xp_logs | One to the Chest: Man Down

The log of doom. Apologies if this is a bit disjointed, as there are a lot of perspectives to deal with. Alison's stalker, Trev, is at the blood drive looking for her in order to send a rather personal message. Doug is distracted and hovering over Rahne. After a while, Trev gets frustrated and tries to take a potshot at Rahne. Doug dives in front of her and takes the bullet, and Madelyn attends to him. Marie-Ange tries to run to Doug but is stopped by Moira, though Angie punches her a couple times in the process before Moira gets a nurse to sedate her. Scott finds the shooter, and details Haroun and Kurt to take him down, which they do, Kurt managing to talk Haroun out of killing the little weasel. Alison shows up to see the man who's been harrying her for so long, and Charles runs crowd control.

Trev patted the cherrywood stock of his rifle lovingly as he scanned the crowd through the scope. He'd set up on top of this building early in the morning, before most of the volunteers had arrived at the blood drive location to set up. He'd kept covered up in a blanket, chewing on some beef jerky. When you got down to it, he guessed this was almost like hunting. Set up early, wait a lot, and take the shot when it appeared. He'd seen The Bitch arrive, but she was surrounded by people too much to get a clean shot. From the way the newspeople and cameras were all inside, he suspected The Bitch was going to be donating her blood soon. He chuckled softly to himself. Soon enough, she'd be donating a whole lot more.
---
Doug had been much in demand for his talents as a translator, which had made it exceedingly difficult to keep a continuous watch over Rahne. Plus, he didn't want to stay _too_ close and run the risk of some very awkward questions. As distracted and worried as he was, he had to admit that the blood drive appeared to be a great success so far. Many obvious mutants had showed up to donate and help however they could. Doug had directed several families with questions to Professor Xavier and Scott.

Finishing up with an older Korean woman, Doug made his excuses and headed toward the food table, hoping Rahne would be there.

Rahne was indeed at the food table; barred from donating blood in the US by concerns about a disease that didn't even have genes of its own, never mind anything to do with hers, she was instead doing what she did best: feeding people. She turned from a pale but steady and ravenous teenager whose wolf t-shirt had made her laugh to see Doug approaching, and waved.

Doug smiled at Rahne, attempting to look natural and casual and not at all like he was keeping watch over her. Truth be told, he was still fairly worried, because he hadn't seen anyone who looked like they had a gun and were prepared to shoot someone.

Picking up a donut and nibbling on it (even though it tasted like ash in his mouth), Doug said "I think they're getting ready to start with Alison."
---
Kurt was circulating in the crowd, stopping here and there to chat to anyone who had questions about the event or about his mutation, or just wanted to be friendly. He wasn't wearing an image inducer for once, in a spirit of openness. At the same time, he was very much on the alert, ever aware of the risk of trouble at an event such as this, and was keeping an eye out for any he might be able to head off before it began.
---
With Hank and Moira taking on the roles of 'visible experts on mutations', Madelyn busied herself with the nitty-gritties; checking equipment, talking to the Red Cross people about difficulties they might come across, general PR-type answering of questions, since she was obviously a doctor, even in jeans and a plain white shirt. There was a good turn out with the kids, too, despite some nervousness - she waved at Angelo as she passed him talking to some of the other HeliX kids, and he gave her a grin in return. Everything was ready - now all they had to do was wait for celebrity mutant donor Number One.

Jamie looked up from where he was snitching a stray cookie and caught Doc Bartlet's eye, nodding at the hovering news crews and grinning. "Think the Red Cross PR guys have a spin all ready on the off chance Alison turns out to be a wimp about needles?"

Madelyn chuckled. "That would be the part where it turns out that Alison had a traumatic porcupine accident as a child and has a phobia of sharp, pointy things as a result." There was movement in the crowd and the television crews started jockeying for position. "Looks like the main event's about to happen," she said, finishing her own cookie and dusting off her hands. "I'd better go help hold her down." Or offer to shoot her in the ass again, she added in her head. She gave Haroun a smile and a wave as she passed him, but he was far too pre-occupied with what was turning into a security nightmare to do more than give her a curt nod in return.

There didn't seem to be any problems in that particular area however, or at least one might assume that from the lack of protests in the vicinity of the cameras. Lee could be seen in the background, the security chief keeping a stern lookout on MIles who was generally ignored by the media.
---
To put it mildly, Trev was getting frustrated. The blood drive had been going for at least an hour or so, and That Bitch hadn't shown up anywhere. The newsies had all dispersed after her donation, and then he hadn't caught a glance of her at all. He frowned. Obviously, he needed to come at this from another direction. But how?

Rahne handed a snack and a cup of juice to one of the younger male donors with a smile that he somehow returned with enough warmth (or maybe she was imagining that, she thought automatically) to make her blush a little and turn quickly toward the next. She was busy at the moment anyway; a couple of the other helpers had, brilliantly, forgotten breakfast and been too sheepish to raid the snacks, and she'd found out and had to shoo them off for a break when they started looking paler than the donors.

Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Doug -- again. She wasn't sure if he was watching body language for trouble or what, but if he was going to keep hanging around here he might as well be a bit more tangibly useful.... She waved and beckoned to him. "Doug, if yui're going to be about this spot for a bit longer, would ye come pass ou-- around snacks?" Best not to mention passing out, perhaps. "We're a wee bit short-handed."

As Doug walked toward Rahne, a flash of light caught the corner of his eye and he blinked rapidly to clear his vision. He turned his head and the flash crossed his vision again. Frowning, he scanned upward to the top of a nearby building where he could see the head and shoulders of a man behind a rifle. He walked a bit quicker, trying to look nonchalant, but keeping a discreet eye on the man.

This was ridiculous, Trev decided. That Bitch was nowhere to be seen, and he'd been waiting for what seemed like hours. Sometimes, his hunter friends had told him, you had to draw out your prey. From that TV special, it seemed like That Bitch sure cared a lot about all those mutie kids at the fancy-schmancy school she was at now. So maybe if he took a little potshot at one of them, she'd show herself. He scanned the crowd, and found a small, rather defenseless-looking redhead wearing a Red X jacket at the snack table. She'd do, he decided, and flipped off the safety.

Seeing the patience turn to decision in the man's body language, Doug covered the last few steps at a sprint, diving in front of Rahne and shoving her behind the table without a word. A harsh crack sounded through the afternoon air, and Doug staggered backward as though a mule had kicked him in the chest.

Madelyn was just coming out of the blood donation van - she wasn't needed in there, and with all the photographers, there was barely room to breathe, let alone move - when she heard a sharp popping sound. And again. Gunfire, her mind supplied instantly, and she automatically ducked. Then she saw Rahne, stumbling as if she'd been shoved, and Doug, oh God, Doug...

Stumbling backward, Doug frowned. That had _hurt_. He was wearing Kevlar, it wasn't supposed to hurt... Falling backward, Doug began to worry a bit as his brain kicked into high gear. Maybe the round had been armor-piercing. Maybe he'd gotten hit somewhere the Kevlar wasn't covering. Maybe he'd put it on wrong. Hitting the ground, his head bounced off of the pavement and his vision started to blacken around the edges, like he was falling down a deep dark well. The part of his brain still going wondered whether this was unconsciousness or death, and the fact that he couldn't tell which scared him. But before he could do anything else, he spiraled down completely into blackness and slumped down on the pavement.

"Everybody get DOWN!" Madelyn yelled. There were screams and people ducking for cover and someone shouting instructions - Scott, probably. She was vaguely aware of some activity going on in Haroun's direction, but she put it out of her mind as she scrambled towards Doug's fallen body... no, not body, don't use that word. Doug was her priority here.

She shoved a hysterical teenaged girl in a HeliX shirt out of the way and made it to Doug's side, dropping to her knees and reaching for the pulse in his neck. Shit. "Go back to the van, tell Moira and Hank I need a crash cart, now," she instructed Rahne. The girl looked confused - shock, probably - but there was no time for this. "Now, Rahne! I've got no pulse, and I need a cart!"

Rahne bolted van-wards. "Hold on, Doug," Madelyn muttered, as she prepared to start CPR.
---
Marie-Ange couldn't hear anything over her own screams. The pain in her head that had come a bare moment before the crack of the rifle had sent her stumbling to the floor.

When the shot rang out, she -knew-. All the nightmares, all the visions flashed behind her eyes, repeating over and over in a split second. And then she ran.

The doctors had crowded around Doug the second he went down and Moira stood back, waiting until called. There would be no use in rushing forward, he was in the best of hands right now and she wasn't a trauma doctor.

Even through the screams and noise of the crowd, she was suddenly able to pick out a very familiar voice. Turning, she saw Angie sprinting towards the scene, towards Doug. A glance over her shoulder and she knew the young woman should not be anywhere near him, not now anyway.

"Angie, nay," she said over the din of the crowd and moved to intercept.

Someone was calling her name. Marie-Ange glanced over her shoulder, and tried to duck away, around one of the milling onlookers, and towards the cluster of doctors surrounding Doug. Whoever was calling her could wait. This was far mire important.

With a small curse, Moira followed doggedly. If something went wrong, if anything went wrong and Angie saw it...no one needed to see that. Not ever. To watch someone you love die...Moira shoved that thought out of her head immediatly, viciously. Doug was not going to die.

Angie suddenly came into view and she lunged getting a hold of her arm. "Angie, listen ta me! Come away from there, 'e's in good 'ands!"

Marie-Ange spun, only barely recognizing the bright auburn hair as Dr. MacTaggart. Ah well. If anyone would understand, it would be Dr. MacTaggart. She pulled back away hard, wrentching herself out of Moira's grip. ~No. No, I have to see for myself.~ She said, not realizing she'd reverted back to French.

Having no idea what the girl had said, though she could guess, she lunged again. "Nay, Angie, stay back!" Moira managed to loop both arms around her this time and pulled back, grunting slightly. She had bulked up during her trip to Asgard, all of it muscle.

Blind to nearly everything except her need to get away from Dr. MacTaggart and towards Doug, Marie-Ange snapped. "~NON. Non, non, NON~" Kicking backwards she scraped her foot down Moira's ankle, pressing down hard on her foot. "Let me go!" she shouted.

'Bloody 'ell!' she thought, pain sparking through that leg. The link, which had been active before, suddenly flared even brighter and she calmly told Nathan to shut up and let her think when his thoughts rushed over it.

"Nay like tha' I am," she said breathless, changing her momentum and pushing forward. They both tumbled forward, Moira still holding tightly onto Angie.

The tackle just caused Marie-Ange to lash out even more, kicking wildly. Feet sliding against the pavement, she couldn't get enough footing to push away. Panicked, she screamed again, and took a wild swing, connecting soundly with Moira's cheek.

Moira cursed out loud, aware that Angie was simply far too gone to probably even hear that. With one arm clenched tightly around her, she let go and grabbed the flailing arm with another. She didn't want to hurt the girl, just pin her down securely enough.

It was not going to be easy, she realized.

"NO!" Marie-Ange kicked wildly and tried to shake away the arms grabbing at her. "Let me GO!" Struggling without making any headway at all, she continued to kick and flail, though her attempts were starting to lose their ferocity.

As quickly as she could, Moira managed to link her arms firmly around Angie's. It was supposed to have been a simple outing so she had left her normal emergancy hip pack at home. But there were other places to get a sedative.

With some effort, she managed to pull the struggling precog back away from the crowd and towards a nursing station that still had one nurse there, trying to do some crowd control. "Sedative, now!"
---
Trev bit off a fulminating curse. Right as he had lined up the shot on that defenseless-looking little redhead, some kid had come flying into the shot and taken the shot center mass, just like a Secret Service agent. And if the kid had known when to dive in front of the girl, that meant he'd seen Trev somehow. And if he'd seen Trev somehow, odds were good someone else would. Which meant he needed to do something, and fast. Jerking the bolt back, he fumbled in a pocket for a second bullet. ~Come on, come on...~

Kurt, on the street below, snapped to attention the second the shot rang out. Leaving those more qualified to attend to Doug, he set about methodically studying the surrounding buildings, trying to work out where it had come from.

Scott froze at the sound of the shot, the sight of Doug falling. He forced himself to concentrate despite his urge to push through the screaming, panicking crowd, and scanned the rooftops, analyzing possible trajectories. Deal with the threat first. "Sniper, rooftop at three'o'clock," he snapped into his com, spotting the man quickly. Too far away and the wrong angle for a shot from him. "Jetstream, Nightcrawler, take him out!"

Haroun heard the shot and, out of the corner of his eye, saw Doug dive and eat the bullet. "SHOOTER!" he screamed as he ripped his power into gear, not bothering with the cybernetic jetpack. He scanned the rooftops frantically looking for their would-be sniper. Finding him from Cyclops' signal, he grinned ferally and adjusted course to intercept before the man could finish reloading.

Kurt glanced to the end of Haroun's trajectory, intent on providing backup. Seeing where the other man was headed, he bamfed and was there to meet him, although not by much.

Another curse rippled from Trev's lips as he finally got the bullet chambered. But there was one mutie flying impossibly fast at the rooftop, and as he tried to bring the rifle up, he heard a loud noise and smelled brimstone. Whirling around, he looked at what appeared to be a blue-furred demon. Eyes widening, he shouldered the rifle and tried to take a shot, only to find that the trigger refused to pull. He strained, sweat breaking out on his forehead.

Haroun's first punch, backed with the full force of his short flight to the roof, was aimed at Trev's jaw. His second motion was to rip the rifle out of Trev's hands and throw it over the side of the building. He could barely see for the rage rising in him, demanding blood. This man, this subhuman piece of _filth_, had tried to kill a _child_!

Kurt realized this with mounting alarm, and bamfed forward rather than waste time walking across the roof, trying to get between Haroun and the sniper before his team-mate did something regrettable, if only because it risked getting him arrested. "Jetstream! Stop. This is not the way to deal with him."

Scurrying away from the rage-filled visage of Jetstream, Trev tried to move behind the demonic-looking being for some manner of protection. One of his eyes was already swelling shut, and several of his ribs felt cracked, if not broken. The Arab was inhuman, and had brushed through every attempt Trev had made to defend himself. His only hope was the demon. "Thank you...friend," he said to Kurt, the word sticking in his craw. "Please save me from him..."

Kurt stared him down coldly, plainly disgusted. "I am not your friend, any more than he is. The girl you tried to kill, and the boy you may have succeeded in killing, are in our care and under our protection. I will save you from him, but for his sake. Not for yours. Your blood is not worthy to be on his hands."

Haroun ignored Kurt, preparing instead to finally end the life of this cold-blooded _thing_ that had tried to kill sweet innocent Rahne, and had probably already succeeded in slaying Doug Ramsey. He bashed aside Trev's attempts at defending himself and threw the hand back in preparation for the killing blow. "If you have a God, now's the time to beg for forgiveness." he growled, scarcely sounding human himself.

He'd been raised Methodist, but Trev wasn't much for attending church. With Jetstream bearing down on him, though, he babbled an incoherent prayer for God to deliver him. Trev wasn't at all brave, and he blubbered, tears running down his face to mix with the blood Haroun had drawn. In addition, a wet spot began to grow on his pants as his bladder cut loose from fear.

"And if you kill him, what do you think they will do to you?" Kurt retorted. "He will be justly punished for what he has done, one way or another, but I will not see you imprisoned, sent back to Morocco, or executed for the death of such a man as this." He sighed. "This is the price of free will, Haroun - there will always be those on God's Earth who misuse it, but this one will pay. Will you leave him to me?"

_That_ got through to Haroun. He slowly stopped struggling against Kurt's efforts to restrain him, and then looked at his blood-splattered hands. ~What have I done?~ he whispered in Arabic, then looked at Kurt imploringly. "Get him out of here." he said, nodding towards the rather thoroughly-messed-up Trev.

The door to the roof slammed open at that point, Alison staggering through and coming to a stop for a moment near the edge of the roof, staring at the knot of people down on the street. After a moment she turned to look at Trev, not really seeing anyone or anything else. "You," she whispered. Alison started to slowly walk towards them, ashen-face and trembling, until she was standing a few feet away, looking down at the sniper.

This was about as bad as it could be. Not only had he faced a mutie demon and the Angel of Death, now That Bitch was witness to his humiliation. She was within his reach, and he was powerless to do anything about it. All he could do was cower in fear, babbling pleas for mercy.

Kurt walked back across the roof and pulled him to his feet. "You will have mercy - from us. We will take you from here and hand you over to the police, and you will make a full confession of what you have done. What mercy you receive then is out of our hands."
---
When the shot rang out, Charles was distracted--too caught up in trying to determine what Erik was doing at the blood drive to spare a thought for his surroundings. The sharp report of the bullet shattered his concentration, however, and his head whipped around just in time to see Scott point, Haroun take off, and Kurt teleport away. The X-Men had the shooter well in hand, then, and Madelyn was already tending to the fallen Doug.

The crowd was beginning to panic, however, and that would quickly become dangerous. Charles reached out, and a blanket of calm descended. What was on the verge of becoming a riot simply melted away, everyone making their way to cover quietly and in good order.

#My apologies for the intrusion,# he broadcast, when everyone was out of the way of any more shots, #but I felt a panic would do us all harm. You are safe now; the situation is under control, and the police are on their way. Good day to you all, and thank you for your donations and support.# Drawing his contact away from the crowd, he added #Students of mine: we will be leaving now. One of our own has been injured.#