Neverland: Garrison, Scott, Jean-Paul and Johnny

[x-ricochet.livejournal.com]

Garrison, Scott and Jean-Paul arrive in the woods of northern Washington and receive a rather atypical greeting from the kidnappers.



The area was deathly once the Blackbird's engines shut down and the three mutants disembarked the plane. The only sounds were the patter of rain in the trees and ticking off the hull of the jet, and the faint squelch of their boots on the ground.

The woodlands were practically in the shadows of the Cascade mountains, the terrain rocky and sloped. The majority of the vegetation was an unassuming mix of cedars, firs, and mountain hemlock, but the surrounding area for miles around was choked with thorned brambles and all but impassable on foot. The only place to land had been an obvious clearing and, upon drawing closer, it could not be called a natural construct. The trees were growing back from the boundaries of the clearing, not pressing in upon it, and, among the trees' twisted and overgrown roots were a series of burrows -- more hobbit-hole than rabbit warren, but underground dwellings for certain.

"Okay," Scott murmured. "This is odd. On the bright side, anyone want to bet we've got the right place?" The additional witness reports, the sighting of strange lights, all of it had led back here. "This is one of those days I really, really wish we'd brought a telepath along."

"They have to know we're here." Jean-Paul was restless and frowning. He'd have given a lot to have his own mental link with Aurora functional again, if only just to know so that he could concentrate fully on one issue or another. "I hope they don't plan on making us dig them out."

"They don't," came the blithe tone of a dark-haired young woman who came pacing up from the tangle of massive roots and makeshift structures, "Only humans give us reason to hide." Dreamer smiled, her pink lips an easy gleam of strawberry gloss. She was hardly the image of a criminal mastermind, but apparently she was aware enough to put the one familiar face before her into perspective. Jean-Paul Beaubier. Former Olympian, IOC scapegoat and victim of one of the most blatant cases of mutant discrimination on record. She gave him a meaningful glance as her associates began to ascend on either side of her, "Surely our own can understand that."

A small man scrambled up onto one of the various roots that dotted the landscape, allowing him to bolster his height to a full three feet tall. Were it not for the instance of stubble on his chin and the beginnings of wrinkles on his face, he would have probably been mistaken for one of the children. As Dreamer spoke, he studied each of their guests, trying to size them up. He knew that whatever these three men wanted, it was probably not something good. Still, he plastered a welcoming smile on his face as he turned to greet their guests. "This is our home," the man explained. His voice was small and squeaky, but had an undeniable warmth to it. "We are happy to be here, and are happy to have you. Are you not happy to be with us?"

"Yeah, there's obviously nothing suspicious going on here." Kane's eyes flickered from the woman and the tiny man to the houses, and the fact that any number of people could be concealed in them. Was it just a few mutants, a whole damn army, or something even stranger waiting? Regardless, the syrupy warmth of their greeting could be hiding anything. "Children have been going missing. We'd be a lot happier if you told us where they were."

"We're not here to harm anyone," Scott said, figuring he should establish that in hopes that the completely unclear tactical situation in which they found themselves would not abruptly go south. "But the children who are missing have families who are worried about them. Are they here?"

Dreamer's bright eyes flickered with some subtle darkness, her words taking on a bitter tone, "Missing their whipping dogs, are they? ...I assure you they're better off here." The fleeting sharpness was gone as quickly as it had come and she smiled again, "Happy and safe, as children should be. Like I said, we have nothing to hide."

She paused briefly, coming to a conclusion that she seemed proud of and looking to the more somber woman a short distance behind her, "Astra, perhaps you should tell the kids it's safe to come out. And take one of our friends here with you. Show them they have nobody to rescue."

The brunette stepped forward, turquoise eyes wide and taking in every detail of their guests. She couldn't file them neatly away into a category, and that bothered her. She tilted her head. "Follow me," she instructed quietly. She led the way, unconcerned if they would follow her or not.

Jean-Paul frowned at the less-than-subtle attempt to separate them, but followed anyway. He was getting the distinct impression that these people had little idea how much trouble they might have let themselves in for.

Unnoticed by the intruders, one of Plantman's Simuloids was waiting under the surface near where they stood- inactive and looking like nothing more than an odd patch of moss and daisy. He'd heard the entire conversation and relayed Dreamer's command to the other Simuloid guardians who were keeping the children in the shelters while they ascertained the nature of the strangers. "Come along now, you rascals," he bellowed, leaving the warren he had been inside himself. It wasn't exactly an all clear notice, instead he gave them the order for them to usher the kids toward another part of the forest, away from the strangers. The kids seemed to like the plant creatures and had even named them- not that he would ever take the time to learn them. He didn't care for children, but they were starting to grow on him...even if they did peel the bark from trees and pick the flowers from his garden. Plantman paused for a moment, watching the twelve active Simuloids lumber after their young charges.


Astra takes Jean-Paul to see the missing children.



Astra did not have far to lead Jean-Paul. The end of their path was marked with the light and airy laughter of the children who had run ahead and seemed less than concerned with the fact that they had been sent to hide from possible intruders just minutes before. There were fewer than a dozen of them, ranging in age from teenagers to those who had yet to even reach the double digits, but all looked happy despite the circumstances. In fact, the older pair seemed to have walked in on little more than pleasant conversation, a few tots playing in the mud and a rather spirited game of tag. One of the children, a white-haired boy who had been eagerly climbing into the lowest boughs of one massive tree, stopped in his pursuit to gaze curiously down at his savior and the Elven-eared stranger.

Jean-Paul was taking in every detail of their surroundings; it was far easier to concentrate on that than the fact that this girl was obviously not Jeanne-Marie. He focused on the children instead. Aside from a few curious glances, he was surprised at how much attention he wasn't attracting, given his outfit and outsider status.

"You cannot think this is a viable idea," he said quietly. "Even if the children are content to stay here -- " A very big "if". "--what will you do the first time one of them is injured? Or becomes sick?" It hadn't escaped his notice that the kids were filthy and playing out in chilly rain.

Astra glanced away. "They're safer here," she muttered. "And children should play, get dirty, be allowed outside to experience the world."

One dark eyebrow raised at the evasion. Jean-Paul noted the unwillingness to face the reality of the question and took another tack. "How did you come to be here?"

Her eyes darkened in memory. "I was cold, alone. I didn't realize how alone." Her mouth twitched. "I thought Dreamer was a crack-pot. She talked to me for weeks, I think. Showed me... " She trailed off, then stiffened. "Here we don't have to be afraid."

"I don't think you believe that." Jean-Paul kept his voice level. "If you had nothing to be afraid of, you would not have to avoid basic questions. Dreamer's intentions may be good, Astra, but you are not equipped to deal with the needs of so many children, let alone mutant children. I will not argue that the world is hostile to us for what we are, but I teach at a school for young mutants. It takes more forethought and resources than have gone into this place."

Astra's face turned mulish. "Nobody was helping them, we had to step in. Were they supposed to wait for you?" She waved dismissively. "They would have rotted away or been smothered in their sleep before help arrived if we hadn't intervened." The words felt almost like a recital, but she vividly remembered her hunger when Dreamer had found her, the bruises, the fear? Astra shook her head to clear the cobwebs. "We were their only chance," she stated more firmly.

"They were all abuse cases? You are assured of this?" Jean-Paul headed toward the children and the lumbering plant sentinel watching over them.

With a quick side-step, Astra placed herself in front of the former Olympian. "They really don't need to be traumatized by being forced to remember where they came from," she insisted.

Jean-Paul took in the young woman. He still didn't know the exact nature of her capabilities or those of the creature beside her, and there were children would most certainly get underfoot if he pressed and this turned into a physical confrontation. He hesitated a moment longer, then nodded.

"I suppose you are right. In any event, they are obviously unharmed and they do seem happy. I'll run ahead to my friends and let them know. You will catch up?" He could circle back in an eyeblink, hopefully long enough to get some actual answers out of the children themselves.

Astra hung back, brow wrinkled. She followed after him at a sedate pace, suspicion high. He quickly disappeared from view, but not from the surroundings. She saw branches waving, as if recently disturbed, broken underbrush. He left a trail clear enough for even her untrained eyes.

Once he'd gotten out of sight, Jean-Paul took to the air. He might have given away some element of surprise by dashing off, but he hadn't given away all his tricks or his full potential for speed. He already had a target in mind as well, a fair-haired boy he'd seen off-sides in the trees earlier. The branches would provide some cover from the other children and their guardian. A few seconds later, he dropped onto a branch beside the young acrobat.

"Pardon me, but I need to speak with you."

A spry creature to be certain, the white-haired boy had already ascended several branches higher by the time Jean-Paul returned and seemed to be enjoying the inane pursuit quite thoroughly. When the older mutant dropped neatly from the sky and settled beside him, however, this interest was quick to fade and he stared with astonished admiration, unable to process the words for a short moment, "With me...?"

Jean-Paul nodded, pretending to make himself comfortable so as to put the boy at ease, though it hardly seemed necessary. "I just arrived with my friends, and I would like to ask you some questions, if you do not mind. The usual, you know...what is your name? How did you get here? What do you do?"

The young mutant seemed more than agreeable and followed suit, moving to sit upon the branch and swinging his small, dangling feet. It didn’t even occur to him not to trust the stranger. "My name's Johnny. Astra brought me here..." he trailed off, seeming to contemplate something, and then smiled easily when he was unable to reach any specific conclusion. It was amusing somehow. "I guess it was a while ago. I don't really remember."

"Were you one of the first here? Where were you from before?" The fact that the boy was so very unconcerned was puzzling, but perhaps understandable, if he'd been here for a time and was used to weirdness.

"One of the first...?" The boy who had dubbed himself 'Johnny' shook his head, "No. There were a lot of people here before I was." His swinging feet fell gradually still at the later question, some faint bit of uncertainty flickering across his face. "Before...I don't want to talk about before. Dreamer said I don't have to."

Stranger and stranger. "I'm trying to figure out how things work here. I am confused. Where are you from? Around here? New York, perhaps?" Jean-Paul tried to push back his impatience; the boy was becoming wary. "Sorry. I am being rude. My name is Jean-Paul Beaubier." He extended one hand.

Johnny tilted his head faintly, drawing close to outright bewilderment himself. There were so many questions and he wasn't certain how to answer any of them. He couldn't ever remember thinking of such things. The change in approach seemed to work, though, coaxing the white-haired mutant into a relaxed smile as he raised his hand to meet Jean-Paul's. "It’s okay." The expression widened faintly and a small laugh parted his lips, "...You ask a lot of strange questions."

"I would be terribly offended if that were not true, but I suppose strange people do ask strange questions." Even if the boy had come from a bad situation, which Jean-Paul was quickly coming to doubt, that didn't explain how his questions seemed to be simply not registering. It was if the concept of having a past was not something the boy was familiar with. "Do you remember living any place before you came here?"

This seemed to keep the boy grinning and in good spirits and he shrugged, "You don't seem that strange to me." His feet were swinging easily again, his open palms resting casually against the rough skin of the branch. The height didn't bother him at all. "I don't remember...but I know I did. It was a bad place, so Astra brought me here instead."

Jean-Paul frowned. "You don't remember anything of before? Not your home? Your school? Your family?"

Johnny watched the older man, shaking his head as a frown spread across Jean-Paul's face, "...You don't need to worry. It's better here."

The older man was about to say something more when a bright flash of light caused him to shield his eyes.

"Leave him be!" Astra shouted, her voice cracking with the branch under her. She adjusted her grip and pushed her way forward to grab a piece of Jean-Paul. If she could just drop him in Abu Dabi or something.

Astra was used to passengers who weren't entirely cooperative. She was not used to teleporting uncooperative adults who moved nearly as fast as she could think. Jean-Paul's fist slammed into her sternum as they vanished, and they appeared only scant miles away, Astra winded and the speedster disoriented, though not so much that he didn't lay hands on her again.

"This is how you make them safe?" he snarled, hauling her upright before stepping away. "By taking away their lives?"

The younger woman faltered. Then her face hardened and she gathered her strength. "We keep them safe!" she repeated, reaching for him again. One more time, she could get him far enough away if she had one more try!

The speedster dodged her hold and struck at the young woman's face with his closed fist. He wasn't pulling this punch -- even if he didn't let her get a hold of him again, he had no intention of simply allowing her to vanish.

Astra had no time to dodge, she hit face-first and cried out with pain. She fell to the ground with a thud, dazed and unable to rise again.

Jean-Paul was gone before Astra hit the dirt. Hopefully, he'd be able to return and collect the girl, but she was a secondary priority. They'd wasted enough time here.


The kidnappers attempt to justify their actions to Scott and Garrison and things quickly go south.


Dreamer watched with what seemed like approval as the children, the slew of sentient plants and the pair of older mutants departed. She had no doubt the matter would be set straight. How could anyone argue with those sunny, contented faces? She drew her dark eyes back to Scott and Garrison, stating with no subtle intention, "They're good kids...they deserve better than what the outside world has to offer."


"Most kids do," Scott said. "But that's not really your choice to make."


"And why shouldn't it be?" Dreamer could hardly tolerate hearing him speak so callously and it showed on her face in the form of an incensed frown. "Their parents have failed them. Someone has to take care of them."


Scott stared straight at the young woman. His voice was just as steady as it had been a moment before. "There are ways to do that in the real world. There's hard, and they're messy, and yes, sometimes they don't work. But if you want to make a real difference in the lives of mutant kids, that's what you have to do. Not snatch them away for some sort of fantasy life in the forest."

None of the children looked harmed, which was a good thing. This was already starting to grow shades of a mutant Waco, and knowing that the somewhat insane sounding mutants hadn't caused any physical harm allowed them to moderate the results. Still, it was not an ideal situation, without backup, and obviously mutant abilities of at least decent power levels involved. If push came to shove, would they use the kids as leverage?

"You know, there is a simple solution. You know just as well as we do that no matter how good your intentions are, and how lovely a place you've built here, people won't understand what you're trying to do by just taking the kids. Why not offer them the choice? Let them go home with their memories of a safe and happy place, telling their other friends who need help about it? When you take a child, other people have to get involved. But when they come back to you, asking for shelter, hope, and a safe place to be loved? There's nothing anyone else can say." The first rule of hostage negotiation was to use the no as little as possible, to emphtize with the hostage taker and try to put them in a position to prove their own power or position by releasing someone. The woman sounded crazier then a terrier in a ratsack, but if she was trying to persuade them that she was in the right, better to convince her to prove it by letting the kids go first.

"You think I'm naïve," The woman's voice had lost much of its saccharine sweetness, "I'm not." She had thought they would understand. Of all people, they should understand. But all they seemed interested in was throwing legalistic scenarios in her face and less-than-subtle attempts at manipulation. This would not do.

Meanwhile, the dwarf to her right was busy surveying their visitors who, despite his mutation, were considerably grumpy and terse. Children, the aptly named Joyboy knew, were on a whole easier to influence than adults. Keeping a large number of them happy was a non-issue. But these men who threaten him and his colleagues' very existence, and by the look of them they would not go down without a fight. So Joyboy concentrated on tweaking the strength of his joy aura, hoping that doing so would help the visitors to see how happy they and the children were to be there. "But they do not want to leave," he explained calmly to their visitors. "Why would they have reason to? You may ask them yourselves, they are content and comfortable here."

Scott shook his head doggedly, knowing that the increasing sense of well-being and happiness was not coming from him. He couldn't block it out, but he could recognize it. There were some definite benefits to long and occasionally intimate exposure to telepaths. Focus on something else. Worried families. Self-righteous paternalism... yeah, there's the ticket.

"Whichever one of you is doing that can stop it right now," he said, his voice still calm.

A minor telepath herself, Joyboy's influence was never as strong upon Dreamer as it was upon most and she was accustomed to that, but to see Scott shrug it off with such seeming ease was startling. For the first time she found herself wondering what sorts of powers these men might possess and she was silently grateful for Plantman's hidden simuloids. Their last defense if push came to shove. She frowned tightly.

"Whoever the empath is that's pumping out happy waves might have some kind of influence on the kids' decision to want to stay, you know. So really, this isn't for them and their happiness. It's for yours, lady." Kane shrugged, already coming to the conclusion that talking nice wasn't going to help. He'd seen the type before; criminals who had already made all the decisions that they needed to before doing the deed. If you can't talk them down, the next move was attempting to back them down from the consequences. "Let them go, and you get to walk away. That's the best offer you're going to get."

"Their happiness is my happiness. Don't try to turn that into something ugly." Dreamer's eyes had become hard, her breaking point apparently reached and her composure slipping at an increasingly rapid pace.

Jean-Paul touched down at Scott's left even as Dreamer spoke.

"It appears that her happiness extends to interfering with these children's memories," he said, his tone cold. "I just finished speaking to one of them. He doesn't remember anything but this place: no family, no home, and nothing of the outside world." He glared at Dreamer. "I do not think we need to hear whatever justifications you have for this."

"Okay then." Scott bit his lip, looking around them for a moment. Not a good tactical situation. Still, they'd been in worse. "I'm afraid we're going to have to take the kids back with us," he said, looking back at Dreamer. "That's not a request."

"And here we go." Garrison muttered as Scott delivered the ultimatum. His reflexes weren't as fast as Jean-Paul's, but he was the one with the strength and endurance in the party. If there was a trap, it was going to be his job to get in the way first, and give Scott the chance to neutralize it.

"...I didn't want it to come to this." Dreamer's polished lips quivered, then came together tightly. She had never been involved in any variety of true combat, but she had to be resolute. For the children's sake. "But they're not going anywhere. And you aren't either."

Plantman had been so intensely concentrating on listening in through a group of hidden Simuloids, that he hadn't even noticed the stranger that had been led away by Astra's departure from the grove. Dreamer had always known the day would come when some group came to take their young charges away, and they'd never thought of letting them go without a battle.

He issued a command to his already awakened Simuloids, who were reigning the children into another warren, where they should be safe- the order was simply to protect them. After all, Dreamer wouldn't want him around anymore if something happened to the kids. With his feet firmly rooted to the earth, Plantman stretched his consciousness out to the surrounding forest; if these heroes wanted a fight, he'd give them one they'd not forget. Over the last month or so, he'd planted and cultivated nearly fifty Simuloids and they were about to attack en masse. 'Wake up, my soldiers...there's killing to be done.'

His diminished field of vision was very often a severe handicap in a combat situation, but there was enough movement happening among the trees that Scott really couldn't miss it. No, he told himself, not among the trees - part of the trees? "Oh, God," he murmured under his breath, his tone almost dry despite the adrenaline spike. "Attack of the killer Ents..." Some sort of plant-controlling mutant? The semi-humanoid figures were shambling towards them, and Scott fired at the closest, catching it in the 'chest'. Wood and dirt and leaves exploded everywhere.

Jean-Paul's gaze flickered over the small army coming toward them. Close-quarters combat did not allow him to utilize his powers to best advantage. He was effective when he could pummel an opponent with a barrage of high-speed punches in hand-to-hand, but it was when he had a clear path to build velocity that he became horrific. He saw no reason at all to hold back against Dreamer's home-grown defenses. One moment, Northstar was at Cyclops' side. The next, there was a brief shriek of air, a continuous cracking, and then a handful of the plant-creatures at the edge of the advancing line began to topple, their limbs missing or shattered.

"Great, an ambush." Kane muttered to himself. So much for a peaceful solution. He advanced on the walking trees, no where near as fast as Jean-Paul, but still far faster than a normal human, and plunged into the advancing mass. His strength shattered wooden limbs and caused the charge to stutter in their momentum. Kane grabbed one, ripping it in half to an almost human shriek, and then tossing both halves at two others, bringing them down to a sound like a logging camp.

The sight was destructive and horrifying. What had once seemed like their hidden advantage, their trump card, was now being torn asunder in a rapid display of shattering, splintered wood. Dreamer’s mind was operating in a fast panic, her feeble telepathy doing its best to weight the senses of their foes in hopes of slowing them down. But her skills were too weak to make much of a difference, the trio of X-Men continuing to gain more and more ground. "Do something! Can't you do something...?!" Though not physically present, the senses of the simuloids would carry the desperate plea to Plantman just as expediently.

Half-way to the engagement and now moving slower than he usually did- due to the insane amounts of pain being sent back to him from his Simuloids- Plantman heard Dreamer's plea and knew he had to do something. If the Simuloids failed, these strangers would certainly kill her or at least incapacitate her and as long as he was around, no one would lay a hand on his Beautiful Dreamer. He took root with the ground and reached out to his children. They needed better defenses- they'd been designed and grown to stand up to regular law enforcement, not other mutants. In his mind's eye, Plantman began the process, modifying the plants on the cellular level to start the growth. Though it happened slowly to him, back in the fight, the Simuloids slowly started to grow two-to-three inch long thorns across their entire bodies. In a few minutes the thorns would be able to secrete a toxin that would paralyze the enemy, leaving them at the mercy of Dreamer.

More immediate was the need for a harder armor, which was simply a matter of fast growing the bark to be more dense- no where near as complex as making the Simuloids poisonous. He continued to reign in the guardian Simuloids back from attacking, knowing they wouldn't delineate between the enemy and children- hopefully the hellions weren't too scared of the changes their playmates had just undergone. Uprooting himself, Plantman continued to stagger toward the engagement, feeling every blow against his creations like it was against himself.

Scott noticed the changes in how the... things looked. He didn't want to know what the spikes were for. Waiting until Jean-Paul was airborne again, Scott moved to the right. "Kane, down!" he shouted, loudly enough to be heard over the noise of the fight. Once he was in no danger of accidentally blasting his teammate in the head, Scott cut loose with the broadest optic blast he could manage, sweeping it back and forth down the line of advancing plant creatures. They disintegrated; he wasn't holding much back, and he'd demolished buildings with less.

The first sign of the thorns sprouting from the plant-creatures had been enough for Northstar to back off and rethink his method of attack; the idea of impaling himself on those wicked, dark barbs was not in the least appealing. He retreated further as Cyclops and Garrison sent bits of creature showering the landscape; they were decimating the front lines, so Northstar kept his attention on the flanks as he engaged again. Even if it was no longer the best idea to hit the creatures themselves, he was a confusing enough target that he could have them lashing out at each other in their attempts to strike him.

As he watched Plantman's Simuloids disintegrate before him, Joyboy knew that there was nothing he could do, except take cover. His powers proved to be useless against the intruders, and he was no match for them in physical prowess. His small size though made it easier to move amid the chaos until he reached his comrade. "Dreamer," he gasped, trying to catch his breath. "Dreamer, they're slaughtering us. What do we do?"

The emergence of the jagged, angry thorns brought Dreamer a brief moment of hope, though the continued shrieks from the unfortunate simuloids being broken apart was quick to nullify it. Joyboy was right: they didn't stand a chance. But they couldn't afford to retreat, to let these callous creatures take the children and throw them back to the unhappy lives they had been rescued from. "We can't just...!" She forced the strain from her voice as best she could and looked down at her companion, "We regroup. We need to find the others." She turned, starting off at a quick pace (though not her fastest, hoping to allow the other to keep up) to track down their teammates while the intruders continued their battle.

"Cyclops, they're cutting out!" Kane yelled over his comm, avoiding a sledgehammer blow from one of the creatures and ripping its arm out of the bole of the body. There were too many creatures between him and them to intercept, so Garrison focused on hitting the side of the group, thinning those in Jean-Paul and Scott's way. If he could collapse the line, maybe the other X-Men could exploit the gaps to reach the mutants responsible.

They weren't going to be able to reach them, Scott realized, and swore. The plant creatures weren't a threat, but they were an effective diversion in aid of a retreat.

After the Canadian man put her down, Astra had trouble getting back up. Her friends and the kids needed her though, so she struggled to her feet. The forest around her spun for a moment, but the sound of fighting leveled her quickly enough. Until she got close enough to trees moving and attacking like something out of a horror movie. Plantman's work, she told herself.

Astra stumbled through the trees that weren't moving, clutching their bark for support as her head was still swimming a bit. She moved to intercept Dreamer and JoyBoy. If they could just get Plantman close enough, they could all escape. She had enough in her to get the four of them out, somehow. "Dreamer?" her attempt at being quiet came out as a squeak. She held out her arms, reaching her teleportation field out, out, out.

In a flash of light, the four of them were gone.

The moment Astra's teleport signature flared, the Simuloids ceased their attack, their link to their progenitor disrupted. A spate of loud, joual profanity sounded across the clearing and another of Plantman's creations hit the mud, but Northstar seemed to have himself more or less under control by the time he returned to the other two. All three mutants looked as if they'd gone through a mulcher head-first and the rain wasn't making much headway on getting them cleaned off.

"I can circle the area and look for them, but I have a feeling they're long gone." Jean-Paul frowned, trying to wipe the mud off of his face. "We should probably start rounding up the children."

"First things first," Scott agreed, frowning. He seemed surprisingly unbothered by the mud and the rain. "And hell, we know that at least one of them's a psi, now." He was fairly sure that there'd been some telepathy at work, too, not just the empath. "That should at least give Charles something to work with if more kids start vanishing."

"The FBI is going to come on this like a hammer." Kane explained. "Kidnapping has been virtually wiped out in the US. To hear some group wants to make it a mutant hideaway... Duncan is going to spit blood and put every person he can on this." Kane brushed the mud from his leathers. "According to our agency, they're all our kids, mutant or otherwise. These people are going down." The Canadian wiped the moisture from his face and looked at Scott. "Seriously. These nutjobs have done more to make mutants part of the institutional responsibility of the Bureau than a dozen letters from Xavier. You take kids, the FBI gets them back." Kane smiled, lightening quick. "You both might deserve a medal now."

Jean-Paul was paying little enough attention as Garrison spoke. The older children had started to make their way back into the main clearing, presumably drawn to the noise of the fight. Confusion and distress were plain on their faces and the speedster sighed to himself. They weren't nearly done with their job here.