Case File: Feel the Rush - Log 6

[xp_aero]

Quentin and Sooraya team up to surveil the Purifier’s new headquarters.



The last time Quentin and Sooraya had "teamed up," it was to report a mutant lynching. Quentin had of course taken the time to rail against the American flatscan "justice" system, particularly the involvement of X-cop X-traordinaire, but he liked to think he had grown since then. He could play nice with the X-Men now.

As long as it wasn't with a cop.

"The Purifiers are lucky they didn't throw their lot in with Graydon Creed," Quentin remarked as he and Sooraya climbed the stairs of a warehouse adjacent to the one the drug runners were using. "Would've been better for us, though. They'd be totally gone."

"They are all like a hydra anyway. Cut off one head and two new ones will appear." Sooraya quickly countered, her eyes scanning continuously for a convenient air duct she could slip into. "We hit them and they all pop right back up. Well, as long as we keep on whacking, at one point we'll get there. Hopefully..."

"Heracles burned each stump as he chopped them off to keep the heads from regrowing," Quentin recalled from his childhood reading of D'Aulaires Greek Myths. "So the answer is probably fire and lots of it." They reached the top landing and he pulled out a pair of binoculars from his bag and knelt down by one of the floor-to-ceiling windows. A telepathic pulse would keep anyone within a block radius from paying attention to him if they even noticed, save Sooraya. "So, what are these fuckers up to?"

"Let's hope we can avoid the fire." Sooraya crouched down next to Quentin carefully glancing through the window. "It's at least generating a fair amount of heat with all the fogging on the windows." She commented. "If you can catch it, I can cut it. Are you up for it?"

Quentin lowered the binoculars so he could look up at Sooraya. "I'm all in favor of simply tearing that place down with all the flatscans in it, but isn't that against your ethos?"

Rolling her eyes, Sooraya gestured at the window. "I just wanted to get a better view without the windows fogging up. Not bring the place down." She paused for a moment. "At least not yet... and preferably with the humans in cuffs first."

"Can you recon without getting noticed?" He turned his attention back to the other building, extending his mind, too, to get some idea of the goings on, but given the volume of activity and his psychic cloaking, he could not discern much without more effort. "You know, it wouldn't be a problem if one or two of them come out of there degloved."

"Once I am in, it's easy not to be seen. Especially with all the activity going on there." Sooraya's eyes narrowed, studying the building, before turning towards QQ with her eyebrow raised. "So you're saying with one or two separated you'd be able to get all the info you need? Not saying that I'm a fan, but good to have all possible plans in mind." It'd be easy enough to create a small accident to separate one or two from the rest.

"That's not what degloved means but if you can identify someone who actually knows something, then I can focus on them instead of having to hop from sapien brain to sapien brain."

"I'll see what I can do." Sooraya nodded. "So are you gonna help me with that window?"

Whatever security measures they have in place, these flatscan drug pushers were not paying attention to their windows, so it was no matter to telekinetically nudge open them in both warehouses. "Bon voyage, happy hunting."

Sooraya studied him for a moment, then handed him a small communicator. "This will allow you to talk with me while I am in my sand form. And how close do you need people to be before you can read them?"

"I could get the whole building as long as they're not shielded somehow, so don't worry about that," he answered, fiddling with the device. "How much can you perceive when you don't have eyes or ears, anyway?"

"More than you think." Sooraya simply replied before she dissolved into sand, her clothing fluttering to the floor. Spiraling up she slipped through the open window before speeding over the other side and hovering in place. "I'm in." She reported only a moment later. "Lot's of armed security around here, that's for sure."

Much what Quentin could see through his binoculars, too. "Can you tell what kind of arms? And how many gunmen compared to others," he asked. That would give them some idea of their funding and backers. "And where they're storing the drug. You X-folks are gonna want to hit that first."

"One moment." Sooraya dove lower, flowing around the metal struts and pipes. "I'd say one out of three is armed security... Four or five with assault weapons high up, surveying everything, with about a fifty-fifty mix between handguns and shotguns or bats and blades on the floor level. Looks rather like a hodgepodge of weapons honestly." Paying the workers closer scrutiny, she added: "Several of the workers at least have blades on themselves."

So they were expecting trouble. With the X-Men's antiquated code of ethics, that would present a challenge for them. "Any sight of where they're storing the drugs?" Quentin asked. "Or someone who looks like they've got authority, so I can peel that info from their brains?"

"One moment. Trying to get an accurate estimate of the numbers." Sooraya sent back businesslike, but the thread of frustration was clear in her voice. Spiraling a little lower, she examined the dynamics of the group. Who appeared to be giving orders and who was heading where.

Quentin mentally cataloged the intel as Sooraya relayed it to him. He audibly gasped when she found the drug, and he telepathically hopped into the mind of some nearby drone. "They can kill us all ten times over with all that," he hissed with his own mouth. When the drone turned his head, though, Quentin's consternation bled through, and the man involuntarily gasped. The woman across the hall was the one Arthur had identified as the mastermind. She was here. Now was the time to strike and be done.

"Dust, we have been made." Sooraya was spiraling immediately up towards the window at Spectrum's first call. Vaguely she spotted most of the armed guards heading for the doors after reaching for their radio's, even the ones up high with AK-14's rushing towards the stairs. "Spectrum, Madin, an influx of guards is heading in your direction." She quickly radioed, speeding up as much as she could.

Before slipping out of the factory, she added: "Q, Madin and Spectrum have been made and guards are heading in their direction. Heading there now myself, but watch your six."

"Understood. Do what you need." While Quentin would do what he needed. He slipped the communicator into his pocket and pulled out his phone, speed-dialing his number one contact. "They're distracted, so it's our turn now, sweet cheeks. Meet you out front in . . . Oh, you're already there. Be right down."


Meanwhile, Madin and Nica have company.



Waiting wasn't Nica's favourite team activity, especially when one of the team was already inside. But Sooraya had been clear in her instructions and Nica was a good soldier, so she waited as patiently as she could with Madin in the shadowy doorway a couple of buildings down. The wind was chilly and she pulled down the woolly hat she was wearing, wishing she could use her powers to tune out the cold. Sooraya had been clear about staying in her human form until she was needed - there was a chance the equipment being used by the Purifiers might pick up any unusual EM activity.

Madin had, reluctantly, worked over their visible skin with a layer of foundation and theatrical makeup. As with Nica, the mission parameters said plausible deniability over the whole mutant thing. They didn't like it but had, in the past, gotten used to it. Pressed against Nica's side in the doorway, they settled in to wait, uniform swapped for kevlar lined bike jeans and jacket. Still body armour, just, again, with more plausible deniability attached.

Lips pressed against Nica's ear, they whispered: "It's fucking freezing."

Nica shivered again - for totally different reasons - at the puff of warm breath in her ear. "And then some," she whispered back. "Let's hope Sooraya and Quentin hurry up." Then she stiffened as a car pulled up near their doorway. "Looks like we have company."

"Shit," Madin breathed. A second car came down the street, let out a couple of young women out, who headed into the club. The driver tapped at his phone for a long moment before doing a long, slow, three point turn that left the headlights pointing right at the two of them while the driver sent another message on his phone, mid turn. He finished the turn and left, but the damage was done. They'd been seen.

"Dust, we've been made." Nica tapped her comms and then stepped out to meet the security guards who were coming their way, plastering a smile on her face. "Hey there. You wouldn't know if the Staten Island ferry leaves from somewhere around here?" she asked in her broadest Louisiana drawl. Maybe they could fake their way out of this.

"We're like, so lost." It didn't work as well when you were wearing body armour. The men looked unimpressed with Madin. One raised a radio to his lips and said something neither of them could hear. Distantly, Madin wondered if they should attack, spearing the radio and his hand with plasma but the risk was too high. He'd die, when they inevitably missed and stabbed him in the head.

Dust was already spiraling up towards the window at Spectrum's first call. Vaguely she spotted most of the armed guards heading for the doors after reaching for their radios, even the ones up high with AK-14's rushing towards the stairs. "Spectrum, Madin, an influx of guards is heading in your direction." She quickly radioed, speeding up as much as she could.

Still arriving on the scene she did take one moment to take in the situation. The remaining guards were not quite at their position yet. "Get ready." She added over the radio. "I'll deal with them from above." And those assault weapons would be her first priority.

"Well, so much for that," Nica muttered to herself, then added louder: "Madin, cover your eyes, it's party time." And with that she flared brightly, illuminating the dark street as if it was daytime and blinding anyone looking at her.

Madin had already looked away, eyes clenched shut as the light flared. Eyes open again, Madin threw a curved arc of plasma, lighting up the pavement and providing the two of them some shelter as it flickered. "You need to back off, now."

Shots rang out and Madin pushed themself back into the marginal cover of the wall.

Nica took to the air, flaring brightly both to draw fire and provide Madin with better shadows to take cover in. As she expected, the guards centered their weapons on her, the bullets passing harmlessly through her light form. Still, a full on firefight was not what they needed here - they'd need to shut things down quickly.

Sooraya dove, many tendrils of sand lashing out to wrap around two of the assault weapons and simply yanked them away, flinging them on the nearby roof. The rest of the sand cloud was already moving again, forcing itself under the feet of two more of the gunmen before pulling out rapidly and sending them tumbling to the ground. "Spectrum, can you get the two gunmen at the back?!"

"With pleasure." Nica winked out of sight as she switched to x-rays and zoomed upwards. Then beams of red hot light emerged from the sky, aimed at the weapons rather than the guards, heating the metal to the point they had to let go. As they clattered to the ground, she flickered into sight again, this time glowing dull red. "Madin, feel like doing some recycling?"

This was a pattern they'd drilled - Sooraya or Nica or one of the others who could provided cover while the ones more suited to hand to hand came in underneath. The thing was, nobody actually expected you to bring a knife to a gun fight.

Madin threw plasma at the dropped guns, slagging them as they ran forward to engage a man Nica hadn't gotten to yet, with an open swing at his gun. He blocked, swinging the gun like a baseball bat and it clattered to the ground, sliced in two. Madin followed with a punch to the face and stabbed him in the foot. He fell, screaming and they turned to face the others.

Plasma flared below her, punctuated with the moans and occasional screams from the thugs Madin took down. Four more tendrils lashed out and Dust pulled a man out of the crowd who was swinging a heavy chain around. A fifth tendril opened a nearby skip half-filled with trash and she neatly dumped him in the skip before scanning the crowd again, this time hauling out a man wielding some heavy wooden staff with some skill before he joined his fellow thug in the skip. "Spectrum, how are you doing?" She quickly checked in with her teammate, already scanning the crowd for another one better removed.

There was a bright splash of red light and a howl of pain from a security guard whose buckles had been superheated and then Nica floated above the melee. "We've got some people running away, but they're not armed, they look like regular workers? Should we let them go?"

"Yes, they're not our concern for now as long as they don't join the fray." Sooraya quickly confirmed as she scanned the crowd, more tendrils of sand lashed to dump goons in the dumpster. "They might've not been there of their own will."

"Quire's not here!" Madin had been worried that the man would have gotten himself involved somehow but there were half a dozen bleeding, burned and sand scoured men lying on the road and he wasn't one of them.

One man, leg injured, was crawling towards a dropped gun. Madin slagged it and kicked him savagely in the stomach.

Sirens rang out. "I think we need to go."

"Quire is okay. He has something of his own to do." Dust quickly reassured him as she shot higher into the sky, estimating how far off the first responders were. "Time to retreat right now. They'll get here any moment." She ordered quickly. "The cops will have to take care of these idiots."


Q cashes in his professional favor.



Quentin's faith in the flatscan justice system didn't go very far. Or anywhere at all, really. So while he had reluctantly given in to the X-Men's proposal to turn in these drug pushers and wannabe mass murderers, he only agreed on the people. The government getting their hands on the samples of Rush or its synthesis protocol was out of the question. He knew exactly what they would do with that information one day.

So he was grateful that someone else unquestionably agreed with him, a trained operative who also played by his own rules and was also willing to do the right thing.

"Whatever you need to do, do it," Quentin telepathically advised Gabriel, splitting his concentration between maintaining that private conversation, keeping the pair hidden from everyone (enemies and allies alike), and trying to find appropriate evidence to destroy.

"I'm not sure we have enough time for that." Gabriel still found it strange to be communicating telepathically, though he'd never admit it. Another weird boundary that he'd crossed. "For all my vices, never been in a drug lab before. How much of this are we taking and how much of this are we ruining beyond salvaging?"

"I'm glad I can still surprise you with new things after so many years," Quentin teased while he flipped through the contents of a file cabinet. There wasn't much in the way of paper records here, but he stuffed what he could find into his satchel. There would be some use yet from whatever was there. "We need enough material that the brains can make some kind of antidote like Narcan. So whatever you can stuff in your pockets. We can burn the rest."

Gabriel nodded as he processed this, then pulled out his phone. "Don't waste space in the bag on too much paper. Take supplies. It'll be tedious as fuck but I can take photos of everything in, like, one minute if you can buy me that kind of time."

"Beauty and brains. What would I do without you?" Quentin grabbed the papers and carelessly tossed them into the air, telekinetically setting them down orderly onto the table. Then as advised, he dumped packages of Rush into his bag instead, making sure to take from different containers in case they were from different lots.

He nearly dropped a box and dove to the floor when an explosion boomed through the warehouse. When their room was still standing, though, he gracefully arose as if nothing had just happened. Still, he reinforced the psychic citronella candle to make sure Gabriel had the time he needed. "Fucking X-Men."

"Yeah." Gabriel himself had ducked for cover, though he wondered if it was worth reflecting that he'd become upsettingly used to such disruptions. "Okay. Hold on." He moved over to the table, trying to ignore the cacophony around them. "Oh, wait, want to see something cool?"He put his phone on airplane mode and toggled a few settings. Then, his arms and the papers were all a whir, as he began to methodically take photos of every page.

Even linked up as they were, Quentin could not follow Gabriel's rapid movements. They were hypnotic in a way, although that may have just been Quentin's typical reaction to Gabriel's arms. A wordless sentiment that Quentin did not hold back from the link. "There's not much more here. They emptied out most of the cabinets and took their electronics with them."

Gabriel received the message in drawn-out, elongated thoughts that he'd never have been able to articulate to Quentin. He did not respond at first, simply continuing the methodical work of photographing every document. Then, he returned to the world's normal speed. "We can burn everything." He said, feeling quite a bit self-satisfied and not bothering to hide it. "Think fast." He tossed Quentin his unconnected phone, which showed a time about 10 minutes ahead of the actual clock.

The telepath stuck the phone in his bag, too, and nodded back at Gabriel, wearing the same puffed-up expression. Truly, what would he do without Gabriel? What a worse world it would be for everyone.

He swept the papers into the trash and then rummaged through one of the large cabinets to find something flammable. One of those metal cabinets found in a chemistry classroom, even. Safety first even for a genocidal meth lab, Quentin supposed. Still, there was plenty of acetone, ammonia, and other solvents with the big flame symbol on the labels, so it would not be too safe. He levitated a couple of bottles to Gabriel. "This is too much. It's not too much, is it? The X-Men are outside, this is fine."

Gabriel took the bottles, studying them before offering a shrug. He wasn't a chemist. "Probably fine, right? These people are fucks." He paused, trying to remember what he could about explosives. "I don't think we want a bomb, per se, but like... a few-alarm fire?" He had half a mind to search for party drugs before they blew the place up, and he wondered if he'd inadvertently let that idea leak to Quentin. It was difficult to think for himself while consciously thinking at someone else.

"Tap into that juvenile delinquency and light it up like World Pride in DC next summer that I will absolutely not travel to." They both knew that was probably a lie, too many parties to pass up. He lit a sheet of paper on fire and held it over the acetone-soaked trash can. "And we have drugs at home, we don't have to stop for them here. Come on, let's get out of here, get fucked up, and I'll show you how to stop nosey bitches like me from picking up stray thoughts in a TP link."

"We have drugs at home, and we could have more drugs at home." Gabriel put the bottles down, then surveyed the lab one last time. "Okay, I'm good. Get ready to make a run for it."

Quentin let go of the flaming paper, telekinetically suspending it over the ignition, and checked to make sure he had everything secure as he approached Gabriel. "On your mark."

Gabriel couldn't help but grin, watching the flames dance dangerously above the trash can. "Show off," he teased, under his breath now that Quentin was close by. Without asking, he took the bag from Quentin. "Ready when you are. You know I don't need much time."

"No one's ever accused you of finishing too fast," Quentin responded with a nonverbal laugh. He dropped the ignition.

Minutes later, the warehouse was up in flames, an unsalvageable disaster and potentially another charge to level against whoever the X-Men managed to corral (who else could have arsoned a drug lab using drug synthesis materials other than the drug makers, after all). While Quentin and Gabriel were safe, unbothered, and unsinged a couple miles away.