Shake Hands With The Devil: The Gates - Yvette, Angel

[x-penance.livejournal.com]

Backdated to August 16. Yvette and Angel have an encounter at the gates with Gladiator, leader of the Imperial Guard.




It couldn't even be called organized chaos. The camp was close to being in shambles and Angel had repeatedly been separated for short bursts of time from those she was familiar with.

Gritting her teeth, she hopped up onto an abandoned picnic table so she could scan through the confused crowd. She didn't feel like flying at the moment – there were too many unknowns going on and she was not going to make herself stand out even more.
A flash of red caught her eye and a moment later, she was scrambling in the direction of the gates.

"Yvette!" she called, dodging between people in an attempt to catch up to her roommate.

"Angel!" Yvette was steadily retreating towards the gate, trying to get away from the crush of people trying to either get further away from what was happening outside, or trying to get back out to get to family and loved ones.

She was running out of space, however - even as Angel reached her, her hair grazed the chainlink of the gate, making a metallic screeching sound. "We must be stopping this!"

"I have no idea how to stop it, though, whatever this is." She felt calmer now that she was back with someone but Yvette really needed more space. Carefully, Angel flared her powers just a little – not enough to be noticeable but enough to cause some of the nearest people around them to shift away from the sudden wash of heat. "You okay?"

"I am a little afraid," Yvette confessed. "This... there is nothing we can be doing and the people, they are so scared..." Her eyes flared brightly blue. "It is like the stories my mother is telling me, of the war. I was so small, I do not always remember so well." She glanced at the refugees edging away from Angel's fire. "We must not be letting them leave, Angel. They will be dying if they do."

Angel got shoved from behind and went forward a bit with a gasp. "What's out there?" she asked but she trusted Yvette's statement. If Yvette said that these people were probably going to get hurt, well, then things were probably really bad. She itched at the press of the crowd but flared again, hotter this time, to clear more room. "That enough room for you? I'll stay in front, we'll try to force our way up. Maybe there's someone up there who knows what they're doing…"

"Soldiers," came the quiet answer, almost lost in the din. "They are coming, to be making the..." She paused, not knowing the words in English and also not sure she wanted to say them out loud. "~Ethnic cleansing~," she said in Albanian. "It is not good, Angel. We need to be finding someone in the charge."

Gradually, carefully, they made their way to the gate, where things were almost worse. On both sides emotions were running high, with those on the outside begging to be let in, and those with families outside begging to be let out. Somehow the girls managed to get to the Red Cross worker on the gate, although not without some of the refugees picking up slight burns and small cuts as they were both jostled.

It was clear that while the Red Cross worker was, technically, in charge he was having a lot of issues keeping general control over the situation. The two girls popped out of the crowd and the worker gave them a concerned look but let them come closer when he caught sight of their Red X labels. "Oh man, it's…not any better up here," Angel said quietly, staring around them in a type of shock. She'd never seen such a frightened crowd of people before.

She'd been in Seattle during the riots but her father had kept her inside the house for the entire thing. Seeing it on TV and seeing something like it in real life was completely different.

Stephan jerked his eyes from a loudly insistent father who was apparently unable to understand that yes, the rules applied to him too, toward the two mutants and fought back a curse, the black eyes almost crossing with irritation as the doctor glared at the girls. As if he didn't have enough problems, now these two needed handholding as well.

By Mary's sweet soul, when he found out who saddled him with this abortion of a PR exercise and inflicted these damn amateurs on him...

"Yes?" he asked irritably as the pair stopped next to him, The burly Tamil tried to shoulder past him again the hands of his daughters grasped firmly in the meaty fists, and the slight medic turned back toward him again, his face reddening with instant rage. "Illai! Illai, motherfucker! Get the hell back!"

"We can be helping," Yvette had begun to answer, before the father had tried to shove forward. She couldn't hold him back without hurting him, but Angel on the other hand...

Angel glanced down at the smaller girl for a moment, a slight frown playing over her face before she got it.

"Smart Yvette is smart," she said, nodding, waving her hands at Yvette and the worker so they could back up and give her space. It was going to be an even finer line than what she'd been doing before but as she set her feet firmly apart to ground herself, she decided it was something she could do.

The crowd cried out in surprise as flames erupted around her body, the surge creating a wall of heat in all directions as the fires shot up in the air by a few feet. She didn't just want to keep people from crowding in or out, she wanted to capture their attention – she wanted the aid worker to be able to use the sudden shock and awe to his advantage. And maybe it would distract them enough for someone to calm them down.

The Red Cross man watched the fire and the suddenly terrified refugees consideringly for a few moments with a faintly gleeful expression, somewhat ill suited for someone who was nominally here in a humanitarian capacity. "All rightly then..." he drawled eventually, as his turning back toward the mutants. "You two have just moved up into the category of awesomely useful. Congratulations. Stick around, the natives should be getting restless again soonish." He raised a gnarled finger self-importantly. "And remember it's OK to maim them horribly as needed. Or even unneeded."

The roar of the crowd behind them spiked suddenly and he grimaced. "As I was saying..." he turned around and suddenly the tirade died. "Oh fuck me..."

The towering figure in Indian Army fatigues was unhurriedly making its way through the increasingly terrified mob, as the Tamil refugees were doing their utmost to get out of his way.

Uncertainly forced the fire around Angel to wobble slightly, shrinking in as if to protect herself. She was staring and in the back of her head she could hear her mother's voice. 'It's rude to stare, especially with your mouth open.' "Who...is that?" she asked as she finally found her voice.

"The Imperial Guard." Stephan's face was frozen into a blank mask, only the eyes showing the volatile mix of fear and hate broiling beneath the suddenly cool exterior. "The fucking butchers must have outpaced the main force..."

Yvette's eyes flared brightly, her already-spiky hair hardening further into long deadly points. All of her mother's stories of the Serbian forces and what they had done were coming back and her hand crept out to hold Angel's. The other girl's flames registered as heat against her skin, like she was holding a hot potato, but the comfort was more important. "W-will he be staying outside?" she asked, fear causing her to stutter.

Kalidas topped short of the three Westerners, having gauged the distance impeccably – not quite close enough to scare them into anything rash, but just so that his height made the impression.

He registered the movement by the old doctor, in what the American no doubt thought was unobtrusive shuffle, placing him between the Guardsman and the mutants. Foolish, he thought, still regarding the aid workers with calm, black eyes. He couldn't stop me if he wanted to, and they are probably more of a threat in any case.

He waited, until even the crowd around him fell silent, and then another moment. When he spoke it was an even, calm, almost-whisper making the American strain to hear his words. "I am Dacoit. I represent the Bharat Ganarajya, the Republic of India and the legitimate government of the Democratic Socialist Republic of Sri Lanka
. Your mandate has been revoked by both. You are to leave this area within the next 24 hours."

Convulsively, Angel's fingers tightened around Yvette's - the constant flame shield was preventing her from being immediately cut while her friend's hardening shell prevented immediate burns. She didn't understand politics; she didn't understand the tension; but one thing she understood was the sudden, bottomless feeling of fear as she stared up at this man.

This was a man the X-Men would face down. Not someone two teenage girls, an aging aid worker and a bunch of scared people could face. She swallowed heavily and did the only thing she could think of at the moment.

She stood her ground and didn't think of how short safety was if she just launched herself and Yvette into immediate flight.

Yvette gulped. "T-that is twenty four more hours to be helping these people," she managed. "We cannot be letting you inside." What on earth was she thinking? Invulnerable skin or not, the huge man could probably swat her away like a bug.

Kalidas looked down at the young mutant before turning his stare back onto the man again. "You seem to misunderstand the situation. Firstly, 24-hour period covers the duration my government will be able to guarantee your safety in this country. I strongly suggest you get started toward the port immediately, the roads are likely to be clogged and the airspace is... contested."

He glanced toward the tent city ringing the outpost and the people milling around them with faint distaste. "Secondly, as the highest ranking official of the Sri Lankan government, I have full authority to enter your premises and inspect them for contraband and evidence of collision with the terrorist organizations operating within this vicinity."

The words fell onto the air like hammer blows, with steady metronomic regularity, leaving little to debate and suffocating the students and the aid worker with a kind of insubstantiality. The man in front of them, seemingly a very image of a thug soldier, appeared to take no delight in his words and yet was boxing them neatly into the very legalities that made the operations of the Red Cross and the Red X possible.

"Thirdly, these premises ceased to be yours the minute that the glorious Democratic Socialist Republic..." Stephan frowned but could not discern other visible signs of irony besides the fleeting glint in the Guardsman's eyes, as the man continued evenly, "...revoked your invitation to engage in humanitarian efforts in this province."

The diminutive doctor seemed to swell, the hate winning over the fear as he advanced toward the Indian, a finger extended toward the latter's chest. "If you, even for a moment think that I'm going to allow you and your bloody-handed buddies come in here, because of some stupid piece of paper, pal..."

Dacoit never even paused, continuing as if there had been no interruption, his tone never changing, "Fifthly and finally, I have neither the desire nor the time to enter this..." He paused, letting the insult grow, and observed with covert enjoyment as the American reddened, "...encampment. The Guard is a military unit, and we have little inclination, or training, to bother with the police duties of shepherding your flock back to their pens. I'm just passing through, doctor. The Black Tigers are what we're after."

Stephan stared at Kalidas blankly for a second, the mutants behind him equally puzzles, until the doctor's mouth twisted in horrified understanding. "Mother of God... You are giving these poor bastards to the MVP."

Dacoit smiled, a chilly and merciless impression. "The paramilitary units of the Tamil Makkal Viduthalai Pulikal are, in fact, following the advance of the regular army and are tasked with assuming the peacekeeping duties in the liberated areas."

Yvette exchanged a puzzled look with Angel, before their attention was grabbed yet again by an explosion from the aid-worker. "God damn you to hell! Don't give me that bullshit! You know perfectly well what those animals will do here. There won't be a stone left standing or a woman unraped!"

Kalidas cocked his head. "Surely you exaggerate, doctor. Tamil People's Liberation Tigers are freedom fighters. They were among the first to recognize the harm being done to the cause of the Tamils by the terrorists of the so-called Tamil Tigers."

He resisted the urge to clear the grit from his eyes, as he continued to mouth the bland phrases of the press-releases.

Every bloody band of bandits in this Gods-forsaken country are the fucking Tigers of some sort. We should gas the lot and start over. He thought disgustedly, but showed none of his immense exhaustion. Even for the survivor of the Madripoor fighting pits and their gladiatorial games the march through the Eastern province of the last week was strength-sapping.

But there was no time to rest. The remnants of the Northeners' army, encluding their elite (inevitably called the Black Tigers, of course) were still intact and had to be pressed.

The American was yelling again, Dacoit realized, and wrenched his attention back to him.

".. and the Easterners have been feuding for years! They will use this opportunity settle all the old scores!"

"If there are those among our steadfast allies who would try and use this opportunity to commit atrocities or any matter of war crimes, while hiding behind the noble name of People's Justice, be assured, the Indian army will deal with them swiftly and ruthlessly."

Stephan's rage died, his own own tiredness banking the flames. He just stared at Kalidas malevolently. "After they conveniently cleanse all the Northern sympathizers out of the areas behind your lines, right?"

The tall mutant stared back, still calm. There was no point in arguing. Maybe in another decade, having been shot at by surrendering cripples, or blown up by children, or knifed by pregnant women in Pakistan... Maybe then the Americans would understand what 'protracted conflict,' 'the People's War' meant. What rules you had to play by if you wanted to win.

Or perhaps not. This surely wasn't the first year this self-righteous burk spent on this misbegotten island. He knew as well as Dacoit, what the natives had done to each other for the last 30 years. If he still didn't understand that another few thousands dead Tamils were as chaff compared to real, lasting peace...

"I suggest you start preparing for the departure, doctor." He said and glanced behind him, toward the distant plume of smoke down the road. "The fearless freedom fighters sometimes have trouble discerning the Western benefactors from their Tamil brothers to whom they long to give fraternal assistance with relocation and wealth redistribution."

The English was a little more complicated than she was used to hearing, but Yvette had heard those justifications before, watching coverage of various war criminals from her own country, their reasons for doing what they had done. She tightened her grip on Angel's hand and swallowed her rising fear. "We will go when we are being told to go by the Red Cross," she said, her voice quavering, revealing just how young she was behind the armoured visage.

Angel was staring at the back of Stephan's head as if she could will him to do something about the situation, even though she knew it would be almost useless. No, it would be useless. "There's...there's nothing we can do, is there?" she asked quietly, looking completely shocked by the very idea. They had been sent there to help these people - her training with the Red X, with her firefighters.

In the end, it amounted to nothing. Absolutely nothing.

"No," Yvette replied after a long moment, just as quietly, eyes still locked on the tall man. "We cannot be helping this time."

Dacoit inclined his head briefly, careful not to show anything but a somber mask. "Good bye."

The orders were to avoid any messy incidents with the Westerners as much as possible and these looked pissy enough to be provoked into a confrontation if he wasn't careful. He turned and made his way back out of the camp, the crowd flowing away from his path.

*Boss?*

Oracle's telepathic fingers brashed carefully across his mind and he sighed. Back to real work.

*Yeah, we're done here. Set up a psi-beacon and we should be able to catch up with you within a couple of hours. What's the status there?*

*These cow-eaters are almost done, boss. Better hurry if you don't want to miss the good part.* Oracle disdainful sniffle was almost audiable and Kal shook his head tiredly. He forgot sometimes how young the rest of them were. Sometimes it felt like he and Mentor were the only adults, supervising a heavily armed kindergaden.

He tapped his communicator sharply and smiled contentedly as the Humvee appeared almost instantly in response from behind the hill, eliciting screams of panic in the camp behind him.

Did the really think he'd show up alone here? He was Guard, not an idiot.

Fang's ugly Sikh face was contorted in a scowl of disapppointment as he packed up the sniper rifle. Was probably pissed nobody made a move on Kalidas and thus he didn't get to shoot anyone.

Dacoit sighed, his face grim as he clumbered up inside the vehicle, the short interlude with the aid-workers already forgotten and his mind on the battle ahead. The core of the Black Tigers' mutant commando was still largely intact, if disoriented. They would not die easy.

Behind him the camp began to churn as the news spread, and the spectre of the pogrom began loom...