X-Men Mission: Riding the Night Mare: Overboard

[x-dust.livejournal.com]

Faced with the mobs, one X-man goes too far...

Things weren't looking good, Tildie and Clarice may have managed to escape the area, but the rest of the team still had to make their way out of the rubble left by Tildie's rampage. Only now in addition to the detritus they had a slowly gathering mob who didn't look very happy at all. The mob's angry murmur wasn't loud enough to disrupt the sound of the communicators buzzing and Scott's voice echoed out of the X-men's head pieces,

"This crowd is starting to look really ugly," he warned the team, "Stay on your toes and start pulling back slowly. We don't want to engage them now if we don't have to, the girl is safe and out of the area now so we just need to extract. Let me know if you spot anything unusual but beyond that no threatening actions. We just need to stay calm, collected and in control of the situation."

A disproportionate part of the crowd's ugliness was being directed at Kurt. With Clarice gone he was by far the most visible mutant on the scene. The bystanders weren't close, not yet, but snatches of comments still made their way to the team. Here and there a cellphone screen glowed; people were recording.

A little off to the side a man hung back from the rest of the crowd. He'd been one of the first to arrive, and his attention had been on the teleporter for some time now. His hand had moved beneath his jacket twice, but fallen again both times. Now, finally, he made his decision.

In the dim light of the streetlamps there was the telltale movement of something being withdrawn from a waistband and brought level.

Kurt had been well aware of the man almost as soon as he noticed he was being closely watched, and while he had glanced away from time to time to check on the general situation, had been watching him back. The movement and the sound of metal on cloth caught his attention instantly, and he teleported to be out of any possible firing line - meaning to behind the man with the intent of quickly disarming him.

He never got the chance. A split-second before Kurt could perform the maneuver there was a sound like a heavy branch snapping. The would-be shooter's forearm bent at an appalling right angle as fingers and gun were crushed together with a bloody crunch. Shrieking, he stumbled backwards into his intended victim, clutching at the horrifically contorted limb.

As Kurt suddenly found himself supporting his would-be attacker Haller padded up to the two men. His face was absolutely impassive.

To a telepath, pain was like the mental version of an alarm blaring inside your head. It was a sharp feeling, jagged, intense, and enveloping. But that kind of description was dependent on the situation. Being hit in the head with a baseball or getting stabbed were all different, despite the root sensation.  There were many subtle levels.

As it stood, the current level for this kind of pain was Def Con 1, and it got Jean's attention from all the way across the street where she had been making her way back toward the group.

She turned at the moment of the break, just in time to see the man's arm snap like kindling. Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open in utter shock, stunned into silence, her words swallowed by a gasp.

The crowd around them were a bit more vocal, however, and people began to go wild. A few people screamed, joining the man's shrieks like a weird, chaotic chorus. Most lurched back, as if physically struck by the force of Legion's actions. Once they had gotten over the initial reaction, some tried to run. But this proved to be a bad idea as a couple of people fell down and were trampled, knocking over police barricades.

Others got a little more brave. One man picked up a rock, hurling it at Kurt.

"GO HOME, FUCKING MUTIE FREAK!"

The rock was poorly aimed, and even with his would-be attacker half collapsed against him, Kurt was able to deflect it.

"Legion, stand down!" he said sharply.

The dozen or so who'd been brave or enraged enough to stay nearby cried out as if someone had hit them in the back of the knees with a baseball bat. They buckled, and  found when they tried to rise or lift their arms something like an invisible hand was pressing down on their shoulders. Pinning them.

Haller walked towards the helpless outliers with unhurried steps. He gave no indication that he'd heard Kurt's order. If he had, there was no sign that he cared.

"We were leaving," Haller told the immobilized men in a voice eerily free of inflection. He turned his attention to the one who'd hurled the rock at Kurt. The man's right arm jerked upright, then twisted behind his back in a vicious joint-lock. He cried out, helpless against the telekinetic.

The X-Man stared down at him with empty blue eyes.

"We'd already be gone if you hadn't decided to attack us," Haller observed.

"Enough!" Scott's voice didn't raise his voice but the ice cold fury in his tone cut across the battlefield attracting the attention of everyone in the vicinity. "Let them go Legion, this is not what we do. We don't torture people like that, ever. That might be what Magneto does, but it's not what the Professor trained us to do and is really not helping the situation. Let them go and then head back to the Blackbird. It's time for us to go home," his gave swept over the imobalized men, "For all of us to go home."

"Cyclops", Kurt said, voice low and urgent.  "Look at his face.  Look at his eyes.  This is not Jack - Legion, please stand down."

At last Haller addressed his teammates. "What would have happened if these people attacked someone without our power or training?" he asked, his attention still on his whimpering captive.

Outside of his field of control a woman was sobbing hysterically, trying to wrest herself out of the grip of another bystander to get to one of the fallen men. Haller's eyes flicked to the side, and a line of fire erupted across the lawn in front of her. She recoiled with a scream.

"I'll do my job," Haller continued, watching the white-faced man at his feet, "but I won't let them hurt us. And if they ever meet another mutant, I want them to consider their next course of action very carefully."

The man's arm began to twist again.

"I'm sure they will,  next time they won't hesitate to attack all out since they know they're not going to get any quarter from us," Scott responded in a flat voice as he watched Haller twist the man's arm even further.  "He's not a threat  to anyone anymore, anything else you do isn't to protect us,  it's just because you want to; and that's exactly what they were scared you'd do. It's torture Legion,  and I'm not going to let it happen.  We're not going to give them what they want cause we're better than that. I'm not going to ask again, let him go."

The telekinetic did not respond. He simply stood in silence, his body silhouetted by the ebbing flames.

Kurt had already eased his attacker gently to the ground, and Scott didn't need to speak the next order aloud.  He teleported forward before Legion could react, taking no chances, and the next moment both men were gone.

Scott put Haller out of his mind. He trusted Kurt to deal with the situation and they had bigger issues. Without the threat of Haller to hold them back the crowd had started to surge forward again, shocked and angry at their treatment.  "Marvel Girl, we need you to handle the crowd,  we can't safely extract with them on us like this."

Jean stared at the first man's mangled arm, which inconveniently came back into view once Haller and Kurt had teleported away. The crowd roared in her ears, and in her mind, pushing in on her, a mixture of hatred, and fear, and pain, and vengeance.

When Scott first spoke her name she was distracted, and only when he finished his order did she flinch, blinking at him in bewilderment.

"What?" she said, shaking her head as she watched the sea of humanity threaten to topple over. Any moment they'd start to trample one another, to fight...one false step and someone could die.

"I don't--I don't know if I can," she stuttered. There were so many. She'd never used her telepathy on that many people before. Not even with Quentin at the school. Not with this much volatility.

Not to mention the idea of taking over that many people's minds seriously unnerved her. What if something went wrong?

"You can do it," Scott assured her softly. "I have faith in you. You don't need to control the entire crowd, just do your best with them. None of us can ask you for anything more than that."

The moment of silence, of hesitation, that came from Jean afterward felt like an eternity to her as she met Scott's eyes. She still wasn't comfortable with the idea, but what choice did they have?

Her lips felt dry as she let out a shaky breath and gave him a nod. "Okay," she said faintly.

Closing her eyes, Jean turned her focus inward, using the skills she'd learned from Charles to find a center, like a tree planting roots to brace herself against the ongoing storm. She visualized the network of minds before her as if they were thunderclouds and began to gently infuse them with a warm, stable calm. Since there were so many, it was difficult at first, because thunderclouds had lightning and the ozone-like emotions crackled at her interference, threatening to strike.

But with enough persistence, a few of the thunderclouds began to gradually turn a lighter grey, enough to make some of the others turn simply due to their proximity. The sky around them lightened considerably as well. Though it was not blue, the storm had passed enough to no longer be a threat.

Jean's eyes opened, just as the crowd was starting to disperse. The mood shift was noticable, with many people's anger and rage having dulled to a weary, yet manageable calm. Glancing around, Jean let out another sigh, this time with relief, and tried to ignore the migraine that was creeping up on her. By the way the prism of rainbows were dancing across her vision and a sharp pain was starting to rise up in the back of her skill it was not going to be pleasant.

But there was still work to be done.

The man Haller had disfigured was still needing attention, and Jean headed over with her kit. A warm drop of rain hit her on the chin and she glanced up, but noticed the sky was clear. Reaching up to brush the raindrop away, she noticed the blood on her fingers. She shook her head, suddenly realizing she had a nosebleed.

"I need to care of him until the EMTs arrive and then I'll be on the jet," she said, ignoring the blood to focus on the matter at hand. If his arm wasn't stabilized there was a chance he could lose it--if he hadn't already. Luckily the rest of the crowd hadn't sustained any other serious injuries.

The man didn't seem too keen to want to accept the help, but one look from Jean's eyes changed his mind. Beads of sweat were starting to appear on her forehead, despite the cold.

"Marvel..." Scott began before his voice trailed off and he nodded. There wasn't much else he could say, Jean had done exactly what he had asked her to do and had more than proved she was able to take care of herself. "Be careful, even with the crowd dispersing we can't stay here much longer. I don't want to get tangled in with the police or press when they arrive."

When it was clear it wasn't going to stop, Jean finally wiped the blood away so it wouldn't drip everywhere, taking the time to shove some gauze up her nose so she could work before gathering up some materials to stabilize the man's arm.

"I'll be careful," she said, a reserved look in her eyes as she got a good look at the full extent of the damage Haller had done. She had always had a good game face when working with patients, especially the ones who were faced with a potentially life-threatening, and certainly life-changing injury. Any betrayal of the severity of the situation tended to make them very upset.

By now the crowd was all but gone, save for a few stragglers who stumbled around in a shock-induced daze at what had just happened. The sound of more sirens echoed over the horizon as the second round of reinforcements made their way toward the scene, but were barely heard over the moans and cries of the victim as he writhed in agony on the ground.  It was as if the world had stopped after the chaos of the moments before.

It wouldn't be too long before it started up again.