Skippy, Part 2b: The X-Kids Strike Back

[x-crowdofone.livejournal.com]

Moira woke with a start, staring at her desk in confusion. She’d managed to fall asleep while waiting for some print outs to finally finish. Something was wrong, she knew, shaking off the last dregs of sleep from her system. The link…

She frowned and reached out mentally towards where the link was in her mind. Still there, obviously, but something was very, very wrong with it. It ‘felt’ cold and…was Nathan asleep?

#Nathan?#

No answer, not even a stir from the other end.

As she continued poking and prodding at the link, her level of worry increased. Nathan always answered when Moira communicated over the link. By now, they were both so used to the link that using it would disturb even a deep sleep. And over the past week, she had gotten used to the rather fuzzy-sided link, due to Nathan’s injuries and medication.

Worried and slightly panicked, she quickly left her desk and headed towards the door to her office. Moira frowned at the closed door but shrugged, figuring that someone (probably Henry) had closed it when they had noticed that she had fallen asleep in her office again.

Confusion flared when she tried to open the door, only to find it locked. “Wha’ th’ bloody ‘ell?” she snapped, pushing against it. If this was some sort of prank by either Jamie or one of the other students, she’d have their hides in detention for a week.

#Nathan?# Still nothing. “Damn it!”

Moira turned the handle and slammed against the door but it still wouldn’t give. She blinked and looked a little more closely at the door. The door had someone been locked from the outside, she realized and…

Her office door had a smoky glass window in the center of it and while normally she couldn’t see through it, it had always let some light in at least. But now the light was gone and the window was dark.

She took a step back and looked at the space between the door and the carpet. That as well was dark. The lights in her office were obviously on but she couldn’t help but wonder if some bizarre power outage had hit while she had been asleep.

The fear Moira had forced back when she hadn’t been able to contact Nathan worsened as her mind went a step beyond power outage. Nathan out of contact and she was locked in her office.

Invasion?

Within seconds, she was back at her computer, fingers flying over the keyboard as she brought up the journal system. Nothing at all strange on there, as far as she could see, at least for that day. Moira stopped herself from making a post, figuring that if something was going on and someone was in the Mansion, the last thing she wanted to do was bring attention to herself.

Moira leaned back her chair and struggled with ideas for a second. Her gaze traveled back up to her door and the now dark window. Well, there was something she could attempt anyway, she realized, surging up from her chair.

After some searching amongst papers and books, she located a small Murano glass paperweight Charles had bought her years ago for a Christmas present. Moira hefted it and felt the reassuringly dense weight in her hand. These pieces of glass were known for their density and resilance.

“Time ta test tha’ out, then,” she muttered, walking back over to the door.

Charles would forgive her, probably, for breaking the glass, Moira mused, as she drew back and then threw the paperweight at the window. She winced at the noise but suddenly felt her mouth go dry. The glass from the now broken window fell into her
office as the paperweight suddenly bounced back. Moira found herself staring at the reason there had been no light coming through. Whoever had locked her in the office had taken precaution of her breaking through the window and getting out like that. He, she, they, had managed to move one of the large, heavy metal cabinets square in front of her door.

This was no joke. The kids liked their fun and games but this went beyond locking the doctor in her office. Someone had wanted her to stay put.

Quietly, she went and sat on the couch, face in her hands. Moira was still slightly shaky from the incident on Muir Island and this was certainly not helping. She had no idea what was going on or who was behind this.

All she knew was that she was locked in and Nathan was, probably, knocked out.

Nathan.

Moira cursed. While still injured from the gun shot wound he had taken on Muir, he was still a match for a good number of people. Images of him dieing slowly somewhere on the ground froze her blood.

But it also got her moving as another thought occurred to her. She wasn’t the ONLY person that had been in the lab areas for the last few hours. Bartlet had been working in the MedLab earlier, as well.

The thought of Nathan hurt, again, and Bartlet being close and, probably, trapped as Moira was, made her realize something.

Despite being only human, she was needed and she was wasting time sitting on her ass.

Moira stood and took a look around her office. Going out through the door was out of the question. She checked the phone but she figured on it being dead the second she had picked it up.

“Think, MacTaggart, think!” she hissed at herself, rolling her neck in an effort to get some of the tension out of it.

Suddenly, her eyes widened as she spotted the ventilation opening on the far side of the wall. Moira knew that the MedLab was kept on a different ventilation system because of the needs to keep it sterilized. Privately, she figured it was also just in case something got into the HUAC in the other parts of the Mansion. Keeping an area separate just in case was a pretty smart idea.

Slowly, she walked over until she was under it and stared up, frowning. From the discussions she had had with Cain over what Charles had done to the Mansion in the years it had fallen into his possession, she had come to understand that in order to make some of the necessary readjustments work, parts of the ceiling had had to have been staggered.

Meaning there might, just might, be enough room for her to squeeze through and get out. Moira closed her eyes, hands starting to shake suddenly.

Should she? Unarmed, because there would be no room to take one of her rifles—though if she got out, she could probably move the cabinet enough to get back in—untrained, and up against God only knew what.

But the image of Nathan hurt, Bartlet in the other room, and the kids in potential danger forced her hand. There would be plenty of time to be scared and panic later, she reminded herself as she grabbed one of the chairs and shoved it against the wall.

Somewhere under the massive amounts of paper, Moira discovered a screwdriver. Tucked safely in the back of her pants, she stepped on the chair and, with a frown when she realized it was still a little too far away, climbed carefully onto the back of it.

Balanced preciously, she took her time in removing the screws in the corners. Finally, the vent was uncovered.

With a sigh and a “I’m crazy” noise, Moira grabbed the edges of the opening and hoisted herself up. It was not an easy going as the chair suddenly slid out from under her and she grunted as she slammed into the wall. Suddenly, she was glad that she was in pretty good shape for someone her age, as she pushed herself up and then pulled herself in.

It was an incredibly tight fit, Moira realized; also suddenly thankful she was not claustrophobic. The shaft was barely wide enough for her to squeeze through, not even an inch of room to either side of her shoulders. And if she lifted her head far enough, it bumped into the ceiling.

Grunting and cursing quietly under her breath, she wiggled through the vent. As quiet as she was trying to be, the small noises of flesh hitting metal couldn’t be avoided. There was not enough room for stealth crawling.

It seemed to take forever (in reality only about ten minutes) before Moira found another vent opening. By the time she had, she was soaked in sweat, already bruised from head to toe and shaking from the effort.

Moira took a second to rest and wipe the sweat from her eyes. After a minute, she managed to wedge herself in the opening, which had a little more room than the shaft itself. Not much but she took what she had. Quickly, she glanced through the open slates and was relived to see that, yes, this had led her out into the hallway. Now, only to get out of the shaft.

The screws on this were on the outside as well, which did her next to no go here. But as she studied the metal, she noticed that this vent was slightly more worn than the other had been. Gently, she pressed her hand against it and was surprised when it gave more than she had expected.

Obviously, Cain had not gotten around to replacing this one. For which she was going to have to thank him.

It took some more maneuvering and a good deal of internal cursing before she had turned around enough to plant her feet against the grating. She braced herself and then pushed, straining and hoping that it would just give.

Her leg muscles were screaming in protest, very nearly cramped from the crawling she had just finished, and she almost stopped right when the grate suddenly groaned, loudly, and flew off with a clang.

It was only luck that meant she didn’t follow it but she still managed to slam her knees into the square opening. Moira didn’t bother to complain, just simply wiggled out feet first. In a few seconds, she had dropped back to the ground, nearly falling when her legs almost gave out.

The wall felt cold and soothing as she leaned up against it, trying to get her muscles to stop crying at her. She glanced around. She was just down the hall from her office but the door to one of the labs was closer. And, luckily, the area looked deserted.

Trying to be quiet, Moira headed towards the first lab door. She had no idea where Bartlet might have been locked in at, so she was going to have to check every room.

"You shouldn't be out." The voice behind her was cold, flat--and familiar. Jamie's voice. "You're only human. You should stay where you're put."

Moira turned, door half way open behind her. This one hadn't been locked--no one had been in it. "Jamie?" she asked, slowly, watching him. Jamie had done this? But why? Her mind raced in confusion.

If it was Jamie. This one was gaunt, almost starved-looking, his face hard-planed and humorless, and nothing alive in his eyes at all. A leather gauntlet covered his left hand to the elbow. "That's right," he said, voice low. "The real one. And you, you helped the fake steal my life. But you were nice to me, so I thought I'd let you off lightly." He stepped forward, expression menacing. "You really should have stayed quiet, human. Cooperated. I don't
want to hurt anybody, but I will. I'm good at it. That's what you turned me into when you left me behind."

When Jamie, or was it him, stepped towards her, Moira stepped back into the room. The coolness and familiarity of the science lab helped ease her fear somewhat. "Left ye behind?" As she watched him move, she knew without a doubt this was not the Jamie she knew. She knew how the young man moved, his rhythm, his energy. The study's she had done on him after the accident had left her with a firm knowledge about his power and a good deal more. This was not him. But if it was Jamie, then who was it? Suddenly her tired mind raced back to the other weekend, the announcement. So, this was who the announcement had been about. Now she understood and, unfortunately, in her understanding her fear deepened a little.

"Like garbage." He smirked. "You're supposed to be an expert on mutants, why don't you tell me what happens when I get hit with the kinetic energy of, oh, say, a ton of rock? And none of you cared enough to make sure you had the right one, the real one. Well, I'm taking my life back now. And you need to stay out of my way until I do."

More light dawned in her confused mind. It was the dupe from the accident. And until recently, they had thought something like this was impossible, Jamie's dupes didn't have separate personalities. Or so Moira had thought. "An' 'ow do ye plan on doin' tha'?" she asked, quietly, watching him carefully. Internally, she cursed herself for not being able to bring any of
her weapons with her. The vent had been much too tight a fit.

"Take my life back? Once I reclaim that delusional dupe, it's just math. I'll be the only Jamie left." He cocked his head. "Or did you mean, how am I going to keep you out of my way?" He raised his left hand, flexed the gauntleted fingers, and needles emerged from the tips, glistening wetly. "Any way I have to. The hydra was poisonous, you know. Hercules dipped
his arrows in its blood."

She quickly backed up a couple of more steps and started heading around some of the lab tables, to keep some distance between them. "Verra clever. Caught off one o' th' 'yrda's 'ead, another one appears." Quickly, she glanced around. They had warning signs around the lab for a reason. There had to be something she could use to defend herself against him.

He vaulted one of the tables, closing half the distance between them in a rush. "Magneto doesn't keep his promises, but he's very good with words. And names are important. Hold still, now. I don't want to kill you by mistake." He chuckled, too loud. "That would make it hard to fit in, wouldn't it? You're a good person, Doc. I liked helping you on your island. But I can't let you screw things up for me. This is my chance." He smiled. "I didn't even kill your boyfriend, that mercenary, when I could have. I'm not a bad person."

Moira nearly screamed when he moved, she hadn't expected him to be so damned fast. She bolted around another table, knowing that it really would do any good. But at least she knew know what had happened to Nathan. Poison was something she could handle. If she got out of here. There was no comfort in knowing he wasn't trying to kill her and she knew that she
could not let that happen. Not if she wanted to be of any use to anyone. "Wha' makes ye think I'm goin' t' 'old still lon' enough for ye t' do tha' t' me?" she asked, finally seeing a cluttered lab station. One of Henry's from the look of it. Moira slowly closed the distance between it and her.

"Because it'll hurt more if I have to make you. I learned a lot about hurting people." He vaulted another table and made a grab for her arm; cloth ripped. "Please don't make this harder than it has to be."

"I'm nay th' one tryin' t' knock people out," Moira snapped, fear driven adrenaline pumping through her veins. She twisted away and kicked one of the stools at him, enough to hopefully distract him as she made a break for the station. No sharp objects and, more importantly, no sedatives. Damn! Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a large container, marked
Caution: Muriatic Acid, in Henry's writing. In desperation, she reached for it and then turned around. "Nay a step closer. Ye really dinnae want ta feel the effects o' this."

A bluff because Moira knew that it would take a lot for her to throw this at someone on purpose. Even him.

He batted the stool aside with a contemptuous laugh. "You can't stop me with that. Stop trying." Another few steps, and he shoved her back across the lab table, pinning her with one arm across her throat, the gloved hand poised to strike. "I really am sorry about this, Doc."

Moira gasped and her vision went a little dark at the pressure to her throat. The sudden cut off of oxygen sent her self-preservation into full mode. She struggled, the container sloshing a bit. She heard the Jamie dupe grunt and the pressure increased and she saw the glove start to slowly descend. 'Nay!' she thought, desperately, panicked and jerked away.

Suddenly the container wasn't in her hands anymore and she heard a scream. And it wasn't hers. Moira opened her eyes, hands going to her throat to rub the feeling back in and gasped.

The dupe howled, clutching at his eyes and face; his exposed skin was red, and blistering already. Then he stiffened, convulsively; his flesh began to bubble and slough, exposing bone that cracked and rotted. In less than half a minute, all that was left was a spreading puddle of red, with streaks of putrid green and gray and other colors less identifiable,
with the occasional crumbling solid piece poking above the ooze.

Moira stepped back, hands flying to cover her mouth as she stared at the transformation in complete horror. She winced as she noticed some of the dupe had gotten on her clothes. As the mess at her feet finally stopped twitching, Moira felt her stomach heave. Counting to ten didn't help, so she started over again. Numb was a good word for the feeling that was going through her body, though she did wish it was the comfortably numb kind.

As she shifted to the side, her feet suddenly stepped on something and her legs shot out from under her. Moira bit back a moan when she realized she had landed right in the puddle of fake Jamie. A dupe or not, she had still been the rather nasty death of someone. All of her oaths as a doctor...

Bile rose to the back of her throat and Moira leaned to the side as she was suddenly relieved of her breakfast. It was short but violently hard on her stomach and throat, and she ended up gasping for air. Quickly, she scrambled to her feet, one hand wiping her mouth, the other steadying herself so she couldn't fall back down.

She stumbled backwards, legs starting to go. But before she could, two things happened. The link suddenly shifted a little, reminding her that Nathan needed her. And she heard a yell down the hall. Bartlet. The fact that people needed her helped
ground her somewhat. All doctors have to be resilient, she thought hazily, trying to slip into the mask of the cool, collected doctor.

Work now, panic later.

---

Rahne headed down the corridor at a fast lope. It hadn't been immediate, with all the shock, but it hadn't taken very long either for people to start realizing that if Jamie's mad double said he had Miles and Artie, and Alison hadn't yet either contradicted him or gone on a rampage, something had happened to her.

She found the door open and the air smelling faintly scorched; Alison lay still on the floor, and Rahne knelt beside her, unknowingly in the same spot Skippy had crouched.

Pulse.

Breath.

Alive.

Claw-marks on the shoulder, going deep. No other visible injuries. Little flecks of something sprinkled on the floor and on Alison. Rahne's breath stirred a few of them up again; she tried not to breathe them in.

After dialing the medlab to tell the doctors that Alison would need to be brought in but didn't seem to be an emergency, she set about cleaning the surface of the punctures and trying to make her a bit more comfortable.

---

Creeping down the hallways felt like being stuck inside a horror movie - or one of those really bad art films that were always on at four in the morning. In this case, probably a horror movie, Angie decided. This was definitly not an art film. She rubbed the back of her neck as she pulled up yet another wall from the handful of cards in her hand - she hadn't had time to sort, just grabbed a few random ones, some from her tarot deck, some Magic cards from Doug's desk.

And of course, it would've been a Wall of Putrid Flesh she had grabbed. Which just made this all the more surreal. It couldn't be Wall of Stone, or even Wall of Ice. No, of course, it had to be Flesh, and she thought after making what had to be a dozen of the things, she was going to burn the card when they were done. Every copy.

Doug and Marie-Ange had made it down to the basement pretty much without incident. Doug was feeling rather like a character in Unreal Tournament. He had been consciously scanning every approach for danger before entering a room, relying on Marie-Ange to keep their backs covered with the animated walls.

He struggled with the adrenaline pumping through his system, trying to stay focused and as calm as possible. Finally, they reached their destination, and Doug preceded Marie-Ange through the door. They entered the antechamber to the shielded room commonly known as "The Box", and Doug cursed feelingly as a figure in front of the door to the shielded room turned and grinned widely.

The first impression was that he looked exactly like Jamie.

The second--once they'd had time to take in the cold, cold eyes above the smile--was that he looked nothing like Jamie. A leather gauntlet covered his left hand to the elbow, looking out of place against his jeans and T-shirt.

"Doug! Angie! Great to see you guys again. How've you been?"

Marie-Ange blinked at the almost-cheerful sounding voice - and then stared openly at the gauntlet. "Now what do we do?" she asked, in French - hoping that this Jamie who was not Jamie hadn't managed to learn any at all.

"Well, that is most definitely not Jamie," Doug replied in French. "Unless Jamie has gone batshit insane that we didn't know about."

"Now, you guys, how fair is it to talk about me when I can't understand? We're all friends here."

"Maybe we can talk him into letting us check on the Professor?" Marie-Ange asked, then looked at "Jamie., and switched to English. "I'm sorry. That was really rude of me." She paused, trying to look less worried and more friendly than she felt. "We're.. good. I guess. End of .. semester work. Um. " Her voice trailed off, having a lack of things to say to an obviously crazy person.

"Ohhh . . ." The not-Jamie clicked his tongue. "Sorry, I did catch that one. The Professor's indisposed. Come back later."

"Oh, smarter than you look, eh Skippy?" Doug raised his hand to his mouth in a fake gesture of shock. "Oops. Did I say that out loud?" he asked insincerely.

The dupe's face contorted in an ugly snarl. "Don't. CALL. ME. THAT. I'm the real one."

Doug grinned widely. "Touchy little clone, ain't we?"

Marie-Ange sighed. So much for talking him down. She gripped the cards in her hand, and tried to flip through them, knowing that there had to be something a little more useful a big icky wall..

"He sent you down here, didn't he. To get old spam-in-a-can out to mess things up for me." The dupe paced back and forth, short, quick steps. "That's not going to happen. I'm getting my life back. Today." His hand twitched, and claws, glistening with moisture, extended from the glove's fingertips. "No matter who I have to go through to do it."

Marie-Ange could only stare in shock at the words coming from the mouth and face of her friend. She knew it wasn't Jamie, she just couldn't bring herself to move, or say anything or do more than stare down at her hands and try to stop the shaking in her hands

Doug snickered loudly. "Oh, I think there are a few people that might object to that plan, old boy. Like, for instance, Jamie?" He grinned.

"I'm Jamie, you useless little shit. Magic body-language trick couldn't even tell the difference between me and a dupe, could it?"

"Actually, the 'magic body language trick' is very good at telling the difference between Jamie and a batshit insane wannabe, old boy," Doug rejoined in a fake British accent.

Somewhere very far back in Marie-Ange's head, she wondered if Doug too had gone completely mad. She wasn't sure what was scarier. Insane Jamie, or Doug baiting him.

He pointed at Doug with the gloved hand. "You'll change your tune when I'm the only one left. Which I will be, after today. My dupe is coming home."

Doug looked very carefully at the glove. "Learned a new trick, have you? What, are you trying to be Logan? I suppose it's too much to ask for you to master something with moving parts, is it?"

"Hercules dipped his arrows in its blood. That was deadlier than this, though. I don't want to kill anyone." He smiled, all affability again. "You're my friends, after all."

"Merde." Marie-Ange whispered. "The hydra." Her eyes grew wide, and she took another tiny step back. "Merde, merde, MERDE." She shook her head, and clutched at her hands to try to shop the shaking.

Doug whistled. "Wow. You managed to read Greek mythology all by yourself? Or did your friends have to explain the long words to you?"

"The name fits." A smile twitched up one corner of his mouth. "And what's with all the talk, Doogie? Not gonna get Xavier out any faster."

Doug shrugged. "I'm not too worried, Skippy. I'll get him out sooner or later." He grinned wolfishly. "And that silly little glove isn't going to stop me."

"Stopped the mercenary pretty damn well. Stopped Alison." His face and voice went dead. "What are you going to do, taunt me to death in Czechoslovakian?"

Doug winced minutely at the mention of Nathan and Alison. His voice went just as dead. "I'll be taking that out of your hide then, Skippy. And why don't you come find out?"

He thumped himself on the chest convulsively, and then there were two, advancing menacingly toward Doug and Marie-Ange. "Why don't we just." The first one reached Marie-Ange in a rush, straight-arming her in the chest and sending her cards flying as she careened into the wall. Both then turned to circle Doug.

The dupe in front of Doug grinned. "You and I both know you're all talk, Doug. Make this easy on yourself." The dupe behind him came in fast, snaking one arm around his neck and poising the glove to strike.

Marie-Ange's feet slipped on the floor, sending her to the ground in a heap. She reached out with one hand and grabbed a single card, the only one she could reach and bit down her on her bottom lip when she turned it over. She swallowed hard against a mouthful of acid and steeled herself for what she was about to do.

Doug, for his part, reacted to the body language of the dupe in front of him and quickly slithered out of the arm, moving behind and putting the dupe in a headlock. He leaned down to yell in the dupe's ear. "WOO! Have I got your attention now?"

The other one smirked and moved in. "He's a little busy, but you've got mine, if that helps."

Doug maneuvered, keeping the dupe he had in a headlock between him and the active dupe. Pressing down on the carotid artery, he quickly countered every attempt the dupe made to re-dupe, softening the kinetic energy of each move.

Still sprawled on the floor, Marie-Ange glared at the back of the dupes, and tried to breathe. In, out, in out, and... She gritted her teeth, and gagged once against the sour taste in her mouth. "And you have mine, Skippy." she whispered. "And also, I can kill you with my brain." If Doug could distract himself with silly quotes - and she was almost certain that was what he was doing - then so could she, even if it didn't really help, but it was better than thinking about what she was about to do.

Without warning, there was a number of wet thudding sounds, in a cascade, as ten identical swords appeared in the air behind the free dupe, and slid into his back. Not able to look up at exactly what she had done, even to see if it had worked, Marie-Ange doubled over and lost the contents of her stomach.

The impaled dupe cried out, a strangled shriek--and collapsed, then collapsed further, bubbling and melting in a gory heap, even as the dupe created by the impact stared at Marie-Ange with cold respect. Doug's dupe, its struggles exhausted, simply went limp, and melted in his very arms.

The new dupe's jaw hardened. "Playing for keeps, are we? I'm fine with that."

Doug cocked his head to the side, popping a few vertebrae, then cracking his knuckles. "I told you I was taking it out of your hide, Skippy." He indicated the dupe on the floor.

He tried not to think about what had happed to the two dupes. He had tried to simply incapacitate, but clearly Skippy's dupes were more unstable than Jamie's. "Now that one was for Nathan." He pointed at the remaining dupe. "You're for Alison."

Marie-Ange, nausea doubled by the results of her actions, struggled to get to her feet, slipping a little on the mess - both the remains of the dupes and the former contents of her stomach. She dry-heaved again a few times, trying at least not to cry and panic. This not-Jamie had done something to Nathan, and Alison and she didn't trust at all that they weren't dead, because obviously this whatever-it-was was perfectly willing to harm peolpe it called 'friends''.

Finally on her feet, she stepped back until she was against the wall, scanning the floor for any more cards - only to find that they'd been scattered and covered by the rapidly rotting and liquifying remains. She retched again, and turned her head, unable to watch.

"We'll see." The dupe settled into a low stance, obviously practiced, the glove leading. "I happen to think I'll end up teaching you not to call me that. Bring it on, language boy."

Doug settled into a similar stance, hands open, palms toward Skippy. He grinned widely, not able to resist. Turning the leading hand around, he gave Skippy the classic "bring it on" gesture.

The dupe rolled his eyes. "Yeah, because I'm as stupid as a Matrix villain. You watch too many movies, pal."

Doug shrugged. "Couldn't resist, ol' buddy ol' pal." He flowed forward, hands snaking sinuously, feinting, darting here and there.

The dupe batted Doug's hands away, feinted with the glove, and aimed a kick at Doug's ribs.

Doug kept the glove in his view at all times, but managed to redirect the kick over one shoulder. He continued to circle, looking for an opportunity.

"Never gonna beat me if you don't hit back," the dupe said, raking with his claws. "'Course, it's more fun sometimes when they don't. Most fun of all when they scream."

Doug dodged the claws and chuckled. "And you wonder why we figured out you weren't Jamie. James Arthur Madrox doesn't get his jollies murdering people, Skippy." Every time, he kept placing emphasis on "Skippy", trying to goad him into acting rashly.

"It's a kill-or-be-killed world. I didn't make it that way." He grinned tightly. "Done a bit of both, though." Another kick, then a right-handed strike for Doug's throat.

The kick folded Doug up slightly with an "oof", but he managed to avoid the throat strike. His keying on the glove was distracting him from the rest of Skippy's strikes, and Skippy was taking advantage of it.

The dupe backed up, grinning playfully. "Still a wuss, buddy. Want some more?" Advancing again, he swiped low with the glove, knowing Doug would be watching it, and followed with a cracking right to the jaw.

Doug was indeed watching the glove, and while he managed to get away from the worst of the punch, it still dazed him, and he backed up a step, shaking his head and holding a hand to his jaw.

"Aww, no more talkie." The dupe's eyes went flat. "Time to end this." He lunged forward again, talons extended to rake across Doug's face.

Doug twisted inside the lunge, bending Skippy's arm to rake the claws across his own cheek, then stepped back, watching warily.

The dupe twitched in shock, then collapsed as if its strings had been cut, glaring at Doug. "Bastard . . ." he managed.

Doug stepped in, careful to make sure the dupe didn't fall hard on the floor and create a new dupe. He lay the dupe back on the floor and squatted over him, grinning. "You know? I think I will taunt you to death, m'man. Hoist by your own petard, eh? Didn't I tell you I would get past you?"

The dupe's mouth twitched a few times, but he couldn't seem to muster the breath to speak, and even the glare was going slightly vague.

Doug waved a hand in front of Skippy's face. "C'mon, stay with me, man, I'm trying to taunt you, you could at least have the decency to stay alive long enough for me to get to the really good imprecations..."

The dupe gasped softly, wheezing for breath, then went limp, collapsing in on itself, spreading another pool of red, and grey, and green, and other colors best not mentioned, across the floor.

Finally, the wry mocking expression slid off of Doug's face, to be replaced by abject horror at what he had done to the person wearing his roommate and best friend's face.

Marie-Ange took a step away from the wall on shaky legs, having watched the entire fight with a open-mouthed gape. Doug's taunting quite literally scared the words out of her, and now she wasn't sure what to do. She watched him carefully, trying not to look at the floor - or think about the fact that her legs and forearms were covered in something truly foul, though, she had just thought about it, and, she would have vomited, again, except she was fairly sure she'd managed to vomit everything she'd eaten since she was six.

Doug stood quietly in the middle of the room, not moving any muscle in his body. He stared at the carnage surrounding him blankly. "Angie?" he asked in a very small, very scared voice.

Marie-Ange blinked, shook her head, and very carefully - because falling down would be Bad - made her way towards Doug, and silently wrapped her arms around him tightly.

Doug's arms managed to wrap themselves around Marie-Ange's waist as he continued to stare blankly at the wall, not saying anything.

Shutting her eyes tightly, and counting in every language she knew - including the first five numbers in Askanii, which was all she knew of the language, Marie-Ange tried to calm down, to prevent the dry heaving she felt coming on, to -not- run scared all the way back to her room, not to leave Doug here to face this alone, because she'd done worse - he had at least tried to knock "Skippy" out, even after finding out that he'd harmed Alison and Nathan.

Finally, after what felt like forever - and probably was actually a minute, possibly two, she wiped one hand on her shirt, and reached up to grip Doug's chin and force him to look at her. "I cannot do this. You need to." she said, in a near-whisper.

Doug finally broke free of his fugue state. Shaking himself off, he sighed. "You're right, Angie. We need to get the Professor out." Moving over to the access panel for The Box, he leaned down and peered at it. "Skippy frelled this thing up but good. It may take me a couple minutes." He began tapping at the screen, frowning. "It looks like he used some kind of back door system to scramble the access codes. I can fix it." He muttered quietly to himself. "I can fix this..."

Not wanting to distract him, Marie-Ange took a step back, avoiding turning around, looking down, or looking at anything except the top of Doug's head, because that was safe. The top of his head had no wet messy yuck, and wasn't going anywhere. She hoped.

Finally, after several minutes of work, and a cranky "Stab his eyes!" in Askani, Doug managed to break through Skippy's work and open the door to The Box, where the Professor was waiting.

As the door opened, Professor Xavier lowered the detached piece of aluminum tubing from his chair that he'd been prying at the jamb with. He took in the scene in the hallway and grimaced. "Douglas, Marie-Ange, thank you for the rescue. Are the two of you all right?"

Doug shrugged expressively. "As all right as we can be after killing three copies of a person that looks exactly like my roommate." He shuddered.

Marie-Ange simply shook her head in the negative and tried again not to be sick.

"I understand." Charles sighed. "You have my deepest gratitude, and everything within my power to help you recover from this . . . tragedy." He wheeled the chair forward, his mouth twisting in distaste as it tracked into the gory puddles. "For now, at least, we can find somewhere . . . cleaner . . . to take stock of the situation."

Doug carefully stepped around the largest puddles, keeping his arms away from his body. "God, I am going to shower for a week before I feel clean," he murmured.

Marie-Ange followed right behind Doug, fearing that if she looked down, she'd get sick, again, and possibly start vomiting vital organs. Even so, she still had to stop herself from heaving twice more. "Shower... there are showers in the infirmary. Because of people getting sick.. " she said, voice a little hoarse.

"Let's stop there, and get the two of you clean, then," Charles replied calmly. "I think--" He squeezed his eyes shut, stopping suddenly. When he opened them, his expression was troubled. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to leave you to it. Jamie has . . . not quite triumphed, but his doppelganger is no longer a threat, and he needs me urgently."

---

It was times like these that Shiro really wished he had a cool superhero costume. Something form-fitting but makes him appear unnaturally muscular. Because that’s the superhero thing.

But Shiro’s not a superhero. Not yet at least. Which means that he and his peers are stuck in civilian clothing for now. It’s not too intimidating for the group of opponents who greet him, but he’ll show them.

As the group of super-powered teenagers burst into the warehouse they were told to go to, Shiro, Alex, and Jubilee took up their station by the front entrance as the rest of the group went to find this so-called Skippy. Amanda had jokingly referred to this trio as the group’s “heavy hitters,” but Shiro was not about to prove her wrong.

“You’re not goin’ anywhere, chumps,” Jubilee said smugly to a bunch of dupes who were trying to block the others. Electricity sparked from her fingertips, and with a grin, she held out her hands, shooting forth brightly colored “fireworks” to blind and distract them.

“Nifty,” Alex said with a soft, impressed whistle.

“Not so nifty. They don’t look so happy.”

It might have been enough to distract them from attacking the others, but not enough to stop them from attacking the three of them. They all turned to
Alex, Jubilee, and Shiro and simultaneously growled menacingly at them.

“I wonder what happens to dupes when you kill them,” Shiro wondered. “Maybe they melt. Let's find out, ne?” He took a step forward and instantly was surrounded by red-gold flame. “Who wants to be first?” The entire group lunged forward at once. “That answers that question.”

And the answer to the other question was that they fell to pieces. Literally. Shiro blasted the ones who had been blinded with solar flare, and instead of falling over and resembling burnt pieces of meat, they were more like chunks of charred ash.

That did not stop the other dupes from charging, though. Even with five down, there were still five left. And it would not have been a problem for Shiro to finish off, except that they were fast. Much faster than they should have been, especially wearing those dumb cheap super villain costumes.

“Shiro, watch out!” Jubilee warned. Claws appeared on the dupes’ hands seemingly out of no where. They weren’t Wolverine-grade claws, but they looked like they could do enough damage anyway. And it would be no fun to be poked full of holes.

Jubilee raised her hands again to blast the dupes away, but was too late. “Shiro!”

Alex had beaten her to it. Shiro just barely flew back in time to avoid being sliced up by the dupes and blown to bits by Alex’s plasma blast.

He had not even moved. It was almost instinctive. As soon as he saw the dupes charge and release their claws, Alex exploded with power. But this time, unlike every other time he had used his power, he controlled it. The air crackled around him, and almost before he knew what he was doing, waves of plasma burst forth from his outstretched hands. The dupes melted before
they even knew what hit them.

Alex stood in place, stunned at what he had done. He had no idea that he had such power in him, much less that he could call it up at will and control it. He stared at his hands, still glowing with power, and then looked up and smiled sheepishly at Jubilee and Shiro.

Shiro whistled, impressed. “Dude,” was all he could say in response.

And if using his power normally for once wasn’t enough to surprise Alex, that comment sure was. “Dude, did you just say ‘dude’?”

“Um . . . Hey, look over there! Another dupe!”

---

Sarah growled, regaining her composure after the uncharacteristic yelp she'd made while teleporting in. That was an experience, rather like flying, that she'd not care to experience again, thank you very much. She yanked the bone from her shoulder, long and jagged, dripping blood down onto her hands. "Sons of bitches need to learn that you don't fuck with Morlocks!" She rushed into the first Jamie-Skippy, twisting the bone around inside its abdomen. She gave it a feral smile
as it melted away. Looking back at Angelo, she pulled another bone and sent it sailing smoothly into the next Jamie-Skippy's skull. "These are cake compared to me, tough boy. Enjoy the break." She gave him a wink and was charging again.

Angelo was right at her side as she charged, the knife he'd taken from the kitchen before they 'ported in clutched in his hand. As two Skippies came at them from the left, he buried the knife in one's chest and cursed as another one popped right back up to replace it, spawned by the kinetic force of the stab. "Yeah, they don't have a clue." Trying something different,
he sent out strands of skin to pin the Skippies' arms, so they couldn't fight back while he used more of it to choke them until they passed out and dissolved. "Hah, look at that. I can kill them without makin' more."

"Well aren't you fucking special," she said dryly, hurling the blunt end of a bone at the head of one of the Jamie-Skippies. It fell to the ground, causing the one behind it to trip, and Sarah skewered them both to the ground with a sharp bone pulled from her thigh. Another dupe popped up, and this time Sarah hit its neck with enough force to slice its head cleanly off.
Bring them on, all she had to do was keep them busy while somebody got the kids out. Preferably somebody competent.

She drew an imaginary line with her foot, and sent the sharp point of a bone into the temple of another dupe. "Line to get your ass kicked by a girl starts here, boys."

Clarice hung back behind Angelo and Sarah, letting them clear a path for her, although she held her sword ready. Although her epee would have been better, since it was longer, she had chosen her sabre since it did not have a rubber tip on the end. Quickly though, she was forced to dodge and parry the oncoming Skippies.

Angelo managed to spare enough attention from the fight to scope out where the kids were: Artie at one end, Miles at the other. He quickly called out to the others, "'Yana, can you see if you can get to Artie? Clarice, with me, we'll go for Miles. Sarah, you okay to hold the line here?"

"Unless they start getting better aim, I'll be fine," she growled, continuing her fight with the dupes. "Just go and get them out of here now. I'm not in the fucking mood to lose what I've got left."

Angelo nodded an acknowledgment, already moving towards Miles' end of the warehouse, as Clarice followed.

---

Sarah watched Angelo and Clarice move out of the corner of her eye, a bone gripped tightly in either hand. The next Skippy got a bone driven into its stomach, as she sent the other bone sailing at the head of a Skippy determined to follow them. "Hey you! Fucking pay attention, will you? I'm over here."

Another one snorted, circling out of reach. "You're a delaying tactic. The only reason I'm bothering with you at all is that I have the bodies to spare." Two more rushed her from behind.

"And you can't hurt me. It's a match made in the fucking madhouse." She pulled a bone from her shoulder, swinging it forcefully into the face of one of the ones behind her, knocking it into the next Skippy behind it.

The first splattered, but not before the force of its impact with the second had spawned two new dupes. "You can't really hurt me either," one of the new ones said, grinning. "Yay for status quo."

"Well good. Means I won't run out of things to hit." She threw a bone knife at its throat, and another set of bones sprouted at her hip.

Skippy smiled nostalgically. "One of my teachers always said the same thing. He was better at killing me than you are. Had to do it before I started going all gooey. Well, and after, but that was just for fun." One of the dupes picked up a discarded bone and hurled it back, then the group charged again.

"How nice," she said dryly, reaching out and slashing its throat with sharp-boned fingers.

This one melted like the others, but no new one rose to take its place, and the others backed up a step, frowning. "Well, that's no fun," one of them said.

Sarah laughed, and leapt forward at another one, pulling a knife from her thigh and ripping it cleanly across the throat of one who hadn't gotten out of the way quickly enough. "Sure it is. Blood, and watching you fuckers die? Does it get any more fun?"

---

"'Yana, can you see if you can get to Artie? Clarice, with me, we'll go for Miles. Sarah, you okay to hold the line here?"

Illyana nodded curtly, reeling a little bit from the unfamiliar method of Clarice's teleportation. Her eyes darted across the room, casing it out, and then a flash of pink skin caught her -- Artie. Okay. Skippies. Not okay.

Option one was to fight, but if they were crazy and taking hostages, that was a lot of space between her and the end of the room; option two was to do nothing, which a nagging suspicion told her was the wrong idea; and option three was, well . . .

She sank into the floor and, half a second later, dropped down next Artie, tossing a quick look over her shoulder and mentally cursing the day she'd been pegged for this impromptu rescue thing. "You okay?" At the little boy's nod, she risked another glance around, then nodded back. "Let's get you out of here. They'll take care of Miles." She concentrated -- at
least in Limbo she could figure out where Clarice was planning on going next -- and they disappeared.

---

Clarice followed Angelo through the Skippies, dodging when she could and running her sword through those that she couldn't, all the while trying to avoid the claws on their gloves. Even though she knew these were Skippy-dupes, the idea of killing them and watching them go "squish" was nauseating. "Go away!" she yelled at one particularly annoying Skippy, running him
through with her sword. "Eeeeew! I have skippy-ick on me!"

Angelo chuckled, carving a path through the Skippies without apparent effort, using his fists and feet to get them out of the way, and his skin to permanently get rid of the more troublesome ones, while careful to avoid their talons or pin their arms so they couldn't use them. He was more interested in getting to Miles - the others could be mopped up later.

"How many are there?" she asked, as she ducked under another arm and kicked the Skippy in the nuts, the even though they were making progress towards Miles it still seemed as though they had miles to go (pun unintended).

Angelo spared what attention he could without getting poisoned, glancing around rapidly. "Too many", he said with a frown. "Don't hit them any more than you can help, it's bad enough it's so hard to kill one without him gettin' replaced the same moment, specially for you."

Clarice nodded, although Angelo couldn't see it, "Fuckin' nowhere to teleport," she mumbled, dodging more Skippys.

"Just gotta concentrate on gettin' over there. Don't get distracted", he advised her, focusing on his goal. "Only go for the ones that are directly in the way."

"They're all directly in the way!" she retorted, slicing one in the stomach. This one, at least, did not duplicate when it fell to the ground. "At least they slice and dice nicely."

Angelo chuckled, slicing at another with the knife he seemed to have just remembered was clenched in one fist. "Okay. If I get to Miles, can you 'port him from a distance?"

Clarice considered for a moment, "I think so," she said, "hold on..." she formed a teleportation bubble a few feet next to her and watched as a skippy ran into it. She grinned, "Oops, Skippy go down the hole. I can do it."

"Where'd you send it?" Angelo asked curiously, blocking a stab from a Skippy's claws with the blade of his knife, then driving the blade forward into the dupe's stomach in one smooth movement.

"Bottom of the elevator shaft at the mall. Can't get out, only squished," she replied, using a Skippy as a jumping horse so she could be closer to Miles.

Angelo laughed. "Good girl." Seeing just how close they'd got to the boy, he told her quickly, "Stay here. Open a portal when I tell you", and charged, fists, feet and knife flailing, until he broke through (unpoisoned mostly by passing the Skippies before they could react) and reached Miles' side. "Clarice! Now!"

Clarice opened a portal next to him making it only big enough for Miles. "Hurry!" she called, trying to keep the portal open and stay away from the Skippies.

Angelo grabbed the terrified boy and pushed him, none-too-gently through the portal. "Close it!" he yelled, slashing with his knife at any Skippy that came too near.

The portal blinked closed and Clarice felt faint, she had already teleported everyone into the warehouse and had teleported two other things since then, she was tired. Multiple people and 'porting others without herself going with them was more difficult than just 'porting herself.

Angelo's head shot up as he saw her waver. "Clarice? You okay?" he called sharply.

"Uh huh..." she mumbled, still trying to stop the skippies, "Is Sarah done playing so we go?"

Angelo glanced around as best he could while fighting. Illyana and Artie gone, Sarah obviously having the time of her life... "Sarah won't be done playin' till they're all dead. We might have to drag her out or go without her."

With a pleased squee, Clarice made it to Angelo and opened another portal. "Then we go before I pass out!"

Angelo nodded, eyeing her with some concern, and stepped quickly through the portal, before turning to wait for her on the other side, ready to hurry back through if she didn't come.

Clarice followed seconds later and headed straight for a floral couch and sat down. "The skippies are Not Pleased," she reported, "or else, Very Confused by us leaving."

---

Meanwhile, on the other side of the warehouse…

Manuel took a deep breath as he drew his rapier, a present from Emma Frost for his ascension to the rank of White Knight. "You ready?" he said to Amanda without turning around or looking at her directly. "I'll clear the way, you keep them off our flanks. A shame we could not get anyone to unlock me - if we could, this entire affair would be over by now."

"Ready when you are." Amanda took a deep breath, cleared her mind for the magic she was going to need to use. She'd used magic against people before, but always in the heat of the moment, as a reaction: she'd never hurt anyone on purpose, at least not since she'd been at the school. She reminded herself Artie and Miles were in danger, and that the Jamie-clones
wouldn't hold back, even if she did. She just hoped she had enough power for this.

Manuel didn't even try to keep his bitter frustration under control. "Let's do this thing, since we can't do it the sane way." he said, then kicked in the door. The door slammed against the far wall, making a hellacious racket, but so far, no Evil Jamies seem to respond to the noise.

"Are these plonkers deaf as well as insane?" Amanda murmured, wondering if this was going to turn into one of those horror movie type things and they'd be pounced upon at the next corner. She tried to push Manuel's anger out of her head - she needed all her concentration for this - with only partial success. "Here, evil clones, come an' get yer arses kicked..."
she half-sang under her breath.

Jamie, dressed for some odd reason in dark green leathers, materialized out of the darkness and grinned at the pair haloed by the doorway. "Well well well. What do we have here? Nap time for Bonzo!" he grinned, then swiped with a heavy leather glove-clad hand at Manuel's face.

Manny managed to look somewhat annoyed, and without saying a word raised his sword and skewered the Jamie through the throat before that glove came anywhere near his face. "Fuckface." Manny taunted the body as it dropped, then blinked as another Jamie, dressed identically to the first, stepped out of the shadows next to where the first one fell. "Don't you get it
yet, you moron?" Jamie taunted.

Amanda, meanwhile, pulled a face as the first Jamie Manuel had skewered melted into fleshy goo. "That is disgustin'," she said, before movement in the shadows to their left caught her eye. "Consopire!" she commanded in Latin, at the same time digging a handful of sand out of her jacket pocket and hurling it in the direction of the movement. A sleep spell, she figured, would put enemies out of action without hurting allies. She was rewarded by the sudden slumping forward of two more Jamies in the strange green leather getup. What she wasn't expecting was that these two also disintegrated into goo. "What the fuck?"

Manuel looked at his feet, now encrusted in rapidly-putrefying goo. "My new boots!" he whined, looking extremely distressed by this development. "Well that was ... revolting. Remind me to stick a sword through the real Jamie when it's all said and done."

"'M pretty sure he ain't responsible for this," Amanda said, rolling her eyes at Manuel's whining. She eyed the mess speculatively. "I didn't hurt 'em, just put 'em t' sleep. Fuckin' weird."

"Highly." he said dryly, gingerly stepping through the goo. "Well, let's go hunting. Come out and FIGHT, you coward!" he screamed into the warehouse, his blade at the Spanish ready, extended out at eye level, blade tilted down. "Next one to come forward dies. I promise you that."

And come they did. Jamies, all of them dressed in the dark green leathers with the cowl, appeared out of the shadows and charged Manuel. He pivoted, stabbed, and turned almost like a dancer, but every time his blade flickered out, a Jamie died. Unfortunately, for each Jamie that fell another took its place, and the treachery of the footing got a little worse with each
rapid decomposition.

Manuel's swordplay was impressive to watch, but he was in danger of being overwhelmed by sheer numbers. Drawing on the power of the orb she'd stashed in her other pocket (with Nate being hurt, Moira had forgotten to confiscate it, and Amanda had been
reluctant to hand it over just yet), Amanda decided to even things up a bit, using the lightning spell to cut a swathe through the Jamies that were backing Manuel up towards an open space where they could attack en masse. Flesh flew in bloody gobbets and her stomach heaved at the smell.

Manuel got out of the way of the stroke of lightning that boomed into the warehouse, but his luck broke as his heel skidded on a slick patch of decomposing goo. Manuel went down with a hoarse cry, his leg bent into an extremely uncomfortable angle. "Umm, help?" he said as he faceplanted straight into the goo.

"Fuck." Casting a shield over someone else was difficult, but Amanda managed it somehow, several Jamies being flung off Manuel as it shimmered into being as they leapt at the downed empath. They hit the goo-covered floor with a splat, one of them knocked unconscious and joining the mess. They were seriously being outnumbered here, and Amanda searched her memory
for an appropriate spell, something that would take the Jamies out without making more of them, and cursing as her memory helpfully supplied her with maths problems instead. "Fuckin' exams," she muttered, even as she was grabbed from behind by leather-clad hands, the left one scratching impotently at the think leather of her jacket..

Manuel sat up, wincing as his hamstrings and knee protested, and managed to work his blade into the femoral artery of the Jamie who had grabbed Amanda from behind. "No groping." he quipped with a pain-streaked grin.

Amanda pushed the wounded Jamie back and helped Manuel stand. "I'm startin' t' wish you were unlocked for this too," she said, watching as the Jamies flung themselves forward, only to be repelled by her shield. The beginnings of a headache signalled she was channelling too much magic, but she ignored it, pushing more of them away and violently into the
surrounding walls with her telekinetic spell.

Manuel held out his wrist, the one encumbered by the dampener. "Figured out a spell to remove this thing yet?" he asked, half-hoping she had and just hadn't told him yet. "And I think I twisted something in my knee when I slipped. It hurts. A lot. I'm not sure I can walk on it."

"'M no good with metal, remember? Blocks me magic." She picked up another Jamie, threw him into a group of three more, and swore as that only resulted in more of them. "I can fix yer knee, but not now - healin' takes concentration, an' I'm a bit on the distracted side." Then she felt something shift inside her head, and a trickle of blood appeared from her nose. "Bloody
fuckin' hellfire, not now."

Manuel spotted the trickle of blood, and heaved himself to his feet, biting back a scream as his knee protested at the movement. "Nothing to be done about it, then." he said, picking his sword out of the muck from where he'd let it fall. "If we don't get out of here, we're going to be overwhelmed." he said coldly. "There's nothing we can do, not when you're courting burnout and I'm fucking BLOCKED!" he growled.

"Hopefully the others would've had time t' spring the munchkins by now," Amanda said, wiping away the blood and firing off another lightning bolt, frying the Jamies immediately surrounding them. The rest hung back a little, as if waiting for a weak point. "Who'd have thought someone could turn the class clown into a bleedin' psycho?"

"I could, if I had my power. Couldn't do it permanently, not yet, but I could do it. It's fairly easy." he admitted quietly. "Let's get out of here." And then he threw an arm around Amanda's shoulders and began to hobble towards the exit.

Amanda didn't comment on how easy it would be to make someone as insane as the fake Jamies were - and she'd seen enough of their auras to know they were extremely insane, and damaged besides. Taking as much of Manuel's weight on her shoulders as she was able (and glad he was still far skinnier than most, for once), they got as far as the door before finding it blocked
by Not-Jamies.

"Out of tricks?" one of them said, a nasty grin on his face.

Manuel raised his blade, and grinned a death's head grin at the wall of Jamies. "Get. Out. Of. Our. Way." he growled at the assembled horde. Just as the assembled Jamies were beginning their advance, they all got an identical confused look upon their faces, and exploded in showers of organic goo. Manuel, surprised, gaped at the display for a few seconds. "Somebody actually listened to me for once." he said, then rolled his eyes back and fainted.

The sensation that ripped through the link just before Manuel passed out reminded Amanda badly of Rack's draining spell, a sensation of falling into blackness, a void. She struggled to hold Manuel up, realised it was impossible, and settled for letting him slide to the ground as carefully as she could. There was no sign of Clarice and the others, so she dug her phone
out of her pocket and punched in the number. "Ange? 'S Amanda. No, I'm okay, but Manny's out of it. We need a pick up - is Clarice up for another trip? Nah, we're safe, they're all dead - somethin' must've happened with Jamers, they all melted, just like the Wizard of Oz. Just hurry - Manny don't look so good." The call made, she stuffed the phone back into her pocket and settled down beside Manuel, pillowing his head on her knees and watching over him until the cavalry arrived.