Genosha - Stemming the Tide: Attack Part 1
Jun. 2nd, 2012 04:58 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
xp_daytripper posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
xp_logsMatt and Wade are walking when Matt hears something that shouldn't be there.
The jungle was not a place that Matt liked. Give him a nice concrete jungle any day. New York City would do nicely. Or any other city anywhere else where there was no vegetation. Walking with his stick in lieu of his missing cane, Matt was grateful for it, not just because it gave him more freedom, but also because he could use it to whack the crap out of things or people if he needed to. Wade and Kyle had been teaching him how to use it defensively and he had never been as grateful for that as he was now that they were stranded on the run in BFE Genosha.
Wade was positively dripping weaponry - or as much of it as he could realistically get while sharing with everyone else. He had his almost-machete out to whack at irritating vegetation when necessary, his knives at his wrists, another few at his waist, and his guns in his shoulder holsters. He also had the secondary stick he'd been fiddling with for Matt and he was walking as quietly as he was able in the hopes of not creating more noise to distract the kid.
Matt had sort of wanted a gun, but he had never used one before or held one other than a toy as a child. He was probably more of a danger with it than anyone else. He just hated feeling so damn helpless. Wade's walking didn't bother Matt, that was almost like background noise to him now. "Wade?" he whispered, pausing suddenly.
"Yeah?" Wade murmured, stopping beside Matt. He was on high alert - senses stretching for any clue as to what Matt might be hearing or smelling.
"I hear something," he murmured right back, listening hard. He wasn't sure what it was just yet, it was really faint. "Dunno what, yet."
"Okay," Wade said, nodding. "What's it sound like? Is it a whomp whomp?" Because whomp whomps were generally really bad, in Wade's experience.
Matt shook his head, "Not a 'whomp whomp,'" he assured Wade. Of course, that didn't mean it was a good sound either. "I think it's cracking leaves and branches," he got quiet, listening some more, "It's people. I've got heartbeats."
"Can you give me a direction?" Wade asked, scanning the dimness around them for warning signs.
Turning, Matt pointed, "That way."
"How many?"
"Five," Matt turned back to Wade. "They're headed this way, but not very quickly."
Tapping Matt's left shoulder, Wade murmured, "Great job, kid. Let's head back to camp, alright?"
Swallowing, Matt reached out, taking Wade's shoulder, "Yeah. I'm not interested in hanging around."
Wade was taking it slow to make sure neither of them tripped over exposed roots, but he knew they weren't going quickly enough because within the next few minutes, even he could hear the crunching of crushed leaves and the metallic clank of someone's buckle against a weapon of some sort. "Matt," he said, keeping his voice very soft. "I want you to go ahead, alright? You might hear some things, but I want you to ignore them." These guys were too close to the camp as it was - Wade was pretty sure he was going to have to kill them. He didn't mind, but that didn't mean he wanted Matt to listen in on the whole thing. "Go on."
Matt was not naive. He knew violence and he knew what it sounded like. He hurried, cane moving swiftly. He did not want to be there when Wade did whatever it was that Wade was going to do.
Pausing to get his bearings, Wade placed each of the men as best he could and then whistled sharply to draw the soldiers' attention once he was sure Matt was far enough out of range that he'd avoid the violence. If the kid could get back the camp, he could alert someone so they'd know something was going down.
They came for him, but only after he finally called, "Your mothers are whores who fuck baboons on the side for fun." When they came for him, of course, it was more like a spray of bullets, but he'd been expecting that and so he'd tucked himself behind a convenient tree. One man he took out by clothes-lining him with the stick he held as he jogged by. The mercenary followed him down, headbutting the man in the face, listening to bone crack. A second man caught the large knife on the inside of his thigh and it took him less than two minutes to bleed out.
Matt might've been out of sight, but there was no way that he was out of hearing range, not with his powers. He might not have a birds eye view of what was happening, but he was familiar with this picture. His concentration was divided between Wade and getting back to the camp that he almost didn't notice the magistrate coming for him until he was almost too close. Turning, Matt used his stick defensively, like he was taught, but he was massively outskilled. "Wade!" he yelled, trying to run away. He couldn't outrun bullets.
Hearing Matt's shout, Wade didn't waste time with martial arts. He dropped his stick, flicked his wrist, and sent a throwing knife directly into the third magistrate's throat. The fourth went down with a bullet through his chest and then the mercenary was running. He'd been flanked, but he'd been expecting that - he just hadn't thought they'd go for Matt. He should've known better - they liked kidnapping kids. It was apparently a thing.
Going after the blind kid, mutant powers or not, was a low blow. At 17, Matt was far from child-sized, but this was the first test of his abilities in a real fighting situation. He whacked the guy with his stick, only for the man to take it and move with it, turning and grabbing him, an arm tight around his neck as the other bend his arm back painfully. Gasping, Matt dropped the stick automatically, unable to help himself with his arm being twisted the way it was. His mind was reeling, trying to think of something he could do to get free, to not get dead.
Wade holstered the gun because shooting the magistrate ran too high a risk of hitting Matt. A knife might be better, but there was always that risk of them moving at just the wrong moment. Distance kills were out but he needed to be fast because it looked like the magistrate had Matt in a choke hold and that was just so many levels of not okay. Flicking his wrist to drop one of his smaller knives into his palm, Wade used his enhanced reflexes to slide into place behind the soldier before the man could move into a position where he was using Matt as a shield.
Training took over at that point and the mercenary moved with almost surgical preciseness as he grabbed the magistrate's hair and pulled his head back and the to the left. With a jab and a flick, he severed the solder's carotid artery. The death would be quick and not nearly so messy as it could've been - still, arterial spray was a bitch.
Blood splattered on Matt as he stood there, frozen. Wade had killed the man. Part of Matt was grateful, he was safe. Part of him was appalled that Wade could do it so easily, so effortlessly and without conscious. Murder was a sin. His father's death replayed in his head, the sounds of him being beaten, the gunshot. Matt had heard it all, even if he had been unable to give any useful information. This was in a way, worse. Turning towards Wade, blood flecks over half his face and part of his body, he took a tentative step towards him. The difference right now was that unlike when his father had died and no one had been there, Wade was here. He might be a killer and a sinner and many other things, but right out, he had saved Matt and he was too confused to sort of out all his feelings about it all. Sniffling, he grabbed Wade by the shoulders, holding him tightly as shudders wracked his body. A sob broke through unwanted as he lost it.
"Okay," Wade said, not bothering to clean the blade in his hand before flicking it back up into the sheath at his wrist. He wrapped one arm around the kid's shoulders and gave him a pat, but he didn't really know what else he could do because... well. He'd just killed somebody and now Matt was breaking down which, yes. Normal reaction. Not exactly conducive to quickly informing the camp at large that they were under imminent threat of attack, but completely normal.
Still, they did need to get back and this emoting thing was sort of out of bounds for Wade right now. He was compartmentalizing everything. It was easier that way. Which really just meant that he was even less functional emotionally than he usually was and hardly equipped to deal with a crying kid who'd nearly gotten kidnapped for the second time by a bunch of assholes intent on making him into a slave. "Okay," he repeated, taking a slow breath because thinking that was going to get him in trouble. "Matt, I know that was bad, but we gotta get back. Warn people, get you cleaned up, make sure everybody else is alright. We gotta move."
Matt had been trying to compartmentalize, to separate himself and this just threw him over the proverbial edge when it came to coping. He wasn't. That he hadn't broken down into sobbing hysterics was a testament to how well he was coping, actually, because that was what he wanted to do. He wanted to sit down and have a nice mental breakdown and maybe a padded jacket. Taking a few shuddering deep breathes to try to get himself together, Matt nodded weakly, though he didn't move from Wade. He just shifted so that he was semi-clinging to the older man's arm. "I'm alright," he said, though there was a quaver in his voice still. "Sorry."
Wade checked their surroundings again, made sure there was no movement from the guards he'd taken down first. "Don't apologize, kid," he said, keeping his voice low. "You got nothing to be sorry for. But right now, I need you to tune back into the sound thing, let me know if you hear anybody else. We're still heading back to camp. I'm gonna get you your stick back, then we're heading out." He made sure he didn't dislodge Matt's hold on his arm as he stooped to get the stick. "We're good to go."
Taking the stick in his other hand, Matt's fingers wrapped around the wood comfortingly. He wasn't concerned right now about when he got home and his cane was gone or his glasses or his watch or anything else he was wearing and did not have a replacement of. He was only worried about the right now. Taking some deep breaths, Matt tried to refocus his powers again. "I don't hear anything. Just some birds and a breeze in the leaves. Tropical paradise, for the moment," he reached up to wipe the tears from his cheeks with his hand.
The jungle was not a place that Matt liked. Give him a nice concrete jungle any day. New York City would do nicely. Or any other city anywhere else where there was no vegetation. Walking with his stick in lieu of his missing cane, Matt was grateful for it, not just because it gave him more freedom, but also because he could use it to whack the crap out of things or people if he needed to. Wade and Kyle had been teaching him how to use it defensively and he had never been as grateful for that as he was now that they were stranded on the run in BFE Genosha.
Wade was positively dripping weaponry - or as much of it as he could realistically get while sharing with everyone else. He had his almost-machete out to whack at irritating vegetation when necessary, his knives at his wrists, another few at his waist, and his guns in his shoulder holsters. He also had the secondary stick he'd been fiddling with for Matt and he was walking as quietly as he was able in the hopes of not creating more noise to distract the kid.
Matt had sort of wanted a gun, but he had never used one before or held one other than a toy as a child. He was probably more of a danger with it than anyone else. He just hated feeling so damn helpless. Wade's walking didn't bother Matt, that was almost like background noise to him now. "Wade?" he whispered, pausing suddenly.
"Yeah?" Wade murmured, stopping beside Matt. He was on high alert - senses stretching for any clue as to what Matt might be hearing or smelling.
"I hear something," he murmured right back, listening hard. He wasn't sure what it was just yet, it was really faint. "Dunno what, yet."
"Okay," Wade said, nodding. "What's it sound like? Is it a whomp whomp?" Because whomp whomps were generally really bad, in Wade's experience.
Matt shook his head, "Not a 'whomp whomp,'" he assured Wade. Of course, that didn't mean it was a good sound either. "I think it's cracking leaves and branches," he got quiet, listening some more, "It's people. I've got heartbeats."
"Can you give me a direction?" Wade asked, scanning the dimness around them for warning signs.
Turning, Matt pointed, "That way."
"How many?"
"Five," Matt turned back to Wade. "They're headed this way, but not very quickly."
Tapping Matt's left shoulder, Wade murmured, "Great job, kid. Let's head back to camp, alright?"
Swallowing, Matt reached out, taking Wade's shoulder, "Yeah. I'm not interested in hanging around."
Wade was taking it slow to make sure neither of them tripped over exposed roots, but he knew they weren't going quickly enough because within the next few minutes, even he could hear the crunching of crushed leaves and the metallic clank of someone's buckle against a weapon of some sort. "Matt," he said, keeping his voice very soft. "I want you to go ahead, alright? You might hear some things, but I want you to ignore them." These guys were too close to the camp as it was - Wade was pretty sure he was going to have to kill them. He didn't mind, but that didn't mean he wanted Matt to listen in on the whole thing. "Go on."
Matt was not naive. He knew violence and he knew what it sounded like. He hurried, cane moving swiftly. He did not want to be there when Wade did whatever it was that Wade was going to do.
Pausing to get his bearings, Wade placed each of the men as best he could and then whistled sharply to draw the soldiers' attention once he was sure Matt was far enough out of range that he'd avoid the violence. If the kid could get back the camp, he could alert someone so they'd know something was going down.
They came for him, but only after he finally called, "Your mothers are whores who fuck baboons on the side for fun." When they came for him, of course, it was more like a spray of bullets, but he'd been expecting that and so he'd tucked himself behind a convenient tree. One man he took out by clothes-lining him with the stick he held as he jogged by. The mercenary followed him down, headbutting the man in the face, listening to bone crack. A second man caught the large knife on the inside of his thigh and it took him less than two minutes to bleed out.
Matt might've been out of sight, but there was no way that he was out of hearing range, not with his powers. He might not have a birds eye view of what was happening, but he was familiar with this picture. His concentration was divided between Wade and getting back to the camp that he almost didn't notice the magistrate coming for him until he was almost too close. Turning, Matt used his stick defensively, like he was taught, but he was massively outskilled. "Wade!" he yelled, trying to run away. He couldn't outrun bullets.
Hearing Matt's shout, Wade didn't waste time with martial arts. He dropped his stick, flicked his wrist, and sent a throwing knife directly into the third magistrate's throat. The fourth went down with a bullet through his chest and then the mercenary was running. He'd been flanked, but he'd been expecting that - he just hadn't thought they'd go for Matt. He should've known better - they liked kidnapping kids. It was apparently a thing.
Going after the blind kid, mutant powers or not, was a low blow. At 17, Matt was far from child-sized, but this was the first test of his abilities in a real fighting situation. He whacked the guy with his stick, only for the man to take it and move with it, turning and grabbing him, an arm tight around his neck as the other bend his arm back painfully. Gasping, Matt dropped the stick automatically, unable to help himself with his arm being twisted the way it was. His mind was reeling, trying to think of something he could do to get free, to not get dead.
Wade holstered the gun because shooting the magistrate ran too high a risk of hitting Matt. A knife might be better, but there was always that risk of them moving at just the wrong moment. Distance kills were out but he needed to be fast because it looked like the magistrate had Matt in a choke hold and that was just so many levels of not okay. Flicking his wrist to drop one of his smaller knives into his palm, Wade used his enhanced reflexes to slide into place behind the soldier before the man could move into a position where he was using Matt as a shield.
Training took over at that point and the mercenary moved with almost surgical preciseness as he grabbed the magistrate's hair and pulled his head back and the to the left. With a jab and a flick, he severed the solder's carotid artery. The death would be quick and not nearly so messy as it could've been - still, arterial spray was a bitch.
Blood splattered on Matt as he stood there, frozen. Wade had killed the man. Part of Matt was grateful, he was safe. Part of him was appalled that Wade could do it so easily, so effortlessly and without conscious. Murder was a sin. His father's death replayed in his head, the sounds of him being beaten, the gunshot. Matt had heard it all, even if he had been unable to give any useful information. This was in a way, worse. Turning towards Wade, blood flecks over half his face and part of his body, he took a tentative step towards him. The difference right now was that unlike when his father had died and no one had been there, Wade was here. He might be a killer and a sinner and many other things, but right out, he had saved Matt and he was too confused to sort of out all his feelings about it all. Sniffling, he grabbed Wade by the shoulders, holding him tightly as shudders wracked his body. A sob broke through unwanted as he lost it.
"Okay," Wade said, not bothering to clean the blade in his hand before flicking it back up into the sheath at his wrist. He wrapped one arm around the kid's shoulders and gave him a pat, but he didn't really know what else he could do because... well. He'd just killed somebody and now Matt was breaking down which, yes. Normal reaction. Not exactly conducive to quickly informing the camp at large that they were under imminent threat of attack, but completely normal.
Still, they did need to get back and this emoting thing was sort of out of bounds for Wade right now. He was compartmentalizing everything. It was easier that way. Which really just meant that he was even less functional emotionally than he usually was and hardly equipped to deal with a crying kid who'd nearly gotten kidnapped for the second time by a bunch of assholes intent on making him into a slave. "Okay," he repeated, taking a slow breath because thinking that was going to get him in trouble. "Matt, I know that was bad, but we gotta get back. Warn people, get you cleaned up, make sure everybody else is alright. We gotta move."
Matt had been trying to compartmentalize, to separate himself and this just threw him over the proverbial edge when it came to coping. He wasn't. That he hadn't broken down into sobbing hysterics was a testament to how well he was coping, actually, because that was what he wanted to do. He wanted to sit down and have a nice mental breakdown and maybe a padded jacket. Taking a few shuddering deep breathes to try to get himself together, Matt nodded weakly, though he didn't move from Wade. He just shifted so that he was semi-clinging to the older man's arm. "I'm alright," he said, though there was a quaver in his voice still. "Sorry."
Wade checked their surroundings again, made sure there was no movement from the guards he'd taken down first. "Don't apologize, kid," he said, keeping his voice low. "You got nothing to be sorry for. But right now, I need you to tune back into the sound thing, let me know if you hear anybody else. We're still heading back to camp. I'm gonna get you your stick back, then we're heading out." He made sure he didn't dislodge Matt's hold on his arm as he stooped to get the stick. "We're good to go."
Taking the stick in his other hand, Matt's fingers wrapped around the wood comfortingly. He wasn't concerned right now about when he got home and his cane was gone or his glasses or his watch or anything else he was wearing and did not have a replacement of. He was only worried about the right now. Taking some deep breaths, Matt tried to refocus his powers again. "I don't hear anything. Just some birds and a breeze in the leaves. Tropical paradise, for the moment," he reached up to wipe the tears from his cheeks with his hand.
