xp_logs | ...And Gone. (Reply)

Remy opened his eyes, looking around at the medlab room. Instantly he tracked for pin cams, security ports, mics; quartered in a manner that he'd been doing for months unconsciously. Now he knew why. He pushed back the thoughts, knowing that trying to deal with them now would break him, leave him unable to do what he needed to.

Remy smiled thinly as he looked at the restraints on his wrists and ankles. Maybe to keep him from convulsing, or maybe to keep him from escaping. He'd ask them another time. Right now, escape was the most important thing. Gritting his teeth, he dislocated his baby and ring finger, the moist pop and the rush of pain making his head swim. As soon as the spots in his vision cleared, Remy used his thumb to mash the fingers against his palm, almost flattening out the hand, and slowly pulled it through the restraint.

As soon as his hand came free, he leaned over the bed and vomited copiously into the wastebin beside it. His hand would be fine shortly, but the pain that could be caused by the small bones of the hand was immense. He knew that first hand. LeBeau quickly freed his other hand and feet, glad that the restraints were merely buckled. Locked would have taken him longer, and he was operating under a severe time limit.
Remy peeled one of the sensors from his chest, moving it to and away from the skin. The monitor at his bedside registered the flutter, and he was sure that at whatever medical station they had, the fluctuations would be noted. Sure enough, he heard someone at the door. Remy lay back, simply sliding his hands through the unbuckled restraints and closing his eyes.

Madelyn Bartlett hurriedly unlocked the door. LeBeau's vitals had gone sketchy twice already, his mutant physiology erratic in the most infurating manner. The sensors had registered a heart flutter, which could be the muscle's weakness in the aftermath of the attack, or just his body adapting to the damage. The electrical burn mark the size of a salad plate on his chest worried her a lot, and in the morning, after Nathan had talked with her, she was planning to sit Amanda down and using her most thorough and graphic terms, explain how she could have killed LeBeau.

He was lying in the bed, but she couldn't see any tremours as she hurried over. Pulling the stethascope from her pocket, Madelyn bent over him, to see what was happening in the young man's chest. The sudden grip on her neck and mouth stunned her.

"Sorry, chere. But Remy got t'ings t' do." He said, the strength in his grip surprising when compared to his physical appearance. Remy's thumb was held over her cartiod artery, pinching off the blood flow to her brain. Madelyn scrambled at his hands, aware that she only had seconds before she'd lose consciousness and he killed her. She landed a wild punch across his jaw, and was winding up for a second before her eyes rolled back in her head.

Remy was counting carefully, and at seven seconds released his grip on the artery. At ten seconds, you could cause permenant brain damage, and at fifteen, death. He carefully pivoted Bartlett into the bed, hoping that she'd at least understand it was the only fast way he had of knocking her out without hurting her. Remy tore open her blouse, sending buttons flying, and began to transfer the sensors over to her. The machines would notice the blip between data, but would not trigger the medical alert once they had been reapplied. Remy tossed the blanket over her, and dimmed the lights. If he was lucky, it would be hours before anyone came to check on her.

The medical bay outside the room was quiet, save for the whir of machines. Remy found his black bag on the table, thanking his moment of insanity for at least causing him to pack. He pulled the retracted staff from the bag, and twisted it counterclockwise, causing a small panel to snap open. Remy touched a button, and a light went orange on the tiny display, before he closed it and dumped it back in the bag. The battery on the TP shield was only good for a few hours, but it would be enough to get him well on his way. Remy quickly dressed, dumping the hospital clothes into the corner. The computer on the desk was humming, and Remy clicked on the board. The password protection was up, but he took care of that quickly, brute forcing his way into the operating system. It was far uglier than a real cracker would do, but Remy's own computer skills were taught by security agents, and not technicians. Getting in and out of secure locations required a hell of a lot more than some rope and lockpicks these days.

The e-mail was on a free site, and he based out a quick note with two fingers. The fact was that even in the images behind his eyes, one was tied in with his own mission, and he owed a massive debt to her. Remy sent the e-mail and closed down the system, taking a final look around the room. If the rotation note on the door was accurate, it would be several hours before Bartlett was found, and by then, he'd already be well on his way.

The security in the mansion had improved greatly since he'd been here last, but not enough to keep him in. The medlabs led back to the main house via an elevator, and the hall was clear when he stepped out. Remy let his powers feel out the rooms, quartering them with his eyes and taking in the escape route. His footfalls were slient as he crept down the hall. The shield scrambled his mental signature, making him appear as part of the ambient psychic atmosphere unless they specifically focused on him. More than enough time for him to carefully make his way out. His hands slid along the panelling, and stopped, touching over the wood until he felt the vague give in one, and pushed.

When he'd first arrived, one of the students had mentioned the last time they'd had to escape an attack, and spoke of a tunnel leading to the sewer system. As he pressed, Remy was awarded with a muted click and the panel swinging open. Over the door was a set of sensors, which took only a moment to disable, and the infrared alarm system went almost as fast. The panel swung back into place, cutting out the soft sounds of LeBeau's footfalls as he escaped out into the sewer system and from there, into an uncertain future.