xp_logs | Kurt, Sunday night

Kurt sets out to teach a certain biker gang a lesson... and maybe manages to save a soul into the bargain.

His wounds now healed- more or less- Jack swung a leg over his bike and took off from the parking lot of Saint Mary's hospital. While he'd been in, Frank was finally getting discharged. Apparently he'd not only been poisoned by the mutie bitch, but she'd given him a concussion to match- requiring him to be held for observation for a few days.
The thing that had interested Jack in bikes in the first place was the sense of calm he had when tearing down a country road at nearly twice the legal speed limit. With the sun setting, he was pushing his chopper to the limit, trying to get back to the bar where his crew was assembled, to start planning how to get back at the green haired slut for putting one of their own in the hospital.
Unbeknown to him, someone was following him, keeping out of sight and teleporting a few miles at a time to keep up.
Kurt had meant it when he told Cammie he'd teach the gang a lesson.
Downing another beer, Frank looked over his shoulder to see Jack enter the bar with a swagger as the door chimed. The older man smiled at him as the brothers who had been jovial moments before backed away. Jack was smiling, but that didn't mean he wasn't about to shank him and the blood loss on-top of the concussion from the other night would probably be the end of him. "Jack, good to see you again."
"Relax. Relax everyone," Jack said, giving a wave to his group. "No one died and that mutant bitch won't be able to hide from us forever!" A cheer erupted from the gang as their leader took a beer from the bartender and raised it to them.
At that moment, the door chimed again, very softly as if someone was making an effort at discreet. "She will not need to, I think."
All heads turned to look at the man who'd just entered the tavern. The stranger wasn't from around here, his accent gave that away the second he'd said anything. "What'd you say, son?" Jack asked, a smile still on his face.
"I said", Kurt told him calmly, "that the mutie bitch will not need to hide from you, because you are never going to touch her again. Any of you."
A low chuckle rumbled through the room. Jack grinned and took a deep gulp of beer before swaggering toward the blond man. "That a fact? What're you? Her mutie lovin' lawyer?"
"No, her brother." His gaze flickered over Jack and the rest of his gang, dismissively. "I would advise anyone here who had no part in hurting the girl with green hair on Saturday night to leave now. I would not want to involve innocents." Not that it was likely anyone here was completely innocent, but only one crime interested him.
The group started to move in around the stranger, Jack pulling a knife from his left boot led the way. A foot away from the blond, Jack gave him a grizzled smile, "Ain't a one of us who'd back down from the chance to send your sister a message." Despite this boast, a number of the bar's other patrons were starting to sneak by out the door.
Kurt let them go as he'd promised, completely ignoring them in favour of staring at Jack. "You will be the message, my friend. Which one of you tried to molest her?"
"Molest?" Jack barked a laugh, causing a ruckus of laughter to ignite around him. When it died down he feigned wiping a tear from his eye and continued, "Can't molest an animal, boy. But if you're wondering who was trying to give her a good time, well...that'd be Frank over there."
As Jack pointed him out, Frank shrank back slightly. There was something uneasy about this whole scenario.
"Frank." The cold blue eyes turned on him, studying his face. "You will learn what 'no' means before this night is out, Frank. Believe me on that."
Frank grew pale, but did his best to not show his fear. "Fuck you."
"I think that's what got us into this situation, Frankie." Jack smiled, turning back to the stranger. "Okay, freak...we'll send most of you back to your sister- but you let her know, she'd better get her ass back here soon as we can finish our little dance." Without giving him a chance to respond, Jack lashed forward with the knife in a reversed hold.

The blade was pointing back at him, and that was Jack's mistake. Kurt's hand snapped out to grab his wrist, quickly joined by the other, and he began forcing the knife back towards the other man's arm. He didn't intend to do anyone serious damage tonight... just a little pain.

The stranger was stronger than he looked. "Mother fucker!" Jack exclaimed, as the knife moved back toward him. Taking a side-step, Jack tried to tear the man's grip off his wrist. "Get this bastard!" he shouted, sending the twenty-or-so men charging at the blond.

This kind of situation was where Kurt came into his own. Melee fighting when he was vastly outnumbered? He just laughed and began confusing the situation. A teleport here, a teleport there, each bringing its own handy cloud of smoke to obscure things, and a punch or a kick handily landed in the meantime. Also, he'd somehow acquired Jack's knife during the charge.

"I have fought armed Secret Service people and won", he informed them. "But please, keep amusing yourselves."

Nowhere near as coordinated as the Secret Service, the bikers attempted to follow the melee but quickly found themselves overpowered. Jack darted toward the bar and with a leap quickly found himself on the other side. Falling to his face at Jack's feet, Frank scrambled to a sitting position next to him.

Then things went silent. Taking a peek over the counter, Jack could barely see through the rotten smoke that offended his nostrils. Nothing stirred and as the cloud began to lift, the gang leader spotted a number of his men laying on the floor- not moving. "Fuck...fuck!" he whispered harshly.

"What?" Frank asked, trying to keep their position hidden.

"That bastard killed them I think. Everyone's dead." Jack replied, sinking back down toward the floor. A few feet away, mounted under the bar, he spotted a sawed off shotgun. Grabbing it, he turned and knelt toward Frank. "Okay, here's the deal...when I give the word, head for the exit."

"Hello, Jack, hello, Frank", said the last voice they'd wanted to hear as Kurt leaned over the bar. "I was hoping you two were still here. I have special lessons in mind for you, you see. Also, your friends are not dead."

Not giving him a chance to explain, Jack racked a shell into the chamber and pointed it toward the stranger. "Fuck your lesson, we're getting out of here." He pulled the trigger.

Kurt looked at Jack as his finger touched the trigger, sighed, and vanished. A moment later, two feet landed solidly in the small of Jack's back. "Put that down before you hurt someone."

The gun clattered out of his hands as Jack's head knocked against the cold metal of the ice machine. The gun landed before Frank, who picked it up with trembling hands.

"Frank", Kurt said patiently. "I did not come here to kill anyone. Put the shotgun down or I will take it from you."

Jack wasn't out cold, but he was dazed. This was the last place in the world Frank wanted to be right now and began to question every choice that led him here. He was in too deep now, and rather than lose face, the old man gulped behind his scraggly beard and hefted the gun higher, keeping it trained on the stranger. "N-n-no, you!"

Kurt studied his face for a moment, wondering. He'd meant the old man to be scared, but he hadn't actually expected... this. And it was making him think an actual chance to do good might be here. "Come with me to the parking lot", he said after a glance down at Jack to check he wasn't really hearing them. "You can bring the shotgun."

As Frank slowly backed toward the front door, Jack stirred. The younger gang leader spit out a tooth, "So more of your mutie pals can jump us?"

"No one else is out there." Kurt turned back to the man, all trace of any softening in his expression gone. "And the invitation was not for you." He was still between Frank and the door.

As Frank walked out into the chilled night air, Jack finally passed out, blood trickling out of his mouth and pooling on the floor.

Kurt watched him from a few feet away, face oddly thoughtful. "Tell me something", he said quietly. "Why do you associate with those people?"

His arms were starting to hurt from keeping the shotgun level. "They're my brothers," he answered, a curious expression on his otherwise vacant face. "We all watch out for each other."

"But I think perhaps you do not feel quite the way they do about mutants", was the level response. "You wanted to sleep with my sister, a visible mutant, did you not?"

He shifted slightly, the gun dropping a little bit as Frank's resolve wavered. "Not all of us are mindless slaves to what Jack thinks."

"Would you leave them, given the chance?"

Frank scoffed a laugh and shook his head, "Where the hell am I supposed to go? Hmm? Not much call for a high school drop out who's fucked around for the last forty years."

"I came here meaning to break your hands, Frank", Kurt told him honestly. "As a reminder to keep them off young girls who say no. But instead, perhaps I can do you a favour. I have friends on the West Coast I could persuade to find you some kind of work... if you would work for mutants."

It was more honesty than Frank had been expecting. "Why you tellin' me this?"

"Because I know something about being a good man who has done bad things." He looked levelly at the old man. "It would be one chance, Frank, and one only. If you take it and waste it, do not expect help from me again."

There was only a moment of hesitation before Frank dropped the shotgun to his side and asked, "What kind of work?"