Day Zero - Talking Heads

[x-juggernaut.livejournal.com]

With the Professor down, an unlikely candidate is tapped to run communications inside Cerebro...



Amahl fought back a chuckle, even though the Cerebro room was empty. But, God... the power, the long forgotten power strumming in his mind, making the Shadow King squeal in pain under its onslaught. There was a faint aftertaste to it, the metallic tinge of the machine - feeling faintly like a prosthesis against his mind, the echoes of Xavier - his consciousness almost embedded into the psi-field of the very room, due to the long use.

Plugging into the apparatus felt both dirty and vaguely wrong, almost felt like wearing the man's underwear.

But none of it mattered in the end, because for now Farouk was himself again, the strength brimming over. He couldn't resist and finally the warm, sated chuckle slithered through the room as the Arab cast his psi tendrils forward, seeking his targets.

He should have picked someone else, someone more amenable to the process, someone with weaker shields. But with the temptation of the machine at his beck and call, Amahl could not and could see not reason not to send the contact spike toward the hardest target.

#Hello, Mr. Laverne.#

And that was how Marius almost fell off a fire escape.

Every damned time, he reflected. There was no physiological way his brain could physically twitch at telepathic contact, and yet. The Australian redoubled his grip on the railing and flailed to place the spontaneous and decidedly unfamiliar presence in his brain. It certainly wasn't Nathan, the professor was unconscious, and if this was Jean he would have to inquire about the possibility of astral hormone augmentation. He played the remaining odds and took a stab in the dark. #Professor . . . Farouk?#

#In the telepathic flesh." Farouk murmured, resiting the urge to laugh again and forcing structure and control onto his mind.

Truly the machine was remarkable. It almost seemed that he only had to concentrate to feel what the X-Man was feeling, to see through his eyes, to feel the blood thrumming in his veins... He had forgotten.

Farouk swallowed, suddenly tasking bile, the sense of freedom turning poisonous as he realized the fleeting nature of it all, as the full magnitude of all he had lost forever hit him full force. He gripped the chair until his knuckles whitened, and forced his mind to leak none of the sudden, black disappointment that overwhelmed him and turned Xavier's toy into the perfect torture device. #Any exciting news you might care to share with your fearless leaders, through my humble conduit?#

#Thus far, little of note,# Marius replied, cautiously continuing his upward climb towards better visibility. The physical movement managed to take his attention away from the telepathic invasion. He'd forgotten how deeply uncomfortable unfamiliar presences were, especially during the moments his mutation began to reflexively absorb the telepathy. For a fraction of an instant he'd felt a rather unsettling slosh of emotion from the other man. #Your inquiry might find a more satisfactory answer if put to my superiors,# he added by way of hint.

#Tsk, tsk. I was told that X-Men barely have equals, much less superiors...# Farouk replied absently as the interference got stronger. The psi field above the city was roiling, and he was also vaguely certain that there might be a few psi blockers being activated somewhere within New York. But the flashes of disturbance he identofied were brief and far between. Even NYPD or the FBI personnel based in the financial capital of the United States were not quite wealthy enough to acquire a truly significant number of the blockers.

"In any case,# he continued, strengthening the contact. #I woudn't want to distract them at an inopportune moment. Accidents happen.#

Farouk squinted meditatively for a brief moment but eventually shrugged - after all he didn't *quite* call Laverne a disposable flunky, out loud.

Making a face, Marius lifted himself onto the final platform and swung around to face the city. #And your caution is appreciated, I'm sure. Nonetheless, I feel it a fair assertion that whilst seeking information, there are a good many sources more reliable than a feckless youth such as myse . . . huh.#

He had seen footage of the Citadel, which, as it turned out, had done it not the slightest bit of justice. Marius whistled at the blackened twist of concrete, steel and glass desecrating the Manhattan skyline.

"Well, I'll grant him this," Marius said aloud, "that is dead impressive. Though now I come to see it in person, we may be a sight more buggered than originally thought."

Farouk rolled his eyes slightly, but kept his 'voice even. #And if you could elucidate in a more useful format....#

#Well, I confess to having no official basis for the assumption, but one of my lesser talents is that I am capable of perceiving mutagenic signatures on sight.# Marius stared a moment longer, then shook his head.

#And, wouldn't you know, this bloke's I can see from here.#

***


Cain hefted a telephone pole as another one of the rioting mutants -this one bounding around on huge goatlike legs - ricocheted his way off of Crystal's air shield. A swift swing, a satisfying smack, and the would-be assailant was bouncing down the rubble-filled street like a baseball.

Yet something felt a little odd in the back of his mind - that weird tickle that usually meant someone from the team was doing that psychic switchboard operator thing he hated, but it definitely wasn't Nate. Or Dave. Or Jean. Which left--

"Chuck? I swear to God, Chuck, if you got out of a coma just to poke around in my head..."

#Bad time?# Farouk leached his 'voice' of any possible emotions. This was going to be a complicated conversation on it own merits, as it was. He shook his head briefly - what a way to renew the acquaintance...'

"Oh, fuck me," Cain groaned. "As if I ain't got enough trouble without the Mad Moroccan in my head. I gotta - hold on."

Interrupting his narrative, Cain hefted half of a destroyed delivery truck over his head, hurling it down the street to clobber a group of hostiles that were swarming towards Marie. "We got a bit of a handful here, Al. Whaddya need?"

Farouk scratched his nose, faintly puzzled - but mostly relieved. The muscleman was certainly taking the situation in stride. And hopefully the stride wasn't in turn taking him toward a berserking fit of rage on top of Farouk's liver. The image popped into his head with unsettling clarity, and Amahl quietely decided that the prevention of that reality would be worth enduring any number of 'Als.'

#Oh, you know how it goes. I was sitting here all alone, in an empty mansion.# He lowered his 'voice' suggestively # Loneliness is a terrible burden. So I though I'd visit, talk about the latest...# farouk blanked, suddenly at a loss for whatever sport activity Cain must be prone to obsessing over but rallied gamely #... badminton scores. And also your friend with the square jaw, asked me if you'd be as kind as to provide a brief update on your situation, the bodycount of the innocent bystanders and the general mayhem in progress.#

"Ain't no innocent bystanders here," Cain growled, kicking a downed fire hydrant into the belly of another foe. "And we've made it almost three blocks. Three damn blocks! At this rate, we'll be to the damn Citadel by Christmas! But we got Sunfire and Rogue clearing a path, and our royal hurricane-on-a-stick brewing up her own kind of tempest. Way I see it, if we got all these sons o' bitches attacking us, everyone else can get their work done."

#Situation normal then?# Farouk summarized. #All going swimmingly and according to horribly destructive and generally psychotic plan. Any private messages you'd like me to pass onto Mr. Dayspring?#

Farouk broke of the link hastily before Juggernaut had the time to complete the largely unprintable message that appeared to involve fairly detailed anatomic instructions, quite a few of which were bound to put Amahl's back out. And put him in mach closer proximity to farm animals that he really felt comfortable with.

***

Kane contemplated the map of Manhattan set up inside the armory. They were safe, for the moment, and the plan they'd worked out was a good one. Their opposition was fragmented, alien to the city and relying on firepower in order to keep control. It was little better than a well equipped riot, and even in the face of the frightening power the Horsemen might have, they did not have the advantage.

The people that Duncan had gathered lived and worked in the city for decades; beat cops who knew every back alley, side street, dark corner and pothole in the twelve block areas they patrolled. Firemen who could navigate the streets blind at this point, finding every corner they could move at high speeds around and shave off seconds in transit. EMT units who were no strangers to bullets and violence between them and their wounded call.

It wasn't going to be easy, but for all their power, Apocalypse's forces were stupidly arranged. Ill-coordinated, unsure of the location they were controlled, over confident in their massive walls and mutant powers. The plan would work. It had to work. Otherwise, New York City had no more than a day left to live.

#Well, Mr. Kane. I see you have found yourself in your element yet again.# Farouk smiled thinly as he made himself comfortable in Cerebro's embrace. #Desperate, hurried and unsure of where exactly it all went wrong. I do foresee all sorts of horrible violence in your near future. In any case - how are the prospects of the redoubtable Mr. Duncan's Brute Squad? Mr. Dayspring, is in the grips of an optimistic fit and gently inquires whether he could upgrade this part of the cunning plan from insane to suicidal.#

Amahl paused, his presence growing fainter for a second, before returning with enough strength that Kane could *almost* see the mustache twitching, #I might be paraphrasing, just a tad. So, what's the news from the Eastern Seaboard front?#

"Seriously, does anyone ever really rise to the insults? I mean, come on Professor, baiting Angelo on the journals is one thing, but Duncan's Brute Squad? You sound like one of those bloggers off of DailyKos or something." Kane said softly. It was easier for him to vocalize his telepathic conversations, to keep from random thoughts cluttering up the conversation. "We've taken Pershing Armory, and Duncan's put together a combined force of law enforcement and emergency personnel. We're going to see if we can roll Apocalypse back from the south of the Citadel and make our way to meet up with the other teams there tomorrow."

Amahl waved airily, casting a longing look toward the glass of brandy leaving rings on Xavier's immaculately polished table, just out of his reach. #Oh your half of the conversation is really mostly filler. I just like hearing my voice saying horrible things about you people that happen to be true. If you get excited, that's just a bonus, really. Well, I'll give your best to Mr. Dayspring. Psychic ta-ta.#

The mind-linked went slack, and Kane shook his head, returning to business at hand.

***

It was impossible to swim the East River without getting some in his mouth. Kyle felt like he must've swallowed most of a gallon, and then staying hydrated as they searched the city, it had the usual effect. He'd gotten a slightly perturbed look from Cyclops when he announced that he 'needed to take a leak, bad.', but what else could he do? He didn't go out of sight of the group, just far enough for privacy without compromising safety in numbers.

Farouk leaned back in the chair, futilely trying to rub the tiredness out of his eyes. he left this group for last, because it was least likely to be problematic. But as he reached out for the familiar young mind, it suddenly occurred to him that it was very fortunate that this was the contact he had to establish this late in the afternoon, as his sense of humor was getting by far the best of him.

Kyle was just finishing, with that unmistakable feeling of relief coursing through his body, and had given himself a second to close his eyes and try to forget that he was in the city trying to smell out SHIELD Agents through the smoke and rust and melted asphalt and dust and blood and death - and trying to take a piss up against a wall with his teammates - one of whom was female and damn hot - when he was rudely interrupted.

#Mr. Gibney!# The familiar voice boomed suddenly inside his head and Kyle's eyes flew open. #What did I tell you about defacing public property?!#

The resonating, very loud telepathic contact startled him out of his moment of rest. Pants still half undone, Kyle dropped into a crouch, and looked around for the source of the voice before he actually realized it was telepathic, and not Dr. Farouk somehow assigning him a fifteen thousand word essay on The Hundred Years War. #Holy SHIT you're loud!#, He answered back.

Farouk yawned hugely and shook his head trying to clear the day's worth of muzziness. #Your benevolent lords and masters would like to know the progress of your little adventure. Would you be so kind as to enlighten me, so I can slow down Mr. Dayspring's ever progressing quest toward a probably inevitable coronary episode?"

#Big fat goose egg so far.# Kyle replied. #We got down to about a twelve or so block radius, but have pretty much found nada. No SHIELD agents, no bomb, nothing. I think the East River broke that tracker they gave Cyclops. Or I just don't know how the thing works and it's supposed to be like this, which is why I'm not the guy using it.# He stood and and adjusted and re-fastened up his uniform pants. #I'd suggest you lie to Nate but there's no way that'd end well for anyone, mostly me.#

#Which is a fairly tempting reason in and of itself,# Farouk remarked musingly as he cut the connection.


***

It was eerily quiet under the trees in Central Park, and the tall figure in black moved soundlessly back towards the rest of his team. His psimitar was out and in his hand, but Nathan had thinned out his shields enough to know there was no one in his immediate vicinity. Farther away, yes, and there was pain and fear in too many of those psi-imprints. That they were still alive was a mercy, Nathan knew; why the Horsemen weren't hitting the refugees harder was a mystery.

He turned westward, tracking Jean's mind. It had been a long time since he'd operated like this, staying out of the fray and coordinating at a distance. Strategically sound, yes, but he'd forgotten how much he had always disliked it.

#Oh, good,# Farouk said brightly as he snaked the mindlink through the chaos of the city's mindscape and Dayspring's defenses. #You are home. I half expected you would be knocked unconscious by now. If I am remembering the schedule correctly you're about due for another Coma of Temporal Enlightenment, aren't you? That time of the month, isn't it?#

He'd felt his tactical personality shifting just under the surface, almost restlessly, since they'd made their way into the city. This was a war zone; it was a natural enough reaction, and he hadn't been bothered by it. But it surfaced entirely at Farouk's presence - months later, and he still couldn't not see the man as a threat. He firmed up his shields and pushed the other telepath to a distance, without breaking the link. Farouk could have something important to say, after all, unlikely as that seemed given that he'd taken the time to sneer.

#If you have something to report, report it. If not, break the link,# Cable responded coldly. #This isn't the time to indulge yourself.#

#My, my. How very grim and forbidding. All wrapped up in our role as the lone warrior-messiah already, are we? Well, far it from me to deny *you* your little foibles and indulgences.#

Farouk pulled his notes closer and with a shake of his head let the glasses perched on his forehead drop down. #Let me see - ah yes. Well, the formidable Mr. Duncan and our very own Canadian boy-wonder have taken the Pershing Armory and are currently engaged in arming a rag-tag band of New York's finest and finely confused with heavy weaponry. If I understood their plan correctly, they are intent on walking up to the nearest hostile force and hitting them determinedly in the fist with their face until the enemy gives up in despair."

Amahl paused, shuffling the papers. #And... Mr. Kane felt it was particularly important to make you aware that they are approaching the Citadel from the south. So if you are coming up with some plan containing your usual brand of subtle yet genocidal mayhem, aim carefully.#

Cable managed not to roll his eyes. #On your next break, I might look up the word 'genocidal' in the dictionary. I don't think it means what you think it means. What else?#

Farouk rolled his eyes, resisting the impulse to assure Dayspring that he was welcome to believe whatever helped him sleep at night. He leaned back in the chair instead and breathed in and out, letting shallow intakes of air strengthen his focus. The effect was psychosomatic more than anything else and rationally he knew it, but it helped nonetheless. As did baiting Cable - enjoyable as it was in unrelated respects as well.

All of it helped - with the headache of the mind wounded by the Bridge disaster, with the pressure of maintaining Cerebro's links over the mindscape of the screaming city, with the poisonous ache of overstretching the limits he had long gave up on ever reaching again.

He inhaled and exhaled again and ruthlessly suppressed the weakness, as he continued with his commentary. Injecting just a smidgen of extra flippancy for Dayspring's sake.

#The Alpha group is still searching for the bomb, their optimism undimmed by the fact that so far they found nothing and they still have about 9 blocks to cover. It's inspiring in a way, really. When I checked in they were heavily fortified in the burned out husk of an office building - but the signs of incipient looting and cannibalism seemed faint. So they have that going for them.#

#Bravo?# Cable prompted at the next pause.

#Indeed,# Farouk agreed placidly before continuing. #Mr. Marko is performing his own frontal assault on the citadel, his people, by all accounts, making a healthy dent in the remnants of the city's infrastructure and performing wide-spread acts of heart-warming thuggery upon the local pro-Apocalyptic populace. He asked me to pass on a number of unprintable remarks for your edification and also a belief that since his people seem to be drawing most of the attention, he has optimism in other parts of the plan beating the schedule. Apart from that, the only thing to report is that team Delta is within the visual range of the Citadel, and the young Marius is highly impressed both by the architectural edifice and the contents of the building.#

Farouk paused, suddenly drained. #Well, it's been a pleasure as always." He let the vast and obvious insincerity permeate his last words as he broke off the link. #Best of luck.#