SOIKOS: Divine Deliverence

[x-dominion.livejournal.com]

Kane and Farouk get a little help from the most unlikely of allies.



The truck was closer to an armored car, with Farouk and Garrison stuffed into the back like a pair of discarded cases. The only sound in the dark cargo area, beyond the rattling of the wheels over not particularly well maintained roads and the odd jarring thump as it careened through a pot hole, was the hum of a recessed metal box which was covered with a steel plate, facing into the back. It was a crude suppressor, intermittent and crude, but powerful enough to cover the small space in which the two mutants sat.

Kane’s face was set in stony silence, illuminated only by chance gleams of light which flickered through the thickly screened window between the cab of the truck and the back. He tried to focus on a possible escape as opposed to the days of torture that the Templar had cheerfully assured him was coming. But his mind kept slipping away from both immediate things, instead swirling through the complex shadow world he’d fallen into. What had been a simple assist to the Israeli police had turned into a conspiracy theorists wet dream.
A flat, heavy bang pulled him from his thoughts. A second one, slightly sharper made him look to his left, to the box which was no longer humming.

“Farouk?” He said, trying to determine what exactly he’d just heard, only to fill the familiar sensation of a telepath centering themselves.

The failure of the suppressor was a tangible relief, Amahl registering it with the same sort of jolt of shocking liberation as if a boulder was lifted off his back. The awareness that was so hard to describe to a non-psi and yet defined the very being of a telepath suddenly snapped back, coloring the world into the a more wondrous and complex place of interlacing undercurrents and hidden meanings.

And then, of course, the truck blew up.

The first onrush of flames splattered against the armored glass, now protecting them from the flaming shrapnel that the cab of the truck had been reduced to. Kane braced himself against the top and bottom of the cell, his great strength bending the metal as he did so. With one hand, he grabbed Farouk and held him out in front of him.

"Hang on, Professor." The truck skidded sideways, and like a dice cube, the armored rear tumbled end over end across the hard road, becoming misshapen and dented as it did so. Only his preternatural strength allowed Kane to remain braced in the back, and kept himself and Farouk from being battered to death on the steel sides of the rear. Finally, the cube slammed down for the final time, lacking momentum to turn anymore and shuddered to a stop.

Farouk exerted his modest TK abilities to the utmost in order to diminish his weight. From the strain on Kane's face it made a marginal difference if any. Not that it would matter, unless something could be done about the doors they would be fried alive inside the truck.

He cast outward, hoping to hook the driver or a surviving guard with a psi-tendril, anyone with access to the keys.

There was nothing, however. Death. Death and very strong shields.

He began to shake his head at Kane in a mute response to Garrison's wordless query.

"Yo! Get the fuck away from the doors. We are blowing 'em!"

"What? No, get away from the door. I don't feel like spending the next two days hearing how Pete Townsend experiences the world." Kane dropped Farouk, and put his foot on the door. He grunted with effort, and the metal creaked and finally shattered. Punching through plate steel was outside of Garrison's abilities, but the crash had weakened their prison enough that he could exploit it. Coughing from the dust, they stepped outside of the truck.

"Uh, is that a nun holding the rocket launcher?"

Farouk nodded tiredly. "I should have known. Nice to see you, Mary."

"Yeah, yeah." Esteban's mother irritably (and with a terrifying regard for safety) threw the RPG platform to Rashid. Farouk suddenly realized that beside herself and his one-time body guard (whose broken nose was still visibly bandaged) he recognized nary a face among the heavily armed people surrounding the burning truck and quite methodically making sure that the Templars were dead.

Kane, however, appeared to be slightly more familiar with some of their apparent rescuers.

"I did warn you about the Grail, Mister Kane. Unfortunately, it looks like I made a mistake myself. I can't tell you how rarely that happens and how annoyed it makes me." Jane Hampshire was no longer in her red outfit, but instead a sensible set of khakis and a heavy leather jacket. In a way, it suited her equally well, and despite what it might be more comfortable to believe, her intelligence was obvious.

"Uh, thanks. I guess? What happened to the Opus Dei?"

"They are a pawn here." The man who spoke was resting easily on a tall walking stick. He was old and weathered, with the hard, broken face of a career soldier. His gaze was piercing, but sightless, his white eyes flicking back and forth disconcertedly, as if he could see them all. On his left hand was an ornate ring, all dull silver but expertly worked. Around him, a group of soldiers stood easily with their weapons safed. They looked Mediterranean mostly, short haired and clearly skilled. "The Templars have been manipulating events, likely with the help of sympathizers in India to advance their own plans."

"Yes, Templars. I can't believe I missed the connection. They will have their sport with that during the next court meeting." Jane said, tsking herself. "Stick is of the Chosen; operatives of the Vatican. We made an... arrangement once the Templars got their hands on you, accidentally revealing themselves to us separately."

Farouk grimaced. "Good to know my value as a Judas goat is still good."

Jane smirked at him. "Sucks getting old, doesn't it?"

Kaine, looking mildly pained, turned to Stick. "Do you know where Tremont got to?"

The warrior-priest nodded mildly. "Connelly told us of your suspicions, Professor and we have been keeping an eye out. Just a received confirmation a few hours ago - they are heading to Baghdad."

Farouk closed his eyes briefly, mostly to shut out the eager, savagely joyful grin blossoming on Hampshire's face.

"Road trip!"

"Question? Why Baghdad?" Garrison interjected.

Stick's head turned, slow and sure like a gun turret. "Because it's about an hour away from the ruins of Babylon. And Babylon is the ground zero for ritual of awakening the Whore." The older man smiled suddenly and viciously, his face looking absurdly younger. "You coming?"

"What, to fight a secret society that's supposed to have not existed for eight hundred years from using the Messiah's dinnerware in order to raise some kind of mystical angelic whore who's going to fuck the Middle East into a Christian state in what must be the missionary position." Kane rubbed his eyes. "Yeah, sure. Jane, give me your cellphone. I wouldn't miss it for the world, eh."

Kane manages to reach the mansion for some help.



“You know, I don’t really care about roaming charges. Bill me later.” It wasn’t exactly the strangest beginning of a call Professor Xavier had ever received, but it certainly was for this particular week. Garrison Kane’s situation had been under question for a few days at the mansion, when the FBI had informed them that his mission had been extended and he’d be out of touch. Privately, Fred Duncan had passed along the details of what had happened to Xavier, and had made it clear that without a body, the Israelis believed the Canadian to have been captured. Cerebro had provided no answer, but even with an X-Man in peril, Duncan had been firm in letting the locals lead things for now. The entire region was fragile enough that a misstep by the X-Men in the process of trying to rescue their teammate could have disastrous consequences.

Now, however, it seemed that he’d decided to reappear on his own. “Professor Xavier? Are you there? It’s Garrison Kane. I don’t know how long this signal is going to hold up.”

"Mr. Kane. It's good to hear your voice. We were concerned for your safety." Charles' tone was as calm as ever, but he meant what he said. "Do you need assistance?"

"Yeah, Professor, I've got kind of a weird one here." Kane said, trying to find words that didn't make him sound crazy. "Look, Professor Farouk and I have ended up in the middle of some kind of holy war in the making here in the Middle East. His organization has been almost completely compromised, and I got caught up in a plot to set up the Israelis."

"I was aware that things were... unsettled in the region, but I have to admit, a holy war wasn't something I considered..." Charles began making notes. "What do you need, Mr. Kane? I'll make whatever arrangements are required forthwith."

"Well, that's part of the problem. We don't exactly know what's going on. It's all religion and conspiracy theories and--" Kane cut himself off. "What we could use is an assist from the X-Men. There's a guy, Jacob Reisz. He's kind of the guy in the middle of all of this. We think there was a deal set up between his group and Prime Minister Neramani of India involving his sister. Farouk thinks that if the Israelis or the Islamic fundamentalists are believed to have killed his sister, it will give him cover to move against the forces in Pakistan, claiming the UN has lost control of the region."

"And you want a team to pick him up? I assume this will require a delicate touch..." Charles frowned a little, already thinking of which X-Men to send. "Is there anything you can tell me about this Mr. Reisz? How much difficulty will he present?"

"He's a middling telekinetic, and he's CIA trained. So he'll be professional, certainly armed, and likely have a couple of guards present. We know he's on his way to Pakistan, likely Islamabad, and is supposed to have information for Neramani. If you can get him, and drop him with someone you trust with the US forces over there, he can be indicted for treason."

"I believe we can manage something..." Charles allowed himself a brief smile. "You will keep in touch, won't you, Mr. Kane, as much as you are able? You are proving somewhat difficult to track via Cerebro."

"To be honest, Professor, I'm in the middle of so much Biblical imagery here, I don't even know if the next five minutes doesn't have me headbutting an archangel or something." Kane sighed. "Let Adrienne know that I'm safe? Otherwise, I think Farouk and I just have to muddle through it the best we can." He paused. "Which means we're dead men. If you put me on recording, I'll give you what I know for the team to review on their way."

"I shall. Best of luck, Mr. Kane." Charles paused and then added. "And if you should need anything else and cannot reach a phone, just think very loudly in my direction."

"Yeah, the 'OHSHITOHSHITOHSHITIMGONNADIE' you pick up on randomly is going to be mine." Kane said, before starting a summary of the situation and what he knew for the recording.