xp_logs | Siege Perilous - Part 3

Siege Perilous Day 9 -The Black Knight is leading the ambush and she has an agenda in mind - kill everyone, starting with Remy LeBeau.

It was time. Time to redeem herself in her Queen's eyes, and time to do as much damage to those bloody X-Forcers as she could. Amanda's eye fixed on Remy; he'd done so much damage already, he was going to be hers to take care of. But first, to soften him up.

"Go, pile on," Amanda instructed her lackies, pointing at the Cajun. "Overwhelm him with numbers."

Orders might be orders, but the bodies piling up around the man were starting to reach alarming levels. Even on a cane and aged from Selene's majicks, Remy LeBeau knew more about dealing death than almost any man alive. He'd run out of cards a few minutes ago, switching instead to loose chain and random trash. His cane crushed a man's throat, leaving him gargling horribly as he hit the ground.

"X-Force, scatter!" He called over the fray. "Break off and retreat, any way you can!"

"I do not think so." If anyone could have heard Tarot's voice, it would be Gambit. She'd be shocked if he didn't already know she was there, lurking in the shadows in her asphalt grey body armor. A ripple of mist came up from the ground, chain links forming out of it. The fence twinned itself, and then tripled, smacking wetly against the brick and cinderblock walls. It grew up like fungus to cover windows, to block exits, it wrapped itself around an exit sign and the light sparked and crackled before blinking out.

"Nice one, luv," Amanda murmured into her mic as she focussed again on the Cajun. He was obliterating her men, and Selene would complain about costs if she let it go too far. Time to get involved herself, then. She summoned up two fireballs, one in each hand, and flung them at the beleaguered Remy.

Remy pivoted on his cane and kicked out, flinging himself back in a tight roll. As he came up, his coat was over his arm in front of his face, catching the edge of the fireball and dissipating it. He was running out of room and time. He grabbed a close by half brick and held on, pushing energy until it was flaring purple.

"Dis is starting to get boring." He said, as the brick flew in a streak over them. As it reached the fence, the matter could no longer hold integrity with the power inside it and it exploded like a firework, sending hundreds of individual lances of purple energy through the fence, cutting it to pieces. He staggered back a few feet, winded, but pleased as there was now a way out for his people.

"Shit." Marie-Ange staggered back several steps. She should have known - should have expected what Gambit's power would do to her images, but she hadn't anticipated the backlash of burning rushing up her neck and across her skull.

She wasn't stupid. She wasn't going to get within ten feet of Remy LeBeau. Not for first, as skilled as she was, no one was that good. For second, today was not a good day to die.

She took another step back, pressing her shoulders against a wall. Her fingers wrapped around a metal spear that she hadn't had a moment ago, and she let it fall, watching as it melted into the ground. She could see Remy bent slightly, strange red on black eyes dimming slightly as he caught his breath, and then she stepped out of the shadows long enough to be seen.

But then the line of sight was blocked by Amanda stepping between the two assassins. "Keep under cover," she hissed, blood already dripping from a small self-inflicted cut on the back of her hand and the Staff of One making its way out of her chest. "I'll make him pay for that. No-one hurts you, not on my watch." She gripped the Staff and yanked it out of her body, slamming the end onto the ground, black energies coiling along its length like smoke and gathering around the blonde. "Time's up for you, you fuck," she growled at Remy through clenched teeth.

For once, it was moving too fast and there was too little left. A energized pair of keys and a Metrocard exploded next to Amanda, making her stumble but not enough to disrupt whatever she'd planned. A button followed, shearing the witch's right ear off at the jawline, but expending the rest of its energy against the magical shielding.

Black tendrils of energy, ribbons of living shadow burst out of the Staff and at the Cajun, wrapping around him tightly and immobilising him. No matter how hard he struggled, the bonds only got tighter, and with a gesture, Amanda began to pull the life energy out of him, intent on draining him to a husk.

"Stop. Amanda, stop." Marie-Ange stepped around Amanda, a thin wall of strange woven material, slick card backs and concrete and charred metal growing up out of the ground to block the witch. "I am serious, I need you to stop. I cannot let you kill him, and I do not want to have to force it." She gestured, and the material ripped itself free, smacking up into her hand as an ugly tower shield. "Please. You must stop."

At first Amanda barely heard the words. Her ear was smarting, blood was flowing freely over her collar and all she wanted was vengeance, to end LeBeau once and for all. It had been him who had wounded Selene during the rescue raid on the HFC. He who had pulled Jean and Pixie out of their cells, he and his team of holier-than-thou white hats. Then she felt Marie-Ange's hand on her arm and as always, the touch brought her back from that place of anger and black magic. "Stop? Why should I?”

"How many reasons do you like to want?" Marie-Ange's casual English seemed to slip as she considered her answer. "He took Selene's hand, she may well want him alive, so she can see to his death herself, or watch, or any number of reasons she would have." She did not meet Remy's eyes, she did not even look at him. "And there are... politics. You know the ones I must deal with. He is entangled in all of it, and killing him right here and now, in anger will just make an unholy mess." She kept the shield up, but took her hand off Amanda's arm to brush blood off the blonde witch's face. "Revenge can always wait, but it is better this time to ask permission than forgiveness."

Reluctantly, but trusting her lover's cooler head, Amanda nodded and stopped the drain, keeping Remy immobilised with the Staff's energies. "Get transport sorted," she said almost gruffly. "We need to get him home as fast as we can."

Remy's red on black stare caught Amanda's gaze for a moment and the Cajun gave her a thin, tired smile. "Careful what you wish for, petite." He said softly as the guards closed in to collect him.

Nick Scratch has a grudge. Natasha finds out just how much of a grudge.

TW: character death

"I was hoping we'd meet again."

Nick was smiling as he slowly circled the woman, pleased with the luck he's been granted. He'd been hoping to pay her back for that little... poisoning incident. And now an opportunity had dropped into his lap. There was already a shimmering outline about him, like invisible armor, and a dangerous glint in his eyes.

Natasha rolled her eyes. They always had to pontificate before getting down to anything. She wasn't pleased with the setup because she was more cut off than she prefered. But her guns were loaded, stingers charged, and she was more than ready to put this guy down once and for all. "And I was hoping you'd have suffered a long painful death by now."

"Not for lack of trying on your part, but alas, I'm as fit as ever." Dark magic crackled around him in jagged spikes. "Shall we?"

He held out a hand, the magic reaching out like long, gangly limbs, grabbing her wrists.

Natasha hated magic. It only complicated things as she stepped into the gripping tendrils so she could immediately break them. No distractions to be thrown here. Just her and this creep of a man. Why did they always think they knew everything? She raised a pistol, firing the standard issue bullets. They'd sink into his energy shield harmlessly but she needed to gauge the situation.

They didn't sink - rather the magic caught them, holding them in position. Nick's smile grew. "Your poison was very interesting, you know. I learned a lot from it."

Hmm, interesting, but not unexpected. What were the limits of his power? Natasha eyed their surroundings of blank walls and closed doors and wondered where a structural insecurity would best be located. "And what did you learn?" she said as she stayed out of reach of his magic tendrils as much as possible.

The bullets dropped, clattering against the floor. "That it's instantaneous. That enough of it probably would have killed me on the spot if I hadn't escaped."

Natasha made a low mmhm sound as she threw a grenade at one of the arched doorways. It went off immediately and scattered blown plaster, brick, and rebar all over the general vicinity. She used the general disarray to launch some Widow's bites, more bullets, and some throwing knives in Bishop's general direction.

The shield caught the non-explosives, and Nick stepped forward, out of the rubble, dusting his suit off. "You try to keep the enemy at bay with ranged attacks. Yet all of your weapons are so... simple. Save for your poison, of course. But knives, guns? Hardly befitting of a mutant."

"I was a late bloomer when it came to that aspect of my life. Blame my upbringing." Natasha said as she calculated what else she could throw at him. It wasn't like her mutant powers were all that interesting. Her poison and the way it impacted her reactions under stress were about the only useful things. She wasn't a flashy mutant so she stuck to her tried and true weapons. Less chance for them to fail her.

Nick chuckled, simply waiting. "Well, you've used all your mundane weapons. What's next?"

Natasha didn't bother to reply. She simply tossed her Widow's Bites at him and then ducked and rolled through and behind rubble to throw some of her poison stingers hidden within her wrists. She followed those up with more grenades to throw more smoke and cause more rubble to fall, hoping for a break in his shielding to land something more substantial.

The grenades did their jobs, partially because Nick let his focus drop when he saw the Widow's Bites and stingers. Those froze midair as he drew his shields in, letting parts absorb the blow from the grenades. The frozen projectiles started to glow black as they turned, rising into the air to find their new target...

And then flew right at Natasha.

She cursed as the shield didn't drop fully, but it wasn't unexpected. Natasha threw more grenades directly at Scratch, trying to distract him as she dodged her own Bites, shooting at them and whipping out the expandable baton tucked into the top of her boot. The stingers would be fine up until a point.

Nick was forced to withdraw this time as the grenades flew at him, but he had gotten part of what he wanted. The Bites Natasha wasn't quick enough to take out began to explode around her

It wasn't the first time Natasha had run afoul of her own Widow's Bites. It just sucked it was happening now and in such quantity. She tried to shield herself from the remaining ones but bits and pieces were falling onto her and shocking her, deadening first a half her arm then a leg or the other arm or the other leg as the other finally started receiving sensation back.

The stingers were still hovering above her, as if waiting for the right moment...

And then, as if set off, they shot right at her, aiming for her chest and neck.

There were too many of them to dodge. They hit their mark, dropping Natasha to the ground in a heap a few seconds after they hit. The Bites wouldn't have mattered if it didn't trigger her system to pump out large amounts of her poison. Without a way to offload, her system began to overload sending her into a deep catatonia and slowing her breathing.

Nick waited a moment to make sure it was safe before waltzing over, looking down at the dying woman. "A shame," he tsked. "I do hope your death is a little less chaotic than life."

Wanda takes on Scratch to avenge Natasha.

TW: character death

Wanda's ears were ringing and the taste of blood was sharp in her mouth. She'd bitten something, her tongue perhaps, but she didn't catalog the little hurts from the ambush ... just the big ones.

Natasha, she thought, hands clenching convulsively. Wanda had been too far away, too distracted, again to get there in time. She wanted to scream like she did when Stephen had died but the rage was ice in her veins and Chthon's voice was beating against her skull in time with her heartbeat.

She took a deep, shuddering breath and brought her head up, making eye contact with Scratch. Wanda bared her teeth - a chance to get revenge on past hurts to Adam and more current, fresh ones. She'd take it.

The rush from killing the bitch faded when the... woman?... cornered him. She was human, for all appearances, but the energy surrounding her was chaotic, monstrous. Nick stepped back, face falling as he realized his mistake; several spears of energy formed in the air around him, launching themselves at Wanda in an attempt to head her off before she could attack.

Shifting, Wanda dove to the side as the trajectory of the spears of energy tracked clearly in her mind's eye, the trails of potential telling her when and how to move. Rolling, she came up, a hex bolt sent in answer to the spears as she tested him, looking to find the weak spots. She wanted his head on a spike but she wasn't so far gone in her rage as to rush headlong.

He missed the hex bolt. It hit his shoulder, and he stumbled back with a yell, growling through his teeth. Black energy crackled around him, gathering until it looked like a storm, and then streaming out toward Wanda.

"Oh dear..." the voice in her head sighed and despite their best efforts, her shifting and it's push of powers through her, Wanda was caught in the side. She stumbled, a hand clasping her ribs, as she went to one knee.

"Fuck," she breathed, glaring at Scratch and ignoring the sudden wetness against her palm.

A small smirk pulled at Nick's lips. "Time for a trip," he said, slamming his hand against the floor. The energy stretched and crackled reaching the floor beneath Wanda's feet; it crumbled, giving way to a hole large enough for a person to fit through. A small explosion took out the area surrounding it, raining debris down along with the woman.

An inane thought - 'That's my trick' - went through her head as she went tumbling through the ceiling and into the building below, sheetrock and concrete cascading along with her. The trip was short but painful as she landed on her back, head slamming against the floor with enough force to crack something.

"No!" This time the shout in her head was furious and...scared? Why was it...

Wanda had barely opened her eyes as the rest of the debris fell on her and her scream muffled as something metal and sharp sliced through her stomach and pinned her to the ground. The world went red, dark, red, and then dark again.

Her body tried to decipher the pain points and then gave up trying...gave up on everything as Wanda convulsively grabbed at the piece of slick rebar. Her hands failed.

"Wanda?" The slick feeling of Chthon spread throughout her mind, closing down her as many of her senses as it could with ruthlessness and efficiency.

"I'm here," she whispered in the dark, not sure if she was talking in her mind or to herself. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered now. "Not much...not for much longer."

There was a pause. "No, not for much longer I'm afraid." Its influence and power, its touch so familiar as to be welcome in the dark now, pressed against the barriers she and Stephen had put up so many years ago. "I am sorry."

"Sorry...you'll...die with me," she gasped.

"No...well, yes, of course. But I am sorry that you are. Despite being in this prison, I've grown fond of you. You allowed me some freedoms here and there. We had some good times will all that mayhem before...well, you know, before the cage and all that. I discovered bagels!" Its influence pressed again, feeling almost like a hand in hers. Almost like a comfort. "And I appear fond of you enough to be very, very angry about this. You know, you have the power to do one last thing and I promise you, if you do it of your own free will..."

The voice became a whisper, reminding her that she was the key.

And Wanda, with glazed eyes staring up at pieces of a broken ceiling, realized she wouldn't be here to see what would come of this decision. And so with that freeing thought, she placed a bloodied hand overtop of her shoulder, where a small, archaic-looking owl tattoo had been lovingly magicked into place and she blasted it with the remains of her chaos energy.

Wanda Maximoff's world went red for the last time.

Nick checked down the hole, smirking lightly. "Poor dear," he says with a put upon sigh, dusting himself off. "I will pass along my condolences to whichever teammates we keep alive."

He turned and started walking away.

"Poor someone, indeed," a voice - though it sounded like two voices layered on top of each other - said behind him. Scratch turned to see a figure covered in dust and soaked in blood rise out of the hole. Wanda's hands stretched out to either side, an almost angelic pose.

If you ignored the piece of rebar sticking out of her or the far too wide smile showing far, far too many teeth as she set softly down on her feet.

"Hello," Chthon said in Wanda's voice. It ran her hands through her hair, smoothing the curls back gently as it exposed the growing horns. "I don't think we've met properly."

Nick stared in horror, his mind revolting against everything he was seeing. No, she was dead. She was dead. She couldn't have survived that. Which meant...

No.

He staggered back in horror, throwing a weak blast of energy out of pure instinct.

Wanda's eyes blinked and the blast crumbled into nothing inches from her face. Chthon sighed. "This is going to be so disappointing. You could at least try before I kill you." It eyed him and then shrugged. "No? Ah, well."

Stalking forward after the scrambling man, the room around them started to decay as Chthon effortlessly pushed out waves of entropy. No strings, no need to way the consequences, just pure power. As Scratch took a step back, the floor beneath him cracked under one foot, dropping his leg through a hole.

He yelled as the floor went out from beneath him, wood splintering and tearing into his skin. Blood dripped down his leg, dripping into a steady puddle below. All pretense of calmness was gone, replaced by stark terror. "Get away!" He threw another ball of wild energy.

Chthon didn't even bother with any paltry tricks this time. Its patience was done - and Wanda's body was running out of time. Instead, a simple manipulation of the chaos energies around them sent the magic spinning in another direction as it forced Wanda's faltering legs to move forward. The man couldn't get out of the floor so there was no chase, thankfully, just a slow stalk until hands wrapped around Scratch's throat.

Wanda's face leaned close to his. "She was my prison but one I grew fond of," said the two toned voice. "I would have gotten out eventually, on our terms. But you forced my hand. I'm free but..." Hot breath sighed against his cheek. "A few years ago and I would have thanked you. Now?" The rictuous smile grew impossibly wide. "Wanda's body is held together by her remaining strength of will and a remarkable sense of revenge. Once you and I are done, she'll rest. But you? Oh, your body is perfectly fine for my purposes once I scoop out what little brains are in that skull of yours."

Nick exhaled, trying not to panic. "Yes," he said immediately. "Yes, take whatever you want. My body is yours."

"Oh, you agreeing won't make this hurt any less but I appreciate the offer." Chthon could have done it gently, it knew how but Wanda was still there enough to not want it to be gentle. And Chthon was furious enough on her behalf to agree. He needed the body alive but the brain, ah, that was simply meat now.

Grinning into Nick's wide eyes, Chthon took that meat and passed all of the possibilities through it that it could. He peeled back the layers and showed the small man exactly the powers that it had and would soon be inhabiting his body. It force fed him as much as it dared without leaving Wanda's body, obliterating every brain cell in the most painful way possible.

It took moments, seconds, and Chthon left Nick's empty body - screaming still, a leftover response - as it backed Wanda's body towards a nearest chair. She slumped, a sigh rattling out of her chest.

What made Wanda her, her mind, her soul, were gone. All that was left was Chthon in charge of a dying body as it wrapped her powers into its own.

"Rest now, my dear. I'm sorry you won't be around to see what comes next."

Jean is trying to get to Remy, but is intercepted by Clea.

Jean could taste her own blood in her mouth as she picked herself up off the floor. This had turned into a veritable clusterfuck. She had felt the minds of some of the others being snuffed out around her, both on her side and the other. A goddamn trap. Of course. Because that was all those bastards knew how to do.

Clutching her ribs, Jean reached out her mind, hoping to sense the direction they had taken Remy, but found someone else nearby instead.

"That's quite the bodycount you're racking up. Do you want a medal?" she said.

"Only if the medal is a certain gem." Clea tossed aside another person that had gotten out of her way. She tilted her head to the side, "Do you wish to play as well?"

Jean quirked a brow. "Wow, they did a real number on you. I'm almost sad," she said. A rumbling sound was heard, followed by a screech as she telekinetically launched a fridge at Clea, food spilling out everywhere.

"But not that sad."

Clea quickly raised up her hands as she quickly cast a barrier in front of her. "Good. I hate pity." Clea raised her hands up as the ground beneath her started to shake violently and split apart as spikes started to jet forth towards the red head. Purple magical energy was heavy in the air.

Floating up off the ground, Jean brought up a barrier of her own to keep herself from being impaled, then lashed out with a telekinetic burst that acted like a blade, slicing through the spikes. She rolled her eyes.

"I don't have time for this. Nice meeting you, Sabrina," she said. An extension cord unplugged itself from the wall and attempted to wrap itself around Clea's neck like a noose so she could hang her from the guardrail of the split level floor above it.

Clea felt so tired of people underestimating her that, for a moment, let go to her Faltine side. The purple energy surrounded her and the extension cord became black smoke before disappearing. The energy took on the form of flames grew brighter and the railings that was above Jean shifted. Tiny bits of debris and dust falling from above. "I hate Earthlings more than anything. Always fucking cocky." Her voice was almost inhuman as her hand that was raising above lowered as the railings came crashing down with force.

Before the debris even touched Jean it seemed to hover in the air above her. But something else other than Clea's interference seemed to kick in as the roof above them seemed to shudder, then break apart, adding to the load. God damn it.

She stared at Clea impatiently. "Maybe you should leave Earth then," she said. Cocking her head to the side, the debris over Jean's head shot toward Clea.

"Thanks for the ammunition."

Instead of it being all at once it was one piece after the other, torn apart and funneled her way, Meanwhile her mind reached out toward hers, searching for a way in. Did she want to kill someone so young? Not terribly but she was in the way.

Maybe just a little maiming.

Clea lifted her hand and immediately she disappeared from view, and dozens of Clea's appeared around Jean. With the roof above hovering, Clea started to put pressure on it, trying to squish the redhead in front of her. Her mind was chaotic as she gave into the pure energy from her mother's side.

On the plus side, there wasn't as much roof or building left to crush Jean with as she'd been using it to throw at Clea earlier. Still, there was enough for it to get a little uncomfortable, especially while also being surrounded by Clea clones. So Jean went with the only solution she could think of: she went up. A burst of telekinetic energy shattered the roof as she shot through it, sending debris everywhere. One thing was for certain: Illyana was definitely losing her deposit on the AirBnB.

The escape unfortunately did not do well for her energy and she immediately shot downward, skidding along another nearby roof. When she looked back, there was no sign of the white-haired witch.

"Fuck," she muttered under her breath.

Gabriel finds Felicia alone and defenceless.

In the dim light, yellow with dust and smoke, Felicia stared up at the wedge of stone that narrowly allowed her to keep her life. A large crack in the wall nearby advertised the corner that had completely come away, raining masonry and concrete around her only moments before, now a small dome around her. She could feel the liquid copper of her nosebleed slide down her throat as she continued to stare, coupled with the hiccup of a sob wrenched from somewhere deep in her chest. Each piece of the warehouse wall, the ceiling, had perfectly stacked themselves against the make-shift abutments and then up themselves before finally the last piece, the keystone, had slammed into place, locking everything against each other in a set of arcs an inch above her head. Keeping her alive, and at the same time, effectively trapping her inside.

"Jesus fucking Christ." Gabriel's head was spinning. His heart was pounding. His elbow was scraped, his hair was covered in ash or soot or something, and he could not believe the rubble around him. The ambush was — well, it was what he'd expected, but there was something surreal about it, a feeling only augmented when he saw Felicia standing under a wall that by all physical logic could have killed her.

"Felicia, I—" He was practically choking on his words, unsure exactly how to process this as he made eye contact. "Fuck." His palms were sweaty. Felicia was not going to die today, he decided. "Okay, fuck, I'm gonna..." His head darted around, trying to see if anyone was around him who would report back to Selene; if he'd attracted any attention that would have consequences later. "Yeah, okay, we're getting you the fuck out of here."

"Gabriel?" Felicia asked, about seven different questions in just his name. She made to move towards him, but froze at the scraping noise that started, concrete and broken drywall sliding against each other in protest. "Shit. I had a joke about warehouses not being made like they used to be honestly I'm too fucking scared."

“Stop moving,” Gabriel said, unable but to help sounding a little commanding, because it was better than sounding tense. “I need...” He nervously fingered a metal cylinder on a chain around his neck and studied the structure standing improbably around her.

“I need you to trust me,” he finally said, his eyes meeting hers as he did calculations in his head. An agonized scream came from somewhere nearby. “We need to move faster than gravity, and faster than the Hellfire Club, and it’ll be easier if you don’t resist.”

Felicia looked where she'd come from, trying very hard against something, but gave the smallest of nods when she looked back at him. "I trust you."

“Great,” he responded, not sounding all that enthused. “Not bad as far as potential last words go.”

Though they wouldn’t be her last words — Gabriel felt fairly sure of that. In a millisecond, he unscrewed the cylinder from its chain. Inside was a dose of Rave that he downed. It would give him the boost he needed to ensure that his powers wouldn’t falter - that he’d be able to run to Felicia, scoop her up, and get them the hell out of dodge. There’d be a cost, but he could worry about it later.

“Okay,” he said. “Let’s do this.”