xp_logs | X-Men Mission: Opera Redux

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While travelling through the Iranian countryside, Garrison and Cain manage to find some unexpected assistance.

Garrison had been watching the house for the last twenty minutes, and still hadn't seen any movement. The place, more like a farm cottage, was perched beside a roughly fenced pasture, where a small flock of sheep milled and grazed on the scrub, punctuated by the odd bahhing sound of the few goats that wandered amoungst them. It was away from the road, isolated, which is why Kane had decided to scout it out. Thanks to Storm, they had water if they needed it, and he, Cain and Shiro could get by without food for a long time if needed.

But Clarice was weak and getting weaker. They didn't have any painkillers or foods, and the odd shudders that wrecked her body seemed to strip away strength with each occurance. Kane wasn't a doctor, but he knew if she'd gotten a fatal dose of radiation, she'd already be dead. But a large enough dose, even if not immediately fatal, would send her immune system into the tank, and weaken her so badly that even a day without food could be enough to finish her off.

He sighed and slid back down the hill from his perch, to where Cain sat.

"I don't see any vehicles, or anyone moving inside. I say we risk it."

Cain wasn't convinced that some random shepherd's cottage in the middle of nowhere would be of any help - the place didn't even look like it had phone lines or even power, but some chance was better than nothing. Any feelings of guilt he would have had about ransacking someone's home for supplies had faded when he'd seen how bad off the young purple girl was. And the simple fact was - she was a teammate, these folks weren't. At the moment, that was all that mattered.

With a nod, Cain led the way down to the pasture, feet falling as lightly as he could manage. His first instinct was just to go in and flatten the place, then pick through the rubble, but in the off chance there was something that could save Clarice's life, he was content to let Garrison take the lead on this one.

They reached the house quickly. Garrison took a quick look around from the side. There was a much used looking pump by the side, so he was betting it was on a well, but there did seem to be power; a ramshackle looking cable that snaked out of the side of the house and into the ground. At least he wasn't going to deal with an alarm.

Kane took the door handle in hand and shoved, easily snapping the lock in half with his strength. He walked in, Cain in tow, and suddenly paused so quickly the bigger man ran into him and sent him stumbling forward. Sitting in the main room was an old man, wearing light robes over a pair of wool pants, sitting barefoot on a rug and quietly reading. He looked up, but without alarm, and said something that neither of them understood.

Cain placed a hand on the low ceiling to keep from trampling Garrison. Glancing around the small cottage, he looked down at the Mountie. "Uh, you don't speak whatever jibber-jabber that was, do you? Because I ain't got a clue what this old fart's saying."

"Unless you're seeing me wearing the Doom Chicken, no, I don't speak the language of every country between Turkey and China. I think it's Farsi." Kane said, wishing that his mother had taken more of an interest in the Middle East at this exact moment. He looked around, noticing that the cottage was certainly rustic, but no more so than what you'd find on the north shore of Superior. There was an old radio in the corner, and several small chests with books stacked on them. He caught sight of a pile of newspapers, and suddenly smiled.

{Good afternoon, sir. We apologize for the entrance.} He said slowly in French, and the old man nodded.

{Strange as you look, I did not think you had the manner of thieves. As I said, you are welcome in my home.} The old man said back in thickly accented French. Kane relaxed slightly.

"He speaks French, thank god. Says we're welcome here."

"I got that much, thanks," Cain said, his rudimentary knowledge of French letting him know enough of what the old man was saying. Nevertheless, he was content to play the big silent part and let the more charismatic Garrison do all the negotiating. "Ask him if we can get some food for Blink. Or better yet, if he knows where the nearest doctor is, because she ain't looking so good and all this bumpy travel ain't good for her."

"Hopefully he's got a map too." Kane nodded and turned back. {Sir, we appreciate your kindness. We have a friend who is hurt, and needs to see a doctor. Is there one we can see near here? And some food?} Kane fumbled the watch off of his wrist. {We can give you--}

He stopped at the old man held up his hand, waving him back. {I offered you my hospitality, young man. My son is a doctor. I will call him here.} He reached into his pocket and pulled out a cellphone, mildly surprising Kane as he slipped his watch back on. There was a minute of liquid-like Farsi, before he turned the phone off again. {I hate this dreadful phone. Tiny buttons are too hard to use. My son will be here soon. Let me put on some tea.}

{Thank you.} Kane said. "He just called his son, I hope. He's a doctor. Unless he just called the local militia, in which case, we're boned."

{I am Assif Taheri.} He paused and looked up at Cain. {You are the biggest man I have ever seen. You are... what is the word? Mutant?}

Cain shrugged and spread his hands sheepishly. {If you say so,} he explained haltingly. {Should we bring our friend here?}

The old man shook his head. {My son is young, and needs the exercise.} He put on the water and began to rummage through shelves and an old style icebox, eventually assembling a small package of food for them to take, and two plates of what looked like cold spiced mutton and flatbread. He passed them along before he sat back down. {You are the ones the Guard is searching for? The Jews that destroyed the power plant under construction?}

Kane nearly choked, but translated it for Cain in any case.

Cain, who'd understood most of the old man's question, laughed through a mouthful of food. "Go ahead," he nudged Garrison with an elbow. "Tell him yes. See what he does."

"Have I mentioned how much I hate invulnerable people some times?" Kane muttered, but finally nodded. {Yes, we were involved. There was a mutant being used to make fuel there.}

{Hmmm.} The man hummed thoughtfully, as he finally poured the water into a strangely shaped kettle and added the leaves. {They are looked most carefully for you. It would be unwise to stay close to the roads.}

{You... don't have a problem with us?}

{I offered you hospitality, young man. That is sacred.}

"Hey, this is pretty good," Cain mumbled, scooping the last bit of the flatbread into his mouth. "What is it, goat? Don't knock the hospitality thing, Gary. I hung out with Haroun enough to know that the devout folks take that seriously. If he says he ain't going to rat us out to the gun-toting wackos, he means it."

Brushing his hands off on his shirt, Cain nodded to the old man. {Thank you for the food, and for your help,} he said in halting French.

{You are welcome.} There was the sound of a car outside. {That is my son. Take him to your friend. When he's finished, ask him to show you the grazing track. If you follow it, it will lead you through the hills away from all the roads and towns. In three or four days journey, you will be close to the border.}

{You won't get into trouble for this, will you?}

{I have lived long enough to recognize evil men. You are not. I do not concern myself with worries of other kinds.} He nodded gravely to them. {As Allah wills. Go with God.}

Cain ducked outside to see the surprisingly well-kept car (as compared to most of the dusty and non-working jalopies they'd seen so far abandoned off various roads) pulling to a stop outside. Making sure to keep his hands open and making nothing that could be inferred as a threatening gesture, he stopped a few meters from the automobile. "Hi," he called out cautiously. "Speak English?"

"Yes." Assif's young son was a man in his late forties, wearing a suit and tie. He had the classic doctor's bag in one hand, and a bemused expression on his face. His English was British-accented, and sounded rusty from disuse. "You are the American mutants. I have seen you on television."

"Well, hot shit, we're famous," Cain drawled, lowering his hands. "Your father says you're a doctor. We've got a young girl, pretty sick. Radiation, nasty stuff. Ain't got anything we can offer you, but your old... your father said you'd help."

Marko wasn't used to being in a position where asking for someone's assistance was a necessity. First time for everything, he thought.

"You're very lucky, American. My father must have offered you hospitality. Any other farmer in this region would have turned you in without a second thought." He adjusted his glasses momentarily. "Radiation sickness. If you're right, there's not much I'll be able to do for her, unless you're willing to release her to a hospital?"

"Can't happen." Kane said, and the doctor nodded.

"I know. I have some painkillers, and as long as you kept her hydrated... well, let's see her before making any diagnosis." He hefted his bag.

Inwardly, Cain bristled at the doctor's demeanor and reminded himself that this man was probably his teammate's only hope. He could count the number of doctors in the world that he actually liked on one finger, and having to put his trust - and his teammate's life - in a stranger's hands didn't sit well with him.

"C'mon," he found himself saying as he headed up the hill, "we'll take you to her."

They traveled for a while in silence, and Kane finally loped up to Marko as they got close. "If Assif was right, and that path is three or four days from the border, if we can find a why to get people at our speed, we could get there by tonight."

Nodding, Cain shaded his eyes as they crossed a ridge. He could see the small wadi where they'd left their comrades, and across the horizon... "I think I got an idea..." he said with a smile. Turning to Garrison, he jerked a thumb towards the doctor. "Get Blink what she needs, I'll be back with a taxi. Kinda."

"Taxi? The fuck..." Kane muttered, bringing over the doctor and explaining the situation to Storm. It was several minutes before he was able to wander back, to find out if Marko had an idea, or if invulnerable groundskeepers could suffer sunstroke.

***

In the distance, a speck on the horizon grew larger, and the rhythmic sounds of boots on hard-packed clay grew louder. After a few moments, Garrison could see Cain, stripped to the waist, jogging across the landscape and towing behind him what appeared to be the remains of a tracked armored personnel carrier. The vehicle's engine and front seats looked to have been torn completely away, likely by a rocket or land mine, but the treads were in good enough condition to keep the troop compartment level as Cain dragged it behind him like the world's heaviest rickshaw.

Stopping at the bottom of the hill, Marko looked up at Garrison and gave a quick nod. "Taxi," he said simply.