For Treason, Act III, Scene iv
May. 29th, 2026 01:00 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsAs is appropriate for something involving Emma Frost and Sebastian Shaw, a tactical chess match breaks out at an exclusive New York City eatery. The X-Men deploy their decoy and lure the attack as anticipated, but Weapon X has about forty to fifty pounds of surprise attached to one of the attackers…
TW: Violence, gun use
The dining room of Le Bernardin would normally be bustling on an afternoon like this, but once or twice a month a reservation would be made under Sebastian Shaw and Emma Frost's names to discuss business (corporate and Hellfire). For privacy's sake, a substantial fee would be paid to cordon off a section of the room.
On this afternoon, a third person was joining the pair at their table - Doug Ramsey. Emma's Knight and business assistant had needed to divulge more than he'd wanted to in order for Sebastian to take this meeting. In particular, showing weakness by admitting that Emma was currently unconscious on Muir Island was a serious risk. "...we don't know for certain, but we believe Emma is one of the more likely targets for an attack," he told the Black King.
"I think I'm the more important target. After all, the Black Court is ascendent."
Emma smiled; sideways and sly. "Of course, Sebastian. They will aim for your muttonchops first." She said with a drawn out drawl.
Doug had a lot of practice at schooling his features to avoid showing his reactions, but he was hard pressed not to snort with amusement. "There is a personal connection at play as well, but regardless, we felt that the combination of you and her would elevate the likelihood of an attack. I'm...grateful for your willingness to assist." The chance that he was getting in over his head with whatever Shaw might extract in exchange was one he had to take, since Emma wasn't exactly here to weigh in on things.
"My compliments to your...double," Shaw murmured as he took a sip of his very expensive whiskey, covering his mouth so that his lips could not be read. "Even the mannerisms are perfect."
"Sebastian, you know she wouldn't trust these breasts to just anyone." Emma said, even her micro-expressions on point. Still, even as she spoke, her eyes tracked the room professionally, sectioning and evaluating every possible entry point, sightline, and angle someone could approach from. Some habits were impossible to break.
"And regardless of how this turns out, you get-" Whatever Doug had been about to say to Shaw was interrupted by the loud squeal of tires out on the street.
Outside, a black utility van peeled around a corner, expertly slipping between two vehicles at an intersection and forcing a third car to stop short or risk being hit.The driver - a tall man wearing sunglasses and a bulletproof vest - jerked the wheel to pull the van into an empty spot right in front of the restaurant.
The door opened and Liam was out before the van was fully stopped, already on a target and moving to the next with brutal efficiency, claws out and in full use. He wasn't killing, yet, but he was rendering the Hellfire guards useless with every second.
It opened the way for a second body to hit the ground, rolling with the momentum and using it to propel themselves directly towards the table Emma, Doug and Shaw had been dining at. Rainbow light flickered as the younger Frost, shimmering as living diamond, slammed headlong into the guards that Liam left standing, the two functioning as a brutally efficient ram to carve open a path directly towards their targets.
Doug was the first at the table to react, standing sharply and tipping the table over onto its side to provide a small amount of cover, and kicking his chair backwards to clear the space around the trio. He shed his jacket quickly and cast it aside as he crouched to give himself better freedom of movement, revealing a hidden holster at the small of his back containing a pistol and a small cylinder that he snapped out into a baton. He tapped the tragus in his left ear, activating an earbud that nestled behind it in the ear canal. "Look alive everybody, it's 'Doug hates being right time'," he announced. "Two out of four in sight."
He turned to his two tablemates and nodded. "We need to try and draw the rest out." He turned to Shaw. "Apologies in advance, Sebastian." As the older man just started to look quizzical, Doug brought the reinforced carbon fiber of the baton cracking across the Black King's back between the shoulder blades and waist. ~I'm sure that'll get added to the tab, but that was totally worth it.~
Shaw blinked in surprise as Doug's blow hit, but quickly understood the intent as the kinetic energy flowed through him with his powers. He reared back and kicked the table, sending it flying, brutally smashing into Liam and 14, checking their rush for a moment. Emma flipped a second table for cover, a gun uncharacteristically appearing in her hand.
"I must say I've always enjoyed that your power is most effective when you're incapable of getting out of the way of violence. It is childhood trauma from an abusive father literally turned into a mutation."
"Possibly too much like Emma." Shaw muttered as more Hellfire guards used the moment to get between the mutants and Shaw.
Liam grabbed the table as it collided into him, rolling with it and landing so it was now his cover, protecting himself and Cuckoo. That was going to leave a mark later. And hurt like a son of a bitch, but that was why they'd trained.
Celeste huddled behind both the table and Liam and let her diamond form drop.
God is laughing. Call in for backup. There was a beat as the general ambiance floated over the telepathic link. ...also someone tell our armed friend to stop singing George Michael. Wildchild is not and will never be our father figure.
The street outside Le Bernardin was in chaos, with pedestrians cowering or running screaming from the violent scene before them. Several bodyguard types in the severe uniform look of the Hellfire Club already lay in twisted positions on the ground, and a handful of figures battled in what looked to be a delicate stalemate that could tip in either direction at a moment's notice.
The van doors opened, and a tall figure came out, knit cap covering his hair and ears and grey fatigues covering most of the rest. He fired one warning shot from a pistol, and spat "Fall back!" into the comm that peeked out of the hat His voice was still coming out deep and gravely, which suited the situation just fine. "Cuckoos, tap into my senses for scent and sound tracking." Kyle walked towards where Liam and the Cuckoos were pinned down slowly - steadily, and ignored the Hellfire guard who side-stepped Liam to head to Kyle until the man was nearly in his face.
...and then threw him into the side of a table, where he slumped, head at absolutely the wrong angle.
There was a screech of metal on concrete as the table was shoved back by the impact, and then kept moving, carrying the injured man out of the melee. At the same time, all of the ornate wrought-iron patio furniture arranged outside suddenly lifted up and flew at the WX agent, pummeling him from multiple directions.
Sure, you can roll and duck if one wrought iron patio chair comes at you. A dozen chairs and tables from all directions - no one is that agile. Kyle dodged two, took one to the chest and went down flat on the ground, arms up over his face as another two chairs battered at him with muffled clanks. "Fucking shit! Fuck! Cuckoos, check for Polaris! Wildcat, pull. the fuck. back." He pushed away the table that had hit him in the chest, kicked a chair away, and hauled himself up slowly, eyes darting around faster than his body could move.
Pulling back, no one would argue that Liam couldn't follow orders. And follow them well. Very well. His tail lashed once then stilled as he rested on the balls of his feet, ready to spring into action depending on how things went. His claws remained out, little murder daggers on each hand ready to go.
Still behind her cover, Fourteen let her diamond skin recede. She reached out a featherlight touch of telepathy and let it skim over as many people as she could, only reaching deeper with Kyle for the aforementioned scent and sound tapping. Filtering out the civilians was easy enough; their thoughts were a chaotic mess of panic and adrenaline with very little going on beyond the ancient instinct of 'run and hide'. Everyone else she was able to identify by their unique thought patterns and the sounds of their voices.
'No Polaris,' she reported back. If that changes, you will be the first to know. There was a beat as she struggled internally with herself, glancing at the very obvious corpse of the Hellfire guard who had been shooting at her and Liam. '...thank you. For the assistance. Then she was off, falling back out of the danger zone to support telepathically from the edges of the fight.
A short blonde waitress poked her head out from a nearby alleyway next to the restaurant, eying the commotion. She put her finger up against the comms device nestled into her ear.
"We're a go," she said quietly, then ripped off the clean white waitress shirt to reveal an X-person uniform.
Disappearing back down the alleyway, Molly returned hoisting a dumpster over her head like it were merely a basketball.
"Hey Wildchild! Catch!" she shouted, throwing it at him.
"Ah! Fuck!" How had he not clocked her? All the damn city smells were fucking up his tracking. How the fuck was it still pollen season? How the fuck wasn't it autumn? Wildchild managed to throw himself back down with his arms over his head and only got clipped by the dumpster, the metal edge clanking against his forearms. "Motherfucker, they have the entire fucking group here!" He was going to rip the throat out of whoever picked -Emma Frost- as the fucking target of this. Half a dozen options and they were sent after -her-? He hauled himself up again, growled at the bleeding gashes on his arms, and lunged for Molly Hayes.
Molly stared down Kyle. He was a little too fast for her to do anything but roll with his momentum as he took her off her feet, causing her to slide against the ground before crashing into a row of rent-a-bikes.
"Gonna have to wash your mouth out with soap," she said, reaching up to grab a bike and using it to hit him with, like an oversized bat.
Howling, Liam joined the fray, jumping onto the bike as a slingboard, if she was super strong then she could handle his weight with it as he continued on and rolled claws catching just where her shirt collar ended to leave marks and no more as he kept moving.
Molly heard and felt a rip on her shirt and her mouth dropped open. "Rude!" she said as she spotted a streak of orange fly over her head. "I just bought this shirt."
"Wildcat, go for her eyes and mouth!" Wildchild snapped as he dove under the swinging bike. He considered further instructions but frankly if Wildcat wanted to stick his tongue down Molly's throat it might serve as a decent distraction. They needed to regroup.
Did he want to kiss her? She was cute and all, but really, it was more that he couldn't pass up the opportunity. "Different circumstances!" he murmured, holding her close and beginning to slot their faces together. If she didn't taste like cherry chapstick, she really looked like she should.
It felt like slow motion. Molly stared at Liam in a mix of disbelief and disgust as he leaned in.
“Oh, hell no.”
Her knee drove up sharply before his lips ever reached hers, and she shoved him backward hard enough to put space between them.
Oh, she was going to just keep doing that, because Molly Fucking Hayes was bulletproof. Even if they wore her out and got her to take a fucking nap, bulletproof. Kyle'd fucking said as much as he could, as much as he felt safe pushing back - and of course they hadn't believed him.
For one traitorous moment he considered standing down and then the thought melted under a psionic response so sharply painfully sweet that his eyes watered from it.
Molly Fucking Hayes still needed Oxygen. Right. Wildchild came in hard, an elbow into the side of Molly's throat and then a forearm around her neck.
The hit to her throat stole the breath out of Molly before she could even react. A second later Kyle’s forearm locked tight around her neck.
Molly grabbed his arm with both hands and yanked hard, more annoyed than worried. Normally that was enough. Normally people came off her.
Kyle’s arm didn’t budge.
Confusion flashed across her face. She dug in harder, trying to wrench herself free. Nothing gave. No crack of bone. No shift. Just solid, unyielding resistance under her hands.
Then her lungs started burning.
A rough, strangled sound caught in the back of her throat as the edges of her vision flickered. The confusion curdled fast into something sharper, uglier. Molly wasn’t used to losing. Wasn’t used to being held down. Wasn’t used to the terrifying realization that she might actually black out.
Instinct slammed through the panic before it could fully take hold. Molly threw herself sideways with all her weight behind it, trying to drag Kyle off balance and slam both of them into the ground.
Before Liam could regain his balance and launch himself back into the fray, there was a brisk sound of clapping hands and he was enclosed in a bubble of magical energy. Amanda stepped out from the alcove she'd been using as cover. "Sorry, kitty-cat, you get a time out," she said, catching the furious cat-boy's eyes. "Now, just calm the fuck down and let me get you back home, yeah?"
There was the crunch of gravel behind her, and a hand clamped down on her shoulder and spun her directly into the path of a diamond fist. It hit her square in the jaw, and Fourteen watched as she collapsed. The bubble of energy trapping Liam fell, dropping him to the ground.
"Get up," she said. "I do not know how long that will keep her dow--"
A first bullet pinged her between the shoulders.
"I won't ask you to stop again. Mother knows best." Emma said, with further jarring as the next half dozen shots hit Fourteen's diamond form square in the head. Unfortunately, in looking over Emma's powers, Kevin found an interesting little note and had added a clip of wadcutters to his loadout as 'Emma'. The rounds slammed against his target, not penetrating the diamond form, but instead hitting with a concessive resonance that echoed through the crystal lattice, like her whole body was being struck at the same time with a jackhammer as each shot landed.
Breaking free of whatever had held him momentarily, Liam grabbed Fourteen, practically throwing them both off to the side behind a table and out of the crossfire, his tail wrapped around her waist. She was. virtually indestructible in this form, but that didn't mean shooting her was pleasant!
A violent spasm ran through her entire body. The grimace on her face spoke to real, serious pain before she schooled her expression. She took a deep breath, ignoring all of the dust she and Liam had kicked up crashing over the table.
"...ow," she muttered.
Emma is a fake, she said over the bond.
Kyle had hit the ground and went flat, head ringing. Right. Now he needed oxygen. And now this? "Fan-fucking-tastic." Kyle muttered. "Fuck it." He threw a hard elbow at Molly's chest, more for distraction than any real pain, and hit his comm. "Transport, pop the hatch and let him loose."
TW: Violence, gun use
The dining room of Le Bernardin would normally be bustling on an afternoon like this, but once or twice a month a reservation would be made under Sebastian Shaw and Emma Frost's names to discuss business (corporate and Hellfire). For privacy's sake, a substantial fee would be paid to cordon off a section of the room.
On this afternoon, a third person was joining the pair at their table - Doug Ramsey. Emma's Knight and business assistant had needed to divulge more than he'd wanted to in order for Sebastian to take this meeting. In particular, showing weakness by admitting that Emma was currently unconscious on Muir Island was a serious risk. "...we don't know for certain, but we believe Emma is one of the more likely targets for an attack," he told the Black King.
"I think I'm the more important target. After all, the Black Court is ascendent."
Emma smiled; sideways and sly. "Of course, Sebastian. They will aim for your muttonchops first." She said with a drawn out drawl.
Doug had a lot of practice at schooling his features to avoid showing his reactions, but he was hard pressed not to snort with amusement. "There is a personal connection at play as well, but regardless, we felt that the combination of you and her would elevate the likelihood of an attack. I'm...grateful for your willingness to assist." The chance that he was getting in over his head with whatever Shaw might extract in exchange was one he had to take, since Emma wasn't exactly here to weigh in on things.
"My compliments to your...double," Shaw murmured as he took a sip of his very expensive whiskey, covering his mouth so that his lips could not be read. "Even the mannerisms are perfect."
"Sebastian, you know she wouldn't trust these breasts to just anyone." Emma said, even her micro-expressions on point. Still, even as she spoke, her eyes tracked the room professionally, sectioning and evaluating every possible entry point, sightline, and angle someone could approach from. Some habits were impossible to break.
"And regardless of how this turns out, you get-" Whatever Doug had been about to say to Shaw was interrupted by the loud squeal of tires out on the street.
Outside, a black utility van peeled around a corner, expertly slipping between two vehicles at an intersection and forcing a third car to stop short or risk being hit.The driver - a tall man wearing sunglasses and a bulletproof vest - jerked the wheel to pull the van into an empty spot right in front of the restaurant.
The door opened and Liam was out before the van was fully stopped, already on a target and moving to the next with brutal efficiency, claws out and in full use. He wasn't killing, yet, but he was rendering the Hellfire guards useless with every second.
It opened the way for a second body to hit the ground, rolling with the momentum and using it to propel themselves directly towards the table Emma, Doug and Shaw had been dining at. Rainbow light flickered as the younger Frost, shimmering as living diamond, slammed headlong into the guards that Liam left standing, the two functioning as a brutally efficient ram to carve open a path directly towards their targets.
Doug was the first at the table to react, standing sharply and tipping the table over onto its side to provide a small amount of cover, and kicking his chair backwards to clear the space around the trio. He shed his jacket quickly and cast it aside as he crouched to give himself better freedom of movement, revealing a hidden holster at the small of his back containing a pistol and a small cylinder that he snapped out into a baton. He tapped the tragus in his left ear, activating an earbud that nestled behind it in the ear canal. "Look alive everybody, it's 'Doug hates being right time'," he announced. "Two out of four in sight."
He turned to his two tablemates and nodded. "We need to try and draw the rest out." He turned to Shaw. "Apologies in advance, Sebastian." As the older man just started to look quizzical, Doug brought the reinforced carbon fiber of the baton cracking across the Black King's back between the shoulder blades and waist. ~I'm sure that'll get added to the tab, but that was totally worth it.~
Shaw blinked in surprise as Doug's blow hit, but quickly understood the intent as the kinetic energy flowed through him with his powers. He reared back and kicked the table, sending it flying, brutally smashing into Liam and 14, checking their rush for a moment. Emma flipped a second table for cover, a gun uncharacteristically appearing in her hand.
"I must say I've always enjoyed that your power is most effective when you're incapable of getting out of the way of violence. It is childhood trauma from an abusive father literally turned into a mutation."
"Possibly too much like Emma." Shaw muttered as more Hellfire guards used the moment to get between the mutants and Shaw.
Liam grabbed the table as it collided into him, rolling with it and landing so it was now his cover, protecting himself and Cuckoo. That was going to leave a mark later. And hurt like a son of a bitch, but that was why they'd trained.
Celeste huddled behind both the table and Liam and let her diamond form drop.
God is laughing. Call in for backup. There was a beat as the general ambiance floated over the telepathic link. ...also someone tell our armed friend to stop singing George Michael. Wildchild is not and will never be our father figure.
The street outside Le Bernardin was in chaos, with pedestrians cowering or running screaming from the violent scene before them. Several bodyguard types in the severe uniform look of the Hellfire Club already lay in twisted positions on the ground, and a handful of figures battled in what looked to be a delicate stalemate that could tip in either direction at a moment's notice.
The van doors opened, and a tall figure came out, knit cap covering his hair and ears and grey fatigues covering most of the rest. He fired one warning shot from a pistol, and spat "Fall back!" into the comm that peeked out of the hat His voice was still coming out deep and gravely, which suited the situation just fine. "Cuckoos, tap into my senses for scent and sound tracking." Kyle walked towards where Liam and the Cuckoos were pinned down slowly - steadily, and ignored the Hellfire guard who side-stepped Liam to head to Kyle until the man was nearly in his face.
...and then threw him into the side of a table, where he slumped, head at absolutely the wrong angle.
There was a screech of metal on concrete as the table was shoved back by the impact, and then kept moving, carrying the injured man out of the melee. At the same time, all of the ornate wrought-iron patio furniture arranged outside suddenly lifted up and flew at the WX agent, pummeling him from multiple directions.
Sure, you can roll and duck if one wrought iron patio chair comes at you. A dozen chairs and tables from all directions - no one is that agile. Kyle dodged two, took one to the chest and went down flat on the ground, arms up over his face as another two chairs battered at him with muffled clanks. "Fucking shit! Fuck! Cuckoos, check for Polaris! Wildcat, pull. the fuck. back." He pushed away the table that had hit him in the chest, kicked a chair away, and hauled himself up slowly, eyes darting around faster than his body could move.
Pulling back, no one would argue that Liam couldn't follow orders. And follow them well. Very well. His tail lashed once then stilled as he rested on the balls of his feet, ready to spring into action depending on how things went. His claws remained out, little murder daggers on each hand ready to go.
Still behind her cover, Fourteen let her diamond skin recede. She reached out a featherlight touch of telepathy and let it skim over as many people as she could, only reaching deeper with Kyle for the aforementioned scent and sound tapping. Filtering out the civilians was easy enough; their thoughts were a chaotic mess of panic and adrenaline with very little going on beyond the ancient instinct of 'run and hide'. Everyone else she was able to identify by their unique thought patterns and the sounds of their voices.
'No Polaris,' she reported back. If that changes, you will be the first to know. There was a beat as she struggled internally with herself, glancing at the very obvious corpse of the Hellfire guard who had been shooting at her and Liam. '...thank you. For the assistance. Then she was off, falling back out of the danger zone to support telepathically from the edges of the fight.
A short blonde waitress poked her head out from a nearby alleyway next to the restaurant, eying the commotion. She put her finger up against the comms device nestled into her ear.
"We're a go," she said quietly, then ripped off the clean white waitress shirt to reveal an X-person uniform.
Disappearing back down the alleyway, Molly returned hoisting a dumpster over her head like it were merely a basketball.
"Hey Wildchild! Catch!" she shouted, throwing it at him.
"Ah! Fuck!" How had he not clocked her? All the damn city smells were fucking up his tracking. How the fuck was it still pollen season? How the fuck wasn't it autumn? Wildchild managed to throw himself back down with his arms over his head and only got clipped by the dumpster, the metal edge clanking against his forearms. "Motherfucker, they have the entire fucking group here!" He was going to rip the throat out of whoever picked -Emma Frost- as the fucking target of this. Half a dozen options and they were sent after -her-? He hauled himself up again, growled at the bleeding gashes on his arms, and lunged for Molly Hayes.
Molly stared down Kyle. He was a little too fast for her to do anything but roll with his momentum as he took her off her feet, causing her to slide against the ground before crashing into a row of rent-a-bikes.
"Gonna have to wash your mouth out with soap," she said, reaching up to grab a bike and using it to hit him with, like an oversized bat.
Howling, Liam joined the fray, jumping onto the bike as a slingboard, if she was super strong then she could handle his weight with it as he continued on and rolled claws catching just where her shirt collar ended to leave marks and no more as he kept moving.
Molly heard and felt a rip on her shirt and her mouth dropped open. "Rude!" she said as she spotted a streak of orange fly over her head. "I just bought this shirt."
"Wildcat, go for her eyes and mouth!" Wildchild snapped as he dove under the swinging bike. He considered further instructions but frankly if Wildcat wanted to stick his tongue down Molly's throat it might serve as a decent distraction. They needed to regroup.
Did he want to kiss her? She was cute and all, but really, it was more that he couldn't pass up the opportunity. "Different circumstances!" he murmured, holding her close and beginning to slot their faces together. If she didn't taste like cherry chapstick, she really looked like she should.
It felt like slow motion. Molly stared at Liam in a mix of disbelief and disgust as he leaned in.
“Oh, hell no.”
Her knee drove up sharply before his lips ever reached hers, and she shoved him backward hard enough to put space between them.
Oh, she was going to just keep doing that, because Molly Fucking Hayes was bulletproof. Even if they wore her out and got her to take a fucking nap, bulletproof. Kyle'd fucking said as much as he could, as much as he felt safe pushing back - and of course they hadn't believed him.
For one traitorous moment he considered standing down and then the thought melted under a psionic response so sharply painfully sweet that his eyes watered from it.
Molly Fucking Hayes still needed Oxygen. Right. Wildchild came in hard, an elbow into the side of Molly's throat and then a forearm around her neck.
The hit to her throat stole the breath out of Molly before she could even react. A second later Kyle’s forearm locked tight around her neck.
Molly grabbed his arm with both hands and yanked hard, more annoyed than worried. Normally that was enough. Normally people came off her.
Kyle’s arm didn’t budge.
Confusion flashed across her face. She dug in harder, trying to wrench herself free. Nothing gave. No crack of bone. No shift. Just solid, unyielding resistance under her hands.
Then her lungs started burning.
A rough, strangled sound caught in the back of her throat as the edges of her vision flickered. The confusion curdled fast into something sharper, uglier. Molly wasn’t used to losing. Wasn’t used to being held down. Wasn’t used to the terrifying realization that she might actually black out.
Instinct slammed through the panic before it could fully take hold. Molly threw herself sideways with all her weight behind it, trying to drag Kyle off balance and slam both of them into the ground.
Before Liam could regain his balance and launch himself back into the fray, there was a brisk sound of clapping hands and he was enclosed in a bubble of magical energy. Amanda stepped out from the alcove she'd been using as cover. "Sorry, kitty-cat, you get a time out," she said, catching the furious cat-boy's eyes. "Now, just calm the fuck down and let me get you back home, yeah?"
There was the crunch of gravel behind her, and a hand clamped down on her shoulder and spun her directly into the path of a diamond fist. It hit her square in the jaw, and Fourteen watched as she collapsed. The bubble of energy trapping Liam fell, dropping him to the ground.
"Get up," she said. "I do not know how long that will keep her dow--"
A first bullet pinged her between the shoulders.
"I won't ask you to stop again. Mother knows best." Emma said, with further jarring as the next half dozen shots hit Fourteen's diamond form square in the head. Unfortunately, in looking over Emma's powers, Kevin found an interesting little note and had added a clip of wadcutters to his loadout as 'Emma'. The rounds slammed against his target, not penetrating the diamond form, but instead hitting with a concessive resonance that echoed through the crystal lattice, like her whole body was being struck at the same time with a jackhammer as each shot landed.
Breaking free of whatever had held him momentarily, Liam grabbed Fourteen, practically throwing them both off to the side behind a table and out of the crossfire, his tail wrapped around her waist. She was. virtually indestructible in this form, but that didn't mean shooting her was pleasant!
A violent spasm ran through her entire body. The grimace on her face spoke to real, serious pain before she schooled her expression. She took a deep breath, ignoring all of the dust she and Liam had kicked up crashing over the table.
"...ow," she muttered.
Emma is a fake, she said over the bond.
Kyle had hit the ground and went flat, head ringing. Right. Now he needed oxygen. And now this? "Fan-fucking-tastic." Kyle muttered. "Fuck it." He threw a hard elbow at Molly's chest, more for distraction than any real pain, and hit his comm. "Transport, pop the hatch and let him loose."
