xp_logs | Mnemovore: Jean-Paul, Tuesday evening

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The Taygetos telepath continues breaking down Jean-Paul's mind.

It had taken them forever to discharge him, despite his protests that the injuries were minor. Hudson was probably behind it. Jean-Paul did not intend to thank the man for his meddling. The dressing over the healing wound at his chest tugged at his skin as he pulled on his shirt, one more annoyance in a litany of aches and twinges. He would go to Madame DuPont's first. Even if his sister was not there now, she might have stopped at the old school. After that...

"Northstar."

Jean-Paul went very tense. "If you value your hide, you will be somewhere else, Langkowski."

The tall brunet paused at the doorway of the hospital room, then ignored the warning and stepped inside.

"You're going to look for Jeanne-Marie."

"Yes, but that is no concern of yours. She is my sister and nothing to you these days." Jean-Paul straightened his shirt and started to walk past. He saw Langkowski reaching out to stop him and reached back in return. The attacks were lightening quick and vicious -- hooked fingers punctured the jelly of the taller man's eyes and scooped the sockets clean of their soft debris, three high-velocity punches to the throat crushed cartilage and tendon against backbone, and the final blow, sharp and driven downward, left an uneven red stain soaking into the front of Walter Langowski's slacks.

"I tell you this once more, Walter: stay away from my sister." Jean-Paul pushed the staggering, choking man away from him and stepped through the door as he collapsed...

...Manuel scowled quickly to hide the smile on his face and sipped carefully at his hot tea. "If you are not careful, I may have to talk a blonde telepath to have you licking dog food out of my hand at the end of the week... ah that will not work, you have Nathan to counter act." From his seat on Jean-Paul's couch, he waved dismissively at his host again. "Another plot foiled."

The speedster regarded him for a long moment, annoyance rising like a snarl in his throat as he remembered Manuel's invasion of his mind, the twisting of his emotions that Nathan had claimed was beyond the empath's control. And now this arrogant troll sat in his room and threatened him again?

"You forget the most glaring flaw in that plan," Jean-Paul pointed out calmly, setting down his cup. His hand shot out before Manuel could respond, gripping the Spaniard by the front of his shirt and slamming his skull against the edge of the dark coffee table. He'd expected the gush of blood that came with any head wound, but was mildly disappointed that the top of the younger man's head only deformed and did not actually split open. He let the twitching mess fall to the carpet and helped himself to more tea...

...water lapped against his back and chest as he turned to face the woman agin.

"Can I ask you where you found Daniel?" Adrienne called out, smirking at him from the edge of the pool. "Morgan says you picked him out. I think I want one for myself. Is there a secret hangout where you extremely attractive men go?"

He smiled in return and glided smoothly up to the side of the pool. "Lean down, cherie, and I will whisper all my deepest secrets."

When he pulled her in, her shriek was more outrage than fear -- that didn't come until he had her under, her eyes wide and panicked beneath the distorting lens of the water. Jean-Paul could easily believe that Adrienne Frost had once been a model; her neck was lovely and fit his hands exact. A shame, really; she might have been fun to know under other circumstances, but Daniel was his...

"...fucking mutie faggot CHEAT!"

The rock the man had thrown hadn't even skittered to a stop when Jean-Paul's splayed hand slammed into his face. The spurt of blood from beneath his palm as the man's nose flattened against his face was echoed by the back of his skull crunching against the side of the train station like dropped egg. Jean-Paul wiped his hand on the man's scarf in single motion of graceful disdain, then turned and offered his arm to Tighe with his most disarming smile...

...Jake whimpered beneath him, his single, bloodstained arm reaching for the edge of the bed as Jean-Paul yanked him backward again.

"Just tell me what I want to hear, Jacob," Jean-Paul whispered the words with blood-stained lips, taking no notice as his unwilling lover flinched away from him. "Make me believe it, and this all will stop..."

...the edge of his hand stung from where it had impacted the now-chipped brick just beyond the old man's thin neck. Jean-Paul watched with a grim satisfaction as Raymonde's head sat upright on his shoulders for an instant of precarious balance, then it was lolling, then falling...

...and on and on through a lifetime of slights, fears, and lusts, each responded to without a thought to restraint or morality.

Tucked away in a dark corner of the carnage, Jean-Paul Beaubier pulled the remains of his battered shields closer around himself, helpless to turn away from the horror playing out before him and with nowhere to run that could take him out of his own mind.