xp_logs | Dixie Dead Shake

The kidnappers reveal themselves, forcing Kane to fight for his life while Jean and MA watch.

It was, of all things, a small horse arena that both Jean and Marie-Ange jerked violently awake in. They could smell the horsy scent, the clay, even the leftover hay in the air around them. They sat on long benches, almost bleacher-like above the field, where they had been obviously dropped on to. The hulking form of Daniel Boudreaux sat beside them, as well as several armed men, clearly tasked as their guards. A few faces stood out - mostly the New Orleans Guild leadership as well as a sprinkling of the magical community. Across from them, on the other side of the arena, were an array of armed men and men in more ritual garb, in the midst of which sat what could only be described as a throne, currently empty.

As they stirred, Daniel turned his head to them. For Marie-Ange, it was a familiar face, but for Jean, there was a moment when the man's rugged good looks were suddenly contrasted with the scar tissue from the burns that had consumed most of his left ear and ran down his neck and jawline. His eyes flickered over Jean for a moment before returning to Marie-Ange.

"Dis is why I told you to leave Nawlins, Colbert."

"I have never been good at listening to you." Marie-Ange shot back. "Perhaps an earlier warning next time, I will send you my whatsapp details." She stared down one guard as she settled down her hair, her clothes, patted herself down for bruises and scrapes, almost daring him to look away from the empty and scarred eye socket, bare of patch. "Well, either we are an audience, or we are some sort of ritual sacrifice." she said. 'Daniel, this is Doctor Jean Grey, Jean, Daniel Boudreaux, late of the Assassins Guild."

To say that Jean was caught off guard by all of this was an understatement. "Okay, is someone going to tell me what the hell is going on?" she said. There was clearly a lot of history there, but what she was most focused on was their audience.

"Welcome to de domain of Candra." Daniel said gruffly. "Dat witch was supposed to be just a teenager at dis point, but she came in disguise. Slowly took or drove off de magical people in de community. By de time we knew she was here, she'd already taken key Guild members hostage. Dats how we live now. She rotates hostages in and out, and in return for not killing dem, de Guilds do her bidding. Dat includes not warning outsiders what was happening." His glare cut through whatever rebuke Marie-Ange might have had. "So when you told us dat you killed her, you people obviously didn't do it right." He slouched back in his seat for a bit. "Oh, don't bother wit' powers. Dis whole place is warded against dem. Watched some poor homme wit' useless wings weighed down by dem before being dismembered wit' a hatchet in a fight down dere last month."

"Candra?" Marie-Ange spat out a blistering profanity in french. "Jean, we did kill her, ages ago. She is responsible for the scars on Amanda's back, most of them. It was before I ... It was almost twenty years ago. She claimed some kind of long life, one of our senior operatives killed her." She looked at Daniel, barely a glance at his expression. "But magic, I suppose, people can survive anything." She had heard Daniel's warning about powers - and tried anyway, giving herself a sharp pain for her troubles, and a bright wave of flame across her vision, bright enough to water her eye. "He is right, no powers, and still expected me to try."

Magic. The idea of it always made Jean uneasy. "Our enemies do have the unfortunate habit of not staying dead," she mumbled to herself, carefully glancing around.

"So why are we here? Bargaining chips like the others?" Being a hostage for some old feud that she wasn't even around for was definitely not something she had on her itinerary for their trip.

"For what?"

"No idea. De Guild Leaders were told to attend, not why." Daniel said sourly. "And if we don't follow orders, we lose people. Dat witch likes to suck dere life force dry and for once, I'm being literal. She got dis power and it just takes everything from dem, leaves nothing left."

Marie-Ange knew Daniel; his viciousness, his capacity for explosive violence and yet, he looked constrained. Beaten, to an extent.

"Oh hello all!. We have guests. I so missed them." A bright voice echoed over the arena, amplified by an unseen force. She picked her way down the steps, her raven hair falling loose around her bare shoulders. The voice was clearing Candra, but the face was none other than Selene. She took a seat on the throne, perched like the queen of her court, her gaze locked on Marie-Ange and Jean. "They always bring me such lovely presents, my good boys. So loyal. So good." She cooed and several of the footsoldiers around her smiled. "Welcome. I do so love when I can have guests here. Do you like it? It is where we train my dressage horses. And, occasionally, where people fight to the death for my entertainment. Isn't it lovely of them to do that for me?"

Marie-Ange's mouth moved silently in shock. "That is not Candra." When she could finally speak, that was all she could say - she'd been shown pictures of Candra, blonde and regal, cream and the morning sun. This was not that. This woman was tall and slender and marble white and ebon hair. She glanced at Daniel and shook her head. "That is Selene. We killed her too though."

"No enough." Daniel said sourly.

"Well, to business, I suppose. You know, I truly ought to thank you all. When you and your friends disrupted my ritual, I thought all was lost, especially after that vile little man attacked with those... energy things. For months, I floated and fell, upside down and rightside up, a spirit torn loose from my cycle of rebirth. And, like a strain; like ink poured into a pool of water, a dark presence flared and then began to evaporate. Just slowly enough that I could grasp it and use the last dregs of magic as a bridge into corporal form. Her form, although I think I wear it significantly better." Her court applauded if on cue as she beamed at them. "It made coming home so much easier, especially with them all confident that Candra was a threat years away. Ooh, yes, I could not have done all of this without you dears. And now, you're back with the final piece of the puzzle."

Candra touched her hand to her heart. "You see, my dear poppet Amanda still has something of mine. A ritual carved into her back. My ritual. For all of Selene's former power, she still has limitations, as do I. Dear Amanda and my ritual will remove those limitations and allow me to assume the power that has been my birthright for ages. So, you see, I simply must have her brought here. I don't wish to seem terribly impatient, but after dozens of lives, I have little appetite for waiting any longer. So, where is that little witch, hm?"

Jean stared at the body that was Selene, memories of a life that was not hers erupting through her mind from within the Siege Perilous. She dug her nails into her fists. It was a different world, but the same anger flickered across her eyes, creating a flash of gold and fire.

"No idea," Jean said. "We don't talk much."

"It is such a shame that I just simply don't believe you. I know one of you knows where the witch is. If you won't tell me-" She mock pouted at them; an obscene expression coming from Selene's face. "I suppose I will need to be persuasive. Now, just what might change your minds? Ooh, I think I know."

She made a waving motion and at the end of the arena a door opened, and Garrison Kane was pushed out at gunpoint. The Canadian paused to look at his surroundings, seemingly unharmed. His eyes flicked from Candra and her court to the bleachers where MA and Jean sat with their armed guards.

"So, someone has my hat. I don't want to have to get all law enforcement, but technically, I can have you charged for trying to impersonate an RCMP officer. That's jail time, eh?" He said, although Candra ignored him, turning back to Marie-Ange and Jean.

"Now, I am aware that this man is worth something to you both, so how about we make a trade. You tell me where the witch is and I let him just toddle back off to Montreal or wherever you found him. Or, you don't tell me where the witch is, and I'm afraid he is in for an unpleasant time fighting for his life. I employ a man who has been wronged by your X-Men before and would so enjoy gutting one in my name. He's a lamb, honestly. Which shall it be, ladies?"

Marie-Ange was still staring. It was Selene, and it was not, and the voice was wrong. Even for patchwork memories of a false reality, this voice was sweet amaretto, bitter almond hiding under false sunshine, not Selene's accented voice, sharp and ageless. She shook her head, minutely, silently, knowing the choice was horrible, met Garrison's eyes with her own and blinked away guilt.

"We do not know. Amanda left. It could be London, it could be New York, it could be Paris. I do not know where she has gone, and I think the outcome would be the same regardless, no?"

"Oh, I'm so sorry, but I simply don't believe that. I can't imagine a world in which you don't have some kind of protocol for something like this, and after all, dear Amanda would never abandon her friends, the sweet thing she is. Now, this is your last-"

"OK, that's enough of this shit." Kane called out. Candra made a face being interrupted. "Even if they knew where Amanda was, there is no world in which they would give her up for me. So go do whatever sick shit you have planned. You're not getting her."

"How confident and brave. If rude. You see, my arena also has wards stopping those mutant powers you depend on so much." She paused and looked off to her left before nodding. The crowd parted as a blond man stood up and walked down to the edge of the arena before vaulting over the rails. It was Klar, Selene's former bodyguard. He stripped off his shirt, tossing it back into the crowd before accepting a long, wicked looking knife. "Now, you see, my dear Klar is just gagging to return a little of the pain the X-Men caused him. He has no powers but I'm afraid I was naughty and put a little magic into him."

"I'm sure you've put plenty of things into Klar over the years."

"Quiet. Mommy is talking about her dear boy. Who is going to slowly carve you to pieces in front of your friends. He will make it painful. Bloody. You will want to scream. There's no shame in that. And if they don't give me the witch, you will die in agony in the dirt, you rude scamp. Right in front of them."

Kane looked back over this shoulder, giving Jean and MA a short shake of his head. "Good thing I have my afternoon free then, eh? Also, Klar, most fights don't need an industrial sized tub of body butter. Just saying, buddy."

Jean met Garrison's eye, both understanding the need to not give a magical evil witch the means to destroy the world by sacrificing their friend. But the alternative meant being figuratively, and literally having her boyfriend stabbed in the heart. Her fingernails dug deeper, and she tried to maintain a neutral composure. Maybe the others were coming. Maybe there was a way out. There was always a way out.

She glanced over to Marie-Ange, hoping she had more of a plan. This was the magic, mystical world. It wasn't Jean's wheelhouse. She didn't know what else to do.

Just buy time. Right?

"What kind of a name is 'Klar' anyway?"

Right?

"We have protocols. They are very clear, sharing locations under duress is explicitly prohibited." Marie-Ange straightened her spine- and buried her hands under her knees, as though calming herself. "I know, I wrote them. You think I would just know where Amanda is when she is your target, so you can have whichever minion with a spell to pluck it out of my thoughts just so? I am afraid you have ruined your own plan. I do not know where Amanda is, and you quite ruined any chance I have of communicating with her. No powers, no using them to contact Amanda, terribly sorry."

"That's just so unfortunate for your Canadian. Maybe once he starts screaming and begging for his life, things will change. If not... well, I don't think I need two of you, do I?" Candra said with a sugary smile. "Klar, precious, you can start, dear boy. Hurt him for Mommy."

He saluted her, the hilt of the knife touching his forehead before he turned to face Kane. The Canadian took one last look around, finding no bright red flashing signs that said 'end magical suppression here'. But with his powers already gone, it didn't matter much. Klar was a well trained combatant, and with magical argumentation, Kane had no hope of matching him physically. Skill, inventiveness, ability.... none of those mattered in this scenario.

Kane was going to die here. That was the only scenario that made any kind of sense. "Well..." He whispered to himself. "They say I'm tragically hip."

Klar leered at him as he advanced, the knife held low ready to gut because he had the physical advantage. Kane pivoted, opening up a bit of distance. He'd taught his students about footwork and positioning but at this point, this was a battle about will. It was the final lesson.

"OK. Come on now... let's go." He whispered.

Kane came in obliquely, positioning the knife hand across the body. Klar crouched and slashed, but Kane was inside his blow in a second, dropping two hard rights against the man's face. In a normal person, it was a broken cheekbone, but Klar just smiled at him as Kane danced back. He switched hands with the knife and started a tight arc, forcing Kane back. Garrison caught the inside of his wrist and hit the joint, staying away from his strength and hitting the vulnerable parts. Klar bull rushed him and grabbed his front. Kane was flung back and hit the wooden boards that bordered the track with a sickening crack.

"Oh, oh, what a little broken toy. Isn't he just precious in thinking he can win? It must hurt you, poppets. You can make it stop." Candra said gleefully.

"She kinda bit her lip." He muttered and coughed, blood speckling his breath. That meant internal injuries. Kane reached behind and staggered to his feet. "Don't get too confident, Klar. I'm all kinds of problematic." Kane said, through bloodstained teeth.

Klar came in hard, the blade being the front of his attack. Kane got his block in on the wrist, and then deflected it with a knee. He was moving back close to the boards, using them to limit the angles Klar could come after him.

"You X-Men took my queen. And you want to take my mistress. I will murder all of you and wade through an ocean of your blood to stop it again." Klar snarled, chasing Kane down, making him stay defensive in his position.

"Come'n now let's go." Kane hissed and closed unexpectedly with Klar. He was expecting Kane to run and stay on defensive, but the Canadian was suddenly inside his defenses.

"I come from downtown!" Kane said, reversing Klar's hold and adding three massive blows to the man's face. He shook it off and grabbed Kane by the throat. Before he could do anything, the knife flashed. It bit into his jawbone, which deflected it enough that it simply traveled up the left side of his face, bisecting the eyeball and lodged into his forehead long enough to glance off. His sight disappeared from his left side as Kane was flung back, trying to protect his face as he landed in the dirt. He scrambled back to his feet, backpedaling away from Klar, trying to keep him in the vision of his right side.

"Ladies, have your memories gotten any better, hmm? Are you suddenly remembering where that little witch is? If you tell me, there might be something left of your friend to leave the ring."

Everything felt in slow motion for Jean, both the highs and the lows of the battle. She kept waiting for some sort of miracle like the silhouette of the Blackbird bearing down over the arena, but all there was was caked blood and dirt. Hope was fading fast. She wanted to say stop, and it remained poised at her lips, but she knew what the alternative would be. They were X-Men. It was their whole thing to save the world, but she never dreamed it would be like this.

"You won't get what you want by threatening us. Stop this now or you'll regret it."

Kane shook his head, wincing as the pain lanced through the gash in his face. He wasn't thinking about being maimed for life. After all, he was going to die in this ring. But a sense of calm came over him. He'd trade his life for Amanda's any day of the week. He'd die for Jean and Marie-Ange. Most importantly, whatever Candra wanted wasn't worth his life to allow to happen. There were worse ways to go out.

"OK, Klar, you got one. It's your last. Let's fucking go." He hissed at him. Klar seemed puzzled. In his mind, Kane should be cowering; begging for his life. Instead, the Canadian took advantage and set the tempo, advancing in quickly, using leverage against him. For all Klar's strength, he didn't understand the limitations, and Kane worked his blocks on the joints, robbing him of being able to harness it against him.

Klar flashed the knife, trying to work it lower and gut him. But Kane trapped the wrist and pulled back, locking the knife hand up. Garrison pressed closer, so pulling him away wasn't an option and as Klar tried to clear his blade, Kane dropped his head. He bit deeply into his hand, at the base of the thumb. Blood welled in his mouth as he tore through the skin and shifted to grind against the bone. His teeth ripped through the tendon, separating Klar's thumb and the first scream was born from the mouth of the other man.

It was the last lesson that none of his students had learned yet. The person who won any fight was the one that wanted it most. The one ready to go to the grave with their teeth in their opponents throat. Kane knew he was going to die here, but he wasn't going to go easily or alone. Klar's strength was nullified by his counters, working using leverage and pressure to keep what should have been crippling blows limited and pushed off. He pulled back, his mouth bloody and shreds of Klar's hand in his teeth.

"Born ready for you." Kane hissed, locking his hand on the injured thumb. Klar had lost his grip on the knife; it was still locked in his fingers but without the thumb, he couldn't slash with it. Kane's grip on his hand kept it between them. Kane snarled and pushed, snaking his hand around behind Klar's head, pulling him down towards the blade. He had the strength to rip Kane apart like a market chicken, but because of his positioning and the injury, he had nowhere to focus it properly. Instead, it was Kane's control over his torn apart thumb that gave him the control. Klar's eyes went wild as he found himself unable to stop Kane's grip pushing the knife and his head closer.

"Armed with skill and its frustrations." Kane said, as the point of the blade reached Klar's throat. He locked eyes with the man as his expression got increasingly shocked as the blade started to slide in. Kane's arms were a vise that didn't have anything to do with strength but leverage, and the cruel weapon buried further and further into Klar's throat. The scarlet spray started as it cut through the artery and Klar gave a final rattling breath, almost collapsing into Kane's arms as the blade reached bone and stopped.

"And grace... too..." Kane whispered, letting the man slip slowly to the ground and brushing his eyes shut.

Marie-Ange had bitten down on her fist to try to stop herself from screaming - or sobbing, and finally let her hand free, breathing out a tiny gasp of relief - and hope.

"So, I guess I won." Kane said, staggering away from Klar's corpse. His breath rattled and he knew he had internal injuries. He saw nothing from the left side. Blood was leaking from his mouth. He was alive, but how long was anyone's guess. "So I guess you need to step down, make Amanda queen of the gumbo south? Or maybe just a set of coupons to local businesses? I mean, I don't know regime change at the local level."

"You cheater! You dirty birdie! You hurt my precious!" Candra responded with fury, rising from her throne and stomping her way down onto the cray ground of the arena. "You cheated. You are a dirty cheater! And cheaters only deserve one thing."

"Yeah, but I-" Kane started a flip response, but Candra raised her fist with the magical energy coalescing around it. He went from staggering to tossed back against the boards, his body trapped in her energy. "I will take the life from your scabby little soul and send you to the void screaming!" Kane heard only a word or two before his life was obliterated by pain. Her energy trapped him and he felt his life pulled out of him violently and finally. Kane was ready to die, but she was the crucible determined to make him burn.

Candra stepped forward, triumphant as Kane dropped to his knees, glorying in the screams she wrested from his throat as she pulled his life from him. Her smile dominated Selene's face, and she luxuriated in the lifeforce that flowed into her.

Jean stood transfixed, eyes wide and blurred with tears, mouth agape in horror. She could not move, could not breathe, her body stiff. The world swam around her in blood and chaos.

Thisisn'trealThisisn'trealThisisn'treal...

"NOOO!" Someone shrieked, and it took her a moment or two to realize it was her.

But in the corner of the arena, the wolf sat. Ignored by everyone when it followed Kane here, sneaking into the arena. His muzzle came up and he sprang into action. The white streak raced across the clay, ignored by everyone. As he got close to Candra, he leapt, and a crimson plume of blood bisected his jump. Candra clapped her hands to her throat, collapsing backwards. Kane dropped to his knees and pitched forward, insensible. The wolf came back around, nuzzling him with his blood stained nose.

Daniel stood and his hands flickered. The guards at either side went down with knives in their throat. "Colbert, get jah boy! Daniel try and make some waves while you get him out!" He said, pivoting and killing a man a hundred metres away with an impossible thrown knife. "Go!"

Marie-Ange was up and moving before the third word, leaping over the wooden benches with ease and a grace that had been hidden under her tailored skirts and blouses. One of Candra's guards made the mistake of attempting to stop her, grabbed her shoulder - and fell, a sharp piece of broken off wood from the bench sticking out of one ruined eye. Another got his fist in her hair- and found one of Daniel's knives embedded in his wrist a moment later.

She nearly crashed into the wolf, the only unsure step her last as she reached Garrison and got her shoulder under his arm. He was too easy to lift, she should never have been able to pick the man up, and yet did, adrenaline and fear and Garrison's waning health allowing the impossible.

Jean was on the other side, ignoring the blood that had started to pool against her white shirt, staining it red. "I need somewhere to stabilize him," she said, professional, focused.

Everything had built into a fever pitch and all Jean could do to keep from losing it was fall into old habits.

Her attention darted around, and she caught sight of something in the distance.

"Can you hotwire a car?"

"Can I ... " Marie-Ange repeated, incredulously. She followed Jean's attention to the large bay door at the far end of the arena, and the arrows to "Parking". "Yes. I can do grand theft auto." She left Garrison to Jean for a moment, long enough to scoop one of Daniel's thrown knives off the ground. "Can you - " She fussed with the knife, and a duplicate appeared in her hand. "Ah, powers are back. Can you carry Garrison? I will get us a car."

Jean returned Marie-Ange's look with a weary shrug.

"I didn't want to assume. It's been a long day, okay?" she mumbled. Some people had specific skills.

"Yeah, I can take him," she added, enhancing the weight with a little telekinesis once Marie-Ange fully left his side.

"Let's hope someone has a medkit in their car."

"Powers are back. I can find the car with the first aid kit." She would pay the price later, and not count the cost at all.

The parking lot was sparsely populated, but the guards had non-descript cars and a few sports utility vehicles, all boring, all with Louisiana plates, and older - easy to break into, if you counted a few smashed windows easy. Marie-Ange's jaw and neck were already tight by the time she found a car with a blanket and first aid kit in the trunk, and by the time she had a second car, a wide tan older sedan with a back seat that perhaps spanned multiple postal codes, she had bitten the inside of her cheek raw. Even with a remarkable strain on her powers, she'd still had a few false starts, a nosebleed and a pulsing, screaming, light flashing headache.

She had just gotten the car started when she felt Jean's telepathy in her mind, a cotton breeze whisper as the other woman jogged to follow, a floating Garrison in tow, and sent back a pained thought of relief and triumph - and a mental picture of a route, into the swamps of New Orleans. "I think... I know where Amanda went."