For Treason, Act III, Scene v
May. 29th, 2026 01:27 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
xp_wildchild posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
xp_logsWeapon X plays their ace in the hole, and the X-folks discover that there’s been someone else they all know in this fucked up death squad.
TW: British and Australian swearing, violence, gun use
If the scene outside Le Bernardin had been chaotic before, now it was utter anarchy.centered around the vicious melee involving Kyle Gibney. Sunlight gleamed off the metal sheathing his claws, and Molly Hayes' invulnerability was the only thing standing between him and turning the street into an abattoir.
"Yippie-doo-dah, yippie-dee-aay -- my oh my, what a wonderful day," Wade sang, popping the sunroof on the van parked across the street from the overpriced restaurant he vaguely remembered wanting to take his significant others to ten million years and three brain-alterations ago. Pulling his sniper rifle up and out of the vehicle as he stood on the bench seat and stood up, he barely even sighted down it before beginning to shoot. "Sandy Mandy -- nope, do not want the city to hate me todaaaaaaay," he hummed, shifting his attention immediately to Invisalign Girl. He shot at her feet, then frowned at himself and started shooting the windows out because sunshine, blue skies, fresh air... and also better sightlines. "Oh, McSpar -- no. No, not -- she went bye-bye-bye. So who's this asshole?" Wade shot through the table right in front of Fake McSparkles. Fuck that noise.
While he hadn't abandoned the form of Emma, it wouldn't be long before someone wondered why she'd shot Gibney instead of turning his brain into chowder temporarily. She rose from the table and shifted, her diamond form coming into view, impossible to miss as the light refracted off the facets. As he drew the attention, Kevin snapshot once, firing between Kyle and Molly to hit Wade dead centre in the chest.
"The adults are talking. We can take care of your tantrum once we're done." She said, her cool tone cutting and mocking Wade.
Wade looked down at the already-healing wound in his chest. "Rude," he exclaimed, then shot at the fake McSparkles. "C'mon, boo -- scramble my brains. Cause we both know your little six shooter isn't gonna actually do any good against me." He took another shot, aiming for her belly. Gut shots hurt. The bullet pinged out of chest as the wound finished healing.
The bullet hit and Emma staggered for a moment, before the weapon snapped up and shot Wade through his right eye cleanly. Kevin took a deep breath as he reorganized his organs around, shifting them from the blank area that Wade's shot had bisected and only found meat. "We need some pressure on Wade!" He said through the comms.
~Son of a bitch~ was about the mildest thought running through Doug's continued mental narrative since discovering that not only did Weapon X have all of the people that had been kidnapped, they also had Wade, because of course they did, god forbid he have one nice thing. Despite the profane undercurrent, his brain was still spinning, analyzing the tactical situation. The last time Wade had popped up, in France, he'd had a lucid moment amidst the madness and chaos where he'd recognized teammates and friends. Could they work that to their advantage?
After a few seconds, Doug reached a conclusion. Not a very good one, but it fit with the facts and situation at hand. If anyone on the scene could cause Wade to join everyone else in reality temporarily, it would probably be his 'manfriend'. ~Angie's gonna fucking kill me.~
He darted out from the table he'd taken cover behind. But rather than keeping low and moving quickly to avoid drawing fire, he strolled out over the sidewalk and into the street, like some Old West gunslinger just before the stroke of high noon. "WADE!" he bellowed. "Hey, crazy idiot Canucklehead!" He raised his pistol and squeezed off a few shots far too high to be a true threat. "You wanna mess with someone? How about me?"
"Baby," Wade called back. "I always wanna mess with you." He sang the last bit, almost shouldering his rifle before remembering he was supposed to be shooting people. He didn't even bother aiming when he shot over Doug's shoulder. "But I'm a lil busy right now." He puffed out his cheeks, shooting Amanda in the foot even though he knew the city was probably gonna be mad as fuck at him. He shot at fake!McSparkles again, this time aiming for a knee without really looking. "Dougie, they got my biological Molly. Find her for me." He aimed his gun directly at Doug. "Until then, dance for me, honey."
Only he didn't actually get to pull the trigger.
Madin had held back, conscious that the others were far more able to manage de-escalation than they were. With that option gone, they stood, electric purple plasma crackling around each fist, which they threw as a pair of spears, the first into the body of the Jeep and the second into the road.
There was an explosion of super heated plasma and bitumen.
"Rude," Wade exclaimed, plasma and bitumen smoking and sizzling through his suit as it burned him and then sank into his skin through the holes. He didn't even flinch, just turned the rifle on the purple person and shot them in the knee. "I cannot believe how far the mansion's manners have fallen since I left." Then he pointed a finger at Doug, paused, and chose to blow him a kiss, instead. "Get a handle on your people, baby." He considered shooting someone else, but the only other person he could see was Molly and even though he knew it wouldn't have any impact... well, he was finding it difficult to convince himself to shoot at her. With a finger-wave, he blew Doug that kiss and then said, "Love you, mean it, bye!" He ducked back down into the van only to pop back up a second later and toss three throwing knives at the annoying purple one, since he was still getting slow-roasted by sticky plasma. "So rude."
Madin had fallen with the impact of the bullet. Their body armour had absorbed most of the impact but they had nonetheless fallen, holding their leg. Two of Wade's knives hit armour and bounced off. The third lodged in their arm.
There had been an explosion of British swearing from Amanda's vicinity as the foot shot hit home. Her head was still ringing from Fourteen's punch, and her magic control was completely fucked. But then Madin's predicament caught the witch's attention and she'd managed to stagger over to the X-Man, several newspaper boxes congregating between them and the van as cover. "Wade, you utter bellend, I'm gunna shove a traffic light so far up your arse people will think you're a lighthouse!" she yelled towards the van. "You owe me a new pair of Docs, you fucking muppet!" Her head spun from the effort of moving and all she wanted to do was lie down in a dark, quiet room. Still, she tried to focus on the wound, first aid training coming back as an instinct rather than a thought.
Madin blinked at Amanda. Everything was too much in that moment. "Body armour caught it but I think the --" they hissed in pain -- "I think it's just broken from the impact." Which was better than broken and bleeding, sort of. Wasn't the first time they'd been injured in a fight.
"Get down, you idiot. You're bleeding."
Amanda blinked, looking surprised as she looked at her foot. Yep, that was bleeding. Then she saw Madin's gesture towards her face and she touched her fingers to under her nose. Yep, that was bleeding too. Fuck. She half-flopped, half-fell onto the pavement next to the X-Man.
"That motherfucking cunt-faced arsewipe," she complained. "He shot us."
"Yeah. Fuck that fucking dog." Madin was breathless with pain. "Give me your foot. I need to cut your boot off and pack it." That was more urgent than the face. Probably. At least more treatable. Madin was trying very hard to not think about the sort of brain damage an augmented punch would have to do to leave Amanda bleeding from her nose and ears.
They couldn't fight but their pack, complete with first aid kit, was still on their back. They knew, dimly, that this was pure adrenaline masking the impact but there was nothing they could do now. "I don't think I can move but I can do your foot.. Fucking fuck that fuck cunt."
"Fucking fuck weasel," Amanda agreed. Suddenly docile, she let Madin take her foot. The boot was ruined anyway and she wasn't up for arguing. She involuntarily ducked as a bullet wanged off one of the newspaper boxes. "Someone take care of that balmy, murdering arsehole!" she yelled to anyone who might hear.
The crack of a bullet and stinging feeling of little shards of stone instinctively brought Sue's hands up, a forcefield flaring up between her body and the van as she saw bullet after bullet explode from the van to wreak havoc amongst the team. Who just showed up and opened fire with a sniper rifle while singing at the top of their lungs? There were a host of strange and unbelievable things that were part of the madness that had become her life, but this really took the biscuit.
"Trying."
Blue eyes narrowed as she took a step forward, only for a wayward bullet to slam into the edge of her forcefield, the impact dissipated across her body like a slap rocking her back a few steps as she glanced around. Getting close to the van seemed ot be a non-starter so...she had a forcefield...so the basic makings of a sling. Rocks, trash, anything she could get her hands on, started flying at the side of the van as she tried aiming a the entrance, Johnny had always been the family slingshotter but...she could totally pull this off. "Someone wanna put another bullet, or 10 into him?"
Wildchild's muttering was entirely nonsensical profanity, "Motherfucking asshole fucking shit fuck...". As he ran for the van he caught a dumpster lid to use it as a shield to keep some of the worst of the debris from hitting him in the back of the head. They'd brought more than the X-Men? More than X-Force? God forbid he get one thing right about this fuckstain of an op. He felt something impact his uncovered shoulder, and smelled blood before he realized it'd been a bullet that had bounced off his shoulder blade. Right. Largely bulletproof. Ish.
~That is not our egg donor~ The Cuckoos mental voice was as dry and sweet as ginger ale.
~WE KNOW~ Wildchild sent back. ~YOU ALREADY TOLD US~. Jesus her little twin bitchfest feud routine was getting old.
Sounds echoed and overlapped against the buildings surrounding Le Bernardin. The loud crack of a heavy rifle, the sharper retorts of small arms fire, the sizzle of plasma knives arcing through the air, grunts and the impact of bodies against each other, all this and more blended into an oppressive cacophony, making it unclear who might be winning or losing the battle that continued to rage.
Hidden amongst the chaos was Celeste, as Fourteen used her new skills and power to stalk unseen through the battlefield. Since she no longer had to control five points of view simultaneously (something that was still weird to her but she was slowly getting used to), it had really freed her up to turn her multitasking abilities onto everyone nearby.
Despite her lingering fury she was never so bold as to walk directly into the middle of the conflict, but she flitted about the edges, suppressing memories of anyone who laid eyes on her and drawing up (fake) recollections of having seen her across the battlefield. Within ten minutes, she had touched nearly every mind in range, subtly tweaking their todays so that she was no longer in them, while doing her best to provide the requested support from the backlines for her pack. She had not been gentle, and once the adrenaline wore off she imagined most of them would have quite the headache as a parting gift.
Her new body was currently miles away, a range she could previously have only dreamed of, sipping from a cup of tea with a white-knuckled grip alongside the team coordinators as they monitored the situation. She paid them only half a mind, too focused on trying to shape some semblance of order out of the chaos of the battlefield, until one of them tapped her on the shoulder and let her know to sound the retreat. It seemed that nobody would be getting what they came for today.
Everyone back to the van, she spread telepathically amongst the pack, already covering the short distance with long and hurried strides. They finally recognized that this is a waste of time. Call out for support breaking off your engagement.
Kyle's returned thought was more growl than formed thoughts and still had the undercurrent of "stop fucking doing that"
Mimic, Wildcat, they'd been perfectly content to not push back. The Cuckoos had been mildly defiant -even- when they were cooperative, the entire time, including repeating the very orders he'd given, just in a bitchier tone.
He didn't bother getting up - couldn't really, because despite that he was trying to choke her into unconsciousness, Molly Hayes was doing her level best to knock some sense into Kyle, and he was fighting back hard against sense and reason and punching.
Molly blinked up at Kyle, who suddenly seemed distracted.
"Dude, am I boring you?" she wheezed. This was good for her, and she used it to try to knee him in the little Kyle, followed up by throwing him off her and into a nearby streetlight.
"Sorry about your balls!" she shouted. She also tried to ignore the fact that Wade was right there, shooting at people and talking like he was the star of One Flew Over the Cuckoos Nest.
This was really a crappy day, yo.
"Ooooooh, nice shot, Half-Pint!" Wade called, grinning even as he started shooting random people in probably non-lethal places. The best way to distract most of the X-Teams was to start harming random passersby, after all. "Don't apologize for being awesome!"
He still couldn't bring himself to actually aim in her direction, but that didn't really matter when Kyle was keeping her occupied so the kids could get back to the van.
Molly's head turned toward Wade's yelling. She narrowed her eyes, clenching her fists. "Evil Wade does NOT GET NICKNAME PRIVILEGES!" she shouted back.
She started to give him the double bird. "Stop being a--OOF!" but the words were cut off in her throat when Kyle launched himself at her, tackling her through the glass window of the restaurant.
The last thing Wildcat wanted to do was leave anyone in the pack behind, but he also needed to follow orders and Kyle and Wade could take care of themselves in entirely different ways. Dodging Wade and Kyle and the X- girl, Wildcat came face to face with another blonde X. What, did they have hair colour requirements?
Blue eyes narrowed for a moment as a familiar form skidded to a stop across from her, a silence descending on the two like gunfighters at the OK corral. Sue didn't really know Liam well, had just seen him around the mansion, and well she was never going to be the strong silent broody type. "So, I don't suppose there' any chance you're going to come quietly without making me hurt you in awe of my awesomeness or something are you?"
Rolling his eyes, Liam launched himself, powerful legs and a cat's ability to gain both height and distance simultaneously, he was determined to go through her if she didn't move. He had claws to make her, if necessary.
It was always easy to underestimate just how much force a body had when it was hurtling towards you, just how fast a feral was when they wanted to be, Sue barely got her forefield up in the air, stumbling back as Liam collided with it, the force like a full body hug squeezing her till she managed to scrabble in the dirt and raise her hands to stabilize herself. "Now that was just mean." A finger waggled in Liam's direction as the blonde pushed her forcefields in his direction, invisible blades extending from the surface. "Don't you know, a gentleman always asks before he takes a lady to dance."
"This ain't dancing," Liam spat, already moving towards her again, this time slightly more cautiously. If this was dancing, things would end up a lot differently.
"Oh sweetie, don't you know, everything's a dance, even if you don't know it yet," Sue stepped forward, one hand raised with an almost claw-like bend of her fingers in his direction, a focus for her forcefield as she slowly stepped forward to meet him. She might not have the full offensive capabilities of one of the others with telekinesis but when it came to defenses she was sure she could outlast anything he could throw at her till he gave her an opportunity. "Now, there are a lot of people who're worried about you and want to see you at home, so are you going to come quietly...or are we really going to have to do this the hard way?"
"Hey, Invisitwerk!" Wade yelled, eyes narrowing as another the blonde trapped Liam in a bubble. "How about not!" He took aim easily, no messy emotional attachments causing him to hesitate or pull back as he began firing at her. The sniper rifle wasn't made for close encounters of the ballistic kind, which meant while he stayed steady, all that kinetic energy from the three bullets he fired slammed into her shield and sent her careening backward. "C'mon, Whiskers. We 'bouta ROLL OUT!"
It felt like she'd been grabbed in the biggest tightest hug she'd ever been in, Sue's family wasn't exactly one for public displays of affection,so she'd never really had a bear hug before, but it was what she imagined it would be like. Not exactly excruciating, but it was more pain than she'd expected and for a moment she dropped to her knees with a paine groan as the forcefield shimmered and faded. She could see Liam throw watery eyes, past him the crazy man who'd shot at her as she sucked in a ragged breath.
"How rude."
Abandoning the blonde, Liam bounded over her with no regard for anything and kept going without looking back, disappearing into the van. Retreat was called, he followed orders.
The table that Kyle had crashed into was grasped and negligently tossed aside just before a hand closed around his throat like a vise. Despite the additional weight that had been added to his frame, the arm lifted and extended, pulling him up onto his toes. Despite having nearly half a foot on Sebastian Shaw, Kyle was held up past his tiptoes, unable to gain much leverage. Shaw took him in with a piercing look. "Young man," he began coldly, "it is not enough that you interrupt a promising lunch with my associates and cause an amount of property damage that will take this establishment months to restore" He picked at a tear in his jacket with the hand not holding the feral mutant. "This suit is bespoke. It was crafted by a Savile Row tailor I know who has since retired. That makes it essentially irreplaceable. And you and your cohort have ruined it."
His arm bunched, and he batted away an attempt by Kyle to grab him. "Go back to whoever holds your leash and inform them that Sebastian Shaw is no easy quarry." And with that he flung Kyle back through the plate glass and into the street.
Fuck this was embarassingly-operationally stupid. Kyle peeled himself off the ground and shook off the broken glass. There was going to be a long fucking talk about who was planning these kinds of ops once he get back. Which meant he had to get the fuck back to base. "Cover me!" but he didn't really have to bark that order, he could hear and smell the gunfire. He gave a full body shake to get the last of the glass and gravel off, and ran for the van, long legs eating up the distance despite the added weight to his body.
Shit. If the attackers got away, that meant their opportunity to recover their friends went down the drain, and who knew how long they might hole up in wherever they were hiding. Doug had been trying to get closer to the van, but even though Wade clearly wasn't willing to shoot him, he had devoted a fair amount of lead to playing keep-away. As a result, he was still several cars away from the van, staying low to the ground and trying to find a blind spot.
As Kyle approached the van and the driver revved the engine in preparation, Doug made his move. He sprinted forward, juking unpredictably and trying to ignore the crack of Wade's rifle and the rush of air from a near-miss. At least they hadn't been crazy enough to give Wade something capable of full automatic fire. He got within twenty feet, then ten, close enough to see the blend of panic and determination on Kyle's face as he started to pull the sliding door of the van shut and yell at the driver.
From about six feet away, Doug dove for the handle, his left hand extended. One finger touched the handle and curled over its edge as he hung in midair for a moment that stretched too long...
And then the car was away, yanking Doug's finger completely out of his hand and leaving him to fall flat on his face as it tore off.
By now police had been called, and barriers were being set up. The driver paid them no mind; they slammed their foot on the gas. The tires squealed as they skidded against the road, then the van took off, barreling toward the police cars that were closing in. The police peeled off at the last second, allowing the van to speed through and tear around the corner, out of sight.
Unseen by the driver, the torn off finger did not shake loose of the door handle. Rather, it flattened against the outer panel and crept down toward the undercarriage. Even tactically modified vans used by shadow organizations have GPS trackers somewhere, in this case just off the steering column. The fact that this one had been deactivated didn't matter to the cluster of nanites that interfaced and absorbed into it, sending out one small signal onto the closest unsecured wifi network.
Doug rolled to his back and then sat up, cradling his left hand. But rather than an expression of pain, his was one of concentration. "We are...headed into Central Park," he said in a toneless voice.
TW: British and Australian swearing, violence, gun use
If the scene outside Le Bernardin had been chaotic before, now it was utter anarchy.centered around the vicious melee involving Kyle Gibney. Sunlight gleamed off the metal sheathing his claws, and Molly Hayes' invulnerability was the only thing standing between him and turning the street into an abattoir.
"Yippie-doo-dah, yippie-dee-aay -- my oh my, what a wonderful day," Wade sang, popping the sunroof on the van parked across the street from the overpriced restaurant he vaguely remembered wanting to take his significant others to ten million years and three brain-alterations ago. Pulling his sniper rifle up and out of the vehicle as he stood on the bench seat and stood up, he barely even sighted down it before beginning to shoot. "Sandy Mandy -- nope, do not want the city to hate me todaaaaaaay," he hummed, shifting his attention immediately to Invisalign Girl. He shot at her feet, then frowned at himself and started shooting the windows out because sunshine, blue skies, fresh air... and also better sightlines. "Oh, McSpar -- no. No, not -- she went bye-bye-bye. So who's this asshole?" Wade shot through the table right in front of Fake McSparkles. Fuck that noise.
While he hadn't abandoned the form of Emma, it wouldn't be long before someone wondered why she'd shot Gibney instead of turning his brain into chowder temporarily. She rose from the table and shifted, her diamond form coming into view, impossible to miss as the light refracted off the facets. As he drew the attention, Kevin snapshot once, firing between Kyle and Molly to hit Wade dead centre in the chest.
"The adults are talking. We can take care of your tantrum once we're done." She said, her cool tone cutting and mocking Wade.
Wade looked down at the already-healing wound in his chest. "Rude," he exclaimed, then shot at the fake McSparkles. "C'mon, boo -- scramble my brains. Cause we both know your little six shooter isn't gonna actually do any good against me." He took another shot, aiming for her belly. Gut shots hurt. The bullet pinged out of chest as the wound finished healing.
The bullet hit and Emma staggered for a moment, before the weapon snapped up and shot Wade through his right eye cleanly. Kevin took a deep breath as he reorganized his organs around, shifting them from the blank area that Wade's shot had bisected and only found meat. "We need some pressure on Wade!" He said through the comms.
~Son of a bitch~ was about the mildest thought running through Doug's continued mental narrative since discovering that not only did Weapon X have all of the people that had been kidnapped, they also had Wade, because of course they did, god forbid he have one nice thing. Despite the profane undercurrent, his brain was still spinning, analyzing the tactical situation. The last time Wade had popped up, in France, he'd had a lucid moment amidst the madness and chaos where he'd recognized teammates and friends. Could they work that to their advantage?
After a few seconds, Doug reached a conclusion. Not a very good one, but it fit with the facts and situation at hand. If anyone on the scene could cause Wade to join everyone else in reality temporarily, it would probably be his 'manfriend'. ~Angie's gonna fucking kill me.~
He darted out from the table he'd taken cover behind. But rather than keeping low and moving quickly to avoid drawing fire, he strolled out over the sidewalk and into the street, like some Old West gunslinger just before the stroke of high noon. "WADE!" he bellowed. "Hey, crazy idiot Canucklehead!" He raised his pistol and squeezed off a few shots far too high to be a true threat. "You wanna mess with someone? How about me?"
"Baby," Wade called back. "I always wanna mess with you." He sang the last bit, almost shouldering his rifle before remembering he was supposed to be shooting people. He didn't even bother aiming when he shot over Doug's shoulder. "But I'm a lil busy right now." He puffed out his cheeks, shooting Amanda in the foot even though he knew the city was probably gonna be mad as fuck at him. He shot at fake!McSparkles again, this time aiming for a knee without really looking. "Dougie, they got my biological Molly. Find her for me." He aimed his gun directly at Doug. "Until then, dance for me, honey."
Only he didn't actually get to pull the trigger.
Madin had held back, conscious that the others were far more able to manage de-escalation than they were. With that option gone, they stood, electric purple plasma crackling around each fist, which they threw as a pair of spears, the first into the body of the Jeep and the second into the road.
There was an explosion of super heated plasma and bitumen.
"Rude," Wade exclaimed, plasma and bitumen smoking and sizzling through his suit as it burned him and then sank into his skin through the holes. He didn't even flinch, just turned the rifle on the purple person and shot them in the knee. "I cannot believe how far the mansion's manners have fallen since I left." Then he pointed a finger at Doug, paused, and chose to blow him a kiss, instead. "Get a handle on your people, baby." He considered shooting someone else, but the only other person he could see was Molly and even though he knew it wouldn't have any impact... well, he was finding it difficult to convince himself to shoot at her. With a finger-wave, he blew Doug that kiss and then said, "Love you, mean it, bye!" He ducked back down into the van only to pop back up a second later and toss three throwing knives at the annoying purple one, since he was still getting slow-roasted by sticky plasma. "So rude."
Madin had fallen with the impact of the bullet. Their body armour had absorbed most of the impact but they had nonetheless fallen, holding their leg. Two of Wade's knives hit armour and bounced off. The third lodged in their arm.
There had been an explosion of British swearing from Amanda's vicinity as the foot shot hit home. Her head was still ringing from Fourteen's punch, and her magic control was completely fucked. But then Madin's predicament caught the witch's attention and she'd managed to stagger over to the X-Man, several newspaper boxes congregating between them and the van as cover. "Wade, you utter bellend, I'm gunna shove a traffic light so far up your arse people will think you're a lighthouse!" she yelled towards the van. "You owe me a new pair of Docs, you fucking muppet!" Her head spun from the effort of moving and all she wanted to do was lie down in a dark, quiet room. Still, she tried to focus on the wound, first aid training coming back as an instinct rather than a thought.
Madin blinked at Amanda. Everything was too much in that moment. "Body armour caught it but I think the --" they hissed in pain -- "I think it's just broken from the impact." Which was better than broken and bleeding, sort of. Wasn't the first time they'd been injured in a fight.
"Get down, you idiot. You're bleeding."
Amanda blinked, looking surprised as she looked at her foot. Yep, that was bleeding. Then she saw Madin's gesture towards her face and she touched her fingers to under her nose. Yep, that was bleeding too. Fuck. She half-flopped, half-fell onto the pavement next to the X-Man.
"That motherfucking cunt-faced arsewipe," she complained. "He shot us."
"Yeah. Fuck that fucking dog." Madin was breathless with pain. "Give me your foot. I need to cut your boot off and pack it." That was more urgent than the face. Probably. At least more treatable. Madin was trying very hard to not think about the sort of brain damage an augmented punch would have to do to leave Amanda bleeding from her nose and ears.
They couldn't fight but their pack, complete with first aid kit, was still on their back. They knew, dimly, that this was pure adrenaline masking the impact but there was nothing they could do now. "I don't think I can move but I can do your foot.. Fucking fuck that fuck cunt."
"Fucking fuck weasel," Amanda agreed. Suddenly docile, she let Madin take her foot. The boot was ruined anyway and she wasn't up for arguing. She involuntarily ducked as a bullet wanged off one of the newspaper boxes. "Someone take care of that balmy, murdering arsehole!" she yelled to anyone who might hear.
The crack of a bullet and stinging feeling of little shards of stone instinctively brought Sue's hands up, a forcefield flaring up between her body and the van as she saw bullet after bullet explode from the van to wreak havoc amongst the team. Who just showed up and opened fire with a sniper rifle while singing at the top of their lungs? There were a host of strange and unbelievable things that were part of the madness that had become her life, but this really took the biscuit.
"Trying."
Blue eyes narrowed as she took a step forward, only for a wayward bullet to slam into the edge of her forcefield, the impact dissipated across her body like a slap rocking her back a few steps as she glanced around. Getting close to the van seemed ot be a non-starter so...she had a forcefield...so the basic makings of a sling. Rocks, trash, anything she could get her hands on, started flying at the side of the van as she tried aiming a the entrance, Johnny had always been the family slingshotter but...she could totally pull this off. "Someone wanna put another bullet, or 10 into him?"
Wildchild's muttering was entirely nonsensical profanity, "Motherfucking asshole fucking shit fuck...". As he ran for the van he caught a dumpster lid to use it as a shield to keep some of the worst of the debris from hitting him in the back of the head. They'd brought more than the X-Men? More than X-Force? God forbid he get one thing right about this fuckstain of an op. He felt something impact his uncovered shoulder, and smelled blood before he realized it'd been a bullet that had bounced off his shoulder blade. Right. Largely bulletproof. Ish.
~That is not our egg donor~ The Cuckoos mental voice was as dry and sweet as ginger ale.
~WE KNOW~ Wildchild sent back. ~YOU ALREADY TOLD US~. Jesus her little twin bitchfest feud routine was getting old.
Sounds echoed and overlapped against the buildings surrounding Le Bernardin. The loud crack of a heavy rifle, the sharper retorts of small arms fire, the sizzle of plasma knives arcing through the air, grunts and the impact of bodies against each other, all this and more blended into an oppressive cacophony, making it unclear who might be winning or losing the battle that continued to rage.
Hidden amongst the chaos was Celeste, as Fourteen used her new skills and power to stalk unseen through the battlefield. Since she no longer had to control five points of view simultaneously (something that was still weird to her but she was slowly getting used to), it had really freed her up to turn her multitasking abilities onto everyone nearby.
Despite her lingering fury she was never so bold as to walk directly into the middle of the conflict, but she flitted about the edges, suppressing memories of anyone who laid eyes on her and drawing up (fake) recollections of having seen her across the battlefield. Within ten minutes, she had touched nearly every mind in range, subtly tweaking their todays so that she was no longer in them, while doing her best to provide the requested support from the backlines for her pack. She had not been gentle, and once the adrenaline wore off she imagined most of them would have quite the headache as a parting gift.
Her new body was currently miles away, a range she could previously have only dreamed of, sipping from a cup of tea with a white-knuckled grip alongside the team coordinators as they monitored the situation. She paid them only half a mind, too focused on trying to shape some semblance of order out of the chaos of the battlefield, until one of them tapped her on the shoulder and let her know to sound the retreat. It seemed that nobody would be getting what they came for today.
Everyone back to the van, she spread telepathically amongst the pack, already covering the short distance with long and hurried strides. They finally recognized that this is a waste of time. Call out for support breaking off your engagement.
Kyle's returned thought was more growl than formed thoughts and still had the undercurrent of "stop fucking doing that"
Mimic, Wildcat, they'd been perfectly content to not push back. The Cuckoos had been mildly defiant -even- when they were cooperative, the entire time, including repeating the very orders he'd given, just in a bitchier tone.
He didn't bother getting up - couldn't really, because despite that he was trying to choke her into unconsciousness, Molly Hayes was doing her level best to knock some sense into Kyle, and he was fighting back hard against sense and reason and punching.
Molly blinked up at Kyle, who suddenly seemed distracted.
"Dude, am I boring you?" she wheezed. This was good for her, and she used it to try to knee him in the little Kyle, followed up by throwing him off her and into a nearby streetlight.
"Sorry about your balls!" she shouted. She also tried to ignore the fact that Wade was right there, shooting at people and talking like he was the star of One Flew Over the Cuckoos Nest.
This was really a crappy day, yo.
"Ooooooh, nice shot, Half-Pint!" Wade called, grinning even as he started shooting random people in probably non-lethal places. The best way to distract most of the X-Teams was to start harming random passersby, after all. "Don't apologize for being awesome!"
He still couldn't bring himself to actually aim in her direction, but that didn't really matter when Kyle was keeping her occupied so the kids could get back to the van.
Molly's head turned toward Wade's yelling. She narrowed her eyes, clenching her fists. "Evil Wade does NOT GET NICKNAME PRIVILEGES!" she shouted back.
She started to give him the double bird. "Stop being a--OOF!" but the words were cut off in her throat when Kyle launched himself at her, tackling her through the glass window of the restaurant.
The last thing Wildcat wanted to do was leave anyone in the pack behind, but he also needed to follow orders and Kyle and Wade could take care of themselves in entirely different ways. Dodging Wade and Kyle and the X- girl, Wildcat came face to face with another blonde X. What, did they have hair colour requirements?
Blue eyes narrowed for a moment as a familiar form skidded to a stop across from her, a silence descending on the two like gunfighters at the OK corral. Sue didn't really know Liam well, had just seen him around the mansion, and well she was never going to be the strong silent broody type. "So, I don't suppose there' any chance you're going to come quietly without making me hurt you in awe of my awesomeness or something are you?"
Rolling his eyes, Liam launched himself, powerful legs and a cat's ability to gain both height and distance simultaneously, he was determined to go through her if she didn't move. He had claws to make her, if necessary.
It was always easy to underestimate just how much force a body had when it was hurtling towards you, just how fast a feral was when they wanted to be, Sue barely got her forefield up in the air, stumbling back as Liam collided with it, the force like a full body hug squeezing her till she managed to scrabble in the dirt and raise her hands to stabilize herself. "Now that was just mean." A finger waggled in Liam's direction as the blonde pushed her forcefields in his direction, invisible blades extending from the surface. "Don't you know, a gentleman always asks before he takes a lady to dance."
"This ain't dancing," Liam spat, already moving towards her again, this time slightly more cautiously. If this was dancing, things would end up a lot differently.
"Oh sweetie, don't you know, everything's a dance, even if you don't know it yet," Sue stepped forward, one hand raised with an almost claw-like bend of her fingers in his direction, a focus for her forcefield as she slowly stepped forward to meet him. She might not have the full offensive capabilities of one of the others with telekinesis but when it came to defenses she was sure she could outlast anything he could throw at her till he gave her an opportunity. "Now, there are a lot of people who're worried about you and want to see you at home, so are you going to come quietly...or are we really going to have to do this the hard way?"
"Hey, Invisitwerk!" Wade yelled, eyes narrowing as another the blonde trapped Liam in a bubble. "How about not!" He took aim easily, no messy emotional attachments causing him to hesitate or pull back as he began firing at her. The sniper rifle wasn't made for close encounters of the ballistic kind, which meant while he stayed steady, all that kinetic energy from the three bullets he fired slammed into her shield and sent her careening backward. "C'mon, Whiskers. We 'bouta ROLL OUT!"
It felt like she'd been grabbed in the biggest tightest hug she'd ever been in, Sue's family wasn't exactly one for public displays of affection,so she'd never really had a bear hug before, but it was what she imagined it would be like. Not exactly excruciating, but it was more pain than she'd expected and for a moment she dropped to her knees with a paine groan as the forcefield shimmered and faded. She could see Liam throw watery eyes, past him the crazy man who'd shot at her as she sucked in a ragged breath.
"How rude."
Abandoning the blonde, Liam bounded over her with no regard for anything and kept going without looking back, disappearing into the van. Retreat was called, he followed orders.
The table that Kyle had crashed into was grasped and negligently tossed aside just before a hand closed around his throat like a vise. Despite the additional weight that had been added to his frame, the arm lifted and extended, pulling him up onto his toes. Despite having nearly half a foot on Sebastian Shaw, Kyle was held up past his tiptoes, unable to gain much leverage. Shaw took him in with a piercing look. "Young man," he began coldly, "it is not enough that you interrupt a promising lunch with my associates and cause an amount of property damage that will take this establishment months to restore" He picked at a tear in his jacket with the hand not holding the feral mutant. "This suit is bespoke. It was crafted by a Savile Row tailor I know who has since retired. That makes it essentially irreplaceable. And you and your cohort have ruined it."
His arm bunched, and he batted away an attempt by Kyle to grab him. "Go back to whoever holds your leash and inform them that Sebastian Shaw is no easy quarry." And with that he flung Kyle back through the plate glass and into the street.
Fuck this was embarassingly-operationally stupid. Kyle peeled himself off the ground and shook off the broken glass. There was going to be a long fucking talk about who was planning these kinds of ops once he get back. Which meant he had to get the fuck back to base. "Cover me!" but he didn't really have to bark that order, he could hear and smell the gunfire. He gave a full body shake to get the last of the glass and gravel off, and ran for the van, long legs eating up the distance despite the added weight to his body.
Shit. If the attackers got away, that meant their opportunity to recover their friends went down the drain, and who knew how long they might hole up in wherever they were hiding. Doug had been trying to get closer to the van, but even though Wade clearly wasn't willing to shoot him, he had devoted a fair amount of lead to playing keep-away. As a result, he was still several cars away from the van, staying low to the ground and trying to find a blind spot.
As Kyle approached the van and the driver revved the engine in preparation, Doug made his move. He sprinted forward, juking unpredictably and trying to ignore the crack of Wade's rifle and the rush of air from a near-miss. At least they hadn't been crazy enough to give Wade something capable of full automatic fire. He got within twenty feet, then ten, close enough to see the blend of panic and determination on Kyle's face as he started to pull the sliding door of the van shut and yell at the driver.
From about six feet away, Doug dove for the handle, his left hand extended. One finger touched the handle and curled over its edge as he hung in midair for a moment that stretched too long...
And then the car was away, yanking Doug's finger completely out of his hand and leaving him to fall flat on his face as it tore off.
By now police had been called, and barriers were being set up. The driver paid them no mind; they slammed their foot on the gas. The tires squealed as they skidded against the road, then the van took off, barreling toward the police cars that were closing in. The police peeled off at the last second, allowing the van to speed through and tear around the corner, out of sight.
Unseen by the driver, the torn off finger did not shake loose of the door handle. Rather, it flattened against the outer panel and crept down toward the undercarriage. Even tactically modified vans used by shadow organizations have GPS trackers somewhere, in this case just off the steering column. The fact that this one had been deactivated didn't matter to the cluster of nanites that interfaced and absorbed into it, sending out one small signal onto the closest unsecured wifi network.
Doug rolled to his back and then sat up, cradling his left hand. But rather than an expression of pain, his was one of concentration. "We are...headed into Central Park," he said in a toneless voice.
