Katabasis

[x-roulette.livejournal.com]

During a stake-out, the rumor that the Nasty Boys are back proves to be more than true.



The it was an easy enough stake out, the information provided by Peter Lakayos lead them to an abandoned building in the older part of Budapest. Hairbag had been busy in the past three years since his breakout, acquiring the traditional squad of goons and branching out from his former mercenary services to the sex trade. Specifically "acquiring" young mutant girls and handing them over to whomever would pay the highest. A rumor had it that he was also planning to break out his old comrades Ramrod and Slab as they were being transported to Russia to stand trial for crimes committed there.

As the X-Men watched the comings and goings from the building, it became pretty clear that it was more than just a rumor.

The neighborhood wasn't made for heavy traffic, but the dumptruck wended its way towards the alleged safehouse with stoic purpose. It was an older building, some blend of office and warehouse; as the X-Men watched the truck rumbled around a corner towards the rear dock doors.

"Now that's interesting," Marius remarked as he caught a glimpse of the driver. "It's Plant Bloke, released, reformed and reborn as a door-to-door mulch deliveryman."

"That've been useful." Kyle suggested. "If he's for real reformed, I'll get his business card for Fred." The light tone definitely did nothing to hide that he was unusually... pointy, even for Kyle - claws extended and untrimmed, bare feet, and even if he was joking, it was with a growl to his voice that would've alarmed his students. "Save him from having to wash his truck every time someone tears up the flower beds." He turned his head, nose following the path of the truck and sniffed. "Mulch doesn't hide stank, and that truck's got more than Planty in it. At least two more people in there."

"Would that be Slab and Hairbag?" Sooraya asked, carefully looking over the truck and trying to hide the faint smile that almost dared to escape at their names. The man behind the wheel did not seem threatening, but his files and the files on his companions in the database had been clear enough. Thinking about it immediately made her smile fade away. "Or do they already have their victims hidden somewhere in that truck? I am wondering where though." Once more she surveyed the truck.

"Makes sense the Most Conspicuous wouldn't be chancin' it as the wheelman. As for the girls, nowhere I can make out." Marius cracked his knuckles. It would have been easy to assume he was feeling calmer than Kyle had Yvette's borrowed powers not rippled his bone to create makeshift brass knuckles. He turned to Scott, who had moved to the other window when Marius had remarked upon the truck. "Right. What's the plan?"

Scott closed his eyes for a brief moment as he ran through the possibilities. "We need to stop the truck before they get away, and the girls are out of our reach. But we don't want to tip our hand either," he mused before an evil grin started to spread onto his face. "I can handle that, Wildchild, Emplate how do you feel about hitting them like wrath from above?" he asked gesturing to the nearby roofs. "It'll be something they're not expecting, Dustbunny, you hang back. You're our ace, while they're focused on us you can help where you see an opportunity and most importantly search that truck for the girls."

"Owe you a beer, boss man." Kyle said, with a all too eager grin. "Wrath's my favorite deadly sin." He glanced at Marius, and gave a shrug. If Scott was going to tell him he could be wrath, then he was going to be wrath, and break a few faces in.

"At my current density, any wrath I happen to rain down should prove sufficiently meteoric." Marius turned to grin at the trainee, his teeth very white in his currently greyed face. "Sound right enough, Whirly Wind?"

"Feel free to give those three all the wrath in the world. They deserve it and I will gladly help you. I just want to get those girls out of there first." Sooraya's gaze remained intense on the truck, already trying to formulate a search strategy in her mind for when the truck was stopped. "I wonder if they are somehow under all that mulch..."

"It wouldn't surprise me, it's a good way to move them without being found out," Scott replied with a straight face, his eye firmly glued onto the scene in front of them as he check the plan in his head, running through all the possible outcomes. "I mean who's going to think about looking under all that mulch, let alone sort through it to find them. Well apart from a crack team of superheroes."




Ramrod's panicked, and fled with a couple of hostages. It's up to Scott and Sooraya to take him down.



He knew he shouldn't have panicked. Shouldn't have driven away at first sight of those black-clad figures. But he knew what that meant, so before the final two girls could be off-loaded he's hit the gas pedal and drove as fast as the lumbering machine could handle.

That wasn't very fast, or very far, and those windy narrow roads were the death of him. Or rather the truck, as he slammed into a wall going at a pretty decent speed.

In the aftermath there was silence, that was all the man called Ramrod could register. Total silence, save for that horrible ringing in his ears. He looked up, at the shattered glass in his windshield and the smoke rising from the hood of the truck they were using as a cover.

"What could go wrong?" the Irish mutant hissed under his breath. "No one will fuckin' know, it's all fuckin' according to plan. Fucking gobshite," he pulled himself free from the cab, his powers using the vegetation in the back to force the doors to open.

"Change of plan, ladies," he said, swiping the blood of his eyes.

Scott slowed to a stop, "Ramrod, where do you think you're going?" he asked as he signaled Sooraya to hide off to the side out of Ramrod's sight. The X-man would take every advantage he could manufacture. "Why don't you step away from the girls and come along peacefully?"

Sooraya quickly followed Scott his order, fading in the darkness of an abandoned building close by. She had not yet needed to shift and it seemed Ramrod was already solving the issue of locating the girls on the truck themselves. She just hoped they were okay. Still, she remained alert, waiting to see for the chance if she could separate Ramrod from his unfortunate victims.

Ramrod held up his hands, "Of course I will, anything you say," he smiled, baring stained, yellow teeth. Then before Scott could react he flicked his hand and the packet of seeds he had hidden inside exploded outward, vines covered with enormous sharp thorns winging their way towards Scott.

Scott leaped backwards as the vines closed on him, lashing out with optic blasts he pruned back the vines. However under the control of Ramrod they just kept growing out towards him. The X-man continued to fall back defensively trusting Sooraya would be able to take advantage of Ramrod's preoccupation.

Moving quickly Sooraya hurried over to the girls who were hiding in the truck. "Come with me." She said in a low voice. She had no idea if they understood English, but she hoped her gestures would explain her meaning as well. It took a few seconds, but one of the girls jumped out, speaking to the others in what she assumed to be Hungarian.

The others quickly followed and Sooraya stepped forward to help the last young woman out of the truck. She threw a quick glance at where Cyclops and Ramrod were still fighting and wound an arm of the woman she had helped around her shoulder, so she could help her hop to shelter. "We need to hide." She once more spoke and the girl who had reacted at first seemed to repeat the words in her mother tongue.

"Take this, ye gobshite!" Ramrod threw down another packet of seeds, tongue between his teeth as he did so, behind him the mulch in the truck began to rattle ominously.

The X-Man was fast, but the amount of material at Ramrod's disposal would soon make things very difficult for him.

Scott blasted away another two vines as he sprang further backwards, he was just about managing to keep Ramrod at bay but that was all; he dared not increase the power of his optical blasts for fear of hitting a civilian "Dustbunny, I could use a little help here," he whispered into his mic as he launched a blast that was blocked by one of the vines at the kidnapper.

Sooraya whirled around after she had settled the girls in shadows. "Stay here and be as quiet as you can." She quickly spoke to the girls. Cyclops was being attacked by the a huge mass of vines and Sooraya quickly dissolved into her sand form, her uniform shrinking and dropping to the floor.

She approached low from the ground, steadily increasing her the speed with which the sand particles moved... till they were sharp and strong enough to cut through woody vines. She had to be careful though, because it an uncontrolled tendril could hurt flesh just as badly. So instead of forming a tendril like the whip, she formed herself into a whirling disk, shooting into the mass of vines as a Frisbee, cutting them as close to the ground as possible.

Hopefully she could keep the vines back enough like this so that Cyclops could take out their cause.

Ignoring Ramrod's roar of anger Scott speared the other mutant with an optical blast, driving him back into the side of the truck leaving Ramrod dazed and disorientated. "Stay down," Scott warned him, careful not to approach any closer.

Disoriented the man might be... vines were still attempting to creep up towards where Cyclops was standing. It was just far slower process. Sooraya finished cutting through the massive mount of stalks, then paused for second before forming the Hulahoop around her team leader. The sharp sand would hopefully cut away the vines before they could reach him.

"Fek..." Ramrod hissed, he could feel his old ulcer start to bubble up. Funny, since it was these bastards that had caused it. He remembered now, the uniforms were unforgettable. Same for the face that still sometimes haunted his nightmares, the girl with the stringy hair and burning yellow eyes.

Last time he went down too quick. This time.. this time he would mean it. The vines in the truck started to grow again.

Scott shook his head sadly, "I warned you," he said softly a note of regret in his voice as a single force beam slammed into Ramrod slamming his head into the truck where he crumpled into a boneless heap. The X-man shook his head as he turned away from the criminal, nodding at Sooraya he set off to find the rest of the team.

Sooraya in the meantime had resumed her shape, her uniform neatly reforming around her. She bent down to where they had stashed a few supplies they might need and removed some zip ties, quickly binding Ramrod's legs and wrists. He still seemed out cold, so she focused on the three girls still huddled together.

"You are safe now." She said, a soothing tone in her voice. She handed each of them a blanket to wrap around themselves and a bottle of water, before removing a first aid kit and kneeling down next to girl who had been hopping. Hopefully the Hungarian authorities would be here soon, so they could take Ramrod into custody and the young women before her in a safe and warm place.




Kyle and Marius take after Slab and Hairbag and the remaining hostage, only they have company...



"Oi, Kyle, go left! No, the other left!" Marius released the comm button and bolted across the roof for a better view. It was irritating to be put on eyes in the sky, but he couldn't match Kyle's speed there was no way he could catch a vehicle. Fortunately, the two Nasty Boys appeared to have been limited in their choice of getaway cars.

This was almost certainly the first high-speed chase involving a Yugo. And, if nothing else, he would always treasure the memory of the vehicle's oversized wheels, Slab's mass in the driver's seat, and a sharp turn nearly tipping the vehicle into a wall. Despite himself, Marius grinned.

"Inconceivable that they ceased to make those."

"I don't think this one's a factory model." Kyle said as he dodged around a slow-moving car and then over a parked one by the expedient method of running over its hood. "Should slow 'em down though, unless they got one with a better engine." The engine noises didn't sound like it was 'better'. "Who puts off-road tires on a fricking Yugo?"

"One whose driver counts his weight in tonnes, perhaps?" Marius perched precariously on the edge of the roof. He had a better view of the following truck now, a far less embarrassing vehicle that the Nasty Boys' cohorts had piled into with their remaining hostage. "Others are human. Can see the girl -- mutation looks physical-passive and I'm not readin' any exceptional durability, so I can't-"

There was a honk and a screech, as both the car carrying the Nasty Boys and the truck with the hostage and the remainder of Hairbag's gang entered a clot of traffic. The speeding Yugo was able to make it through, but the truck almost careened into a shop, barely getting itself under control before spinning around and heading down another road, in the opposite direction of where the Nasty Boys were headed.

Marius hissed an invective. "They split. Hostage down your second side street to the left, Nasty Buggers to main right!"

"Fuck, and you without flying powers." Kyle grunted, skidding out a sharp turn to the left that had his claws kicking up gravel. "Hostage takes priority." He said, growling out the words - anyone listening would be more than clear that what he really wanted was to beat some faces in. "Fucking -fuck- I wish Zepyhr was here."

"Remind me to top up my supply of Firestar when we get back. Go. I'll be sure the others won't give us the slip."

Marius backed away from the edge of the roof and dropped into sprinter's crouch. He took one breath, then another, and bolted forward. The space between this rooftop and the next presented a gap too wide for common sense to regard with a straight face, but Marius' body was accustomed to compensating for its brain's lack of foresight. With each stride his knees became more pronounced as the tissue of his shins and feet flattened into a consistency more flexible than bone, bowing out behind him almost like the hind limbs of a cheetah. It was bizarre, awkward-looking, and difficult to replicate with Yvette's powers in less adrenaline-soaked scenarios, but the "springy" configuration had two very distinct advantages: it let him expend less effort to maintain the same speed, and it allowed his strides to store and redirect kinetic energy.

Marius sprang off the roof and landed easily on the next with an impact like a refrigerator falling from a two-story building.

Cheers for that, Oscar Pistorius.

Taking all this in from the top of a hill was a motorcyclist. Clad in dusty black riding leathers and a helmet, the motorcyclist watched the events unfold passively. If they did feel any emotion at the chaotic proceedings in the streets below, it was hidden behind the mirrored shield of the helmet. Then, with one fluid motion the motorcyclist kickstarted the engine and leaned forward, speeding down the hill in a squeal of tires and burned rubber.

Kyle was all too aware that if that truck got to a highway - or even a road that could handle higher speeds, he was going to lose them. He was already ignoring the burning of fatigue in his muscles - he could do a damn good impression of a bloodhound, or a sprinting cheetah, like both, the high speeds were not sustainable. And he certainly couldn't bust out sixty miles an hour.

"Emplate, if you are anywhere close, I could use a ranged assist here! I've got maybe another minute before I lose them!"

There was a muffled swear over the comm, followed by something that sounded like what had probably been a very old rooftop HVAC unit being clipped. "Not be-there-in-a-minute close, mate!"

Meanwhile, the cab of the truck was chaos, yelling and swearing and pointing. The girl in the back struggled against her captors, screaming as the truck careened from one corner to the next. The driver's eyes kept flicking in panicked motions to the rear view mirror, looking for their pursuers, and not registering the motorcyclist until it had pulled up next to the cab. The motorcyclist turned towards them, and casually tossed a lit road flare into the cab of the truck. He screamed and jerked the steering wheel, causing the truck to swerve wildly, almost narrowly colliding with a street lamp. Mercifully his companion in the passenger's seat plucked it from his lap and tossed it out his window. The driver careered back and forth a few times before regaining his control. He looked up to see the motorcyclist still keeping pace with him, and he cursed and swung the truck at them, causing the girl in the back to scream again. The motorcyclist swerved out of the way, jumping onto the sidewalk.

"We have company!" Kyle barked into his comm, switching to running on two feet to keep track of the girl - he could care less if the truck tipped as long as the girl managed to get out of it before, or at least without serious injuries. "Some dude on a bike is buzzing the truck." There was too much going on to ID the motorcyclist. "And before you ask, it's not Wolverine." Wrong size, wrong style of bike. "Slowed down the truck, I'm gonna try to get the girl."

"Outstanding. Two vehicles going in opposite directions wasn't nearly chaotic enough for those of us participating in this car-chase on foot." The Australian knew the hostage should take priority, but he wasn't willing to give up on tracking Slab and Hairbag. He didn't even have to be close. If he could just get one clear view of the truck . . .

None of the buildings in this area were significantly taller than another, but the rooftop two buildings ahead also supported a water tower. It was better than nothing. Marius altered course.

"See some higher ground ahead," he said into his comm. "Keep on them, I'll see what I can do."

The girl in the back didn't listen to the men who were telling her to shut up, didn't stop screaming as one of them backhanded her and she could taste blood in her mouth. Her name was Ursula, and she would not go down easy. Freedom was only inches away, and she kicked and clawed and screamed. They would not take her, and if it meant jumping and broken bones, or worse, so be it.

The one with the brown-red beard and horrible breath reached back a fist-- this time a punch-- and Ursula flinched and shut her eyes, waiting for the blow. Instead red light flashed and there was a curse and a yell. Ursula opened them to see that there was only one man on the back of the truck with her, the other lay in a heap of overturned crates of oranges on the side of the road. And behind them, the motorcyclist in black, somehow keeping up with them. The motorcyclist dodged through the cars, around the steep curves of the road and jumping a sidewalk, keeping pace and even gaining on them.

The second captor, this one with acne scars, tightened his grip on her arm and drew out his firearm. Ursula screamed as he shot at the motorcyclist, once, twice, a third time, each time missing. His eyes narrowed and he swore, and he aimed his weapon again, but before he could get off another round the motorcyclist raised a hand and with a flick of the wrist, sent a disk of red light spinning out and hitting him in the chest. The truck chose that exact moment to hit a pothole, and the resulting jolt sent the second man off balance, causing him to lose his grip on Ursula and go over the side, while she could only watch, wide-eyed.

When she turned back, the motorcyclist was at the side of the truck, holding out a hand.

Ursula held onto the railing of the truck bed, considering, before reaching out and taking it.

"Fuck!" Kyle grunted into the mic, watching the motorcycle and newly added passenger veer off down a side alley. He'd kept his comm line open, though most of what he was reporting was profanity and traffic noises. "Fucking fuck fuck. The biker has the girl!" He slowed to a jog to pass the truck - front end steaming and crumpled around a concrete barrier, and the driver slumped over the wheel. He could hear the distant sound of sirens a few blocks behind him - it seemed that "man-fox-cat-dog-thing running on all fours down the street chasing a truck with a screaming girl in it" had attracted the attentions of the police. He could leave the kidnappers he didn't have reason to personally maim to the tender mercies of law enforcement.

"Truck's crashed, po-po's on the way." he said, switching back to all fours and jaunting down the same side alley to try to catch up to the biker.

He hadn't even paused to check the idiots from the truck - just slowed, and the motorcycle was already blocks away, backtracking towards... the sounds of the sirens? Kyle stopped between two parked trucks, panting and sweaty as he watched the biker help the girl slide off the bike, and then peel away. "Uh. Emplate? Hostage is with the po-po. Biker just dropped her off. I'm heading to you, change of plans."

From his vantage point Marius had indeed observed not just the drop-off, but the happy collision which had precluded the need for intervention. Now he also observed the motorcyclist blowing past the Yugo, and the Yugo swinging to give chase.

This, however, was a secondary concern, because Marius had also gotten his first good look at the biker.

After a split-second of uncharacteristic speechlessness, the Australian tilted his head towards his mic.

"Actually, change that change-of-plans. You were correct on one count: the biker most definitely isn't Wolverine."




Hairbag and Slab take after the mystery motorcyclist, with Kyle and Marius in pursuit. A fight ensues, and identities are revealed.




It had been a no-good, very bad sort of day for the man who referred to himself as Slab. While his companion's business was very lucrative, no doubt, he had been leery of getting involved so soon after his escape from the bowels of that horrible Bastille. But his companion assured him everything would be fine.

However, it had ceased to be fine less than an hour ago, when the very bastards who had been responsible for him being in prison in the first place came leaping out of the sky like some hideous children's cartoon. It was too much to bear. He was in desperate need to deal with all of his negative energy. The kind that came with popping someone's head like a grape.

Fortunately, that idiot motorcyclist would do. He pressed the gas pedal further towards the floor.

"Dearest compatriot," Slab said, swerving to the left as the motorcyclist sped through a red light, and leading them to almost collide with another speeding vehicle. "Please tell whatever little remnants of your men you have left, to converge upon our target post-haste."

"If you want them to grab the girl on the bike... just say so in plain English!" The feral complained, but he did grab his phone, snapping of several sharp orders towards his men. He had to manage one hand though, since his mate's steering habits had him hold on with one hand.

Slab and Hairbag were in luck though, the motorcyclist took a turn too sharply and was unable to regain control of the bike. They were able to turn the crash into a sliding skid, tumbling and landing a few feet away. The wheels of the bike spun uselessly in the air. They had ended up in an enclosed courtyard, the only escape besides the entrance was a narrow alleyway. The Yugo skidded to a stop, blocking the road, while a few of Hairbag's henchmen hopped the fence over the alleyway, The motorcyclist was, effectively, trapped.

Hairbag grunted as he levered himself out of the Yugo. He could see Slab doing the same from the other side. "Now not so brave any more, girlie?" He snickered and looked over at his goons. "She is all yours."

Two guys rushed forward, trying to grab the motorcyclist's arms firmly. She might be able to drive well, but the two of them would surely be enough to overwhelm the slip of a girl.

The cyclist, who before had been stumbling and holding her arm as if she were hurt (for up close it was obvious that it was definitely a she) reacted lightning quick as the goons reached for her, a punch in the throat to one man and another sharp jab going up and in under another's ribcage, before either of them could recover she grabbed both by the hair and bashed their heads together. They dropped like two wet sacks of concrete.

In the stunned silence that followed they could hear the motorcyclist's neck crack as she rolled it, and then rolled out her shoulders, before settling into a relaxed fighting stance, not even bothering to remove her helmet. Then, most galling of all, she waved her fingers, the gesture a very clear:

"Come at me, bro."

Slab sneered. "You afraid of a girl, boys? Take her!"

Three of the other men advanced, and the fight was short and brutal. In the space of less than two minutes they also lay at her feet. The motorcyclist stumbled a bit, though. Still bruised from her crash.

Slab sighed, his enormous shoulders heaving. "Bloody hell, need something done, do it yourself," he smacked a fist into his palm.

"Ready?" he looked at his companion. Then he grinned, looking as feral as the man next to him. "I do so love the crunching of bones in the afternoon." He and Hairbag, along with the rest of Hairbag's companion's advanced. The Motorcyclist looked around her, and flexed her fingers.

A crimson blast from above broadsided both men with such force even the massive Slab found himself shoved back a few paces. The far lighter Hairbag simply flew into the nearest wall.

Being jumped on from above was probably not making Slab's day any better. Strong and durable he might have been, but having a man jump down from a fire escape and cling to his head certainly was disorienting, if nothing else. "Hey, dickface. I bet your eyes aren't invulnerable. Wanna find out?" Kyle had one leg wrapped around the man's neck, and a clawed hand splayed out over half Slab's face.

Slab snarled and reached for Kyle, his massive hand trying to grip the back of his uniform without any success, before finally just making a fist and swinging at the side of his head.

There were some advantages to being invulnerable.

The motorcyclist stood stock still, frozen in shock by the newest arrivals. Both tall, one rangey and blond, and the other, grey and unquestionably Australian. Though her attackers couldn't see it through the shield of her helmet, she smiled.

Unfortunately, the rest of Hairbag's men weren't quite so immobilized, and she barely dodged a jab, dropping into a low crouch and kicking the man's legs out from under him, jumping up and launching a spinning kick at another, taking him across the cheek, and letting the momentum of her body carry her into a third man, grabbing at the arm holding a weapon and wrenching it with an audible crunch.

Hairbag was looking at his men being cut down with furious glistering eyes. "If you want to do it right, you have to do it yourself." He grunted as the last of his men slumped to the ground. "Now we see how well you deal, girlie?" He cracked his knuckles and advanced, skillfully evading her jab and grabbing her around the waist, lifting her so he could throw her at her motorcycle.

It was improbable, what happened next, one minute he was holding her and the next... she slipped out of his grasp, using the momentum of his throw to flip over the back of his head. The gracefulness of this movement was belied by the landing, on which she stumbled mightily, hitting the ground and rolling a couple times. She shook her head to clear it, fingers going for the straps of her helmet, lifting it off her head as Hairbag's clawed fist came down and using it to bat his hand away, before throwing it at his face. It hit with a satisfying smack, breaking the feral's nose.

Quickly the girl scrabbled to her feet, fists at the ready. Now, Kyle and Marius could get a good look at her. Now Kyle and Marius could see with their own eyes what their other senses had told them. Her black hair was sweaty and road-grimmed, and her face was still littered with yellowing bruises. She raised a dark eyebrow above fiercely glinting blue eyes, while her lip twitched into a smirk.

Again Jennie Stavros raised a hand and beckoned her attacker. The look on her face did not bode well for his bodily well-being.

The gesture carried just the right amount of anger and arrogance to inflame the feral's attention, and was precisely why Hairbag literally never saw what hit him.

A mass with the approximate density and speed of a cannonball struck him in the side, hurling him to the ground. Hairbag twisted in to see an extremely white, extremely familiar set of teeth grinning down at him. Recognition lit the feral's eyes, and Marius' smile widened.

"G'day, mate.."

The feral roared, both from the pain in his face and the sense of recognition that spread through him. "YOU!!!" He gathered up all his energy and powered up from the ground with a loud "AAARRRGGG!!!!" Two feet landed squarely in the grey man's chest, sending him flying back a few feet. His feet hurt like hell, but he quickly levered himself up and stalked over. "You will learn your lesson this time."

Slab finally disentangled himself from the idiot clawing at him, throwing him at the nearest wall. He turned to where his companion was yelling and his eyes widened. He knew them, these three. Knew them quite well. At first they had been scared and angry children, and then... then they had been something else entirely. However, he remembered cowing them all into submission all those years ago, and this day was no different. Except that no one would come and save them today. He grinned at Kyle, showing far too many teeth.

"My turn," he cracked his knuckles.

Jennie moved to go to Marius's aid, but two of Hairbag's men still would not stay down. She sighed in exasperation, grabbing one man's wrist and twisting it, feeling bones snap under her hand before swinging her leg up and slamming her boot into the side of his head. As he fell she used his body as a jumping point, flipping over the first man and twisting her legs around the second man's neck, letting gravity swing her and the man to the ground, where she knocked him out with a vicious punch.

"Not even." Kyle'd hit the wall feet first, taking a inhuman step up the bricks and then flipping and landing in a crouch, fingers barely brushing the ground. Slab was invulnerable and someone had clearly trained the man at some point - the knuckle crack didn't precede a wild punch but flying elbow strike that should've caved his opponent's face in. It was just that Kyle was faster, and could do something Slab couldn't - drop, roll between the man's legs and ignore him utterly, using the momentum from the roll to enable a leap away from the large man.

Marius was already up and fighting, though the results were negligible. Fast as the feral was the X-Man couldn't lay a solid punch, but Hairbag's claws were equally unable to cut him. He made a mental note that, satisfying as a flashy entrance was, it might be advisable to hold something in reserve the next time he received one of Scott's one-shot donations.

The impasse was just beginning to become embarrassing when he saw Kyle spring towards them.

"Done with yours already?" Marius panted as Hairbag struck a glancing and ineffectual blow across his ear.

"Nope!" Kyle's cheerful answer was largely unnecessary, as Slab was already charging. "Trade off?" Again, largely unnecessary, and less cheerful, as he ducked under Slab's swinging fist.

"Very well, take me for granted . . ." Marius ducked beneath Hairbag and leapt for Slab. His altered legs managed to launch him onto the man's massive shoulders, effectively blinding him. Marius grabbed hold of Slab's skull with fingers that sharpened into gripping spikes and grinned down at the man.

"Hello there."

The switch left both with opponents more suited to the other. Try as Slab might, no matter what he did to the grey young man, it didn't phase him. Slab punched the grey boy in the head, hit and twisted, slammed him against a brick wall, even did a pile-driver on him for all that was good and holy, and yet the boy still refused to yeild. Slab hissed another invective and raised his fists again, only to be hit with a sudden wrenching pain. Pain that shot through him, from toes to brain and back again, centering on his back.

He hadn't felt pain in years, and he collapsed, sobbing like a small child.

Behind him, the girl in dusty black riding leathers lowered glowing red fingers, her eyes narrowed in disgust. One well-aimed bit of bad luck, and oopsie-daisy, there goes a herniated disk.

"RARRGH!!!" Hairbag growled as his opponent suddenly disappeared and was replaced by the other one... whom he also recognized. "Not you too!!!" He moved suddenly, rushing at him, hoping to pin the one with the blond hair to the ground.

Kyle grinned - all sharp teeth and unnerving delight at being remembered, and slipped under Hairbag's lunge, and drove an elbow up into the man's throat, and then then a fist into his gut. "Yes me." He spat, ducking under the ape-gorilla-man-thing's overly long arms. "You smell." A kick behind the knee, and then Kyle went straight up the man's back, and locked one arm around his throat. "Like a butt."

The sound of Hairbag hitting the ground a few seconds after, and Kyle kicking him in the side was entirely drowned out by the sound of Slab's groans of pain.




Decisions are made, in spite of protestations.




There was a beat as they all stared at one another, breathing still ragged from the fighting. Jennie's eyes flicked from Kyle to Marius, her expression unreadable.

"Hello, boys," she said at last.

Marius straightened, shaking off the changes to his hands. "Hey, Jen," he said brightly as he glanced up. "Cheers for the assist. Long time no assault large, hygienically-challenged men together."

"Scuse me, what the fuck." Kyle said, as he peeled his jacket off -the body armor was nice to have but now he was sweaty and too warm, even for November. "Definitely not Wolverine, Kyle. No, I'm not going to tell you who it is, Kyle, then I'm going to sass you when you tag me into fighting the giant man-monster, Kyle." He pointed a slightly bent finger at Marius "You still owe me for hauling your naked ass around a foreign country and you don't tell me what's going on? Hate you forever." Then he turned to Jennie. "Hi, what's new? You look good. Okay, well, you look bruised, but hi, what's new, why are you here?"

Jennie opened her mouth, then closed it, tilted her head and considered. Her eyes flicked from side to side as her thoughts raced. "What am I doing here? What are YOU?" she said, gesturing at them both. "Wait, no, nevermind, don't answer that. I already know," she put her hands to her head and sucked in a breath. Then she looked at them. "Okay you know how it is, rando foreign country, find out the dudes that may have once been responsible for kidnapping you and leading to a DNA swap between you and your best friends are like, here, decide to hang out for a couple of days to see if it's true and oh hey look they're smuggling mutants for the sex slave trade and yeah," she shrugged. "I just had to hurt them."

"It's a working vacation." Kyle said. "And yeah, I got that. Holy crap. Uh, little pent up aggression much? Yeah I know this is me talking. " He snapped the bent finger back into place, and then waved it around until the tingling from the healing dislocation went away. "Uh. So, uh, yeah, no, I got nothing. This is weird."

"Oh come now. This is Jen. Nothing is weird." Marius tilted his head. Despite his casual tone the wheels were turning. Now that the grappling had subsided he could see that the bruises on Jennie's face were old. She looked thin, too. Either she'd been neglecting meals or she'd been burning through her powers. Either way, it was suspect.

"I don't know about you," Marius said, not quite covert enough in his exchanged glance with Kyle, "but I can always do with a meal after fisticuffs. We can catch up, and you look as if you could use a good one. Perhaps also a bit of neosporin."

Jennie looked from the boys to the street, to the bike, and back again, edging away. "That would be fantastic, except I'm in a little bit of a hurry, overstayed my welcome and all," she tilted her head as the sirens grew closer. "See? Police? NEVER a good sign, so I'mma just gonna do us all a favor and skeedadle..." she turned to her bike, shutting the engine and trying to right it, only to see the damage the crash had done and firing off a whole host of swear words. There was no way this bike was road-worthy.

"God, DAMNIT," she put her hands to her eyes, trying to think. She needed to run. She needed to KEEP MOVING. But getting sidetracked as she had, had fucked it all up.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid," she hissed at herself.

"Uh." Kyle was still stuck at "Well this was a crazy random happenstance" He'd been used to those things, then Jennie went to England, and he got used to not having to be used to them. "Dude, we do still have connects here, and Cyke and Dustbunny are eta like five min, it's cool. There's no like overstaying welcome. I mean, at least lets get your face taken care of?"

"My face is fine," Jennie said automatically, keenly aware of the marks that still covered it, courtesy of the beating she'd received in Prague.

From the ground Slab made a pained noise and tried to move. Marius walked over, casually placed one foot on his spine, and leaned forward.

"Your face is lovely as always," Marius said as Slab made a gurgling noise. "It is the bruises with which we take issue. We, too, must skeedaddle. I see no compelling reason we should not skeedaddle together, eh?"

"So I had a bit of an... accident," Jennie said, trying to push the image of those horrible eyes out of her head, as well as the wave of revulsion that came along with it. "It's all good, don't worry about me. You're busy, I'm busy, we're all so busy..." her voice was taking on an edge of desperation.

"Uh-huh..." Kyle eyed the whimpering Slab, shrugged as the man went chalk white with pain and turned back to Jennie. "Your face looks like you went a round with the floor, and unless you're going to turn into a working bike, I don't think you're really too busy to get some first aid... " and food, and a hot shower, she smelled like she'd been in the same car chase they had, and Kyle knew his own need for a shower was pretty considerable.

"Agreed," said Marius, eyebrow arched. "Challenging though it may be, I'm sure we can all find time in our busy schedules. We can reminisce." He gave Slab's back a final push for emphasis.

"I'm FINE," Jennie said, voice rising sharply. She winced, it was more than obvious she was not fine. But what else was she to do? "I can't stay here," she said, much more quietly, her pale skin making the bruising even more livid.

"My ass you're fine, and sure, you can't stay here but you can't not go with us either!" Kyle growled. "You're bruised, you -smell- hurt, and you look like you need four days of sleep. Jesus fuck, Jennie, at least let us get you an ice pack and dinner."

"Give us a bit of credit, Jen."

At some point during the exchange Marius had left Slab's side. Now, quite suddenly, he much closer than Jennie had thought. His voice was uncharacteristically quiet. He stopped a few paces away and looked at her, yellow eyes serious.

"The details of your life are, as always, yours to share or withhold as you please," he continued. "On that I believe we can agree. However, let us avoid the baldfaced lies, if we could."

Jennie looked from Marius to Kyle, and two pairs of familiar eyes stared back at her. Her mind was screaming at her that she needed to leave, immediately, forget the bike, no matter how much that was going to hurt her to leave it, and just get the fuck out of there and away from Marius and Kyle before something horrible happened. But her body was so, so tired. She was tired and she hurt all over and she just wanted to stop, to fling herself at her old friends and cry and let everything all go.

But she still remembered what happened that night, when everything changed, and her hands tightened on the handlebars of the bike, knuckles white. Be strong, Jennie. "I-I don't think that's a good idea," she shook her head.

Scott wasn't quite sure what to expect when he arrived at the scene, he trusted Kyle and Marius to have the situation in hand but Scott had learned it was always good to plan for every eventuality so he rounded the corner with an energy blast ready to release. What he found was Slab incapacitated on the ground, which he had expected, and Jennie Stavros standing in front of him looking considerably worse for wear, which he hadn't. He let the energy drain out of his eyes and nodded at Kyle and Marius, "So apparently you didn't need my help after all, looks like someone else got there first."

He turned to look at Jennie, noticing the bruises and her generally bedraggled state. "Roulette, I didn't expect to see you here," the X-men's leader stopped as he heard the sirens closing on them. "Perhaps this isn't the best place to be having this discussion, come on, the Blackbird's this way."

Jennie opened her mouth to protest, but then snapped it shut. All the fight drained out of her at the sight of her old C.O. and the sound of her old codename. She felt tired all of the sudden, tired and worn clean through.

I'm sorry John, guess you were wrong about me. I really am that weak.

"Okay," Jennie said softly. Then she cleared her throat and straightened up. "But the bike comes with us."