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xp_logsThe body of the mission to Austin to neutralize the MLF forces holding hostages at a radio station, including the daughter of the Secretary of Defense.
Cyclops nodded gratefully as the officer handed him the telephone. "Wildside? Slight change of plans."
"Who is this?" The voice on the other end of the line was suspicious and laced with panic.
"Cyclops."
"Race traitor," the voice hissed.
"Now, now, that's no way to talk to someone who's trying to get you out of this alive, is it?" Cyclops leaned against the small counterspace left by the officers in the trailer. "Let's talk."
"What is there to talk about? You're a sellout."
"What is it you want, Wildside?" Cyclops' patience wasn't infinite. He nodded at Nightcrawler, giving him the green light to begin this first portion of the mission.
Nightcrawler, who had dropped the hood of his concealing black cloak upon entering the trailer to better hear the conversation Scott was holding with Wildside, tugged it back up and slipped out the door. After the years in the Texan's freakshow, he didn't want an audience, not from these people. It wasn't fear, he told himself, it was just more comfortable to be anonymous in this place.
Tail tucked up and hands gloved, face concealed, he made his way through the police line and eyed the street and front lawn that made up the no-man's land. He couldn't see any of the five bodies moving, but he thought he could hear the whisper of breath from a police office who had been shot trying to pull a fallen comrade to safety. -Madness,- he mourned, then moved himself to cover the two men with the dark pool of his cloak.
He was nothing more than a shadow in the hot Austin sun, there and gone again. Only twin pools of blood remained where he'd been and shocked police and paramedics shook off their surprise to swarm around him, taking his burdens. Next was another officer, this one had gotten as close as the sidewalk, one of the first on the scene. Ignorant of the real danger, he'd gotten out of the driver's side of the empty patrol car at the curb and started walking, only to be dropped in his tracks by a hail of bullets. When the paramedics turned him over back behind the line of safety, ants had already begun to creep over his face.
The last jump was right at the front door, and there was no chance of survivors here. A man in a security uniform and a woman in a flowered dress lay crushed and broken open from a fall from the roof. Hostages dead already. Kurt lifted them both swiftly and took them away.
When Wildside had hissed cruel and unreasonable demands long enough, and once Cyclops could see that Nightcrawler had returned, he handed the phone back to the officer who'd given it to him. "Keep him talking as long as you can," he suggested, then motioned to the team as he walked out the door of the trailer.
"Storm, Rogue, Angel, you're on the roof and coming down. Storm, you lead." He looked at the remaining team members. "Beast, Nightcrawler, Phase, you're with me." He saved one last glance for Shinobi. "Phase, you know what we talked about on the jet. Stick to it, okay?"
Cyclops reached out, nodding at Beast and Phase to do the same, and the three men grasped Nightcrawler's shoulders. Leaving behind the scent of brimstone, they flashed out of existence, popping back into sight just outside the front doors of the station. Using the passcodes from the security company - it was so much easier to work like this than having to break in - Cyclops opened the doors for them to slip in.
Teleportation is very handy.. if disorienting. Taking only long enough to regain his bearings after the teleport, Shinobi - no, he's Phase right now - stuck to the plan. Making sure his limbs were well clear of his allies', he went intangible, sticking close to Cyclops and doing his best to watch everything at once.
Despite the slightly humorous bent to the monologue running in his head, Phase was all business on the outside, a grimly attentive set to his features. "I wonder if they heard you come in," he quietly asided to Cyclops, briefly glancing up at the older man before returning his attention to the task at hand.
"I am not sure they did," Nightcrawler said, tossing back the hood of his cloak and flashing Phase a jagged white smile. "I will go first to cover the foyer." With that he was gone in a dizzying series of bamfs and leaps, covering the distance to the far wall in seconds. He stopped, crouched on the security guard's desk, his cloak swirling around him like something out of a movie. Ears pricked, he looked about and nodded to Cyclops.
"I believe we are clear." He looked down behind him and sighed. "More dead. A guard."
Cyclops nodded to Phase and Beast, signaling that the three of them should move forward together. They approached the guard station and Cyclops looked down at the body. "We'll come back for him," he murmured, then scanned the hall, trying to determine where the trail of bodies and destruction lead.
"This way," he said, turning left and heading down the corridor behind the desk. As they walked down the hall, they began to hear shouting, muffled by the walls. The hostages and the mutants calling themselves the Mutant Liberation Front, obviously, were somewhere nearby. Cyclops' pace slowed.
It was difficult for Phase to keep his attention away from Nightcrawler's dazzling display as he bamfed about to check out the room, but the training sessions in the Danger Room over the last two weeks had helped - it was still an impressive sight to behold, but not nearly as attention-grabbing as it used to be. He kept pace just behind and to Cyclops' right, absently tugging his own collar straight as he gave the fallen guard a short, mournful look, before moving on without reluctance at the lead's decision.
His eyes narrowed as the shouting became audible, trying to sort out the voices and figure out how many people were inside, but the walls were throwing him off. He gave Nightcrawler a look as he came to a halt, frowning to himself as his attention moved back to the shouting.
"If there's anything I can do, say the word," he murmured to the pair, not wanting his words to be heard by the hostage-takers.
"They know we're here." Cyclops tried to judge the capacity of the room -- a cafeteria -- and decide how many people were inside based on the number of voices and the size of the radio station.
He turned to look at Phase. "Can you take a peek inside and get me the hostage-to-terrorist ratio in there without putting yourself at risk?" It was clear from the expression on his face, Cyclops didn't like this idea, but he trusted that Phase would answer honestly.
If he didn't, it could get all of them killed.
"I can only go intangible, not invisible," Phase replied with a mildly frustrated frown, raking a gloved hand back through his hair as he tried to think. "If I knew where people were, it would be another story, but I don't want to poke my head in through a wall or the floor where someone could see me."
Cyclops frowned, then looked toward the stairs at the end of the hall and back to Phase. It was too far. Dammit. He looked up at the ceiling. Suspended celotex tiles. Perfect. "What about poking your head in through the ceiling?"
With a faint quirk of an eyebrow, Phase tilted his head back to follow Cyclops' gaze, and allowed himself a slow, lopsided grin. "That, I could do."
Cyclops nodded. "Good. I'll give you a boost and you can climb up there. There might even be a grating to see through, depending on what kind of air flow system this building has." He knelt, holding out his hands, fingers laced together, then nodded to Beast, who stepped forward to offer his shoulder for Phase to balance himself on.
"Come back as quickly as you can," Cyclops ordered. "And don't draw attention to yourself."
"Quiet as a ghost," Phase confirmed, accepting the boost offered by the pair. A moment spent eyeing the ceiling, and then, he lifted himself up - and through it.
The quarters were cramped, but that wasn't exactly a problem for him, and he smoothly made his way along as quietly as possible, which, thanks to his intangibility, was pretty much silent. The cafeteria was far from silent, however, the shouting growing louder as he approached.
There was grating, but not in a very convenient location for scouting, and he frowned to himself as he quickly considered his options. Settling his face against the ground - or ceiling, rather - beneath him, he drew in a deep breath before letting his eyes and nose pass through to get a look into the room, ready to pull back the second someone so much as breathed in his direction.
Nightcrawler watched them go and then took a look around. The console on the security guard's desk provided an interesting display. The elevators had been disabled, that was marked in red. The doors to the building were locked and would only respond to a passcode or keycard for entry. The sprinkler system was still enabled. The telephones were silenced and the computer system, from what he could determine, was offline.
The lobby was eerily quiet except for Cyclops' light footfalls as he moved to look down a short hall leading past the elevators. There were spilled cups of coffee and scattered newspapers all over. Here and there, a briefcase or purse had been abandoned. There was blood spattered generously on the polished concrete and over by a fern, a single woman's shoe; all marks of an invasion as swift and ruthless as a hurricane.
Beast loped over to look behind the desk and shook his head sadly at the crumpled body there. "The most expedient path to justice is not paved with the tombstones of the innocent, no matter what most people seem to think," he rumbled softly.
"No, but it is an easy road to walk for some," Nightcrawler noted. "And that is all that seems to matter."
Taking only long enough to count heads - twice - Phase retreated as silently as he'd came, until finally dropping down out of the ceiling at Nightcrawler's side. He took a quick look around to regain his bearings, straightening back up before focusing on Cyclops.
"I counted fifty-three hostages, that I could see," he reports, thumbing back over his shoulder in the cafeteria's direction. "At least seven of them wounded. Five MLF watching them. One at either side of the doors we'd be going in through from here, the others at.." He squinted for a moment, recalling the image of the cafeteria to mind. "...ten, eleven, and three o'clock, though ten and three were pacing."
Cyclops nodded and stared at the doors. "Beast, when we go in, you go high. Take out their man at eleven o'clock as quickly as you can. I'll get the ones at ten and three. Nightcrawler, you take the two at the door." He looked at the men around him and reached for his visor, ready to blow the door. "We're going to get these folks out of there as fast as we can, as safely as we can. Ready?"
----
"Got it," Angel responded. He could feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins, as it always did during missions like this one. Licking his lips, he mentally prepared himself for action. He turned his gaze to Storm, awaiting her signal.
Storm set her face into a firm look of concentration and pushed her awareness of the surrounding area out, picking up the slight breeze and wrapping it around herself. She nodded once, briefly to Angel, and then to Rogue, and pushed the winds down, letting them lift her up towards the roof.
Rogue stepped aside, out of the gust of Storm's takeoff and lifted off as well, as fast as thinking about it. Matching her speed to that of the others, she arrived at the roof at the same time as they did, landing lightly on the edge and scanning for anyone hidden there. It was the typical array of ventilation shafts with a few electrical boxes and the broadcasting antennae to increase the clutter. The station's large sign mounted on the front edge of the roof obscured them, mostly, from any cameras across the street. The buildings to either side and behind were evacuated and off-limits to any but the law enforcement staff on the scene.
"I think we're alone," she said, just loud enough to carry. "And we have the pass-code for the door from the security company via the police. How distressingly civilized."
"Wolverine is rubbing off on you, Rogue." Storm said, just a -hint- of amusement in her voice, while unlocking the door. "Quiet and discreet, until we're engaged. If we can get the drop on the MLF and minimize contact, all the better." She said, just before easing the door open slowly.
Rogue's smile was mischevious as she got ready to precede Storm and Angel down the narrow stairs. "I've been trying to train him not to do that, but you know how he is," she murmured.
When the door was open, Rogue slipped through and into the stairwell. The space was too tight for Angel's wings to open inside and Storm's winds would raise suspicions immediately so she got the fun of going ahead. She ghosted downward, keeping to the walls where they met the stairs overhead, and checked each windowed door on each floor. At the third floor, there the outline of a man's shoulder against the glass where he stood with his back against the door, and she shot back up the stairs in a flash.
"We're fine until the third floor," she reported. "One person there that I could see and the door swings into the stairwell."
Storm nodded. "Good. Do we have an ID on the person on the third floor? Any known powers?" She mentally went over what little they knew about the MLF, gave a resigned look to the others, and entered the building, taking measured silent steps. The interior was filtered, temperate air - not the most ideal conditions for her abilities, but nothing Storm couldn't work with, and in this case, the building's cooling system worked for her, helping to mask the sound of gathering air pressure.
The stairwell was too narrow for Angel to fly, so he folded his wings back as best he could and snuck down, following Rogue and Storm. He was naturally light on his feet, and his steps barely registered a sound. When they got to the third floor, they saw that the man still had his back to the door. He glanced at Rogue and Storm. "Ready?" he mouthed. At their nods, he swung open the door with sudden force.
"If they're not suspicious now, they will be in minutes," Storm said, as Cyclops, Phase, and Nightcrawler came loping up the last flight of stairs. Three members of the MLF were secured to the stair railings, mouths taped shut, some in worse shape than others, all still very unconscious.
"Then we'd better get there about now, then," Cyclops said with a twist of a smile. "What's our best approach?"
"This way," Storm said, gesturing for them to follow her down the hall that ran parallel to the one where the studio was located. "It's a good thing these new office buildings use flimsy materials." She led them to a small supply closet where Angel was tossing pieces of wallboard out into the hall.
"Xavier's Renovations at your service," the winged man said dryly. "Why does this job always involve manual labour?"
"The forces of good are always do-it-yourselfers?" Phase suggested helpfully, following Cyclops and Storm through the closet door and then the hole in the back to a conference room beyond.
"It's not exactly Narnia but it worked," Rogue whispered as they came through. She'd been the one to easily dismantle the wall and move on into the empty room to scout the hall beyond.
"It was a good idea," Storm said in a low voice. "Most of us don't think first of going right /through/ walls." She cast a glance over at Phase and Nightcrawler and then at Rogue. "Present company excepted."
Nightcrawler had slipped up to the closed door and the windows of the conference room and was peering out through the blinds to get a look at the hall. His ears pricked suddenly at raised voices coming from the studio. "I believe they are suspicious now," he reported. "Our minutes are up."
Cyclops held up his hand, signalling all of them to complete silence. They could all hear the voices a moment later as two people left the studio and headed for the stairs.
"Woman and a man," Nightcrawler murmured, once they had passed. "Dragoness and Reaper, if our files and the hostages' descriptions are accurate."
"Twenty seconds until they're at the stairs," Angel said, counting in his head.
"Nightcrawler, Phase, Rogue - go." Cyclops ordered. "Storm, Angel, let's go interupt the broadcast."
Phase startled at the sound of his name, realizing that he was being sent into a fight, but he reached for Nightcrawler's shoulder almost automatically.
Rogue looked over and caught Phase's eye, giving her roommate a grin. "I'll take the dragon-lady," she said, grabbing Nightcrawler's other shoulder. "Go."
-----
Storm used her winds to pull the studio doors open, and Angel and Cyclops stepped inside. Forearm rushed them, raising all four of his guns, and Cyclops blew him back through the far wall and into the bathroom beyond with an unholy crash.
In the confusion, one of the hostages, who'd later identify himself as a former Army chaplain, grabbed a stool and slammed it into the back of Wildside's head. He pitched forward and Cyclops took the opportunity to blow the glass wall separating the two sections of the studio in one controlled burst.
The hostage paid for his daring, though, with an assault that rocked his head back and dropped him to the floor, bleeding. Cyclops took the time to hope the older man would survive this, then ducked as Forearm burst back through the wall.
Angel kept the big man busy, dodging bullets and fists, while throwing a few punches of his own. The air was full of steel and feathers as they danced in the limited space, Angel keeping barely a step ahead of Forearm's reflexes, distracting him with thrown furniture and anything else he could lift. Cyclops blasted Wildside through a plate-glass window above the street and Storm called up a stream of air to pull him back in just before he began to fall.
The room around them began to change.
They'd been in a studio, all chrome and electronics and soundproofing. Now, though, the room seemed larger and there were more places for Wildside to hide. Angel wasn't there anymore and neither was Forearm. Was Wildside friend or foe? Scott tried to remember. He looked at Storm and instinctively knew that she was on his side.
Wildside's claws seemed familiar and he thought maybe Wildside was someone he'd want at his back, until those claws sliced open his cheek. That wasn't how it was supposed to work. This wasn't right. Years of training let him wrestle for control of his mind and the room shimmered and fell back into place, a studio again. Immediately, simultaneously, lightning crashed into Wildside's back and a red beam of energy slammed into his chest.
Target neutralised.
Cyclops turned to find that Angel had knocked Forearm unconscious. He'd been disarmed and Angel was standing over him, feet apart, gun aimed at his chest.
Angel turned his head slightly, so that he could see Cyclops and Storm. He nodded at them, then toward the hostages. One of them was creeping out from the studio, eyes wild and frightened.
Cyclops brushed at the blood on his cheek and nodded. "Beast," he said into his radio. "Let the police know we're ready for them and the paramedics. We'll be down, soon." First, though, he wanted to check on Rogue and the others.
"Excellent news," Beast's voice came back. "The wounded here are grateful for your efficiency, my friends."
-----
Nightcrawler dropped Rogue and Phase into the hall just inches from the door to the stairs and mere feet in front of Dragoness and Reaper and was gone again himself the second their hands were off of him
Phase phased out long enough for Reaper's scythes to pass through him, dodging as the man stumbled forward when the expected resistance to his scythes disappeared.
By then, Nightcrawler was back. He dropped from the ceiling onto Reaper's shoulders, getting the man in a hold meant to subdue him. Reaper wasn't keen on the idea and slammed backward against the near wall but Nightcrawler had bamfed away before the impact came.
Phase stepped forward while Reaper was offbalance and grabbed one of the man's arms, smashing it against the wall hard enough that he dropped the scythe in his hand. He phased out, becoming intangible and stepping through a wall to get away before Reaper could strike back.
Nightcrawler grabbed the other arm as Reaper struck at Phase; appearing between them, twisting gracefully and using the mutant's momentum to send him headfirst into the reinforced window of the door to the stairs. The crackle of Reaper's shoulder dislocating was lost in the shattering of the steel-wired glass when he hit the window headfirst.
Phase stepped back in to see Nightcrawler strike Reaper at the base of the skull, dropping him to the floor in a limp bundle.
-----
Rogue had played bamf-games in training long enough that the teleportation didn't bother her in the least. She didn't need a floor under her for stability anyway, orientation didn't matter. Her foot connected with Dragoness' chest even as she was letting go of Nightcrawler's shoulder. The other woman flew backward and Rogue ducked Reaper's scythe, pursuing her target.
Dragoness hit the floor hard about twenty feet from where she'd started and the impact left her breathless but not helpless. She threw a bolt of flame at her attacker, then another, forcing Rogue to duck.
"...fuck is it with me and fire?" Rogue muttered as she turned ducking into a tumble to avoid losing momentum. Dragoness was on her feet by the time Rogue regained hers and blocked the first punch but not the second. She took the hit and grabbed Rogue's wrist, meaning to drag her close and keep her from dodging the next sting but hadn't counted on the extent of Rogue's strength.
Rogue decided she didn't mind being pulled in to close quarters at all, driving her elbow into Dragoness' chest as she lifted them both of the floor and used her body to slam Dragoness into, and right through, a modular office wall and onto a desk in the room beyond.
The sting Dragoness threw went awry when they hit the wall and the ceiling tiles above blackened and started to smoulder as they were splashed with fire. Gobbets of flame and melting plastic from a light fixture spattered down on them. Dragoness pulled out her gun with her free hand as back-up for her stings, jamming it against Rogue's side and pulling the trigger.
Rogue wrenched herself away from the sensation of the muzzle pressing through her uniform and the bullet missed her, but the next sting didn't. Flames washed over her shoulder and dripped down her left arm. With her right hand, she scooped a 17" monitor off of the desk she had backed into and threw it at Dragoness with all her strength.
Dragoness ducked behind another desk and the monitor exploded against the wall behind her. When she looked out to shoot from the shelter of the desk, the room was empty at first glance. Too late, it occured to her that the other mutant could probably fly.
Rogue, who had shot up as high as the ceiling would allow, moving above the cubicles of the clerical area, came down from behind and above feet first and bore Dragoness to the ground under her. One arm around the woman's neck and the other on her gun hand, Rogue tightened her grip until Dragoness stopped struggling.
Nightcrawler and Phase stepped into the cubicle, looking around at the localized chaos and the blackened ceiling without comment.
"Can I help you with your bag, miss?" Phase asked with a grin, reaching out for Dragoness' limp form.
It took what felt like hours for the team to disentangle themselves from grateful hostages and frustrated but somewhat respectful law enforcement agents. Cyclops and Storm were efficient at redirecting both thanks and questions and it was really less than thirty minutes before Nightcrawler was given the nod to start removing them to the Blackbird.
Beast and Storm took the controls and began running a takeoff check while the others settled into their seats.
"No injuries?" Cyclops asked, eyeing Angel, who'd been fighting Forearm.
Angel shrugged and touched his jaw gingerly where a black welt was rising. "Not much here." He spread his wings to show several gaps where feathers had been broken away. "It's not pretty but it doesn't hurt. Bruises, nothing more for the rest of me. He didn't seem to be trying too hard to kill me, honestly."
"I remain unscathed, sir," Beast reported with a toothy grin. "Aside from the slight bruising of my ego at having been left to babysit." He laughed and held up a hand as Cyclops turned, ready to speak. "I jest. I was quite touched by the generous acceptance of those I was fortunate enough to assist and have no quarrel with being left to safeguard them while the rest of you valiantly subdued the forces of evil du jour."
"I'm glad you approve," Cyclops said dryly.
"I'm fine and we're ready to go," Storm chimed in.
"I'm good," Phase said when Cyclops looked over at him. "All's well that ends well. It's my roomie there who hasn't learned not to play with fire."
Rogue stuck her tongue out at Phase and then flaked away at the shoulder of her uniform where the black of the burnt material was almost indistinguishable from the rest of the leather. "More proof that the fireproofing solution Hank added is working," she said. "I'm fine." Her neck and cheek and the skin under the uniform were a little flushed, almost as if they were sunburnt, but she wasn't actually damaged at all.
"It appears that we're all unharmed, at least in body," Nightcrawler said, sounding relieved. He strapped himself in, crossed himself, and began to pray under his breath, eyes half-closed.
"Say thanks for me too," Rogue told him, reaching for a bottle of water.
"Let's go home," Cyclops said, stepping to his seat beside Rogue and strapping himself in as well. "Everyone buckled up?"
"Yes, sir," Phase said, settling into his seat next to Nightcrawler.
"Of course," Angel chimed in.
"Yep," Rogue gave Cyclops an impish grin. "Wouldn't want you to have to turn this plane around or anything."
"You're impossible," Cyclops said, trying to look dire and not quite succeeding.
"I'm an X-Man," she retorted. "It's my job."
Storm chuckled quietly as she manuevered the Blackbird out of its half-hidden landing area and, with Beast providing the coordinates, aimed them straight for home.
Cyclops nodded gratefully as the officer handed him the telephone. "Wildside? Slight change of plans."
"Who is this?" The voice on the other end of the line was suspicious and laced with panic.
"Cyclops."
"Race traitor," the voice hissed.
"Now, now, that's no way to talk to someone who's trying to get you out of this alive, is it?" Cyclops leaned against the small counterspace left by the officers in the trailer. "Let's talk."
"What is there to talk about? You're a sellout."
"What is it you want, Wildside?" Cyclops' patience wasn't infinite. He nodded at Nightcrawler, giving him the green light to begin this first portion of the mission.
Nightcrawler, who had dropped the hood of his concealing black cloak upon entering the trailer to better hear the conversation Scott was holding with Wildside, tugged it back up and slipped out the door. After the years in the Texan's freakshow, he didn't want an audience, not from these people. It wasn't fear, he told himself, it was just more comfortable to be anonymous in this place.
Tail tucked up and hands gloved, face concealed, he made his way through the police line and eyed the street and front lawn that made up the no-man's land. He couldn't see any of the five bodies moving, but he thought he could hear the whisper of breath from a police office who had been shot trying to pull a fallen comrade to safety. -Madness,- he mourned, then moved himself to cover the two men with the dark pool of his cloak.
He was nothing more than a shadow in the hot Austin sun, there and gone again. Only twin pools of blood remained where he'd been and shocked police and paramedics shook off their surprise to swarm around him, taking his burdens. Next was another officer, this one had gotten as close as the sidewalk, one of the first on the scene. Ignorant of the real danger, he'd gotten out of the driver's side of the empty patrol car at the curb and started walking, only to be dropped in his tracks by a hail of bullets. When the paramedics turned him over back behind the line of safety, ants had already begun to creep over his face.
The last jump was right at the front door, and there was no chance of survivors here. A man in a security uniform and a woman in a flowered dress lay crushed and broken open from a fall from the roof. Hostages dead already. Kurt lifted them both swiftly and took them away.
When Wildside had hissed cruel and unreasonable demands long enough, and once Cyclops could see that Nightcrawler had returned, he handed the phone back to the officer who'd given it to him. "Keep him talking as long as you can," he suggested, then motioned to the team as he walked out the door of the trailer.
"Storm, Rogue, Angel, you're on the roof and coming down. Storm, you lead." He looked at the remaining team members. "Beast, Nightcrawler, Phase, you're with me." He saved one last glance for Shinobi. "Phase, you know what we talked about on the jet. Stick to it, okay?"
Cyclops reached out, nodding at Beast and Phase to do the same, and the three men grasped Nightcrawler's shoulders. Leaving behind the scent of brimstone, they flashed out of existence, popping back into sight just outside the front doors of the station. Using the passcodes from the security company - it was so much easier to work like this than having to break in - Cyclops opened the doors for them to slip in.
Teleportation is very handy.. if disorienting. Taking only long enough to regain his bearings after the teleport, Shinobi - no, he's Phase right now - stuck to the plan. Making sure his limbs were well clear of his allies', he went intangible, sticking close to Cyclops and doing his best to watch everything at once.
Despite the slightly humorous bent to the monologue running in his head, Phase was all business on the outside, a grimly attentive set to his features. "I wonder if they heard you come in," he quietly asided to Cyclops, briefly glancing up at the older man before returning his attention to the task at hand.
"I am not sure they did," Nightcrawler said, tossing back the hood of his cloak and flashing Phase a jagged white smile. "I will go first to cover the foyer." With that he was gone in a dizzying series of bamfs and leaps, covering the distance to the far wall in seconds. He stopped, crouched on the security guard's desk, his cloak swirling around him like something out of a movie. Ears pricked, he looked about and nodded to Cyclops.
"I believe we are clear." He looked down behind him and sighed. "More dead. A guard."
Cyclops nodded to Phase and Beast, signaling that the three of them should move forward together. They approached the guard station and Cyclops looked down at the body. "We'll come back for him," he murmured, then scanned the hall, trying to determine where the trail of bodies and destruction lead.
"This way," he said, turning left and heading down the corridor behind the desk. As they walked down the hall, they began to hear shouting, muffled by the walls. The hostages and the mutants calling themselves the Mutant Liberation Front, obviously, were somewhere nearby. Cyclops' pace slowed.
It was difficult for Phase to keep his attention away from Nightcrawler's dazzling display as he bamfed about to check out the room, but the training sessions in the Danger Room over the last two weeks had helped - it was still an impressive sight to behold, but not nearly as attention-grabbing as it used to be. He kept pace just behind and to Cyclops' right, absently tugging his own collar straight as he gave the fallen guard a short, mournful look, before moving on without reluctance at the lead's decision.
His eyes narrowed as the shouting became audible, trying to sort out the voices and figure out how many people were inside, but the walls were throwing him off. He gave Nightcrawler a look as he came to a halt, frowning to himself as his attention moved back to the shouting.
"If there's anything I can do, say the word," he murmured to the pair, not wanting his words to be heard by the hostage-takers.
"They know we're here." Cyclops tried to judge the capacity of the room -- a cafeteria -- and decide how many people were inside based on the number of voices and the size of the radio station.
He turned to look at Phase. "Can you take a peek inside and get me the hostage-to-terrorist ratio in there without putting yourself at risk?" It was clear from the expression on his face, Cyclops didn't like this idea, but he trusted that Phase would answer honestly.
If he didn't, it could get all of them killed.
"I can only go intangible, not invisible," Phase replied with a mildly frustrated frown, raking a gloved hand back through his hair as he tried to think. "If I knew where people were, it would be another story, but I don't want to poke my head in through a wall or the floor where someone could see me."
Cyclops frowned, then looked toward the stairs at the end of the hall and back to Phase. It was too far. Dammit. He looked up at the ceiling. Suspended celotex tiles. Perfect. "What about poking your head in through the ceiling?"
With a faint quirk of an eyebrow, Phase tilted his head back to follow Cyclops' gaze, and allowed himself a slow, lopsided grin. "That, I could do."
Cyclops nodded. "Good. I'll give you a boost and you can climb up there. There might even be a grating to see through, depending on what kind of air flow system this building has." He knelt, holding out his hands, fingers laced together, then nodded to Beast, who stepped forward to offer his shoulder for Phase to balance himself on.
"Come back as quickly as you can," Cyclops ordered. "And don't draw attention to yourself."
"Quiet as a ghost," Phase confirmed, accepting the boost offered by the pair. A moment spent eyeing the ceiling, and then, he lifted himself up - and through it.
The quarters were cramped, but that wasn't exactly a problem for him, and he smoothly made his way along as quietly as possible, which, thanks to his intangibility, was pretty much silent. The cafeteria was far from silent, however, the shouting growing louder as he approached.
There was grating, but not in a very convenient location for scouting, and he frowned to himself as he quickly considered his options. Settling his face against the ground - or ceiling, rather - beneath him, he drew in a deep breath before letting his eyes and nose pass through to get a look into the room, ready to pull back the second someone so much as breathed in his direction.
Nightcrawler watched them go and then took a look around. The console on the security guard's desk provided an interesting display. The elevators had been disabled, that was marked in red. The doors to the building were locked and would only respond to a passcode or keycard for entry. The sprinkler system was still enabled. The telephones were silenced and the computer system, from what he could determine, was offline.
The lobby was eerily quiet except for Cyclops' light footfalls as he moved to look down a short hall leading past the elevators. There were spilled cups of coffee and scattered newspapers all over. Here and there, a briefcase or purse had been abandoned. There was blood spattered generously on the polished concrete and over by a fern, a single woman's shoe; all marks of an invasion as swift and ruthless as a hurricane.
Beast loped over to look behind the desk and shook his head sadly at the crumpled body there. "The most expedient path to justice is not paved with the tombstones of the innocent, no matter what most people seem to think," he rumbled softly.
"No, but it is an easy road to walk for some," Nightcrawler noted. "And that is all that seems to matter."
Taking only long enough to count heads - twice - Phase retreated as silently as he'd came, until finally dropping down out of the ceiling at Nightcrawler's side. He took a quick look around to regain his bearings, straightening back up before focusing on Cyclops.
"I counted fifty-three hostages, that I could see," he reports, thumbing back over his shoulder in the cafeteria's direction. "At least seven of them wounded. Five MLF watching them. One at either side of the doors we'd be going in through from here, the others at.." He squinted for a moment, recalling the image of the cafeteria to mind. "...ten, eleven, and three o'clock, though ten and three were pacing."
Cyclops nodded and stared at the doors. "Beast, when we go in, you go high. Take out their man at eleven o'clock as quickly as you can. I'll get the ones at ten and three. Nightcrawler, you take the two at the door." He looked at the men around him and reached for his visor, ready to blow the door. "We're going to get these folks out of there as fast as we can, as safely as we can. Ready?"
----
"Got it," Angel responded. He could feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins, as it always did during missions like this one. Licking his lips, he mentally prepared himself for action. He turned his gaze to Storm, awaiting her signal.
Storm set her face into a firm look of concentration and pushed her awareness of the surrounding area out, picking up the slight breeze and wrapping it around herself. She nodded once, briefly to Angel, and then to Rogue, and pushed the winds down, letting them lift her up towards the roof.
Rogue stepped aside, out of the gust of Storm's takeoff and lifted off as well, as fast as thinking about it. Matching her speed to that of the others, she arrived at the roof at the same time as they did, landing lightly on the edge and scanning for anyone hidden there. It was the typical array of ventilation shafts with a few electrical boxes and the broadcasting antennae to increase the clutter. The station's large sign mounted on the front edge of the roof obscured them, mostly, from any cameras across the street. The buildings to either side and behind were evacuated and off-limits to any but the law enforcement staff on the scene.
"I think we're alone," she said, just loud enough to carry. "And we have the pass-code for the door from the security company via the police. How distressingly civilized."
"Wolverine is rubbing off on you, Rogue." Storm said, just a -hint- of amusement in her voice, while unlocking the door. "Quiet and discreet, until we're engaged. If we can get the drop on the MLF and minimize contact, all the better." She said, just before easing the door open slowly.
Rogue's smile was mischevious as she got ready to precede Storm and Angel down the narrow stairs. "I've been trying to train him not to do that, but you know how he is," she murmured.
When the door was open, Rogue slipped through and into the stairwell. The space was too tight for Angel's wings to open inside and Storm's winds would raise suspicions immediately so she got the fun of going ahead. She ghosted downward, keeping to the walls where they met the stairs overhead, and checked each windowed door on each floor. At the third floor, there the outline of a man's shoulder against the glass where he stood with his back against the door, and she shot back up the stairs in a flash.
"We're fine until the third floor," she reported. "One person there that I could see and the door swings into the stairwell."
Storm nodded. "Good. Do we have an ID on the person on the third floor? Any known powers?" She mentally went over what little they knew about the MLF, gave a resigned look to the others, and entered the building, taking measured silent steps. The interior was filtered, temperate air - not the most ideal conditions for her abilities, but nothing Storm couldn't work with, and in this case, the building's cooling system worked for her, helping to mask the sound of gathering air pressure.
The stairwell was too narrow for Angel to fly, so he folded his wings back as best he could and snuck down, following Rogue and Storm. He was naturally light on his feet, and his steps barely registered a sound. When they got to the third floor, they saw that the man still had his back to the door. He glanced at Rogue and Storm. "Ready?" he mouthed. At their nods, he swung open the door with sudden force.
"If they're not suspicious now, they will be in minutes," Storm said, as Cyclops, Phase, and Nightcrawler came loping up the last flight of stairs. Three members of the MLF were secured to the stair railings, mouths taped shut, some in worse shape than others, all still very unconscious.
"Then we'd better get there about now, then," Cyclops said with a twist of a smile. "What's our best approach?"
"This way," Storm said, gesturing for them to follow her down the hall that ran parallel to the one where the studio was located. "It's a good thing these new office buildings use flimsy materials." She led them to a small supply closet where Angel was tossing pieces of wallboard out into the hall.
"Xavier's Renovations at your service," the winged man said dryly. "Why does this job always involve manual labour?"
"The forces of good are always do-it-yourselfers?" Phase suggested helpfully, following Cyclops and Storm through the closet door and then the hole in the back to a conference room beyond.
"It's not exactly Narnia but it worked," Rogue whispered as they came through. She'd been the one to easily dismantle the wall and move on into the empty room to scout the hall beyond.
"It was a good idea," Storm said in a low voice. "Most of us don't think first of going right /through/ walls." She cast a glance over at Phase and Nightcrawler and then at Rogue. "Present company excepted."
Nightcrawler had slipped up to the closed door and the windows of the conference room and was peering out through the blinds to get a look at the hall. His ears pricked suddenly at raised voices coming from the studio. "I believe they are suspicious now," he reported. "Our minutes are up."
Cyclops held up his hand, signalling all of them to complete silence. They could all hear the voices a moment later as two people left the studio and headed for the stairs.
"Woman and a man," Nightcrawler murmured, once they had passed. "Dragoness and Reaper, if our files and the hostages' descriptions are accurate."
"Twenty seconds until they're at the stairs," Angel said, counting in his head.
"Nightcrawler, Phase, Rogue - go." Cyclops ordered. "Storm, Angel, let's go interupt the broadcast."
Phase startled at the sound of his name, realizing that he was being sent into a fight, but he reached for Nightcrawler's shoulder almost automatically.
Rogue looked over and caught Phase's eye, giving her roommate a grin. "I'll take the dragon-lady," she said, grabbing Nightcrawler's other shoulder. "Go."
-----
Storm used her winds to pull the studio doors open, and Angel and Cyclops stepped inside. Forearm rushed them, raising all four of his guns, and Cyclops blew him back through the far wall and into the bathroom beyond with an unholy crash.
In the confusion, one of the hostages, who'd later identify himself as a former Army chaplain, grabbed a stool and slammed it into the back of Wildside's head. He pitched forward and Cyclops took the opportunity to blow the glass wall separating the two sections of the studio in one controlled burst.
The hostage paid for his daring, though, with an assault that rocked his head back and dropped him to the floor, bleeding. Cyclops took the time to hope the older man would survive this, then ducked as Forearm burst back through the wall.
Angel kept the big man busy, dodging bullets and fists, while throwing a few punches of his own. The air was full of steel and feathers as they danced in the limited space, Angel keeping barely a step ahead of Forearm's reflexes, distracting him with thrown furniture and anything else he could lift. Cyclops blasted Wildside through a plate-glass window above the street and Storm called up a stream of air to pull him back in just before he began to fall.
The room around them began to change.
They'd been in a studio, all chrome and electronics and soundproofing. Now, though, the room seemed larger and there were more places for Wildside to hide. Angel wasn't there anymore and neither was Forearm. Was Wildside friend or foe? Scott tried to remember. He looked at Storm and instinctively knew that she was on his side.
Wildside's claws seemed familiar and he thought maybe Wildside was someone he'd want at his back, until those claws sliced open his cheek. That wasn't how it was supposed to work. This wasn't right. Years of training let him wrestle for control of his mind and the room shimmered and fell back into place, a studio again. Immediately, simultaneously, lightning crashed into Wildside's back and a red beam of energy slammed into his chest.
Target neutralised.
Cyclops turned to find that Angel had knocked Forearm unconscious. He'd been disarmed and Angel was standing over him, feet apart, gun aimed at his chest.
Angel turned his head slightly, so that he could see Cyclops and Storm. He nodded at them, then toward the hostages. One of them was creeping out from the studio, eyes wild and frightened.
Cyclops brushed at the blood on his cheek and nodded. "Beast," he said into his radio. "Let the police know we're ready for them and the paramedics. We'll be down, soon." First, though, he wanted to check on Rogue and the others.
"Excellent news," Beast's voice came back. "The wounded here are grateful for your efficiency, my friends."
-----
Nightcrawler dropped Rogue and Phase into the hall just inches from the door to the stairs and mere feet in front of Dragoness and Reaper and was gone again himself the second their hands were off of him
Phase phased out long enough for Reaper's scythes to pass through him, dodging as the man stumbled forward when the expected resistance to his scythes disappeared.
By then, Nightcrawler was back. He dropped from the ceiling onto Reaper's shoulders, getting the man in a hold meant to subdue him. Reaper wasn't keen on the idea and slammed backward against the near wall but Nightcrawler had bamfed away before the impact came.
Phase stepped forward while Reaper was offbalance and grabbed one of the man's arms, smashing it against the wall hard enough that he dropped the scythe in his hand. He phased out, becoming intangible and stepping through a wall to get away before Reaper could strike back.
Nightcrawler grabbed the other arm as Reaper struck at Phase; appearing between them, twisting gracefully and using the mutant's momentum to send him headfirst into the reinforced window of the door to the stairs. The crackle of Reaper's shoulder dislocating was lost in the shattering of the steel-wired glass when he hit the window headfirst.
Phase stepped back in to see Nightcrawler strike Reaper at the base of the skull, dropping him to the floor in a limp bundle.
-----
Rogue had played bamf-games in training long enough that the teleportation didn't bother her in the least. She didn't need a floor under her for stability anyway, orientation didn't matter. Her foot connected with Dragoness' chest even as she was letting go of Nightcrawler's shoulder. The other woman flew backward and Rogue ducked Reaper's scythe, pursuing her target.
Dragoness hit the floor hard about twenty feet from where she'd started and the impact left her breathless but not helpless. She threw a bolt of flame at her attacker, then another, forcing Rogue to duck.
"...fuck is it with me and fire?" Rogue muttered as she turned ducking into a tumble to avoid losing momentum. Dragoness was on her feet by the time Rogue regained hers and blocked the first punch but not the second. She took the hit and grabbed Rogue's wrist, meaning to drag her close and keep her from dodging the next sting but hadn't counted on the extent of Rogue's strength.
Rogue decided she didn't mind being pulled in to close quarters at all, driving her elbow into Dragoness' chest as she lifted them both of the floor and used her body to slam Dragoness into, and right through, a modular office wall and onto a desk in the room beyond.
The sting Dragoness threw went awry when they hit the wall and the ceiling tiles above blackened and started to smoulder as they were splashed with fire. Gobbets of flame and melting plastic from a light fixture spattered down on them. Dragoness pulled out her gun with her free hand as back-up for her stings, jamming it against Rogue's side and pulling the trigger.
Rogue wrenched herself away from the sensation of the muzzle pressing through her uniform and the bullet missed her, but the next sting didn't. Flames washed over her shoulder and dripped down her left arm. With her right hand, she scooped a 17" monitor off of the desk she had backed into and threw it at Dragoness with all her strength.
Dragoness ducked behind another desk and the monitor exploded against the wall behind her. When she looked out to shoot from the shelter of the desk, the room was empty at first glance. Too late, it occured to her that the other mutant could probably fly.
Rogue, who had shot up as high as the ceiling would allow, moving above the cubicles of the clerical area, came down from behind and above feet first and bore Dragoness to the ground under her. One arm around the woman's neck and the other on her gun hand, Rogue tightened her grip until Dragoness stopped struggling.
Nightcrawler and Phase stepped into the cubicle, looking around at the localized chaos and the blackened ceiling without comment.
"Can I help you with your bag, miss?" Phase asked with a grin, reaching out for Dragoness' limp form.
It took what felt like hours for the team to disentangle themselves from grateful hostages and frustrated but somewhat respectful law enforcement agents. Cyclops and Storm were efficient at redirecting both thanks and questions and it was really less than thirty minutes before Nightcrawler was given the nod to start removing them to the Blackbird.
Beast and Storm took the controls and began running a takeoff check while the others settled into their seats.
"No injuries?" Cyclops asked, eyeing Angel, who'd been fighting Forearm.
Angel shrugged and touched his jaw gingerly where a black welt was rising. "Not much here." He spread his wings to show several gaps where feathers had been broken away. "It's not pretty but it doesn't hurt. Bruises, nothing more for the rest of me. He didn't seem to be trying too hard to kill me, honestly."
"I remain unscathed, sir," Beast reported with a toothy grin. "Aside from the slight bruising of my ego at having been left to babysit." He laughed and held up a hand as Cyclops turned, ready to speak. "I jest. I was quite touched by the generous acceptance of those I was fortunate enough to assist and have no quarrel with being left to safeguard them while the rest of you valiantly subdued the forces of evil du jour."
"I'm glad you approve," Cyclops said dryly.
"I'm fine and we're ready to go," Storm chimed in.
"I'm good," Phase said when Cyclops looked over at him. "All's well that ends well. It's my roomie there who hasn't learned not to play with fire."
Rogue stuck her tongue out at Phase and then flaked away at the shoulder of her uniform where the black of the burnt material was almost indistinguishable from the rest of the leather. "More proof that the fireproofing solution Hank added is working," she said. "I'm fine." Her neck and cheek and the skin under the uniform were a little flushed, almost as if they were sunburnt, but she wasn't actually damaged at all.
"It appears that we're all unharmed, at least in body," Nightcrawler said, sounding relieved. He strapped himself in, crossed himself, and began to pray under his breath, eyes half-closed.
"Say thanks for me too," Rogue told him, reaching for a bottle of water.
"Let's go home," Cyclops said, stepping to his seat beside Rogue and strapping himself in as well. "Everyone buckled up?"
"Yes, sir," Phase said, settling into his seat next to Nightcrawler.
"Of course," Angel chimed in.
"Yep," Rogue gave Cyclops an impish grin. "Wouldn't want you to have to turn this plane around or anything."
"You're impossible," Cyclops said, trying to look dire and not quite succeeding.
"I'm an X-Man," she retorted. "It's my job."
Storm chuckled quietly as she manuevered the Blackbird out of its half-hidden landing area and, with Beast providing the coordinates, aimed them straight for home.
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