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xp_logs2024-01-07 03:57 pm
xp_dominion) wrote in xp_logs2024-01-07 03:57 pm
Entry tags:
- c: amanda sefton,
- c: america chavez,
- c: april parker,
- c: artie maddicks,
- c: ben russell,
- c: darcy lewis,
- c: doug ramsey,
- c: felicia hardy,
- c: gabriel cohuelo,
- c: hope abbott,
- c: hope summers,
- c: illyana rasputin,
- c: inez temple,
- c: julio richter,
- c: kurt sefton,
- c: kyle gibney,
- c: liam nelson,
- c: madin,
- c: marie-ange colbert,
- c: meggan szardos,
- c: sue storm,
- c: topaz,
- c: wanda maximoff,
- c: warren worthington,
- p: behold a pale horse
Behold A Pale Horse - Part 9
In the aftermath of the battle for District X, it’s clean up, triage and retreat.
Tompkins Square Park looked like a battlefield — which, really, it had been. Amidst the ruined pavement, fragmented trees and scattered iron palings and the small fires still burning after Jubilee’s explosion, the destroyed fountain sprayed water from a broken pipe, adding to the confusion.
Gabriel, his shins and knees and ankles throbbing in pain, took it all in. He saw the people panicking, the park burning like those videos of the Bronx in the 70s, the heart of the neighborhood in ruin. Bodies. He almost didn't notice the bodies anymore.
It gave him an eerie feeling. Something about it reminded him of that other world -- the one where he'd been a mafioso and half of them had died. Death, destruction, chaos. They were all fooling themselves every time they thought they could stave it off.
"No," he murmured. "Later." Then he pulled out his phone and typed in the address of the X-Force office, broadly hitting send to the mansion's residents.
"Just sent an evac point," he said over his earpiece, surprised at how authoritative he sounded. But then he'd done versions of this before. Again and again and again. "Meet there if you can. Bring civilians, we get them off the street. And we deal with the wounded." His voice caught as he looked at Molly. "Molly's injured," he added, his voice a bit more hesitant. "Could use a status report."
"Death is neutralized." Marie-Ange's voice was rough and scratched with emotion - but the transmission came over clear. "Clan Akkaba is in full retreat, the Friends of Humanity are running scared." She watched as a tidal surge of roaches came up out of a dumpster and made their disgusting way down a curb towards a fallen body.
"Daytripper is on cleanup, and…" She paused as several traffic lights went yellow, and the walk signs all started flashing. "Signaling. Sound off please, and update me as needed, I will assist coordinating. Who do we have available to help evacuate injured?"
“Signaling?” Doug brought up his binoculars and scanned, finding the flashing walk signals. Short-short-short, long-long-long, short-short-short… “Ah! SOS. I see the signals, Tarot,” he confirmed. He started looking specifically for stop lights in his scans. “Catbug, confirm you can see them as well,” he called out, all business even if the meme portion of his brain really wanted to make a joke about peanut butter squares or soft tacos. “I’m seeing variations on the stop lights where Daytripper is signaling, I think she’s trying to give us priorities. If you see a red, direct efforts there.”
“I see a red,” Liam replied through his phone, already moving with a medical kit he wasn't entirely sure how to use, “Conduit's still on the roof with uh....I don't know his code name? But I've got a bunch of medical kits I can bring around.”
Illyana tapped her comm to patch through. "Two minutes, need to find stretcher before opening portal to park." She eyed the area wearily, leaning on her sword as she scanned the crowd. Spotting a familiar blonde head, she cupped her hands around her mouth and yelled. "WARREN. Need assistance, please!"
Would today end already? It had taken way too long to deal with Petunia and her never ending list of stuff and then he had to hear her yammer on to Bobbi about true love, and god, he had such a headache.
Oh and of course all the destruction around him too… death, harm, mayhem. He'd have to throw out this uniform, he thought as he pushed his way through the crowd to his assistant. Soot never came out of spandex properly.
"You screamed my name."
"Yes, need stretcher or something as backboard, please. Need to assist with Park evac, Kyle is injured."
Kyle injured? Kyle was who he passed on all grown up related issues that Warren didn't want to deal with. Warren would help this man.
Glancing around the crowd, he nodded. "One minute." There was no way he could steal a stretcher from the paramedics, the ambulances looked absolutely packed… but he did vaguely remember a sport store.
Money talked even when stores were closed and staff were reluctant to let anyone in lest more destruction. Thankfully, Warren had the gift of gab and generational wealth.
A few moments went by before he rushed back, a garish surfboard in hand.
"This cost more than a small country. We can give it to Alani after." He reached into a pocket and pulled out some random nylon ropes. "Best I could find."
"This will work, yes. Thank you, will cater good lunch Friday." Illyana took the items, then opened the portal to a scene of chaos at the park while yawning. She stepped half through before calling over her shoulder, "Am not coming in tomorrow, do not need me!"
The portal closed behind her with an odd slurping noise.
On the other end, Illyana staggered on her feet for a moment as a wave of exhaustion tried to overtake her. Black hands settled on her shoulders, and she gave April a brief smile and a murmured "Spasibo" as she stood in place, looking around at the small group and the greater devastation. "Kyle, good you are awake. Lie down on surfboard please."
"Am I?" Kyle was slumped against an air-condenser on the roof, face pale under the streaks of dirt and blood. "I guess I am. Damn." He attempted to get up, put fists down on the rough textured tarpaper on the roof, and failed to move his own weight.
He tried to shake his head, attempted a fast brush off of fatigue and pain and got vertigo for his attempt, and scrubbed at his eyes. "Illyana? You're not going to..." He looked at the surfboard, at Illyana, back at the surfboard, at the rooftop and his shaking legs and broken claws and vivid purple bruising on his arm where the jacket had been torn away and the still bleeding wounds on his wrists. "Oh, fuck my life." The groan as he gave one surge of energy to flop down on the surfboard was loud, and broken with wet coughing. "Hey, don't do your port until I pass out okay?”
The last thing he wanted was to see another hell. One was enough. Yana was doing him a solid, he wasn't going to say it out loud though.
"Short distance will be fast, but is okay to pass out for few minutes," Illyana agreed. She and April worked in tandem to get the ropes secure, webbing in a few key places so the ropes couldn't slide but could still be unknotted and pulled away enough to transfer Kyle to a bed or something on the other end.
"How are we getting them both through?" April looked at the surfboard dubiously. "I can just lift... wait..."
She picked up Marius' unconscious body with gentle hands, setting him on the end of the surfboard. Tendrils wrapped securely around him, and she squatted to pick his end of the board up. "If you can pick up the end with Kyle while holding the portal open, we can get them both through easily, koroleva."
Illyana studied the board for a few seconds, then nodded. She opened the portal with some effort, then counted to three as she and April lifted both ends of the surfboard. They passed through without fanfare, settling the board down on the bed next to one of the five — she wasn't sure which one at the moment, and she was too tired to focus enough to care — and staggered as she closed the portal behind them before slumping into a chair.
April lifted Marius off the surfboard and sat him in the bed next to Kyle as she withdrew her tendrils, then used a careful claw to cut through the ropes and webbing they'd used to keep Kyle secure. "I'm gonna get my little sister upstairs and fed. She can pass out in her own bed instead of taking one down here."
With that, she slipped an arm around Illyana, easily hefting the younger woman upright and guiding her out of the room.
*
Topaz was sort of conscious, although her head was pounding fiercely and she was pretty sure if she moved from her sprawled out position she would throw up. But she listened to the chatter on the comms, blinking at the sky. Finally, a thought occurred to her. She reached up to tap her comm.
“If you need transport help, call America. She can do a lot of heavy lifting too.”
Pause. “Think I’m just gonna close my eyes for a minute. Just until the world stops spinning. But I’m fine.”
There was the distinctive rattle of shopping cart wheels in the background over the comms just as Topaz clicked off.
“I have Dominion and Jubilee with me”, Kurt’s voice came over the comm. “Both are injured but I think not critically. I will take them to the medics at the community center.”
*
Wanda, gently but firmly, batted away the hands of the young person acting as the one of many triage helpers. Outwardly, she had a nasty cut in her head that would need stitches, along with other smaller lacerations, and probably a few deeper injuries but nothing that she couldn’t put off treating until later. The bandages applied would do for now.
She ducked away from the impromptu nurses shelter, listening to the comms as the teams ran down what seemed like a growing list of injured. Wanda was able to walk and therefore able to move and help.
Artie had climbed out of the car after he crashed into Death, head balanced on his neck like a... ball on a... stick. His world was pain and vertigo and that was a bad, bad sign. His only focus was on getting to cover, training drilled in bone deep at this point.
There were a lot of walking wounded but most Wanda was seeing were either being treated or she was able to direct them easily to someone. She was just helping someone sit down to talk to a person running triage when, through the crowd, she saw a familiar face.
Frowning, she patted the woman she helped on the shoulder, and trotted away. Pushing her way through, she called out to Artie to wait.
He stopped and, with momentum gone, began to fold at the knees until he was suddenly sitting on the pavement.
“Shit!” Wanda crossed the rest of the distance in a sprint. She crouched next to Artie, looking for injuries. “Artie?"
He raised a hand, gave a smile that looked horrifying - his nose had bled at some point. He laughed, sobbing slightly, careful not to move his head. "Neck's injured. Ribs. Maybe fingers. Hit my head. Hit him with a car, too." The text dissolved slightly around the edges, Artie's focus gone.
“Oh no, no, no,” Wanda whispered as fingers gently — so gently , unconsciously following the threads that bound the two of them — braced his neck. “Bully for you,” she said, sincerely, as she got a knee against his spine. She tilted her head to lock eyes.
“Relax into me,” she said. “I have you. I promise.”
*
Felicia swung the door of the X-Force main office open, mindful of Molly's shoulder, and held it there with her foot as she minutely shifted the cradled small cat, who was nestled against her chest and covered by Felicia's partially zipped up jacket, so Sharon didn't tumble out. "Come on up. I'll show you where the ice is. And more importantly the gin," Felicia said with a half smile and a beckon.
*
Once the adrenaline had worn off, the real panic had set in — along with the pain. Hope was reasonably sure nothing was broken, but a quick look down at herself didn't inspire her to think she was okay. Aside from blood snaking down her chest from myriad cuts and scrapes, one of her wrists was swollen badly, probably sprained, and there was a persistent pain in her side that was likely a cracked rib. And her nose was bleeding again, this time from hitting concrete at speed.
The long sweater she'd been wearing under her jacket had been ruthlessly repurposed as field dressings for the wounds on Arthur's neck and chest. It wasn't sterile, but once her TK had worn out and thus her ability to apply pressure without using her dirty hands, there hadn't been a better option. That had left the problem of how to get Arthur to safety, or at least away from the sounds of warfare; a problem Hope had solved by finding an extra-large TV box and, as gently as possible, sliding it under him and her leather jacket, rolled, under his head. The cold felt better on her various injuries anyway.
She heaved backwards down a deserted road, gritting her teeth and feeling hurt, frustrated tears spill down her face - well, at least nobody was going to see them now.
'Arthur!' A telepathic call rang out and from a nearby building a pearly white ghost emerged, quickly speeding over to check on her teammate. She quickly looked him over before glancing up at the girl dragging him. 'Are you holding up alright?'
The girl's tearstained face looked up at the projection, dropping the flap of the box she'd been using as a handhold. "He's hurt," she explained, desperately. "I don't know where to go."
Arthur wasn't any help at all in answering questions, but somehow in the effort of a five foot nothing child physically dragging a six foot grown man through the streets of New York one of his arms had shifted to look like he was giving a thumbs up. The rest of him was broken, bloody, and very much unconscious, but some things in the world remained the same.
'I can guide you to a nearby clinic.' Narrowing her eyes, Hope looked both of them over. 'Could you manage another five to ten minutes or should I go for assistance?"
"I - he's really hurt, I'm okay, but I don't know if he's — " The smaller Hope's breath hitched and hiccuped as she tried to gather herself. "I don't know if he can wait. The Horseman stabbed him with his claws, and bit his neck, and — "
"Alright, how about we do this?" You just continue down the street and then you turn left, slow and steady. I will go ahead and recruit some help you bring Arthur back." Hope suggested, already calculating the quickest way to get help.
The girl used the back of her arm to wipe her face, smudging tears, dirt, and blood, and . "Okay," she said, bracing herself. "I — I can do that. But please tell them to hurry. I didn't have a first aid kit or — or anything, I think he's still breathing, but — "
Hope focused for a moment, letting Arthur's aura blaze across her sight. It was dimmed, but something resembling determination, the will to live spiraled in faint colors around him. "He is still breathing, still fighting. You have done a great job so far. I will be back soon." With those words Hope faded into one of the houses, rushing towards the clinic.
The other Hope — smaller, corporeal — blinked, letting tears fall again as the first person she'd seen since Death had left them went away. Then she firmed her mouth, bent down, and grabbed the box flap again with her good hand, adding her bad one as support. Her breath steamed in the cold January air as she began again to pull, arduously, muscles standing out in her arms and shoulders.
Arthur was alive — and if she had anything to do with it, he was going to stay that way.
*
The minivan hadn't needed to be hotwired. Whoever owned it had run in the chaos. Madin picked up their phone and hit the emergency button. “I've got transport. Sound off if you need assistance. Our people first — I can run mansion transport after we evac to the community centre.”
They pulled over next to Terry, the first mansionite Madin could find. “Hop in, babe.”
A blonde head peered around the edge of the van’s door as Sue slid it open. “Welcome to Madin Health Transport, please remember to keep your arms and head inside the ride at all times and don’t mind the cramped conditions, our limo’s in the shop.”
Waving as she approached the van, Bobbi stuck her thumb out. “Enough room for one more in there?” she asked, smiling as she saw the door open and Sue inside of the vehicle.
*
It was a good thing Jubilee was so small, Kurt thought vaguely to himself, or this would have had to be two trips. As it was, he’d managed to arrive with both her and Garrison at the same time, and was only swaying slightly as the medics moved to take them from him.
The Community Centre was crowded, but not chaotic. The flood and the riot of November had strangely acted as a practice run for the ongoing situation and despite the gangs on the streets, the atmosphere was grim and fearful but not panicked. The sudden cloud of smoke and the appearance of Kurt with his two passengers had elicited some startled looks and exclamations, but almost immediately the volunteers had recovered. Someone took Kurt by the arm and guided him to a chair, handing him a bottle of water.
Around him, the community continued to do what it did best — recover. Kurt was only one in a sea of familiar faces and working hands and quickly swallowed by the crowd.
There was no way, after all that excitement, that Rictor could sit still. He was literally shaking with nervous energy. The clinician who had pumped him full of pain killers, set his broken nose, bandaged up the cuts on his face and arms almost had to tie him down just to look at him. So once he was discharged from triage, he was assigned welcoming and water bottle–passing duties. Not the action he craved, but he was helping people.
"¿Qué pasa? How're you feeling?" he asked Shatterstar, handing him a bottle.
Shatterstar tried to make it seem like he wasn't pale-faced and sweaty from having just thrown up, taking the bottle from Rictor gratefully. He was half leaning and half wall-sitting against one of the walls. "I will be fine in a few moments," he said. He had a few residual shakes, almost in time with Rictor's.
Having seen what they could do together was well worth the exhaustion, even if he could hardly believe he was still awake. He wasn't sure he would make it up the stairs to his suite once they got back to the mansion.
"I will be able to help you in a moment," he said in an instinctual lie as he poured some water on his hand to wash the sweat from it. "I am glad to see your nose is set. I like your nose." He paused. "I would like it either way." He paused again. "You were amazing."
Rictor wasn't sure what to make of the nose comment, but he didn't dwell. Watching Shatterstar clean up after battle, like a victorious gladiator, that captured his attention. "Nah, Star, you were. The way you took on a bunch of guys at once! Ay, that was awesome."
He preened under the compliment, grinning. "You're still vibrating," he pointed out. "But nothing is shaking." Then, because he trusted Rictor to watch over him he slid down the wall so he was actually sitting and closed his eyes. "Give me a moment. Then we can help direct people to medical together. Thank you for letting me collapse on you earlier."
"I can't stop." Which maybe should have frightened Rictor, because last time he lost control was bad. But the power surging through him now was different. If it was magic, it was Shatterstar's. Rictor would never lose control of that.
"Grab a chair, we can stay outside the doors and get people in safe.”
There was a crackle as the air split open into a star shape somewhere nearby, and America hurried out. She paused to look at the bustling crowd around her, cracked her knuckles, and said, “Where do I start?”
*
Now that their precious cargo had been given over to hospital staff, as she flew, Meggan was able to give her full attention to what was going on with the rest of the important things. Things were just so hectic right now, and she wasn’t sure who else needed help. She listened carefully, before she finally spoke over the comms. “This is Meggan. I’m already in the air with Sam, if you need extra hands. Just got a couple car crash survivors to the hospital.”
"Fliers, be advised, airspace is being monitored." Marie-Ange's voice cut through the rush of wind. "If you are not already over the water, I advise landing and moving on foot. NYPD and NYFD are arriving on site."
There was a pause, then Liam’s comm pinged, and Darcy's voice broke through:
"Skimbleshanks, I'm sending you the location of the closet we keep most of our first aid supplies in. Once this area calms down a little more, I want you to grab a few kits and make your way down the street with Doug and over to the community center to help out, okay?"
Okay, he'd accept Skimbleshanks. Not as good as Rum Tum Tugger, but Liam had absolutely had a CATS phase. He nodded, "Got it," he replied, checking his phone.
“Good. I’ll stay roofside with Kevin.” Her hand was aching as she adjusted her own earpiece, pinkie and ring finger curled and entire hand trembling and cramping from the exertion she’d put it through and the strain on still-injured nerves and muscles.
“Cypher moving to assist,” Doug noted, stashing his binoculars since he knew Kevin wouldn’t need them. “I’ll show him where they are and head over to the community center. Guessing they’ll need as many hands as possible for triage.”
*
The streets of District X were bustling with police, fire fighters, ambulance crews. Rubble lay in cracked streets, traffic signals blinked on and off or dangled uselessly from broken wires. Police caution tape was appearing, sealing off the most damaged buildings and the inexplicable piece of satellite debris which lay in the middle of Avenue C. The DX medical clinic and community centre were full of the injured and displaced. But apart from blood pools and smears here and there, no bodies. The locals who had been killed in the chaos — and these were remarkably few, considering — were laid out in a quiet corner of the community centre and respectfully covered over with blankets, except no-one could remember who had brought them in. The FOH, Clan Akkaba and various mercenaries had fled, leaving their dead behind to be swallowed by the city and never seen again, except as extra-green patches of gardens and lawns.
At the Fabian Building, Betty’s and the bodega were closed, their occupants having been discreetly evacuated by their upstairs neighbours when the violence had begun. The street was quiet, the bulk of the action having taken place a block or two away. Then the rattle of a shopping cart broke the silence as it rolled, apparently of its own volition, up to the building and came to a stop against the curb. Inside, a small South Asian woman was deeply asleep.
The asphalt of the road beside the cart rippled and a blonde head emerged. The rest of the woman followed; she looked exhausted and hollow-eyed, the right hand sleeve of her leather jacket slashed open at the shoulder to reveal pale skin marked by the angry red scar of a serious cut that had only just healed. She leaned over the cart and shook the occupant awake.
Topaz startled awake, blinking heavily and looking around. “Wahappened?” She tried to struggle up like she was going to fight, then paused, looking over her shoulder at Amanda. “Oh.” She looked at the building in front of them. “We’re home? Brilliant.”
Tompkins Square Park looked like a battlefield — which, really, it had been. Amidst the ruined pavement, fragmented trees and scattered iron palings and the small fires still burning after Jubilee’s explosion, the destroyed fountain sprayed water from a broken pipe, adding to the confusion.
Gabriel, his shins and knees and ankles throbbing in pain, took it all in. He saw the people panicking, the park burning like those videos of the Bronx in the 70s, the heart of the neighborhood in ruin. Bodies. He almost didn't notice the bodies anymore.
It gave him an eerie feeling. Something about it reminded him of that other world -- the one where he'd been a mafioso and half of them had died. Death, destruction, chaos. They were all fooling themselves every time they thought they could stave it off.
"No," he murmured. "Later." Then he pulled out his phone and typed in the address of the X-Force office, broadly hitting send to the mansion's residents.
"Just sent an evac point," he said over his earpiece, surprised at how authoritative he sounded. But then he'd done versions of this before. Again and again and again. "Meet there if you can. Bring civilians, we get them off the street. And we deal with the wounded." His voice caught as he looked at Molly. "Molly's injured," he added, his voice a bit more hesitant. "Could use a status report."
"Death is neutralized." Marie-Ange's voice was rough and scratched with emotion - but the transmission came over clear. "Clan Akkaba is in full retreat, the Friends of Humanity are running scared." She watched as a tidal surge of roaches came up out of a dumpster and made their disgusting way down a curb towards a fallen body.
"Daytripper is on cleanup, and…" She paused as several traffic lights went yellow, and the walk signs all started flashing. "Signaling. Sound off please, and update me as needed, I will assist coordinating. Who do we have available to help evacuate injured?"
“Signaling?” Doug brought up his binoculars and scanned, finding the flashing walk signals. Short-short-short, long-long-long, short-short-short… “Ah! SOS. I see the signals, Tarot,” he confirmed. He started looking specifically for stop lights in his scans. “Catbug, confirm you can see them as well,” he called out, all business even if the meme portion of his brain really wanted to make a joke about peanut butter squares or soft tacos. “I’m seeing variations on the stop lights where Daytripper is signaling, I think she’s trying to give us priorities. If you see a red, direct efforts there.”
“I see a red,” Liam replied through his phone, already moving with a medical kit he wasn't entirely sure how to use, “Conduit's still on the roof with uh....I don't know his code name? But I've got a bunch of medical kits I can bring around.”
Illyana tapped her comm to patch through. "Two minutes, need to find stretcher before opening portal to park." She eyed the area wearily, leaning on her sword as she scanned the crowd. Spotting a familiar blonde head, she cupped her hands around her mouth and yelled. "WARREN. Need assistance, please!"
Would today end already? It had taken way too long to deal with Petunia and her never ending list of stuff and then he had to hear her yammer on to Bobbi about true love, and god, he had such a headache.
Oh and of course all the destruction around him too… death, harm, mayhem. He'd have to throw out this uniform, he thought as he pushed his way through the crowd to his assistant. Soot never came out of spandex properly.
"You screamed my name."
"Yes, need stretcher or something as backboard, please. Need to assist with Park evac, Kyle is injured."
Kyle injured? Kyle was who he passed on all grown up related issues that Warren didn't want to deal with. Warren would help this man.
Glancing around the crowd, he nodded. "One minute." There was no way he could steal a stretcher from the paramedics, the ambulances looked absolutely packed… but he did vaguely remember a sport store.
Money talked even when stores were closed and staff were reluctant to let anyone in lest more destruction. Thankfully, Warren had the gift of gab and generational wealth.
A few moments went by before he rushed back, a garish surfboard in hand.
"This cost more than a small country. We can give it to Alani after." He reached into a pocket and pulled out some random nylon ropes. "Best I could find."
"This will work, yes. Thank you, will cater good lunch Friday." Illyana took the items, then opened the portal to a scene of chaos at the park while yawning. She stepped half through before calling over her shoulder, "Am not coming in tomorrow, do not need me!"
The portal closed behind her with an odd slurping noise.
On the other end, Illyana staggered on her feet for a moment as a wave of exhaustion tried to overtake her. Black hands settled on her shoulders, and she gave April a brief smile and a murmured "Spasibo" as she stood in place, looking around at the small group and the greater devastation. "Kyle, good you are awake. Lie down on surfboard please."
"Am I?" Kyle was slumped against an air-condenser on the roof, face pale under the streaks of dirt and blood. "I guess I am. Damn." He attempted to get up, put fists down on the rough textured tarpaper on the roof, and failed to move his own weight.
He tried to shake his head, attempted a fast brush off of fatigue and pain and got vertigo for his attempt, and scrubbed at his eyes. "Illyana? You're not going to..." He looked at the surfboard, at Illyana, back at the surfboard, at the rooftop and his shaking legs and broken claws and vivid purple bruising on his arm where the jacket had been torn away and the still bleeding wounds on his wrists. "Oh, fuck my life." The groan as he gave one surge of energy to flop down on the surfboard was loud, and broken with wet coughing. "Hey, don't do your port until I pass out okay?”
The last thing he wanted was to see another hell. One was enough. Yana was doing him a solid, he wasn't going to say it out loud though.
"Short distance will be fast, but is okay to pass out for few minutes," Illyana agreed. She and April worked in tandem to get the ropes secure, webbing in a few key places so the ropes couldn't slide but could still be unknotted and pulled away enough to transfer Kyle to a bed or something on the other end.
"How are we getting them both through?" April looked at the surfboard dubiously. "I can just lift... wait..."
She picked up Marius' unconscious body with gentle hands, setting him on the end of the surfboard. Tendrils wrapped securely around him, and she squatted to pick his end of the board up. "If you can pick up the end with Kyle while holding the portal open, we can get them both through easily, koroleva."
Illyana studied the board for a few seconds, then nodded. She opened the portal with some effort, then counted to three as she and April lifted both ends of the surfboard. They passed through without fanfare, settling the board down on the bed next to one of the five — she wasn't sure which one at the moment, and she was too tired to focus enough to care — and staggered as she closed the portal behind them before slumping into a chair.
April lifted Marius off the surfboard and sat him in the bed next to Kyle as she withdrew her tendrils, then used a careful claw to cut through the ropes and webbing they'd used to keep Kyle secure. "I'm gonna get my little sister upstairs and fed. She can pass out in her own bed instead of taking one down here."
With that, she slipped an arm around Illyana, easily hefting the younger woman upright and guiding her out of the room.
*
Topaz was sort of conscious, although her head was pounding fiercely and she was pretty sure if she moved from her sprawled out position she would throw up. But she listened to the chatter on the comms, blinking at the sky. Finally, a thought occurred to her. She reached up to tap her comm.
“If you need transport help, call America. She can do a lot of heavy lifting too.”
Pause. “Think I’m just gonna close my eyes for a minute. Just until the world stops spinning. But I’m fine.”
There was the distinctive rattle of shopping cart wheels in the background over the comms just as Topaz clicked off.
“I have Dominion and Jubilee with me”, Kurt’s voice came over the comm. “Both are injured but I think not critically. I will take them to the medics at the community center.”
*
Wanda, gently but firmly, batted away the hands of the young person acting as the one of many triage helpers. Outwardly, she had a nasty cut in her head that would need stitches, along with other smaller lacerations, and probably a few deeper injuries but nothing that she couldn’t put off treating until later. The bandages applied would do for now.
She ducked away from the impromptu nurses shelter, listening to the comms as the teams ran down what seemed like a growing list of injured. Wanda was able to walk and therefore able to move and help.
Artie had climbed out of the car after he crashed into Death, head balanced on his neck like a... ball on a... stick. His world was pain and vertigo and that was a bad, bad sign. His only focus was on getting to cover, training drilled in bone deep at this point.
There were a lot of walking wounded but most Wanda was seeing were either being treated or she was able to direct them easily to someone. She was just helping someone sit down to talk to a person running triage when, through the crowd, she saw a familiar face.
Frowning, she patted the woman she helped on the shoulder, and trotted away. Pushing her way through, she called out to Artie to wait.
He stopped and, with momentum gone, began to fold at the knees until he was suddenly sitting on the pavement.
“Shit!” Wanda crossed the rest of the distance in a sprint. She crouched next to Artie, looking for injuries. “Artie?"
He raised a hand, gave a smile that looked horrifying - his nose had bled at some point. He laughed, sobbing slightly, careful not to move his head. "Neck's injured. Ribs. Maybe fingers. Hit my head. Hit him with a car, too." The text dissolved slightly around the edges, Artie's focus gone.
“Oh no, no, no,” Wanda whispered as fingers gently — so gently , unconsciously following the threads that bound the two of them — braced his neck. “Bully for you,” she said, sincerely, as she got a knee against his spine. She tilted her head to lock eyes.
“Relax into me,” she said. “I have you. I promise.”
*
Felicia swung the door of the X-Force main office open, mindful of Molly's shoulder, and held it there with her foot as she minutely shifted the cradled small cat, who was nestled against her chest and covered by Felicia's partially zipped up jacket, so Sharon didn't tumble out. "Come on up. I'll show you where the ice is. And more importantly the gin," Felicia said with a half smile and a beckon.
*
Once the adrenaline had worn off, the real panic had set in — along with the pain. Hope was reasonably sure nothing was broken, but a quick look down at herself didn't inspire her to think she was okay. Aside from blood snaking down her chest from myriad cuts and scrapes, one of her wrists was swollen badly, probably sprained, and there was a persistent pain in her side that was likely a cracked rib. And her nose was bleeding again, this time from hitting concrete at speed.
The long sweater she'd been wearing under her jacket had been ruthlessly repurposed as field dressings for the wounds on Arthur's neck and chest. It wasn't sterile, but once her TK had worn out and thus her ability to apply pressure without using her dirty hands, there hadn't been a better option. That had left the problem of how to get Arthur to safety, or at least away from the sounds of warfare; a problem Hope had solved by finding an extra-large TV box and, as gently as possible, sliding it under him and her leather jacket, rolled, under his head. The cold felt better on her various injuries anyway.
She heaved backwards down a deserted road, gritting her teeth and feeling hurt, frustrated tears spill down her face - well, at least nobody was going to see them now.
'Arthur!' A telepathic call rang out and from a nearby building a pearly white ghost emerged, quickly speeding over to check on her teammate. She quickly looked him over before glancing up at the girl dragging him. 'Are you holding up alright?'
The girl's tearstained face looked up at the projection, dropping the flap of the box she'd been using as a handhold. "He's hurt," she explained, desperately. "I don't know where to go."
Arthur wasn't any help at all in answering questions, but somehow in the effort of a five foot nothing child physically dragging a six foot grown man through the streets of New York one of his arms had shifted to look like he was giving a thumbs up. The rest of him was broken, bloody, and very much unconscious, but some things in the world remained the same.
'I can guide you to a nearby clinic.' Narrowing her eyes, Hope looked both of them over. 'Could you manage another five to ten minutes or should I go for assistance?"
"I - he's really hurt, I'm okay, but I don't know if he's — " The smaller Hope's breath hitched and hiccuped as she tried to gather herself. "I don't know if he can wait. The Horseman stabbed him with his claws, and bit his neck, and — "
"Alright, how about we do this?" You just continue down the street and then you turn left, slow and steady. I will go ahead and recruit some help you bring Arthur back." Hope suggested, already calculating the quickest way to get help.
The girl used the back of her arm to wipe her face, smudging tears, dirt, and blood, and . "Okay," she said, bracing herself. "I — I can do that. But please tell them to hurry. I didn't have a first aid kit or — or anything, I think he's still breathing, but — "
Hope focused for a moment, letting Arthur's aura blaze across her sight. It was dimmed, but something resembling determination, the will to live spiraled in faint colors around him. "He is still breathing, still fighting. You have done a great job so far. I will be back soon." With those words Hope faded into one of the houses, rushing towards the clinic.
The other Hope — smaller, corporeal — blinked, letting tears fall again as the first person she'd seen since Death had left them went away. Then she firmed her mouth, bent down, and grabbed the box flap again with her good hand, adding her bad one as support. Her breath steamed in the cold January air as she began again to pull, arduously, muscles standing out in her arms and shoulders.
Arthur was alive — and if she had anything to do with it, he was going to stay that way.
*
The minivan hadn't needed to be hotwired. Whoever owned it had run in the chaos. Madin picked up their phone and hit the emergency button. “I've got transport. Sound off if you need assistance. Our people first — I can run mansion transport after we evac to the community centre.”
They pulled over next to Terry, the first mansionite Madin could find. “Hop in, babe.”
A blonde head peered around the edge of the van’s door as Sue slid it open. “Welcome to Madin Health Transport, please remember to keep your arms and head inside the ride at all times and don’t mind the cramped conditions, our limo’s in the shop.”
Waving as she approached the van, Bobbi stuck her thumb out. “Enough room for one more in there?” she asked, smiling as she saw the door open and Sue inside of the vehicle.
*
It was a good thing Jubilee was so small, Kurt thought vaguely to himself, or this would have had to be two trips. As it was, he’d managed to arrive with both her and Garrison at the same time, and was only swaying slightly as the medics moved to take them from him.
The Community Centre was crowded, but not chaotic. The flood and the riot of November had strangely acted as a practice run for the ongoing situation and despite the gangs on the streets, the atmosphere was grim and fearful but not panicked. The sudden cloud of smoke and the appearance of Kurt with his two passengers had elicited some startled looks and exclamations, but almost immediately the volunteers had recovered. Someone took Kurt by the arm and guided him to a chair, handing him a bottle of water.
Around him, the community continued to do what it did best — recover. Kurt was only one in a sea of familiar faces and working hands and quickly swallowed by the crowd.
There was no way, after all that excitement, that Rictor could sit still. He was literally shaking with nervous energy. The clinician who had pumped him full of pain killers, set his broken nose, bandaged up the cuts on his face and arms almost had to tie him down just to look at him. So once he was discharged from triage, he was assigned welcoming and water bottle–passing duties. Not the action he craved, but he was helping people.
"¿Qué pasa? How're you feeling?" he asked Shatterstar, handing him a bottle.
Shatterstar tried to make it seem like he wasn't pale-faced and sweaty from having just thrown up, taking the bottle from Rictor gratefully. He was half leaning and half wall-sitting against one of the walls. "I will be fine in a few moments," he said. He had a few residual shakes, almost in time with Rictor's.
Having seen what they could do together was well worth the exhaustion, even if he could hardly believe he was still awake. He wasn't sure he would make it up the stairs to his suite once they got back to the mansion.
"I will be able to help you in a moment," he said in an instinctual lie as he poured some water on his hand to wash the sweat from it. "I am glad to see your nose is set. I like your nose." He paused. "I would like it either way." He paused again. "You were amazing."
Rictor wasn't sure what to make of the nose comment, but he didn't dwell. Watching Shatterstar clean up after battle, like a victorious gladiator, that captured his attention. "Nah, Star, you were. The way you took on a bunch of guys at once! Ay, that was awesome."
He preened under the compliment, grinning. "You're still vibrating," he pointed out. "But nothing is shaking." Then, because he trusted Rictor to watch over him he slid down the wall so he was actually sitting and closed his eyes. "Give me a moment. Then we can help direct people to medical together. Thank you for letting me collapse on you earlier."
"I can't stop." Which maybe should have frightened Rictor, because last time he lost control was bad. But the power surging through him now was different. If it was magic, it was Shatterstar's. Rictor would never lose control of that.
"Grab a chair, we can stay outside the doors and get people in safe.”
There was a crackle as the air split open into a star shape somewhere nearby, and America hurried out. She paused to look at the bustling crowd around her, cracked her knuckles, and said, “Where do I start?”
*
Now that their precious cargo had been given over to hospital staff, as she flew, Meggan was able to give her full attention to what was going on with the rest of the important things. Things were just so hectic right now, and she wasn’t sure who else needed help. She listened carefully, before she finally spoke over the comms. “This is Meggan. I’m already in the air with Sam, if you need extra hands. Just got a couple car crash survivors to the hospital.”
"Fliers, be advised, airspace is being monitored." Marie-Ange's voice cut through the rush of wind. "If you are not already over the water, I advise landing and moving on foot. NYPD and NYFD are arriving on site."
There was a pause, then Liam’s comm pinged, and Darcy's voice broke through:
"Skimbleshanks, I'm sending you the location of the closet we keep most of our first aid supplies in. Once this area calms down a little more, I want you to grab a few kits and make your way down the street with Doug and over to the community center to help out, okay?"
Okay, he'd accept Skimbleshanks. Not as good as Rum Tum Tugger, but Liam had absolutely had a CATS phase. He nodded, "Got it," he replied, checking his phone.
“Good. I’ll stay roofside with Kevin.” Her hand was aching as she adjusted her own earpiece, pinkie and ring finger curled and entire hand trembling and cramping from the exertion she’d put it through and the strain on still-injured nerves and muscles.
“Cypher moving to assist,” Doug noted, stashing his binoculars since he knew Kevin wouldn’t need them. “I’ll show him where they are and head over to the community center. Guessing they’ll need as many hands as possible for triage.”
*
The streets of District X were bustling with police, fire fighters, ambulance crews. Rubble lay in cracked streets, traffic signals blinked on and off or dangled uselessly from broken wires. Police caution tape was appearing, sealing off the most damaged buildings and the inexplicable piece of satellite debris which lay in the middle of Avenue C. The DX medical clinic and community centre were full of the injured and displaced. But apart from blood pools and smears here and there, no bodies. The locals who had been killed in the chaos — and these were remarkably few, considering — were laid out in a quiet corner of the community centre and respectfully covered over with blankets, except no-one could remember who had brought them in. The FOH, Clan Akkaba and various mercenaries had fled, leaving their dead behind to be swallowed by the city and never seen again, except as extra-green patches of gardens and lawns.
At the Fabian Building, Betty’s and the bodega were closed, their occupants having been discreetly evacuated by their upstairs neighbours when the violence had begun. The street was quiet, the bulk of the action having taken place a block or two away. Then the rattle of a shopping cart broke the silence as it rolled, apparently of its own volition, up to the building and came to a stop against the curb. Inside, a small South Asian woman was deeply asleep.
The asphalt of the road beside the cart rippled and a blonde head emerged. The rest of the woman followed; she looked exhausted and hollow-eyed, the right hand sleeve of her leather jacket slashed open at the shoulder to reveal pale skin marked by the angry red scar of a serious cut that had only just healed. She leaned over the cart and shook the occupant awake.
Topaz startled awake, blinking heavily and looking around. “Wahappened?” She tried to struggle up like she was going to fight, then paused, looking over her shoulder at Amanda. “Oh.” She looked at the building in front of them. “We’re home? Brilliant.”