xp_logs | Scorpion and Fox: Choices

Kurt discovers that the situation is not quite as Mystique represented it. He then manages to salvage the mission, although not before things go badly wrong elsewhere.

Whatever Lakatos had thought, Kurt wasn't walking into this blindly. He had gone to the address Mystique had named, yes, but... he was just going to have a look around, first.

It wasn't long before he found an uncovered window to look into the apartment, leading to a hallway with an open door onto the kitchen. The first thing he saw was Mystique, locked in combat with half a dozen men, seemingly battling to reach the closed door behind them. So far, so likely to be true, and he was on the point of joining her... but then something else caught his eye through the kitchen door.

Cookies, fresh-baked and apparently cooling on a tray on the table.

Why would there be cookies for a child being held prisoner? Carefully and silently, he made his way around the wall to another window, in what he thought was the right direction. What he saw there made him teleport at last, but not to join Mystique.

The woman wrapped around the small boy - who did not have any visible physical mutations - looked as if she wanted to shriek at the sudden appearance of a man in the bedroom, but her lips were tightly pressed together, as if she were afraid to make any sound at all.

He put a finger to his lips just in case, looking them both over carefully, then took a cautious step towards them. Voice low, with a glance at the still-closed door, he asked, "Is he well?"

The noise of fighting in the apartment was still all too loud. "Please don't hurt him," the woman said in as low a voice, and one that trembled only slightly. There was fear in her eyes as she met Kurt's, but she was already shifting the way she sat, deliberately putting her body between him and the boy. "I know - I know what my husband is, but he's only a little boy..."

"I would never hurt him", Kurt assured her hastily, with a touch of admiration in his eyes for her bravery. "I was asked to come here to help him... though I was lied to as to why. You are his mother?"

She nodded jerkily, flinching as something hit the door from outside. It had been barred by a heavy wooden wardrobe that seemed impossible for a woman of her size to have moved. "There were threats," she whispered shakily, not relaxing. "My husband is... politically involved, and they said-" Her eyes filled with tears, and her whisper, as she went on, was ragged with desperation. "They said he threatened mutant children, so he would lose-" She choked on the words, as if she couldn't bring herself to say it.

"That will not happen", he told her firmly but still quietly. "I know who is out there, I know what she is capable of, but you saw how I came in. We can be gone and no one will know until they open that door."

"Oh God-" Her arms tightened around her son, the tears pouring freely down her cheeks. "I don't know - how do I know this isn't a trick?"

"You have no way to be sure, I know", he admitted. "If you would prefer, I will stay here with you, and when she gets in I will fight her. Or remove her, that might be better."

"Oh God. I can't-" She curled even more tightly around her son's body, clearly struggling for composure. Something hit the door again, and this time, it didn't sound like a glancing blow. The noise came again, and again, the massive wardrobe rocking from the force of whoever was trying to smash through. The woman jumped, then shook her head desperately. "No, no, I can't let this happen to him, I won't -please." She looked up at Kurt, terror and hope warring with each other in her eyes. "Please get us out of here!"

"Of course." He stepped forward, fixing the image of the nearest police station he knew in his mind, and reached for her hand.

They were out of the room and onto a quiet street, halfway down the block from the police station, in an instant. The woman gasped and came back to her feet, lifting the boy in her arms. "I don't believe it. You meant it?" she said uncertainly, looking from Kurt to the police station and then back again. Relief was starting to win out in her expression, and she wiped at her eyes with her free hand. "You really got us out? I don't understand. Why?"

"Because that woman lied to me, tried to use me for what she would have done to your son", he said grimly. "And because it was the only right thing to do, whatever his father has done."

"Mommy, you're squishing me," the boy protested, his voice muffled. His mother gave a shaky laugh and lowered him back to the ground, still keeping a firm hold on him.

"I don't know what to say," she said, still blinking rapidly - still sounding rattled - as Kurt shepherded them gently in the direction of the police station. "I - I know how my husband feels about mutants. He doesn't talk about what he does, with his friends-" There was a flare of anger in her eyes for a moment, strong enough to push away the shock and upset. The upset returned a moment later, however. "Maybe I should have asked. I've wanted to, since the threats."

"Ask", Kurt encouraged her. "And if anyone can, perhaps you can change his mind." He smiled faintly. "It is very rarely too late beyond any hope, after all."

"I don't know." She was sounding increasingly upset again, her grip on her son tightening protectively. "Look at what's happened, because of what he's done..."

"If you love him", was the quiet response, "give him the chance to change. If he does not take it, then is the time to decide what to do next... but he must deserve the opportunity."

"I won't let this obsession of his harm my son again." It sounded suspiciously like a vow, and although her eyes were still bright with tears, the anger was back. "I'm going to take a great deal of pleasure in telling him that a mutant saved us."

He just nodded in silent agreement to that, then watched mother and son walk hand in hand into the police station, well aware that they'd never asked or been told his name... and a little relieved by it. A moment later, knowing he had somewhere else to be, he was gone.

---

Nimrod had been busy.

Zanne and Scott had tracked him further down the parade path where another broken window had heralded another bloody fight, this time with a group of FoH supporters. They were about as successful as the security guard before them defending themselves, the logos on their white shirts quickly becoming obscured with their blood. The damage at the scene was fresh, as if they'd only missed the fight by minutes.

"There's some more blood over here," Zanne called quietly from her position near the door. "He might have gone inside."

"Why the fuck is he not attracting police attention?" Scott said under his breath. But he couldn't be too upset by that. The police were unlikely to do any better against Veres than the rest of his victims had. He looked up the building, shaking his head. It was an abandoned low-rise. Too big to search themselves, and nastily reminiscent of the first place they'd ever encountered Nimrod.

"Good place for him to have holed up, maybe. We can't go in there on our own," he said under his breath. He glanced back towards the march, just moving past at the end of the street. Why this parallel path? What was Nimrod doing? He was beginning to realize just how impossible it was to predict the man's actions. Well, he is a homicidal schizophrenic, Summers...

"Then what do you want to do?" Zanne asked, turning back to him. "What if he's already moved on?"

"Call in the others. I think it's time. Or-" He never got to finish the sentence, because there was a blur he barely caught in his peripheral vision, and only because, wonder of wonders, it wasn't coming in on his blind side.

It was, however, coming from the opposite direction. Not the low-rise, after all. Scott was already turning, already halfway through launching an optic blast at what was certainly a threat even if it wasn't Nimrod.

But he wasn't the target. Nimrod all but pounced on Zanne, seizing the back of her jacket and spinning as he did, slamming her into the brick wall of the low-rise. The first impact didn't knock her out, but the blow to the side of the head as she reeled most certainly did. As his teammate crumpled to the ground, Scott dodged to the left - not to avoid the Hungarian, but to get a better angle to fire.

The optic blast glanced off Nimrod's shoulder, barely staggering him. Then the Hungarian was right there, just as close as he'd been in Australia, and Scott knew he was in trouble.

Nimrod lashed out before he could fire again, knocking Scott to the ground with one negligent blow. "A long time since Australia, Summers," he said, the follow-up kick almost casual. Slow enough that Scott almost managed to roll out of the way, but the kick still glanced off his hip, and was enough to send him crashing back to the ground.

Apparently that was all the talking Nimrod was prepared to do. Scott tried to get up again and another blow put him back on the ground. Head spinning, barely able to focus, he got off another optic blast, this one catching Nimrod in the chest. It only seemed to annoy him, and the next kick landed solidly in Scott's midsection. Gasping and retching, Scott was struggling to breathe when he heard the shout.

"Joszef!"

---

Lakatos gritted his teeth at the sight of Veres standing over a barely-moving Scott. Suzanne was crumpled not far away, not moving at all. Was he too late? Swallowing, he moved slowly closer. "~Joszef, listen to me.~" He switched to Hungarian, hoping to reach him.

Veres stared at him for a long moment, looking bewildered. The look in his eyes was growing... hazy, there was no other way to explain it. "~... Captain?~" he finally said, uncertainly. "~Captain, you shouldn't be here.~"

"~Where else would I be?~" Lakatos said, one hand slipping into the pocket of his jacket. The syringe there was loaded with a very carefully formulated sedative, something whipped up specifically to knock out Veres and keep him out for a period of hours, tailored to his metabolism. "~You're clearly in some difficulty, Joszef. Why don't we talk?~"

The haze receded. "~Difficulty?~" Veres gave a brittle laugh. "~There's no difficulty here, Captain. Just a mission that needs to be accomplished.~"

"~And who has given you this mission?~" Lakatos persisted. "~Who are you taking your orders from, Joszef?~"

"~You know,~" Nimrod said with an eerie sort of tranquility. "~You know perfectly well who, Captain. Don't ask foolish questions.~"

"~Foolish questions to go along with foolish choices, Joszef.~" Maybe he shouldn't have been surprised by how angry he was suddenly. It was the first time he'd faced this man in years, ever since... "~You spit on everything you were taught. Everything our country stands for.~"

Veres flushed, rage burning in his eyes. But he did advance on Lakatos, leaving Scott behind. Lakatos tried not to look at the X-Man, but willed him to get back up. One optic blast from behind might buy him enough time to administer the sedative. Maybe. Scott was moving slowly, clearly trying to pull himself up to his hands and knees.

"~What was I taught, Captain?~" Veres spat, moving closer. His hands clenched into fists at his sides. "~To hide what I was, for fear of what other countries would do if they thought our military was allowing mutants to enlist? The dream is a lie. It is built on deception, and fear. How many generations of our people need to live out their lives, praying for incremental, meaningless steps?~"

Lakatos gave a hoarse laugh, horrified by what he was hearing. He had really hoped that his old friend hadn't actually been able to rationalize this, but it appeared that he had. "~This is all about impatience, Joszef?~"

"~No, Captain. It is about realism.~" Before Lakatos could react, Veres had crossed the remaining space between them in a rush, and he couldn't get the sedative out in time, couldn't do more than try and block the blow that came at him. Something cracked in his arm at the contact, and the next blow smashed into the side of his head. He was unconscious before he hit the ground.

Nimrod, breathing hard - if not from exertion - stood over his former commanding officer for a long moment, watching him. When Lakatos didn't move, Nimrod turned on his heel and headed back towards Scott, who was still trying to get up.

He never reached him, as Kurt teleported in. He knew where Scott and Zanne had been, the last time they radioed in, and from there it had been nothing to follow the noise of the struggle. He'd meant it when he'd told Lakatos he couldn't fight Nimrod on his own terms, but there was something else he could do.

"You will not touch him", and a steel grip on his arm, was the only warning Nimrod got before he found himself fifty feet above the Atlantic Ocean and falling. Kurt, dropping with him, didn't hit the water before he was gone again.

Scott smelled brimstone. "Kurt?" he muttered, but looking up, saw neither his teammate nor Nimrod. He supposed the latter was a blessing. Grabbing the wall beside him, he managed to haul himself back to his feet. The whole world seemed to spin sickly for a moment, and he took a shaky breath, then started towards Zanne. She was closest. Then he'd check on Lakatos. Oh, and he needed to call in, except he wasn't sure where his com had gone...

Someone grabbed him from behind, slamming him up against the wall hard enough to drive the air out of his lungs. An arm was around his neck before he could react - a very strong, blue-skinned arm. Oh, shit...

---

Kurt hadn't expected the scene that awaited him when he came back to the aftermath of the fight. Lakatos had been right, he knew that, but still... "Let him go, Mother."

The yellow-eyed gaze that was turned on him was not desperate or cornered; rather it was distinctly calculating, peering out from behind Cyclops' head just enough to give the shapeshifter a clear view of the other mutant. "I can't do that, and you know it, Kurt."

It was really a pity that it sounded like the bulk of the march had passed by at this point, Scott thought angrily; an influx of suspicious bigots would have been really helpful right now. "Kurt," he ground out - Mystique's not-quite-chokehold tightened warningly, which wasn't helping the lingering fog in his head, "don't let her make this into a standoff-"

He was unable to say anything more as Mystique effectively stopped his speech with a well-placed jab, her eyes narrowing dangerously. "That's the last thing any of us want. I'm going to leave, and you're going to let me."

"And why", Kurt wanted to know, moving a little closer with a prowl in his step, "am I going to do that this time? I know the truth about the boy."

"What truth? That he's not the victim of those madmen? Perhaps he isn't, Kurt, but countless other mutant children will be. They're not going to stop at marches and rallies. They won't be happy until we're all dead, and you're protecting them as they plan our downfall."

"They will not get what they want", he said with certainty. "We are many more than they could ever kill, and we are going nowhere. Can you tell me you did not mean the same for the boy as you claimed they did?"

To hell with this, Scott thought, he was not standing here playing human shield and letting her draw Kurt into a goddamned philosophical discussion. She could be buying time for - something, and none of the possibilities were good. He weighed more than she did, and he did his best to try and use that, getting just enough leverage to drive an elbow back into her ribs. He felt her react to the impact, but it wasn't enough to break her grip.

Obviously the shapeshifter was through with letting him struggle against her, regaining her leverage and tightening the chokehold until darkness descended over the leader of the X-Men. He was more unwieldy then, but she was strong, and kept him upright to shield herself against any offense.

"I don't know what I would have done with the boy, Kurt. But you cannot honestly believe that they would have hesitated to do us harm if the situation was reversed."

"Of course not", he allowed. "But the situation was not reversed. You do nothing without a plan, Mother, I know that much, and he is a child. Not even a trainee, as before, and he has no part in this." For the first time, true disgust with her coloured his voice.

"We all have a part in this. We all do, and so do they. And letting another one of them get brainwashed into becoming a hate-spewing bigot is a worse crime than anything I could have done," Mystique answered.

"His mother is not like his father", Kurt said quietly. "I talked to her, which I think you have never done. What will happen, will happen, and this is not the way to stop it. Now, let Cyclops go."

"I'm not coming with you, Kurt." This time her gaze did look hunted, and she edged away, hauling the unconscious Scott with her. "Let me go and this will all end without any further bloodshed."

"If you harm him any further", he warned her grimly, "there will be no hiding from me even for you. There will always be further bloodshed, with your people, and you used me to try to make more. There can be no deal. Release him."

"You say that, and yet you protect the Friends of Humanity. You're all traitors," she spat. "And you will be the first they turn on when that time comes." She held out a hand and as Kurt watched shifted blue fingers into long, claw-like digits, wickedly sharp and lethal-looking. With a savage slash she dug them into Scott's arm, causing blood to well up almost immediately and splatter to the floor. The shapeshifter dropped him and whirled, aiming for the mouth of the alleyway and the freedom it held.

Kurt started to give chase, purely on instinct... but the blood on the ground stopped him. There was a lot of it, and it wasn't stopping... He dropped to his knees and grabbed Scott's arm, ripping at his sleeve for a tourniquet.

"I will find you, Mother!" he called after her. "You will see me again."