'd destroyed, falling, came flying at Jean from all directions. Some of them spinning, some of them not, all moving on individual trajectories.

"No, I don't think so." The shield around Jean was a solid wall the wood would simply bounce off, but that wasn't enough. That left him in control of the projectiles, which left too many variables. Instead, as they hit her shield Jean worked them into its pattern, running them around her in a tightly wound spiral.

Saidullayev's eyes widened slightly, even as his jaw clenched. He was looking straight at Jean, but through her, as well. It was a familar look, one their teammates were used to seeing on Nathan and Jean's faces as they studied the lines of force. He proceeded to prove that he was indeed doing just that. Suddenly there were six - no, seven individual impacts of near-overwhelming force against her shield. The force was distributed in a way that meant pressure everywhere - and it only grew.

Jean staggered at the impact, struggling to divert the incoming force and drain it into the ground below her. It worked, barely, but Jean knew that staying on the defensive was the quickest way to die with Saidullayev. Reaching out she toppled the trees behind him, pushing them his way and then letting gravity do the rest of the work, knowing he would see the shifting force lines. Counting on it. As his attention shifted she telepathically slammed into him, trying to break his focus.

His mind had always been highly resistant to telepathy. But as she slammed into his mind, it became shockingly obvious that they were no longer natural shields, or even the standard sort of defensives a non-telepath could muster.

There were patterns in his mind. Askani patterns that seemed rooted in his subconscious. He rocked backwards at her attack, but the patterns blunted the force, draining it off. Even so, his own attack faltered.

Getting him to let up was the first, most important step, and as his attack on her wavered Jean took the advantage, shooting up into the air and darting deeper into the woods, throwing up snow and fallen branches into the air as she passed to make it harder for him to follow. No time to think about his telepathic shields, she had to keep moving.

He persisted, however. Of course. Smashing aside what she threw at him, tearing his way through the woods. The sound of his laughter echoed even over the noise. "Why do you think those helicopters are here, Phoenix?" he called, never pausing for a moment in his pursuit of her. "We told them I was here! I wanted them to come! To put an end to my old life, and my old comrades-"

Jean's first thought in response to his revelation was, 'That's because you're both completely batshit.' Followed not long after by 'And sending multiple combat ready helicopters after you is in no way an over-reaction.' But answering would have been playing his game, and Jean was really not in the mood. Instead, she glanced back at him to get a good look at the lines of force surrounding him, smiled sweetly, then blasted the one he was using for forward motion.

Saidullayev immediately tumbled back to the ground, shields flaring brightly around him (although the descent was far from controlled). "Once upon a time," he groaned, hauling himself back up, "I knew not to talk, in situations like this."

–-

The backwash of the telekinetic explosion that had taken Jean and Saidullayev out of the house had knocked both Nathan and Trask to the floor. Nathan was the first back to his feet, already turning towards the hole where the wall had been and fully intending to follow them out. Every thought of throttling Trask for being a sheer, unadulterated lunatic was gone - or at least, in abeyance. He couldn't let Jean fight Saidullayev alone. All of their training had been done together.

But even as he moved to follow the other two telekinetics, a strange, sinking feeling hit him, like he was being sucked into quicksand and everything was slowing way down... Nathan managed to look around, despite how heavy his head felt, and saw Trask rising to her feet, her too-bright eyes fixed on him. What the hell- He didn't know what was happening. He felt conflicted suddenly, not sure what he should be doing...

Stay. They had learned ways to deal with her power, but she could learn too. She folded her self toward and around him, not trying to penetrate exactly, but trying to enfold. This mattered. He could do so much good if he would only see the truth. Stay. See me. People will always conflict: this is their nature. This is our nature. Direct, remake, teach, then you can trust. And if he would not see it on his own, it would be almost as good if she could make him.

It wasn't like being attacked by a telepath, or even an empath. There was no slamming against his shields, but it was like the ground under his feet was evaporating. Like the foundation for what he knew and what he had to do was collapsing from within.

She'd learned a few new tricks. Or maybe he was finally seeing what she could really do, and the thought was terrifying.

"That eager to be back in my subconscious, Tara?" he gritted out. Had she been able to do this while her target was awake all along? "I didn't think you enjoyed the last time very much..."

"Not exactly," she said. Being in Nathan's mind had been very stressful at the time. But then, not all stress was bad. Sometimes it was a challenge. She didn't want to be trapped again, of course, but sometimes you had to take risks. Not too much pressure, enfold, enfold, wrap, sometimes the lightest deft touch is the greatest power. "But you have the most amazing mind." Stay. Come with me. You know the truth of how we are. Bring the Askani to life.

Anger, although not the white-hot rage the first part of the conversation had evoked. This was cold, purposeful anger, welling up from deep inside - clarifying the situation. Nathan smiled tightly. I'm fighting you the wrong way, you crazy bitch-

He closed his eyes and turned inwards, falling.

--

Saidullayev's attention briefly off her, Jean took the chance, jerking sharply off the path she'd been following and dropping onto a tree-branch out of sight, killing all telekinetic signal of herself - it was far easier for her to track him telepathically, even if she couldn't read him, than it would be for him. And right now, any advantage was one she needed to take. She needed a moment to think, to find a way to get through his shields...

"Phoenix!" The call of her name was long, drawn-out in an obviously mocking way. "Come out, woman. Let us finish this so that Cable and I can see to men's business!"

#Oh yes, that's really going to work...# The thought was more a whisper laid at the edge of his shields than anything she forced on him, sliding tantalizingly out of grasp to a non-telepath, but hinting, always hinting, that if he could catch it he could find her. A sneaky little trick that just might get him to lower his shields... if he even could. The solid foundation of them almost seemed as though they'd been burned into him by an outside source.

The woods had fallen silent again, save for the distant noise of gunfire still coming from Shatoy. Although it was sporadic now, implying less than happy things about what was going on in the town.

There was no sound of footsteps, but as Saidullayev came back into Jean's view, it was clear why. He was walking on top of the snow, looking back and forth, eyes narrowing as he searched for her.

Jean pressed back into the tree, trying not to make a sound, although there was no where to really hide up here. As soon as he thought to look up he would spot her, and she couldn't even prep an attack without him spotting her. But that didn't mean she couldn't plot one out...

Saidullayev spotted her behind the tree and telekinesis lashed outwards at her, plowing a trench in the earth. It was a pure brute-force attack, no finesse about it whatsoever. He wanted to finish her off and go back for Nathan. He was looking rather impatient with the situation.

Even as he was swiping at her Jean was launching herself off the branch, her hands extending into a telekinetic grip on the tree she'd been hiding in, snapping the top half off like a twig and hurling it down towards Saidullayev like a spear, even as she dropped to the ground.

--

"No reason to get excited", the thief he kindly spoke
"There are many here among us who feel that life is but a joke
But you and I, we've been through that, and this is not our fate
So let us not talk falsely now, the hour is getting late".

There was a beach. And mountains. And a white house that had strayed this way from Santorini. And a man clad in black who was Nathan but not quite, facing Trask across the mosaic pavement as its patterns rippled in agitation.

"You know, I really thought you would have learned from the last time." Cable's voice was sardonic, but tight. There was non-existent sweat standing out on his non-existent brow. The former tactical personality was used to giving advice, not being the one who actually fought. But there wasn't much choice here and now, was there? "I suppose fanaticism tends to blind one..."

The patterns rippled more, shifting, and he growled, forcing them back to what they should be. There was only one person he'd ever let reorganize his mind on the subconscious level, and Trask was not her.

"She'd kill you, you know. She'd tear your mind apart like she did Gideon's. She'd probably enjoy it, too."

Trask gave him a rather blank look. "Who?"

"Askani, you moron! How did you do it?" The patterns started to smooth out, and Cable pressed the advantage, knowing that if he could keep her talking, he'd mess with her focus. And it was important that he did that, that he got the upper hand here, because there was... something out there he needed to do. He wasn't sure quite what, but it was important. Someone needed him.

"How did you squat inside her mind for that long and not understand her? She fought to defend life. What is, is - she fought her whole life against the people who didn't think her Clan had the right to be! It's like she said the sky was blue and you decided she'd really meant green!"

Trask shook her head. "She fought for the right to exist, to live, to be herself. As must we all. You can't say 'What is, is' applies to the living and not to the battles that are part of it."

"Because the battle is the point. Right. I'm a formerly disassociated piece of Nathan's mind created to be a tactical computer and even I know what a load of crap that is!" Cable took a step back, reeling from the sudden renewed force of Trask's attack as the mosaic wrenched itself into unfamiliar shapes.

But the Mistra psis who'd built him hadn't created him to give up. "~Who do you think you're dealing with, Clanless?~" he snarled back at her, shoving back. A new tactic presented itself. Oh, perfect. It wouldn't be hard, either. "Not just me, I hope..."

"Not just him," another voice said, grave and disappointed. The red-haired woman in the white robe stepped forward out of the forest, green eyes fixed on Trask, dark with a mixture of sorrow and something else, something closer to anger. "What have you done, woman who could have been my sister?" the image of the Mother Askani asked.

The figment was paper-thin and wouldn't have fooled a telepath for a moment. But Trask wasn't a telepath.

Trask lit up. She obviously didn't register Askani's meaning any more than she had before; perhaps she wasn't listening. She took a step toward Askani, then a short run, suffused with radiant ecstasy. Askani was here, was speaking to her, they could speak at last! "Sister," she cried, and reached out to embrace her.

Dear God. Did she just squee? The thought came from somewhere else, and was irrelevant to the moment. Cable didn't even register it. Trask was so focused on the false Askani that the force of her attack had ebbed completely. He'd wanted the upper hand, and now he had it.

"Gotcha," he muttered under his breath, and the mosaic slid back into its proper patterns and burst into flame, a great bird of fire that swept across the mindscape and washed it clean.

--

Nathan went to his knees, dazed. Across from him, Trask was still on her feet, but swaying like a willow in the wind, her eyes unfocused. The world around him was back to the way it should be. Too bright, all of the edges too sharp, but he was free.

And he was going to fucking stay that way. Before Trask could recover, he lashed out at her telekinetically. The blow was unfocused, but it still knocked her to the ground, and he got to his feet, running towards the hole in the wall. I'm coming, Jean-

Trask rolled over and pushed herself up, delight replaced by fury and a headache that came with its own fancy fireworks. And general bruising.

Nathan was leaving. The fury coalesced on a target; she drew the small, easily-concealed gun from its holster beneath her jacket and aimed through the glitter of afterimages. It wasn't as hard as it could have been; against the brightness of outside light, Nathan seemed outlined in a brilliant halo for her convenience.

Pretty colors. Even if they hurt to look at.

She fired.

Something punched him hard in the back, and then again. Nathan staggered, catching at the broken edge of the wall - or tried to, because his left hand wasn't working properly. It wouldn't have helped much anyway because his knees were already starting to buckle. The pain finally hit, and he didn't register much of anything but it until he heard footsteps approaching.

There. Down, but still alive. Good. He would stay. Ilyas would deal with Grey, and Nathan would stay. She would make him see.

It crossed Trask's mind that perhaps she should forget him and manage without him. He was the one Askani had spoken to, but he didn't seem to understand the situation, and she would have to think about whether her principles really allowed this much concentration on one uncooperative man. She wasn't responsible for him.

Still. He could be so useful. She should make sure he wasn't dying yet.

Before she could quite reach him, Nathan managed to look back over his shoulder, gray eyes unfocused with pain but still locking on his target. Patterns of force flickered into life around him, and for a moment he found himself visualizing her heart and the precise application of telekinesis that would explode it in her chest. Years ago, it would have been an instinctive reaction to this level of danger, to a threat approaching while he was down and wounded...

No. He didn't kill anymore. Not even her. The narrowly focused stab of TK turned into a broad wave of force, smashing into her. It blew her off her feet and nearly to the opposite wall of the house, where she landed in a crumpled heap, out cold.

Nathan took a deep, shuddering breath and hauled himself back to his feet, part of him nearly crying out in relief as his legs obeyed him, rubbery as they were. He could walk. Meant it wasn't as bad as it could have been. The pain was still enough to make his vision narrow, though, as if he was moving through a tunnel towards the light at the end.

But he moved.

--

Jean's attack hit Saidullayev with impressive force. Though it didn't penetrate his shields, it sent him hurtling back through the woods and against another tree with crushing force. Saidullayev was slower to get up this time, spitting blood as he did. The impatience was gone, and the intent way he regarded her suggested that he'd finally stopped seeing her as a speed bump on the road to kicking Nathan's ass.

Jean smiled faintly, her eyes dark as she readied another attack. Suddenly she froze, eyes going wide. The mental sense she'd developed of Nathan through years of missions and training, the touch they used whenever they were in the field to keep track of each other, suddenly exploded with pain. "Nate!" It was less than a space of a heart beat, but for a moment her defenses were completely down.

Saidullayev didn't waste time looking back at the house, although he had to have heard her cry. And he didn't speak again - apparently her trick with the tree had brought what passed for his professionalism back to the surface. He just aimed a sledgehammer of telekinesis right at her head, a blow meant to fracture her skull and put her on the ground permanently.

The surging of her powers wasn't even conscious - the instinct once more saving her life, although the force of his blow slammed Jean back into what remained of the tree she'd hidden in, shattering it and fracturing her ribs. Jean didn't even notice the pain, though, nor the rising friction around her which set the splinters of the tree on fire. Her eyes tightened and all she said was, "This ends now," before slamming into him with the force which had damned a lake, followed by a telepathic blow containing all the terror and anger she'd felt at Alkali.

The telekinetic blow hit his shields and cracked them, even though they blunted the impact. This time, howevever, when he was thrown head over heels back through the air like a rag doll, there was nothing buffering his impact with the ground. Fortunately for him, he landed in a snowbank instead of against a tree. But Jean's follow-up telepathic blow smashed into those deep-rooted Askani patterns, a spiderweb of cracks spreading through them. Psionic shock was inevitable - pain was a given.

But he still got up. Slowly, and he staggered, going back to his knees, even as Jean watched. There was blood pouring from his nose and ears, but his eyes were still open, and the look in them was close to what Nathan had seen there in Derbent, months ago.

What sort of counterattack he could have managed remained unknown, because he didn't have the chance. Almost as soon as the debris finished falling, the sound of the approaching helicopters was all too audible. Three of them, one well in the lead, obviously drawn by the telekinetic fighting. It opened fire, strafing the woods.

Saidullayev looked up, a snarl twisting his bloodied face. He didn't gesture, didn't even blink, and the helicopter exploded in mid-air.

#Jean!# It was Nathan's voice in her mind, tight with pain but fierce, too. #Get down here, we've got to go-# One of the other helicopters got off a missile. It was jerked off its original trajectory, and the telekinetic tug that did it didn't come from either her or Saidullayev.

Still, half the hillside went up in the explosion.

Jean had taken a step back when Saidullayev stood up, preparing to strike again - anything to keep him down, but the helicopters and explosions rather blunted her anger. At Nate's touch she took a deep breath, reining in her temper. She had to focus and they had to get out of there.

#On my way.# She shot one last poisonous look at Saidullayev then turned and headed towards Nate, running above the snow, but staying low in hopes of not drawing any extra attention from above.

Saidullyev screamed something in Chechen. Not at her, but at the helicopters. More of the hillside erupted, rocks and dirt and trees hurtling outwards at the helicopters as they swerved desperately, trying to avoid impact.

Telekinetic and helicopters remained locked in combat as the two X-Men retreated. But it was all too obvious how it was going to end.

All along the watchtower, princes kept the view
While all the women came and went, barefoot servants, too.

Outside in the distance a wildcat did growl
Two riders were approaching, the wind began to howl.