Patent Pending – In the Path of Crossfire

[x-otoxic.livejournal.com]

While on her way to help Matt, Jean is attacked by an assassin. Warren intervenes nearly too late.


Jean was distracted as she left the Claremont Mental Center. When she received the text from Warren she had wanted to ignore it at first. But then he mentioned Matt was badly injured, and that had gotten her attention. Not one to let an argument get in the way of taking care of someone in need, Jean made her way toward the place Warren had specified they meet. She found it odd that she couldn't just take a taxi to where he had specified, but that was a question for getting there. If it was something that he couldn't go to the mansion for, she had a feeling there was a lot more to this than she knew.

Taking hurried steps, Jean had swapped her usual work-attire for something a little more comfortable in a pair of sneakers. She carried a makeshift medkit with her, one hastily put together with what she might anticipate needing. Warren hadn't been very descriptive.

The brightly lit streets, office buildings, and trendy boutiques quickly morphed into buildings with faded and/or rusted For Sale signs and streets lined with grime and trash. The night had settled in for the long haul and clouds covered the moon, making the only light coming from the murky orange streetlamps overhead.

"Pardon me," she murmured to herself as she saw a rat scurry past her and duck into the shadows.

The rat wasn't the only thing hiding in the shadows as the redhead made her way down the street. He was completely silent - undetectable to an ordinary human, as he followed Dr. Grey's progress down the street, waiting for the chance to strike.

It was a good thing Jean Grey was not an ordinary human. As she walked, she became aware of a presence shadowing her. Generally people flitted in and out of her mind's eye, staying with her for a few moments until it faded away when the reached their intended destination. But this one lingered, moving when she moved, stopping when she stopped, always equidistant from her location. Yet she couldn't hear their footsteps.

Keeping her attention directed in front of her, Jean reached into her pocket to grab her cellphone. Her instincts were telling her to run, but she knew whoever it was would give chase. With Warren close by, he was easiest person to reach. She wasn't sure who she was dealing with yet.

He zeroed in on the movement of her hand, seeing through the fabric of her jeans - her hand wrapping her cell phone, preparing to dial.

Crossfire struck.

Before Jean could react he dove out of the shadows, grabbing her arm and forcibly yanking it from her pocket, slamming her back against a nearby wall -- all silently and wordlessly. He could have killed her right then and there with a flick of his other hand...

And that was exactly what he was going to do.

He reached out to clasp her throat, to break her neck--

But he was suddenly launched backward with a telekinetic blast as Jean fought to catch her breath.

"If you're wanting to rob someone you picked the wrong person," she said. She noticed the man's eye, however, and had a feeling that wasn't his goal.

She was right about that. Crossfire pulled himself up with a growl, shaking off the blast easily as he dashed forward with a speed that should've been impossible given his size. He grabbed her by the throat and threw her right through a nearby window.

More than a little surprised by how quick the man moved, Jean was able to throw up a telekinetic shield at the last moment that barely kept her from being completely cut up all to hell. She bounced off the ground with heavy thud, skidding a couple more feet before slamming against a rusted garment making machine nearby.

The building had been abandoned some time ago. The only light came from the moonlight that streamed in from a dust-caked skylight and the new hole in the window.

Laying there on the ground, staring up at the dull light from the skylight, dazed, Jean sucked in a breath.

He's trying to kill you. Get up. Get up now!

She cast a look toward the window, knowing her assailant wouldn't be far behind as she rolled over and bit back a cry of pain as her body made it's protest.

Shit, shit, shit, shit was all Warren could think. Matt and Miles were injured. The thief got away, and now Jean was being attacked? Would this night ever end?

When he texted Jean, he was simply going to wait for her and fly her to Matt's but he couldn't stay in one spot. The adrenaline was making it almost impossible for him to stop moving.

Wagering that he wouldn't stand out, he hopped rooftops, gliding as necessary to find her. What he saw was unbelievable,and instead of jumping down right away, he found himself freezing in place. Jean....

It wasn't until she was under the skylight that he felt his shock wear off. Taking a deep breath, he jumped through, his arms shielding his face, his wings stretched out to break his fall. Landing, he glared at the assailant, putting his body between Jean and this.....thing.

"Who are you? What do you want?"

Really, that was a stupid question. Only amateurs revealed their identities and wasn't what he wanted obvious?

Rather then bothering to grace the winged man's ridiculous question with words, Crossfire struck again. If Warren wanted to act as a human shield then he would take a beating as one.

Keeping Jean in mind, Warren leapt backwards, again trying to give Jean enough time to move and get out of the way. For the millionth time that night, he wished he had more combat worthy powers. Instead, he fluttered his wings in front of him, hoping to disturb the dust in the abandoned factory so that it could give Jean just the amount of time she needed to get up.

When the skylight shattered above her, Jean initially thought there was a second attacker and wondered who'd she'd pissed off to warrant her own personal assassins. Luckily she saw the flash of white wings and didn't act on this concern by psi-blasting the new person. While was wearing a mask, it was easy to guess who it was. Winged men weren't exactly commonplace.

A string of rusted chains that had been piled in the corner wrapped around Crossfire's legs and attempted to yank him down as Jean, bracing herself against the textile machine, staggered to her feet.

"You don't like those questions? How about this one: why are you trying to kill me? Come on...if I'm a dead woman, why not indulge me?"

Crossfire growled as the chains pulled him down. He grabbed them, the sound of metal splitting apart echoed as he broke the chains with his bare hands. Minor inconvenience taken care of he was up and moving again, slamming the entire weight of his large body into Warren's and driving him back against a wall. "If you walk away now you can live," he informed the man in a low, gravely voice. His mission was only to kill Jean Grey. The other man was of no interest.

But if he insisted on getting in the way then he would die.

At least the voice wasn't familiar, Warren thought...but then that raised a whole other lot of questions. Who was this stranger, and why would he want to hurt Jean, of all people? This wasn't a random attack, it was clearly pre-meditated.

Struggling against the other man, Warren put a leg behind his attacker's, and wrenched it towards him, knocking him off balance so that he could get his way out, throwing a punch at the man's back as he freed himself. He was not above fighting dirty. His friend was hurt, Jean was attacked, and now this? No. Not today. "I will walk away," he growled, his fists clenched. "You won't be so lucky." A well-aimed punch to the head served to get Warren back to Jean's side.

Scooping her in his arms, he spread his wings out fully and flapped to get off the ground. Not for the first time, he wished he could launch himself up without any preamble. True, his wings were powerful enough that he could fly from standing but it still took time.

Too much time. Crossfire recovered faster than Warren could take off, diving at the man and tackling him with the full force of his heavy bulk. For a moment they were a tangle of bodies on the floor, but Crossfire managed to rip Warren away from Jean, wrapping a hand around his throat, intent on crushing it--

For the second time that day, Jean found herself bouncing off a concrete floor like a discarded ball before landing a couple of yards away. She landed feet first, the force of the impact twisting her ankle to the point where she wasn't sure if she cracked it or not. Trembling slightly from pain and a healthy dose of fear, Jean pulled herself up, brushing hair out of her eyes as she witnessed Crossfire and Warren in the distance.

If someone cared enough to pay a cybernetic assassin to kill, they probably weren't going to call this a loss and let them go. And he'd take care of anyone who stood in their way, such as Warren, people at the mansion, or even her own family.

Narrowing her eyes, Jean locked onto the man's mind, the air around her slightly simmering as a blast of psionic energy shot out, designed to overwhelm the man's senses and neurological functions.

It was something she'd never really used that much in combat, and as a result, she hit her knees, trying not to throw up as her head pounded from the effort.

The fingers around Warren's throat loosened as Crossfire crumpled to the ground, his entire mind momentarily shutting down. For a moment he just lay on the ground, twitching a bit and drooling, and there was a distinctly awful smell as his bowels released.

Nervous system compromised. Escape.

And then the implant kicked in, taking over all processes. Almost like a robot he pushed himself up, and before Jean or Warren could stop him he was running out of the warehouse at top speed, too fast for either to stop even if they hadn't been indisposed themselves.

Landing hard on his back, it took more than a few seconds before Warren could breathe again. Gasping for air, he rolled over to his side, and lifted himself up on his left hand and knees while his right hand massaged tenderly at his neck.

Barely managing to get to his feet, he unfurled his wings and flapped them a few times. Sore, but thank god nothing seemed broken. "Are you alright? What the hell was that all about?" He grimaced. "I don't think tonight is ever going to end..."

Jean stared at the place where Crossfire had run away to, sitting in an awkward position to keep pressure off her leg. She was silent for a couple of moments, distractedly thoughtful before finally speaking.

"I was able to read his mind, before I wiped it..." she said, slowly glancing back to him with a disquieted frown.

"Biotech....someone from there found out I stole the specs on the tech they were working on. They thought I was a threat....so they sent him to kill me."

She laughed humorlessly at the thought, because anything else would mean giving in to her mind swirling with scenarios. Closing her eyes, she covered her face and tried not to groan.

"We should get to Matt."

"Wait, what?" Warren whipped off his mask, and tried to think of something to say. Biotech? One of his own subsidiaries tried to kill Jean? There were so many questions, but there was nothing he could say right now.

Matt needed them.

Warren shook his head tiredly. This evening had opened a can of worms that would take months to close. He could feel it. "Come here. Let's try this flying thing again." He put his mask back on, and a few moments later, exhausted as he was, they were up in the sky.