xp_logs | Seven Minutes In Heaven: Tactics

Just because you're outnumbered doesn't mean you don't have to finish the job. The SHIELD scientists try to do the latter, while the X-Men buy them some time.

Make a lot of noise, Nathan had said, and lead them away from that lab, to buy the SHIELD team some time. Don't engage unless you have to. There hadn't been any doubt in his crisp tone as he'd headed outside, Kyle in tow, but there had been a trace of worry. Obviously for her, to judge by his next words: If you run into problems, just call my name - I've got a link open to you, I can piggyback off your eyes and help you out telekinetically.

Zanne hoped that it didn't come to that, frankly. It didn't sound like something that would go over all that well unrehearsed.

The deep doorways of the facility had allowed the gunmen to take a position of relative safety while having a clean shot at the door when Chow and the other SHIELD Agent had taken cover. Any attempt on their part to leave would leave them wide open to take a bullet. They didn't seem to be aware of Zanne's presence around the corner, although if one of them looked her way as she was checking on their position she'd be found out in no time.

Taking a deep breath, Zanne laid down a wide freeze, enveloping the scene. Despite Nathan's recommendations, it was simpler to just take the guns away from them and put them down. Swiftly crossing the floor, Zanne reached the pair in the alcove, frozen in mid-conversation and began to pull the weapons from their hands, their frozen fingers moving slowly and stiffly

As she worked one loose, she heard a cry go up further down the hall. A spray of bullets hit the outer edges of the freeze, sending ripples through the bubble.

There were another two - no, three men in body armor up there. Shooting from cover, with automatic weapons. The fact that their bullets were not having the immediate desired effect seemed to make them more determined to keep trying.

As the number of bullets hitting the freeze increased, the more difficult it became for Zanne to hold it. Glancing quickly down at the gunmen, she shoved them backward as hard as she could into the recessed doorway, grabbed the the gun she'd freed and darted back down the hallway from which she came. As she passed through the outer boundary of the freeze, it released. She could hear the sound of bullets impacting in the walls and floors behind her, and a pained shriek.

"Who's up there?" she heard Finlayson shout, a shout that drew fire towards him and Chow again. The SHIELD team and the X-Men were on the same com frequency, but all any of them were getting for the last few minutes was static. Amber Hunt's fault, or so Jean and Nathan had hypothesized, given her similar effects on the X-Men's communications during the last operation where they'd encountered her.

Another round of shots rang out, and Zanne cursed the man for being an idiot. "HERE!" she shouted as figures rounded the corner, their heavy footfalls echoing loudly though the halls. "I'm much more interesting, I promise!"

She sprinted towards the stairwell at the far end of the building, barely hearing the pop-pop-pop of the automatic weapons behind her. The tiles on the wall beside her seemed to explode in to a hail of ceramic shards, and her left arm suddenly was set aflame in a bright blast of pain.

"Watch where you're shooting!" she heard one of them yell. "Remember, no-" Whatever else he'd been about to say was lost in the sound of an explosion from elsewhere in the facility.

Zanne flew through the doorway and flew down the steps, using her good arm to leverage herself down them several at a time. Above her the explosions seemed to have distracted her pursuers, or at least slowed them. Taking advantage of her luck to descend another flight, she peered at her arm. The leather was sliced clean throw and an angry red gash lay bare underneath. The wound wasn't deep, but it oozed blood at a slow and steady pace.

Voices started to filter into the stairwell, and she edged closer to the stairs. One more flight and the door to the outside should be at the bottom. Above her something clanged against the metal stair rail, and she shrank back further, the gun she'd taken slapping her thigh gently.

"Did you see--?"

The words were abruptly cut off with a hiss. Footsteps once again sounded quietly, but she couldn't tell where they were going. Nathan had said to make noise and lead them away from the lab, so...

Zanne skipped down the final flight of stairs, and she slid over to the door. the knob twisted easily in her hand and the door swung open with a soft sigh of air. With a deep breath, she shifted the gun up to her shoulder and fired a round of shots off at the plaster wall across from her and yelled, "C'mon guys! I'm down here!" before running out the door.

--

"Keep your eyes open," the head of the team murmured to his men, shining his light down the pitch-black corridor. "SHIELD's one thing. The X-Men are another. And we don't know who else is here." If anything, his words only served to make his men more tense, but they were professionals, and didn't let any nerves they might have affect their slow and methodical progress through the facility. They had a job to do, after all.

Soldiers worried Clarice, but goons didn't. Soldiers were professionals and goons were usually hired muscle with nothing between their ears, though both kept things impersonal. It was a job, nothing more. Which was why, when dealing with goons, hitting them hard and fast was good. It didn't give them much time to react. Soldiers were not goons, soldiers (at least in theory) could think in a crisis, react and change plans. They were coordinated. Which meant Clarice was at a severe disadvantage in many, many ways.

So she did the only thing she could do in a situation with soldiers and not goons - she was obvious. Subtlety had never been her strong point, so why play to her weaknesses when she could play to her strengths? This was why she was sitting on a table in the hallway legs kicking randomly and her green knee-high socks peeking out from between the tops of her boots and her breeches. Spare flashlights on all around her, making her an obvious target. She even had her hands where they would be able to see them, idly playing with some pocket change while she waited. For good measure, she was also singing to herself quietly. No threat here at all. Lalala.

The team leader came around the corner - and stopped, blinking at the sight of the purple girl sitting on the table. "Okay," he muttered under his breath. He hadn't been expecting to find one of them this easily. "Hands up and where we can see them," he called down the hall to the girl - X-Man, whatever she was. "Don't make us shoot you." The Trask woman had been pretty insistent that they not kill any X-Men. He signaled to two of his men, who moved down the hall towards Clarice, weapons leveled.

"Hi!" she called brightly, though she didn't wave. Obivous did not mean stupid. Her hands glowed faintly as she continued to play with the coins. To the casual eye it looked like she was just tossing a silver ball back and forth. In reality, she was dropping the coins in a continuous loop. "Don't point your guns at me," she warned as the two advanced, "They are SO last season and don't match your boots. 'Sides, what'd I ever do to you? I'm just sitting her. You're the ones with the weapons."

"Hands up," one of them said, sounding distinctly displeased. He stopped a few feet away, while his companion kept advancing - if slowly. "We don't want to hurt you, kid."

The team leader, with a little bit more space and perspective, was trying to figure out just what the hell she was doing. Did she have a weapon? Was she the weapon? Were her hands glowing?

"Well, that's good. Hurting people isn't nice," she raised her hands, the silver between them moving faster, "You guys ever study velocity in physics class?"

Oh, that did not sound promising, the team leader thought with an inward wince. "Get her cuffed or something, now," he muttered urgently to the two advancing on the girl.

The closer of the two lowered his gun, somewhat gingerly, and reached for Clarice's wrist.

Without moving, Clarice changed the exit portal from her right hand to behind the soldier giving orders, shooting the coins at him then slid down to the floor before the two advancing on her could get too close. Now it was cat and mouse, though which one she was depended on the point of view. Collecting her coins in a portal, she shot them at the other soldiers, carefully aiming for the torso and other squishy areas. She wasn't trying to kill them, just stop them. "Let the bodies hit the floor, let the bodies hit the floor!" she chanted, the opening lyrics to the song Bodies, by Drowning Pool.

The team leader went down before he realized he'd gotten hit. The same was true of the soldier to her right, but the one to her left yelled as he fell, clutching at his upper leg.

Only one of the soldiers farther down the hall actually opened first; it was a nervous reaction, one the others, knowing that their comrades were in the line of fire, thankfully didn't share.

Flattening herself and automatically creating a disk around her head and back when she heard the bullets, Clarice didn't lose her head. Bullets couldn't hurt her like this, though deciding where to redirect them was never easy. Where do you send live ammo and be sure it didn't to any damage? Currently, she was sending it deep into the ocean where the water would stop the bullets and it hopefully would not hurt any animals. She liked fishies in her belly, not shot up in the water.

"Hey, dumbass!" she yelled, "Cease the damn fire! Before you shoot your buddies! Gah, no wonder you people have problems with friendly fire if you're this jittery over me!" She wasn't close enough to see his gun to break it and wasn't about to try to get closer if he was firing. This was playtime, not mean time!

"Hey, soldier boy! Am I really that scary? I mean, really," she was talking to the guys closest to her that she'd taken down, "You're all big, bad special trained military. Though you're probably not much older than me, are you? Sucks, huh? Being here now instead of a frat party or something."

"Hold your fire!" she heard one of the soldiers shout, and then there was more shouting, as if they couldn't figure out precisely what they should be doing here. Clearly, Clarice was right and she did make the big, bad armed men very, very nervous.

"You guys wanna stop the shooting and get a beer?" she asked, perfectly serious. Rolling to her feet, she figured they could all accomplish their goals this way. She could stop them from moving forward and stopping her team, and they would be able to incapacitate her and 'take down' an X-Man. It was win-win. "I'm Blink. It's not my name, obviously, though my mom is a hippy. Dirty hippies. But you can call me Blink if you want."

The soldier who moved towards her was looking like he really wished he could take her up on the beer. His hands, one of which was holding a set of plastic restraints, were not all that steady. The weapons levelled at Clarice, however, were.

Sighing dramatically, Clarice held out her hands, "You guys seriously have a one-track mind. Does it hurt, changing thoughts?" She didn't point out the futility of trying to restrain her with plastic or anything else that did not inhibit her powers. As the soldier tightened the cuffs around her wrists, she blinked the gun barrels onto the floor and then carefully cut holes in the guns away from the soldiers fingers. "I said stop pointing those at me."

None of them actually dropped their guns, although one looked like he was about to do that before training kicked back in. More than one drew their sidearms, instead. "Knock her the fuck out," the team leader snarled, getting slowly to his feet. "Those aren't going to do anything to stop her."

Okay, getting concussed was a bad idea. No more of that idea. "Neither are your cuffs," she informed him, disappearing from where she'd been cornered and appearing behind them, one cuff already sliced open and the other dangling freely. "Blink and you'll miss me!" she cackled, jumping onto a soldier and disappearing.

"Who's next?" she asked, reappearing alone and wrapping herself around a man's legs then disappearing again. "I pick you!" Now she wasn't playing fair, but it was worth it to see the looks on the men's faces.

Discipline started to break down pretty quickly atthat point.

"Goddamn it!"

"Someone grab her!"

"Put the gun away, just-"

"Aah! Someone just pinched my-"

Grabbing Clarice was not really the best idea as the third soldier found out when he wrapped her in his arms and she took him away with her. Their destination wasn't exactly horrible though, at least not as far as Clarice was concerned. She could have dropped them in much worse places than she was. Reappearing back in the hallway she posed a question to the three remaining soldiers, "So. Wanna rethink this whole 'capture the Blink' thing and willingly join your friends? I promise, it's not Disney World, but it's better than here."

--

The perversity of her approach didn't escape her. It was not entirely sensible to seek out one of the most formidable opponents available to you, but Callery had come to accept that her life had stopped making sense the day she'd decided to go undercover.

And sneaking up - or trying to - on Jean Grey, at least meant she was about to pick a fight with someone with whom it was unlikely she would get the upper hand. I wish to hell she could read my mind. There was no change she could pass along useful information in these circumstances, not unless she wanted to risk making Trask even more suspicious than she was already.

The incident with Garnoff had convinced the psychotic bitch that she had a leak somewhere, unfortunately. Callery stopped, eyes narrowing as Grey's flashlight stopped moving. There was gunfire coming from elsewhere in the facility, and Callery stopped to hope that no one was dying. Well, unless it's some of the hired help... I wouldn't shed a tear for any of them.

There was... something very odd going on. Sneaking up on a telepath was next to impossible, particularly when they had as much warning as Jean that there were enemies about; she was actively scanning the hallways and rooms in front her, and leaving her shields thinned enough to sense anyone coming up behind her. But this... mind, for lack of a better word, she was sensing was so very, very odd. Almost like a mis-tuned television with two channels playing over each other, she thought, then froze as she remembered the last time she'd run into that feeling. Well then. Either she was incredibly lucky and that was Callery, or it was someone else Gideon had gotten his psychic claws into who'd ended up with Trask, and the chances of that were slim to none. Besides, if it was someone else, they clearly didn't know who they were trying to sneak up on, or else they were really, really stupid.

Moving again she paused in front of one of the doors off the hallway, hand and ear pressed against the door as though she were listening for someone inside it, then opened the door and slipped in. If it was Callery, she'd know better than to think Jean needed to hear if someone was inside, and if it wasn't, well, they were in for a surprise when they followed her in.

Callery took a deep breath - and absurdly, found herself repressing a smile. Taking this out of the open was a wonderful idea. Breathing deeply, she glided up the hall and paused for a moment, squaring her shoulders before she stepped in.

"It's unfortunate you got here first," she said to the taller woman. "Makes things so much messier."

"No, see," Jean said, crossing her arms as she leaned nonchalantly against a work table she'd found, "the unfortunate thing is that you all didn't show up an hour later. We'd have been gone, with whatever it is you came for. Now, as you say, it gets messy. And the clean-up's going to be hell on my nails." The pose was studied, the words carefully chosen; Jean could tell if anyone came upon them suddenly, but she didn't know how closely Callery was being watched by Trask's people. Her communicator to her team might auto-transmit, she could be bugged. Hell, it was remotely possible she could really have turned coat (again, a small corner of Jean's mind said), and so Jean wasn't letting down her guard.

Callery smiled very slightly. Wishing she dared say something, anything. This was not going to be a whole lot of fun, but even so, it was better than having to injure an X-Man, or some poor bastard from SHIELD who was just doing their job.

Maybe there was a way she could let Grey know that her heart wasn't really in this. Without saying another word, she charged -directly at the telekinetic, knowing perfectly well that she was not going to get within grappling range.

And, indeed, Callery didn't, running straight into Jean's telekinetic grip while still several feet away and suddenly finding herself suspended in midair as the red-head's eyes narrowed at her in appraisal. That reaction really only left two options. One, Callery was trying to make this look good for anyone who came upon them or might be listening, or two, Callery was an idiot. Clearly, the other woman did have reason to believe there might be someone listening, or watching, or both. Damn.

The first thought that sprang to Jean's mind left her scowling. Banter. She hated banter. Such a waste of breath. "So, that's how you want to play this?" she asked, again choosing her words carefully, although she kept her tone and expression dark. "You know, I'm going to have to hurt you now."

"You can't hurt me, Phoenix. I don't break." Just chuck me into a wall or something already, woman... She had absolutely no problem with SHIELD and the X-Men getting whatever was here to be taken. In fact, that was the preferable outcome. Anything that made Trask get that glint in her eye was something she should definitely not have.

Jean shrugged a shoulder. "Have it your way," she said, "but do tell me if there's any bits you're particularly fond of and want me to avoid. Maybe I'll be nice." And then she flipped Callery over in midair and hurled her at the far wall.

Cracks spiderwebbed across the wall as Callery hit it. The impact was hard enough to make her head spin briefly, but she was coming back to her feet even as Jean turned. And the X-Man had dropped her in precisely the right spot, too; a set of wheeled shelves holding all kinds of lab-type glassware was right there. She grabbed it and flung it at the other woman, the contents flying everywhere.

Jean smacked the shelves sideways into the other wall, and at first it seemed as though this was one of those many times when her oft-bemoaned tendency to use sledgehammer force regardless of the situation would backfire as the glassware shattered, except that rather than falling to the ground, or following the shelving unit into the wall, the shards were caught up into her shields. The pattern as they spun around her was not as clean or as steady as Nate would have made it, but it sufficed for her purposes. It took less than a second for the glass shield to be built and then a single, tiny, razor sharp shard shot out from the middle of it, slicing the edge of Callery's ear and a lock of hair before being embedded in the wall behind her.

"Warning shot," she said.

You know, getting impaled would do wonderful things for my cover... Well, they'd see. She wasn't sure she was that committed to her work today. Half-turned away in reaction to the slash of pain along her ear, Callery's hand darted to her belt; Moses did a quite admirable job of supplying Trask's people with better-than-average weapons and other handy devices. The small stun grenade was almost elegant, and she threw it even as she turned back towards Jean.

Jean didn't have time to process that there was no way in hell Callery was throwing a real bomb at her while the two of them were in a small room; she simply acted on instinct. Unfortunately, slamming the hexagonal canister away from her with a telekinetic shield around it in no way prevented either the brilliant flash of light from momentarily blinding her, nor the massive boom from shaking the room. And her control over the glass.

Luckily for Jean, and rather unluckily for Callery, the release of her restraining force keeping the shards flying in a circular pattern around her meant that they were now flying out from her in straight paths in every possible direction.

Callery had closed her eyes, anticipating the flashbang. It saved her from being blinded, but it meant that the glass shrapnel came as a complete surprise. She twisted away even as the first pieces hit, raising her arm to shield her face and neck. Not being blessed with a shield of her own, she did wind up with knife-like pieces of glass embedded in that arm. Not to mention her side.

It wasn't that she didn't break. She wasn't invulnerable, just very durable. Blunt impact was one thing, penetrating injuries were another. And there'd been a fair amount of force behind the glass shards, although Grey clearly hadn't sent them at her deliberately. It hurt like hell, and Callery's knees buckled, despite her best effort to stay on her feet.

The pause as Callery staggered gave Jean the necessary seconds for her optic nerves to at least start to recover and, although her ears were still ringing and her head spinning a bit, she could at least start to make out the other woman and the room around them. It took a few moments more until she could focus enough to realize she'd lost control of the glass.

Yeah, I could have skipped this... Callery let out a soft, ragged laugh, and shifted backwards, against the wall. Objectively speaking, this wasn't such a bad result. If she was incapacitated, it would free Grey up to go help someone else. Someone who might need it. Saidullayev was here, after all, and what he could do to pretty much anyone who crossed his path...

Callery closed her hand around the largest of the glass shards embedded in her side, and pulled it out. The gush of blood that followed was a little more than she'd expected.

Fine details like, say, where the glass had gone, was still beyond her focusing ability, but that was a little hard to miss. "Dammit," Jean said, then winced. A careless word like that could be the game for Callery, the stakes she was playing for, Jean couldn't afford to slip up.

"Callery here," Callery said a little raggedly, knowing she had to cover it. "Grey must've gotten a call for help or something... she just took off. I'm hurt, need a pick-up." Which was actually not far from the truth. Get out of here, she mouthed, blood seeping from between her fingers as she tried to put pressure on the wound.

Jean nodded; that answered that question - they could be heard but not seen. Sorry, she mouthed, and started to follow the direction and caught herself at the last second before her foot stepped down on glass; that sound would be a dead giveaway that she hadn't left yet. Her head was clearly still spinning, but she gathered her focus enough to lift off the ground and headed out in the hall.

The temptation to call her back, to give up the game and ask for a ride home was almost overwhelming. This wasn't getting any easier, even leaving aside the accidental impalements. But Callery took a shaky breath, and let the X-Man go. Too much left to do, too much to find out. She hadn't gotten this far to quit now.

--

The blast smashed into the wall beside Sam; not quite a warning shot, but the blonde woman standing at the end of the hall had had plenty of time to target more carefully before she stepped back out of sight. "Cannonball, right?" Amber Hunt called, her voice derisive. "Energy-based blast field. Oh no. Whatever will I do."

"Well that just doesn't seem rightly fair. You've done your homework... a lot of it I guess. Do I get to know the same? I'm a history teacher you know; I love getting to know everything I can about people and their past." Sam had jumped behind a wall for cover after her first shot. He knew who she was well enough (though he wouldn't say so) but he needed time. He also liked to hope that people would do what is right but he couldn't count on that at the moment.

"What, I don't have a file at this point? Oh, I'm hurt." Amber had charged up fully before getting on the helicopter, and even in the near-dark, her eyes and skin seemed to glow slightly. "I need to get on with making myself more of a pain in the ass, I suppose." Her level of control had increased exponentially, after the years on Muir; her next blast was tightly focused, and went through the corner of the wall towards where Sam was standing.

Sam dove and scrambled, he tried to keep walls between them and he tried to keep his position hidden. He didn't want to use his powers if he didn't have to. "Why would you want to be a pain? You look nice enough, when you're not trying to kill me. Too nice to just kill people." He was running out of conversation starters that he thought would get her interested and he knew it. This might be his last resort, if she didn't bite.

"Just give it up and fight me, you dumb bastard." Amber's voice was getting closer; she was clearly moving down the hall towards him. "Tara said not to kill any of you. She didn't say anything about beating the shit out of you."

There was no telling if that was true but Sam would have to guess it was. If he just rocketed off then he wouldn't be delaying her. If he used his powers on her he'd just fuel her up. The only option was for Sam to step out into full view, she wouldn't be able to shoot him at full power for fear of killing him and a fist fight would most assuredly take quite some time. "I don't have any interest in hurting you. I'm not sure what happened to you to make you so angry but I'm sure that's only making it worse." He kept his hands up and in view, though it was a gesture though wouldn't matter; he didn't use his hands for his powers.

"Are you trying to reason with me?" Her voice went higher with incredulity, and she laughed aloud. He was right about the anger; it was there, written all over her face as openly as day. "Oh, too funny." She let off a series of short, sharp blasts at either wall, sending shrapnel flying at Sam.

The blasts made Sam jump and cover his head. He was letting her bully him. He kept his distance, not walking up on her but he didn't hide. "I don't think anyone is unreasonable. I'm sure you're doing what you think you have to... but you don't. We're just trying to save lives. Nothing is more important then that." Fortunately for Sam he had the Southern charm and was extremely sincere. He trusted that she would have some empathy with him and the people they were trying to save.

"Oh, I see." There was something very calculating in Amber's eyes suddenly, surfacing amid the anger. "You know something about this place that we don't, then? Care to share? Just so that we're not working at cross-purposes and all..." As she spoke, however, she was moving closer.

While he didn't move forward, Sam also didn't step back. "That would totally depend on what you're going to do with the information, wouldn't it?" He tried to hide it but he was thrilled he had her talking. Even torture to get the information would take too long for her to interrupt them. This was how he expected things to turn; a quick talk wouldn't undo whatever it was that made her this way.

"Nonono," Amber said, with a delicate, malicious smile. She was entirely focused on him, though, with no sign of any intention to break off and head for the lab. "You don't get to be coy with me, Cannonball, or I see how far I can bend the rules. I don't know why we should be using the kid gloves, anyway."

"Well, if you don't care about lives I don't see why you'd care about any other rules. That's pretty much the big one." Sam knew exactly what effect that would have. He was going to make her decide between attacking him or not. He wanted to know now; he knew more about her then he let on and he really hoped she'd decide to do the right thing. If she didn't he was expecting a big blast for him and his only hope was that she couldn't absorb and project energy at the same time; or at least not well.

"Would it surprise you to know that I do care about lives?" Amber said, and there was something serious in her voice, finally - if only for a moment. That strange little smile came back in the next instant. "Just not the lives of people who make promises they can't deliver." She aimed her next blast, a big one, at the floor beneath his feet.

Sam had expected the blast to be at his chest; this was a pleasant surprise. Once she fired he came hurling at her as fast as his jets could propel him. His plan was to scoop her up and go through the roof, into the sky, faster then she could react. If that didn't work he might at least plow them both into something hard. Hopefully he didn't just end up giving her an odd bear hug. He wasn't willing to hurt her, however, and she probably knew that. This was his best plan; if they got airborne then she couldn't very well drain his energy, could she?

Amber didn't move, didn't even flinch. She let him slam into her, bearing her upwards and through the roof. His blast field remained intact for a full ten feet before she drained it abruptly, sending them both tumbling back to the roof.

Sam was good at falling, he had done it a lot. He rolled when he hit the roof and immediately tried to scramble to his feet and an advantageous position. He held out hope that she would have to go light on the blasts or take the roof out from under them. Once he had his footing he moved to tackle and pin Amber; who knew high school wrestling would come in this handy?

He was taller and heavier than Amber, but since taking up an active role in Trask's activities, she had been under the tutelage of a harder and more brutal taskmaster than most. And despite the strength of his telekinesis, Ilyas Saidullayev was well-aware of the importance of being able to defend one's self at close quarters as well. Amber freed herself with a practiced move, and the punch that came at Sam came with an accompanying flash of light and far more force than it should have had.

The punch felt like it knocked Sam about out of his skin. He took a quick flight, not of his own accord, and had just enough time to try and fly to get himself upright. The blast shield kept him alive as he crashed through a corner of the ceiling and he flew back up to the roof after just a moment, rubble crumbling off him. "You do have quite the punch, don't you?" His powers cut just after he righted himself back up on the roof, he didn't want to give her more energy then he had to. "You almost broke your own promise there."

"Oops," she said venomously. The hatred in her eyes was naked for a moment, as if by looking at Sam, she was looking at everything she despised most in the world. "You know, I actually prefer the hand-to-hand? So much more satisfying." Instead of blasting, she rushed him, light on her feet, even on the uneven ground of the roof.

Sam was more interested in avoidance, particularly because the next hit might not be something he'd live through. When she rushed he waited to the last moment before sidestepping. He was still at the edge of the roof and he could only hope she'd fall. She'd have to spend time coming back up and that was time they needed. He really missed his powers now; hers were very unfortunate for him.

She caught herself, turning her momentum into a spin and a kick -thankfully an unenhanced one, but pretty hard for someone of her size, for all of that. "You're trying to stall me, aren't you? You're cute, but not all that bright - there are plenty of other people to do what needs doing. Which means I can take my time with you."

"Is that so?" She stopped herself at the edge and that was fine with Sam; he was in position now and since he hadn't tried to strike her yet he hoped the straight kick he sent at her stomach would be a complete surprise. He wasn't trying to hurt her specifically, just to kick her off the building, to buy more of that precious time; he wanted distance so when it was time he could leave.

--

#They didn't know what they were getting into either,# Nathan said, his mind moving out ahead of them and marked five - no, six minds by the helicopters, in addition to the two captured pilots. Five more close by. #Add the ones out here to the horde inside, plus Trask's whole team....#

They'd come loaded for bear, just in case. Whatever information they'd been working with couldn't have been much more detailed than what SHIELD had. He moved back around the corner of the building, smiling briefly and tightly at Kyle.

#Okay. We need to get our pilots free, and secure at least one of those helicopters. I don't know about you, but I'm not up for walking back to Fairbanks.# If they timed this just right, they could have the helicopter ready to go once the others got out here, and get out before this turned into a worse mess.

Right. Helicopter. Kyle was very aware that he was -very- bad at anything telepath-y except thinking really really loud in an emergency. But surrounding his scattered thoughts about how cool helicopters were, and the vague concern for everyone else on the mission and especially Clarice, because a guy was supposed to worry about his girlfriend even if she was totally competent and awesome, was acknowledgment of what Nate had 'said' and a brief mental picture of Kyle kicking a faceless uniformed guard in the blank spot where his face should've been.

Nathan didn't laugh; now wasn't the time. #That's the spirit, champ. Take the two looking in the other direction - I'll take the two by the tail of the blue helicopter. And their pilots, too - watch out for them if they react before I can get to them, but don't worry about bullets. I'll shield you.# He waited only for Kyle's acknowledgment before he set out at a run, keeping low. He wanted to be closer to his two before he took them out, to make sure no bullets got through to the two SHIELD pilots, who were on the ground, looking considerably the worse for wear.

Kyle crouched lower than anyone would think a man his height could get, and crept as close as he trusted to get to the two men. A brief mental signal from Nate - less than a word, but its meaning still obvious, and he made a flying tackle, catching one of the guards by the neck and taking him to the ground and kicking his gun out of reach. The other guard jumped back, startled, and opened fire with his gun, only to find the bullets dropping to the ground a full foot away from Kyle.

One arm tightly around his target's neck, Kyle looked up and bared his teeth in a grin. "Dude. Unfriendly fire is not cool," he said, before bouncing the guard's head off the ground and sweeping a foot to trip the one who had just shot at him.

Nathan had taken down the two standing outside as quickly, but the gunfire was going to bring the others walking the perimeter running soon enough. Some carefully placed TK knocked out the two pilots, still at their controls, before they could do more than reach for their sidearms and start to get out of their seats. He bent over the SHIELD pilots, biting back a curse; they were semi-conscious, and not particularly responsive.

"Come on, stay with me here," he said to the one who seemed more alert as he crouched down beside him. Neither of them would be doing any flying, quite obviously.

"Couldn't move," the pilot mumbled, coughing. There was blood on his lips. "Just... standing there, and then I was... on the ground..."

The pilot's pain-hazed mind held one very vivid image; a familiar face standing over him, smiling thinly as he turned up the gravity. John, I am going to kick your ass when I get my hands on you... Why Lense was here, what he wanted, didn't matter. He'd burned through his last chance years ago.

"Kyle!" Nathan called. "Medkit, out of our helicopter." He'd do what he could for them as quickly as possible, before they had no choice about moving them.

Kyle didn't respond for a few long seconds, until he had made sure that both of the guards were on the ground and unconscious, the second with what would probably be a dislocated knee and shoulder. He didn't spare time to restrain them - being knocked out and without their guns in ready reach would have to be enough. "On it!" He finally called back, heading for the helicopter.

"We're going to get you out of here," Nathan said, checking the other pilot's pulse. Steady, thankfully, and he seemed to be breathing all right. He looked up, grimacing as he sensed, just as he'd expected, the approach of the other soldiers who'd been minding the perimeter. Damn it, he'd been hoping for at least a few minutes for first aid.

Then the lines of force warped around their helicopter, and Nathan was on his feet like a shot. "Down!" he shouted, and reached out with his own TK as the rotor tore loose from the Chinook and flew, spinning, at the younger X-Man.

The sound of metal shearing, and Nate's shout, and the rotor pulling off the helicopter felt to Kyle like they happened all at once. Dropping low and trying to get away, with his fingertips brushing the ground felt the opposite. Like the air turned into thick ooze just for him, making it feel like it took eleven thousand years to get a few feet away. And when the rotor went veering off in a direction that it's momentum could never have carried it, it was as though someone had pushed fast-forward on the VCR of Kyle's personal atmosphere.

Rage boiled up inside Nathan as he saw the familiar, pale-haired figure striding so casually out of the facility. #Kyle, get over here. We've got at least five hostiles about to try and retake their helicopters, and I'm going to be a little busy.# Saidullayev stopped where he was, smiling faintly, almost invitingly. The only thing missing was a 'bring it on' gesture.

Kyle knew that face, only from records and mission reports and descriptions, and as he picked himself up, the only mental response Nate got back was a very annoyed "Well, shit." That guy, and Kyle still couldn't manage to pronounce his name, or spell it, was Nate, only evil, and crazy. Which meant -he- needed to get away, and try not to be noticed. The last thing Kyle wanted, or Nate would need, was for him to end up as a hostage.

"It's okay, Kyle. I'll be fine. Go get us another helicopter," Nathan said. And headed for Saidullayev, not looking back.