Day Zero - Post Facto

[x-forge.livejournal.com]

An all-out brutal battle for the very soul of Manhattan.



Times Square.

At times the heart of New York City; its veins the streets that intersected nearby, the blood its people that it cradled to its chest. Full of lights, life, noise. Now it lay emptied and abandoned, a quiet hell of destruction of a defeated and subjugated city.

And its subjugator was pissed. "Wild dogs," came a voice ringing from above. Post perched delicately on the top of a lamp post as he stared down at the group that came up out of his sewers. "Wild dogs that bite the hand of a kind and patient master - who will not tolerate the feel of teeth in his hand." Though he spoke to the group as a whole, he had eyes - cold, flat eyes - only for Amanda.

Amanda turned her own eyes on him, burning with energy, sparks lifting from the ends of her hair as the wind rose. "This is my city, arsewipe," she told him flatly. "I'm here to send you back under whatever rock you crawled out from."

Post rolled his right hand in a wave motion and the lamppost bent slowly towards the ground as he walked over the jutting spine of it. He touched the ground lightly, shaking off debris from his pea coat. "Those that Apocalypse has slaughtered will fill the city from one end to the other. No one will mourn for you or gather up your bodies to bury them. You and yours will be scattered like dung on the ground." He bared his teeth at her. "Come, former child of the city, let's see who the city favors more."

"Wow, is that what I sound like when I'm crazy?" Amanda asked no-one in particular. "Talk about a complete and utter wanker." And with that, she took a deep breath, and then just as deliberately, exhaled. A gust of wind rose up around Post, no, more than just wind. It was presence, sights and sounds and smells of the city, barraging his senses from all sides. The roar of traffic and of planes coming into JFK. The stench of a garbage barge and the stale air of a subway. The violence of a mugging in Central Park and the sharp nip of ratty teeth. The glare of truck headlights and the flare of welding torches. The pure essence of New York, and New York was pissed.

Post staggered backwards, arms raised to protect his head and hearing. But then he gestured downward sharply, up again and to the side - a mad conductor in front of an unwilling orchestra. But no matter how unwilling it still responded to his call, no matter how diminished his reach had become. Thick walls rose in chorus with each other, covered in thick noxious slime from the underground, and as he brought in his hands together in a clap, they closed in a box before Amanda. Trapping, then suffocating, what she had conjured.

Forge paused, unsure of what to do. After the violence in the sewers, the terror of the meatspores, and now a man manipulating the very fabric of the city; a rush of pure fear welled up inside him.

One small voice in the back of his head said "This is something she's got to do for herself."

An entire chorus of contrary voices told that one small voice to shut up and act.

Standing in the center of the street, half a block down from the combatants, Forge snapped his left arm out to the side, various mechanical parts unfolding from his sleeve and assembling into a two-pronged taser in his hand. "Say goodnight, asshole," he whispered as he aimed and fired.

The charge-carrying barbs, however, found themselves embedded in a swell of asphalt that rose almost reflexively to protect Post, who now turned his eyes to Forge.

"Crap!" the inventor shouted. "Janet! A little help here!"

Jan's eyes widened as a bunch of the pavement formed together and flew at Forge. Not particularly wanting to see Forge get squished, the inch-tall girl rushed at Forge, tiny yet strong hands hitting his chest and shoving him out of the way.

So this is the fucker that messed with my sewers. Callisto's eyes narrowed calculatingly and she found a knife with each hand, spinning them in preparation. She was well aware that this looked like an Amanda-Post showdown, but nothing wrong with turning the odds in their favour a little. Before she could make her move, however, a rumbling sound emanated from the ground around her and it seemed to shift before four solid walls shot up and over her head, obscuring her from the view of anyone else. She was now inside a thick-walled, flat ceilinged concrete box, marked on the outside with a large yellow and black sign reading 'DANGER: HIGH VOLTAGE'.

Julio swore again and made his way towards the older woman now trapped in the box, but the street bucked under his feet. The asphalt rose up in the air and knocked him to the ground, rising above him like a wall. Julio sneered at it and spat. He was exhausted, crusted in questionable body parts and other things he didn't want to even think about, bruised, battered and now someone was trying to toss a city at him. Him of all people. So the bastard wanted to play? He would play. He slammed his fists together in front of him and his power rushed forward like a wave, powered by exhaustion and fury, reducing the asphalt wall to rubble.

The others had bought her some breathing space. Post's hold on the city was growing stronger, a kind of mutant tug-o-war going on between them and Amanda knew she was at the disadvantage. Cities shaped her powers, not the other way 'round. Still, she wasn't going to let this bastard get away with this. Not on her turf. Clapping her own hands together, she created a shield, but not around herself or her teammates, but around Post himself. She began bringing her hands together, pulling the pulsing sphere tighter and smaller, aiming to crush him inside.

One stomp of Post's foot and the ground surged up around him before yanking him underneath right as the shield collapsed in on itself. Two stories above Amanda and he reappeared, shot out of the nearest building as he directed large shards of glass, shaped like teeth, towards not just her but her beloved friends as well. He was going for the widest range of destruction he could get and he was determined to lay them all in the ground by the time he was done.

"Fuck!" Amanda grated through clenched teeth. She clapped again and threw her arms in a wide gesture, the shielding spell covering all of them. To make it stretch so far took effort, and the glow started to die from her eyes as she pumped more power into the spell. Most of the glass bounced off, but some of the pieces managed to find their way through.

Forge flinched as a shard of glass whipped towards his eyes, deflected only centimeters away by Amanda's shield. The flickering of every electronic device in the area was like a strobe light directly into his brain; stoplights, digital billboards, telephones ringing in a cacaphonic overture - the overstimulation drove him to his knees.

"Someone take this bastard down," he whimpered.

For a moment, Jan thought about trying to attack Post, but she'd seen Amanda and Callisto get boxed in, and Callisto hadn't even attacked the guy. She didn't know if Post would see her or not, but it seemed that he might, and she had no desire to be squashed by a bunch of concrete or glass or whatever else he might want to throw at her. Jan landed on Forge's shoulder. "You give me a way to do that and I'll be more than happy to do just that," she told him.

Opening his eyes to see Post sailing through the air overhead, Forge shook his head and ran for the sidewalk. "Change of plans!" he yelled. "Take cover!"

Post tucked his knees to his chest and landed heavily on the ground, skidding with one hand dragging across the pavement as he forced himself into a stop. His other hand was floating through the air, tracing patterns, cajoling, forcing, calling. A dark shadow fell across the street and covered Amanda like a blanket as he forced an entire wall to separate from the building. It wavered for a moment, fighting his direction but falling eventually due to the laws of gravity.

"Good night, my deposed Queen of New York."

***

The girl had, in Post's opinion, been one of the stronger in the group on the street. With her gone, some of his outward anger had drained away and it left him in the mood to play. They had scattered a bit once the wall had fallen and he'd put a little bit of space between them and himself. Not that it made much of a difference. With the brat gone and the power restored, his hold over the city would spread once again.

"Which little traitor shall I pick on next - oh, you're nice and shiny, I think I like you."

Humming to himself, he stood on the corner and conducted, hands waving jauntily in the air to a tune that the city danced to. Lights sparked and hissed, spitting sparks, as metal launched in spikes towards Forge.

Forge rolled from where Janet had knocked him to the ground, barely evading the assault. He just crushed Amanda, Sarah's down, we're totally screwed... he thought, panicked. One man is outnumbering us, and he's got all of New York at his fingertips...

A sudden thought made Forge laugh. "New York. Feh. You can take out the locals, but I'm not rolling over. We've got a saying where I come from," he said as he rose to his feet. "Remember the Alamo, motherfucker."

Julio rolled his eyes and gamely did not point out how the Alamo ended. Instead he sent a ripple of power at the wall behind Post. It cracked, and rained brick and mortar, and Julio pulled his hands to him and yanked, while the ground of New York began to shake violently. Julio Richter was tired and pissed off.

"Come on," he taunted. "Try and throw the city at me," he dodged a chunk of debris and directed another wave of power at Post. "I'll just throw it back harder!"

As if on cue, a dull thumping sound from the displaced power base station gave way moments later to a loud crack as a bloodied fist appeared through its wall, and seconds later Callisto reappeared from inside, bringing most of the wall in front of her.

"Much as I like small spaces," she growled, shaking dust from her hair and lifting a large chunk of the destroyed wall, hefting it in one hand, testing its weight, "that was fucking rude." Adjusting her stance and taking careful aim, she sent the debris hurtling towards Post.


***

The weight was crushing her.

Rapid, harsh breathing filled the small space occupied by one witch and a shielding spell. With several tonnes of wall on top of her, the effort to actually keep the spell going was taking everything she had and even then she was gradually losing the fight - the shield which had previously been a bubble around her was now almost as close as a second skin. Blood, wet and sticky, oozed from a gash on her forehead and from several other cuts and scrapes besides, and the pressure was building up in her head. She wasn't going to be able to hold on, she was going to have to let the spell go before she blacked out entirely...

So left go.

She ignored the inner voice. She was a fighter, she had to hold out, until, until...

Until what? They need you out there.

Except she was stuck, wasn't she? Almost crushed to death under these bricks and cement and iron girders with a rapidly draining spell.

If the spell's going to cut out any way, why not let go?

Why not? Because she'd be killed, that's why!

No, you won't. There's another way. You know there is.

London. Letting herself be absorbed by the city entirely, letting go of everything she was to become part of something older and larger. And then being spat back out, a lunatic. Amanda would have shaken her head if she could. The memory of those weeks and months of therapy with Sofia and Emma, struggling to rebuild her sanity. No, she wouldn't risk that again. Besides, Post had control of the city. If she became the city, he'd have control of her as well, use her against her friends.

Have faith. He doesn't have all of New York yet. You know that.

But...

New York won't let you fall. Let go.

Images filled her mind's eye: an EMT under fire as he treated a casualty; patrons of Silver, human and mutant alike, banding together; emergency crews defying Apocalypse's edict to stay on the line, to protect and serve... Bit by bit, New York was clawing itself back from the brink, its spirit as indomnitable as those who defended it, mutant and human, volunteer and professional. I have faith New York will look after me, she'd told Forge. Time to test those words.

Amanda sucked in as deep a breath as she could, and let the spell go.

***

A concentrated effort had forced Post to give ground but he had regained his equilibrium. He was starting to lose his temper again, though, and he was starting to grow weary of the game. His lord and master might have had need of him by now and he was wasting his time. If he couldn't wrap this up soon enough, he was simply going to take his leave. He grunted and twisted his closed fist, thrusting it down towards the ground. Power lines from above streamed from above, chasing the younger mutants in an attempt to trap them, slam them again walls, cars and anything hard he could find.

"This ends now," he snarled.

There was the barest ripple in the road before him and then a figure appeared, oozing upwards out of the road's surface. "Actually, yeah, you're right. This does end now," Amanda said almost conversationally, shaking pieces of asphalt off her head and shoulders, blood oozing from a cut above her eyebrow. Then she reached out, grasped Post by the shoulders, and slammed her head into his, her forehead smashing his nose against his face. Ignoring his howl of pain, she glanced over his shoulder.

"Your turn," she said, and pushed Post backwards.

Blood ran thick between his fingers as Post cupped his nose protectively, struggling to see past the stars and the pain. She'd actually had the audacity to hit him - no one had laid a finger on him in years. Post struggled to regain his balance, eyes blazing as he mentally reached for the city...

And found a bone embedded firmly just below the base of his skull. Behind him, Sarah held a bone in both hands, using all the strength left in her upper body to push past skin and muscle and dislodge vertebrae. She hung on it for a moment, breathing heavily, and finally brought her knee up into his back, listening to bone crack as Post's body began to fall forward. Damaged nerves and constant bleeding assured that there would be no more fighting back.

Post fell forward but what hit the ground first was his blood - dripping from his nose but now from his mouth and ears as well - and in a final act the city reacted. It might have been in response to his tight control for days over the city; it might have been a final action of his powers, it was uncertain. Where he would have fallen on his face, in the blink of an eye the ground had opened up.

It sucked him down inside by wrapping tightly around him with an angry rumble before the sides slammed shut, sending a small gush of blood up into the air. A grinding noise and some blood continued to leak out of the cracks at their feet but there was nothing left of Post beyond that.

A soft wind whipped through the alley almost like a sigh as the city settled.