xp_logs | Scorpion and Fox: The March

The likeliest Brotherhood target is an anti-mutant march in New York. Kurt, Scott, Zanne and Lakatos check out the situation on the ground while the rest of the team waits in the Blackbird. But Kurt finds himself dealing with a complication.

It had been the obvious target, the only one that fit the specifics of Lakatos's vision. The march had not been openly sponsored by the Friends of Humanity or anything like that, but they were certainly involved. Maybe even other anti-mutant groups as well. The signs certainly made the... orientation of the crowd clear. Scott wasn't surprised there didn't appear to be any counter-demonstrators, although there were enough police here to suggest that the authorities had been worried about that.

"Making it just the four of us may not have been such a good idea," Scott muttered under his breath. They were at the fringes of the march, among the bystanders-slash-spectators, and he was beginning to realize that even with a relatively compact route, this was a little more territory than he'd thought. Live and learn. It wasn't as if he'd ever had to take X-Men on a 'help the precog recognize his vision-site' trip before. For a moment he toyed with the idea of calling in more help, but decided to refrain, at least for now. For all he knew, the spot where Lakatos had seen himself fighting Nimrod was half a block down the street.

But if being overcautious about deploying the X-Men into post-Apocalypse New York came back to bite him in the ass, he was going to have to get Ororo to kick his ass for him. "Remember," he said, looking back over his shoulder at the other three. "We're not here to engage them. We'll check the major bottlenecks, keep an eye open for any familiar faces." The Blackbird was already in the air, although they couldn't really circle the city. Stealth systems only went so far. But they were close enough to deploy if the cavalry was indeed required, and Scott had faith in Forge's piloting. He'd make any insertion as fast as possible.

Lakatos was looking mildly disgusted as his gaze swept the march. "I'm suddenly homesick," he said in a low voice, eyes lighting on some of the (badly spelled) anti-mutant signs being carried by members of the crowd. "Our bigots have the good sense not to make a public spectacle of themselves."

"America", Kurt said dryly and quietly, not meaning to be heard by anyone outside the group. "Land of free speech, no matter how offensive it may be."

"At least you know where they're coming from, as repulsive and narrow-minded a place as it is," Zanne replied, disturbed by the number of small children in the crowd, standing at the edge curbs and riding their parents' shoulders to get a better view. She was willing to forgive the adults for being frightened and confused, but how could they expose their children to this?

"Grin and bear it," Scott advised quietly. "We're not here for political discourse. Zanne, with me. Kurt, you and Peter." They'd already discussed this, but it never hurt to review. "If you see anything, call it in to the 'Bird. No chatter, though." They were going in more or less blind here, and he didn't want to advertise their position.

"No chatter", Kurt agreed, dropping back to Lakatos' side. "And may we find our goal quickly."

---

"It has to be so strange being a precog," Zanne commented as she peered in the window of an empty storefront. So far none of the sites that they'd looked at had matched the one Lakatos described seeing in his vision. It wasn't necessarily a bad thing, but it might not turn out to be a such good thing either, unfortunately. "I can't imagine what it's got to be like living with that kind of uncertainty."

"Especially when you decide to start acting on what you see," Scott said. They were following the march, but on the sidewalk, not the street; he'd be damned if he was going to act like he was part of the procession of bigots. The noise was covering their conversation nicely, however. "How do you know what variables you're altering by choosing to act? What if you change just enough to make your vision useless in the first place?"

"How do you know if the vision just hasn't happened yet?" Zanne countered. "You could spend your whole life waiting for something to happen." A cheer went up in the crowd, and she craned her neck to try to see the cause - a scrawny blonde woman with a megaphone. She was vaguely familiar, in that I've-seen-you-on-too-many-talk-shows kind of way.

"And what happens if you have more than one precog in a situation?" Scott asked with a certain grim amusement. "Do they duel? Do the visions cancel each other out? Believe it or not, I have actually run tactical reviews that cover that."

Somehow Zanne was not surprised, Scott was a little tightly wound about some things. "Reviews? Plural?"

Scott managed not to look sheepish - quite. "It's an interesting tactical problem."

"Mmhm," Zanne agreed, letting him off the hook as something more interesting caught her eye. "Lakatos said he saw flower buckets, right?"

"Strewn all over the street, yes," Scott said, spotting the florist's shop a few seconds after she did. This area of the city was still showing the damage from Apocalypse's occupation, but it was showing as many signs of revival; this was the first open florist's shop they'd spotted along the route, however.

"Still looks pretty intact." For now, she added silently, taking in the crowd before them. "Do you see anything else Lakatos mentioned?"

Scott shook his head. No police car, no gold-letter plate glass window... and no child wearing a backpack. "It's not helping that he only got flashes," he muttered. It was understandable that the vision had been fragmentary, however, if Lakatos really had been getting the crap beaten out of him by Nimrod. "Again, how do we know when the variables collide?"

Zanne didn't have an answer for that. Odds were that they wouldn't know if they had stumbled upon the site until it was too late. "There's no reason they have to be all right in a row," she offered. "Maybe we should head to the next block and see what's down there?"

Scott shrugged and made the 'lead on' gesture. Partway down the block, however, something gave him pause. This part of town was definitely still showing signs of what had happened in October, which included a number of still-broken windows. But most of those were boarded up. The one down the side street they were just passing wasn't, and there were pieces of glass glittering on the sidewalk. He frowned. Freshly broken? Not implausible, he supposed, given the nature of what was going on in the neighborhood today...

"What is it?" Zanne asked him. "Do you see something?"

"Let's take a look at this," Scott murmured, inclining his head in that direction. It meant leaving the immediate vicinity of the march, but at this point, following up on the discordant notes was all they could really do.

Closer to the window, the dark stains on the jagged edges were all too obvious. "This is recent," he said slowly. "New damage." He looked quickly back over his shoulder. No one appeared to be looking this way. "I don't know. If something happened here you might be able to pick it up..."

Zanne looked at the blood-streaked glass. "I'll be surprised if I can't pick up something, actually," she murmured, slowly bringing her concentration to bear. After a moment, images flicked to life, shot through with the mid-day sunlight. In them, a familiar figure appeared to be brutally beating a uniformed security guard. The man didn't stand a chance, Zanne realized, flinching as the guard was flung through a plate glass window.

"So when the hell did this happen?" Scott muttered, watching the image of Nimrod step into the shattered storefront. The image of the man inside was moving, if feebly, and Scott looked in, spotting some bloodstains on the floor as well. "I wonder if there was a police report..."

"Somehow I doubt it," Zanne allowed the image to sputter out as the scene began to replay. "Want to take a look inside?"

"Mmm." No police tape or other signs that there'd been any sort of investigation here. "Let's maybe... go in that direction?" Scott said, indicating the back of the store, where the ghost-Nimrod had vanished. "If he was running around causing random mayhem - hell, I wish that was less plausible than it is - maybe we can find other spots like this." At least the direction Nimrod had gone was roughly parallel to the course of the march. He pulled out his com to pass on the information to the team in the Blackbird.

Zanne nodded and slipped inside the building, Scott close behind. The interior showed signs of recent repairs - the tell-tale scent of new paint lingered in the air, spoiled by the sour-sharp tang of spilled blood. As she passed through the doorway, Zanne noticed additional dark streaks adorning the walls and shuddered.

The storefront led into a small, spartan workroom at the back of the building that exited into an alleyway. The door hung crookedly in its frame, one hinge completely pulled out of the wood. "In a hurry, wasn't he?" she muttered under her breath as she cautiously followed Scott outside.

Scott looked around, then, on an impulse, went over to the dumpster. He glanced in - and immediately took a step back, breathing out on a sigh.

"Well. Dumped body in the dumpster. Color me all different shades of surprised." They'd have to make a phone call to the authorities. Later.

"We can definitely take off points for creativity," Zanne replied, reaching out to test the timeline. "I think there's something here. Hold on."

The image was less distinct this time, grainier and distorted, but still clear enough to show Nimrod disposing of the body and bolting down the alleyway, back onto the parade route. "Back among the civilians."

"Maybe. Depending on when this happened. Damn it. You up for following?" Scott asked, not quite bleakly. This hadn't been in the original plan, but it was a trail. Of sorts. If Nimrod had kept up with the mayhem. "I hate saying that if we're lucky, he's killed someone else around here..."

---

Kurt was aiming for deliberately inconspicuous as he made his way along the city street. That said, the face he was using wasn't a brand new one, but was one of his favourites - the face, in fact, he would have had without his physical mutations.

The right person could have recognised him easily.

When your life could have easily been lived within other's skin, movement mattered a great deal. It was that grace that caught her attention, not the face--faces meant so little--and for a moment, her eyes flashed gold with anticipation. She glided after, like the dancer whose face she'd stolen this time, keeping her cover for the moment while she observed and considered. The right points of leverage could change everything. It was all in knowing where to stand. Down the street they went, the man and his slip of a shadow until a knot in the crowd covered her rapid slide to a new form and put her just ahead of him, stopping abruptly so he'd bump into her broad shouldered frame, her face a mask of concern. "Kurt." Her eyes flickered gold again and she grabbed his arms to prevent a retaliation before he could hear her out. "You must help me. A life depends on it." Not a threat, her newly male voice sounded honestly distressed.

"Mother", he returned after a second's taking in the situation, voice pitched low to avoid anyone wondering why he was using that word to a man. He pulled away and jerked his head towards a nearby alley. "Over there."

The shapeshifter allowed herself to be ushered away from the crowd, stepping into a shadow that sheltered her and Kurt from most of the crowd's curious eyes, if anybody had decided to turn away from the parade to observe the two men. "I'm glad you're here, Kurt. I need your help. There isn't much time - a little boy is in danger."

He hesitated, watching her warily. But she'd told him the truth in the past, and if she wasn't lying now... "What little boy and what danger?" he demanded.

"He's the son of one of our newest members, a woman who joined us very recently. He's been taken by the Friends of Humanity." The last three words were all but spat out, the man's lip curling in contempt.

"I see." That came out flat with anger at the very idea. "I assume they have plans for him?"

"He's a young boy with visible mutations. What do you think that scum plans to do with him?" queried Mystique. "He'll be lucky to survive the night. I need your help to save him, Kurt. We have to get him away from them before it's too late."

Kurt hesitated, glanced around to see if Lakatos was anywhere in view, then looked back at her. "You know where he is?"

"Yes - in an apartment building not too far from here." The shapeshifter fixed him with an intense look, seemingly ignoring everyone and everything around them in hopes of securing his aid. "We can go together, Kurt, and save him. I cannot do it alone."

"Why not?" he wanted to know. "What kind of force could they have there that you cannot deal with?" It wasn't that he wanted her to use her usual methods, necessarily, but he was suspicious as to why she'd need his help that much.

"The little boy, Kurt. I have no problem dealing with these bastards the way they deserve, but I don't want to put him in harm's way." Mystique frowned, heavy lines etched in the man's forehead and cheeks at the motion. "Why are you so hesitant? I would've thought you'd want to help... even if you disagree with my methods you can understand why this is important."

"I do want to help him", Kurt said quickly. "I just did not understand... I cannot come right away. Tell me how long we have, and I will meet you there."

She named an address, stressing the need for haste as her manner grew slightly more agitated. As she glanced over Kurt's shoulder she reached over to put an imploring hand on his arm. "Come as soon as you can. There isn't much time."

"As soon as I can", he promised, expression sombre. "I will be there."

"Thank you." Another moment and Mystique had vanished, all but disappeared into the shadows - or the crowd of bodies.

"Who was that?" Lakatos had approached soundlessly, and was just there at Kurt's elbow, suddenly. His eyes were narrowed as he peered into the crowd, clearly trying to spot whoever Kurt had been talking to.

"Must you do that?" Kurt demanded after a single sharp jerk of surprise - and just a little sublimated guilt. "No one you need worry about. Just someone I know."

"...someone you know." The Hungarian was keeping his voice low, but his eyes were just as narrow as he turned to Kurt - and harder than they had been a moment before. "Someone who was able to spot you in the crowd, disguised as you are."

Kurt looked straight back at him, unflinching, refusing to give an inch even in the face of Lakatos' suspicions. "I have used this face before. It is not so unbelievable."

"Except that we happen to be in a situation where you could hypothetically run into your mother, the shapeshifter," Lakatos said flatly, dropping the oblique approach and going right for the jugular. "When we gave your people everything we knew about Veres, did you really think we got nothing in return?"

There was a long still moment at that, then Kurt laughed quietly, bitterness clear in the tone of it. "Of course Scott warned you. He could not have made it more clear he does not trust me. So perhaps you should report back to him that yes, I spoke to her."

"Listen to me," Lakatos said, reaching out and grasping Kurt's arm. His voice was as steady as his gaze. "Don't be foolish. It has nothing to do with trust. He knew he was putting you in a difficult position, and he was worried enough to tell me."

"Worried?" Kurt echoed, but he didn't pull away. Something in that look made it difficult to do so, somehow. "About me, or about what I might do?"

"Both." Lakatos let his hand fall, but he was still standing close, his eyes still very intently focused on Kurt. The look in them was almost pleading, suddenly. "Kurt, Joszef Veres wasn't just a comrade to me, years ago - he was one of my closest friends. I know it's not the same thing as family, but it's enough to let me understand. I know how difficult it is to look at someone who should mean more to you, and see them as an enemy."

"Few people really understand that", Kurt said quietly. "Especially as she did not raise me, no one at the mansion understands why I would think of her as a mother... but she has been good to me, in the ways she could."

"Good to you, perhaps, but surely she means no good here," Lakatos said, more firmly. "Don't muddy the waters. Your personal relationship with her, whatever it is, is not - cannot be the issue here. Don't let her pull you into something you'll regret. Don't let your teammates down."

"Do you know what she told me?" he asked rhetorically, looking up to meet Lakatos' eyes. "She told me there is a child's life in danger - a mutant child, taken by the Friends of Humanity, but that is hardly the important part."

"And you believe her? Knowing what I saw, that the Brotherhood is here to disrupt this march?"

"But how do we know that? You saw only yourself with Veres, and Veres is not exactly the best at stability or impulse control. You know that. What if he and she are the only ones here? And what if she is not lying?" That came out almost as pleading as Lakatos a few moments before. It was part a desire to save the boy, part a need to believe that she wouldn't lie to him now, when she seemingly never had before.

There was a flicker of something else in Lakatos's eyes, something closer to anger. "Listen to yourself. She's brought Veres along on a rescue mission? You think that's likely?"

"Or perhaps he came on his own, and she came to save the boy", Kurt countered, keeping his voice measured as best he could rather than snap at the other man. "It would not be the first time he has struck at an anti-mutant event. I will not let a child die just because I mistrusted my mother."

"Instead you're going to let her draw you away? Possibly into a trap, while Veres runs amuck here?" It was definitely anger. "Do you have any reason to trust her?"

"I am not easy to trap while I am conscious", Kurt retorted, stirring to anger himself now - all he really wanted to do was save a child's life, after all. "And perhaps not, but I say again, I cannot know she is lying and neither can you. I must at least see for myself."

"Pursuing a possibility is not why we're here," Lakatos argued. "Especially when all the proof we have is the word of a manipulative terrorist. We know Veres is somewhere. He could rampage through this crowd and leave countless dead bodies behind him."

"And what, exactly, do you think I could do to stop him that you could not?" Kurt demanded, meaning it. "I could not put him to sleep. I could not fight him on his own terms. I am only here because I would be useful in evacuation, and I will be a second away if you need me for that."

Lakatos looked almost disbelieving. "You're going to leave your team, to go on this fool's errand?"

"If it is a fool's errand, I will return on the moment", Kurt said flatly, taking a step further into the alley in preparation to go. "But if it is not, I will not count it wasted time - and I will still return."

Lakatos was left staring at empty space as Kurt teleported away. The Hungarian raised a hand, waving away the remnant fumes. Then, jaw tightening, he turned and walked away, his steps purposeful.