xp_logs | Thermopylae - I knew you in this dark (part 5) (Reply)

More repercussions of the trigger. What was not a straightforward situation to begin with becomes infinitely more complicated.

The head of the special ops team which had been delegated to accompany Kylun in an attempt to access the heavily defended training barracks from the rear, up the cliffs, was a small, dark-haired woman who'd introduced herself as Breslin. She was looking up the cliff, her lips pursed speculatively. "Heck of a climb."

The emergency access hatch MacInnis had noted in the plans he'd provided was barely visible, blending into the rock high above. Breslin's lieutenant was shaking his head as he peered up at it. "Where's this operative who's supposed to be joining us?" he asked.

"Here," came a voice from behind them, and most of Breslin's teams leveled their guns at the man who came walking out of the rock face, going solid again as he hit open air. Forrester raised his hands to show that he was unarmed, and crooked an eyebrow at Kylun. "Morgan thought it would be better if he sent someone you recognized," he said with a perfectly straight face.

"I will have to thank him later," Kylun replied equally gravely. Then his face split in a grin. "I see you found your path after all."

"Woke up in a helicopter to a sudden multiplicity of options about six weeks ago, yes," Forrester said with a quick grin of his own.

"Oh, so you two know each other, then," Breslin said wryly. "Well, that makes me feel so much better..." She glanced up at the cliff again, then looked at Kylun and Forrester. "You two can lead the way. Call me overly cautious." That last was very clearly meant for Forrester, who merely smiled faintly.

"I can phase through the security systems when we get up there," he said, mostly to Kylun, although loudly enough for Breslin and her team to hear him, too. "That'll short them out. I gather there's a team going in the front way, too, but they're going to be meeting pretty heavy resistance, I think."

"One may hope, considering that if they do not, we likely will--and they at least have planned for it." Kylun eyed the rock-face professionally, then nodded to Breslin. "I will carry a line up so that you and your team can more easily follow. We'll need you before this is all over."

"I'll come up with you," Forrester said, then grinned. "Used to go climbing with Nate and the other crazy people all the time, years ago... I've kept in practice."

"Well, then." Kylun secured a coil of rope over his shoulder and took his first hold, cocking an eyebrow over his shoulder at Forrester. "Shall we find out how well your practice compares to a childhood in the Alps?"

"I'll try not to slow you down too much." They started climbing, Forrester managing a decent pace, although not a match for Kylun's. He was fiddling with his density a little, making himself lighter. "You know," he said after a minute or two, "I never updated the file on you."

"I had heard that discipline was sadly breaking down in the Mistra ranks." Kylun clucked his tongue. "Such laxity. Still, I think I may find it in my heart to forgive the lapse. It seems that being underestimated by my enemies is a pastime that never grows old."

"It's been fun in a weird way," Forrester said with a breathless, distinctly rattled-sounding laugh. "These last few weeks. Seeing just how much we could sabotage things from within."

"'Fun in the way that's not,' as some of my students might put it? I believe I know the feeling." Kylun tested his holds for a moment, then sprang a few feet up and over to the right, wedging his fingers into a crack and hauling himself one-handed to a more secure position. "Still, you held, undespairing and undetected, until reinforcments arrived. That is a proud deed."

"I don't think we'd have held out much longer. Awfully glad you lot showed up when you did. We had conditioning tune-ups scheduled for Monday." Forrester bit his lip, hauling himself upwards after the X-Man. "Also glad that you brought the cavalry."

"Well, it is always good to know one's limits. And I believe our friends below have been trying for a piece of Mistra for some time now. It would have been impolite to leave them behind." Kylun smiled wryly. "Not to mention deadly. This will be dangerous enough already."

"So long as we get the kids out," Forrester said stubbornly. "That's what's important. There are better than fifty of them up there."

"Agreed," Kylun replied, more than a hint of a snarl in his voice. "I had not the opportunity to tell you at our last encounter, but the monastery in which I grew up had enemies, and they too stole children and put them to evil use." He fell silent for a moment, negotiating a tricky overhang. "I was one of those children."

Forrester stopped, then reminded himself that they were on a timeframe here and started to climb again. "How old were you?"

"I do not know." Kylun rested his forehead against the cool stone for a moment. "I have no memory of the time before I was taken, and my parents murdered. Not more than five, my master thought. "

Forrester started to close the gap between them as Kylun paused. "A lot younger than most of us here," he said. "I was eleven."

Kylun started climbing again, hand over hand up the rock. "I think, in some ways, it was . . . almost easier, so young. Devastating, certainly. But I had many years in which to heal, and I do not . . . feel the gap, between my old life and my new one. I was also rescued almost immediately, or I would not be here to talk about it. But I remember well the cruelty of the man who took me, and I will give . . . much . . . to prevent such things happening to any other child."

Forrester paused for a moment. "The kids up there... they're three months into the conditioning, most of them," he said a bit hoarsely, then started climbing again. "They'll be pretty messed up."

"I have seen such before," Kylun said quietly. "I wish my master were here, or my wife--they both were far more skilled than I in these matters. But they are gone, so I will do what I can. And Professor Xavier will see that they get the best of care."

Forrester took a deep breath, freeing one hand to wipe sweat out of his eyes. So matter-of-fact, he thought, looking up at the X-Man. As if he had absolute faith that this would all work out.

"It'll be good to see," he muttered under his breath. "I've seen enough dead children to last me a lifetime."

"So," Kylun said firmly, "have I." He took a three-point rest near the access hatch, hefting a piton thoughtfully in his free hand. "Will I trip anything I should not, if I drive this in here?"

Forrester looked up at it. "Possibly," he said warily. "Move down a bit. Let me short out the security systems first?"

"Please do." Kylun swung to the side, staying close enough to the hatch to have a good view. He shot Forrester a sheepish smile. "You would think, after a year at the school, I would be used to it--but I still find myself very curious about other mutants' abilities."

"Must be nice," Forrester murmured, clambering up to the hatch and adjusting his density even further. "Being able to be curious about your abilities, just explore them without having to use them as weapons. I have trouble wrapping my mind around the idea." He went intangible and passed his hand through the locking mechanism...

... and encountered something he didn't expect. A painful shock ran through him and he cried out, yanking backwards, going solid again unconsciously as he fumbled to catch himself. But he'd lost his handholds...

Kylun slammed the piton hard into a crevice and threw the rope in a fast hitch through its loop before pushing off hard, leaping parallel to the rockface. The rope tightened painfully hard around his wrist and his shoulder protested as the rope snapped taut, swinging him around . . . just in time to intercept Forrester as he fell, slinging the other man over his shoulder with a growled "Go limp!" The rope loosened again with a sickening lurch, and he clawed for a hold on a half-seen, narrow ledge; six inches wide, it was enough to steady him as he reeled in the falling rope and helped Forrester to a steady hold. Kylun favored the other man with a crooked half-smile, patting him reassuringly on the back. "That was something of a surprise. Are you all right? What happened?"

Forrester coughed, holding on tightly to the rock face. "Anti-tampering device," he said a bit disjointedly. "Something like that... wasn't in the plans I was shown, I wasn't expecting it." He swallowed and looked back up towards the hatch. "I'll have to try it again. Hopefully I shorted it out."
"Perhaps we ought to secure ourselves first, in case there are other surprises." Kylun eyed the hatch suspiciously. "How likely do you think it is that an alarm has been triggered?" Another thought struck him. "And do you think they might suspect you already, to have added safeguards against you?"

"Possible," Forrester said, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment and willing his head to clear. "Like I said, I don't know how the nine of us got away with hiding that our conditioning was broken for this long... let's get secured, though, and I'll try this again. If I hit an alarm we have to hurry."

Kylun clambered back up to the hatch, replacing his first piton more securely in the crack he had used on his dive, and driving another one into a nearby crevice. He threaded rope around them, then gingerly tested the rope with his own weight before handing an end down. "I am ready when you are."

Forrester took the rope, looping it around his wrist, and climbed back up to the hatch. Taking a deep breath, he turned his arm - and only his arm - intangible, and went to try again.

A shadow passed over them. Forrester looked back over his shoulder, his eyes widening as he saw the flyer, coming around in an attack pattern. "Incoming!" he shouted.

Kylun snarled softly as he tracked the flyer's path, blessing his habit of climbing barefoot; he'd need every ounce of traction. This was a very bad place to fight someone with a maneuverability advantage. He assessed what terrain he did have--three, maybe four good ledges and handholds within easy leaping range, enough for a minimum of evasive action, at least--and drew one sword, leaving his other hand free for balance. "You may need to brace me," he told Forrester, eyes never leaving the flyer. "This may quickly grow . . . complicated."

"I'll do my best," Forrester said. Shots rang out from below, Breslin's team spotting the flyer and trying to give them some cover. "That's Duvall," he said rapidly. "Enhanced strength and speed, but no energy projection."

"That is something, at least." Kylun skittered to the side to avoid Duvall's first charge, blade licking out as the other man passed.

Forrester reached up for the hatch again, turning his arm intangible again. Almost there... Then there was a scrabbling noise from farther above them, and his eyes widened as he spotted Deakins, who had one of the more unusual mutations among the second-gens, crawling down the rock face towards them. "Aw, shit, it's Spider-Boy," Forrester muttered.

"Have you ever been told," Kylun grunted, pivoting on one hand to bring his feet down like a hammer-blow in the small of Duvall's back, "that you are not the most encouraging of companions?"

"Occasionally." Forrester gritted his teeth, then shifted his density to super-hard. "Nothing like climbing when you're at this mass," he growled and started upwards. At least Deakins wouldn't be able to penetrate his skin this way.

Kylun growled an answer and leaped out into empty space as Duvall made another pass, clamping his legs around the flyer's chest and arms and ramming both pommels repeatedly into his temples. He jumped free, sheathing his swords to find tenuous holds in the rock as Duvall slammed headlong into it, dropping heavily to the ground.

Kylun looked up and flared leonine nostrils in annoyance; Duvall's thrashing descent had carried them nearly to the bottom of the cliff. He hoped Forrester would not need help before he could get there

Forrester swore as Deakins leapt at him, pouncing. "Get off," he snarled, trying to pin the younger operative between his super-dense self and the rock face so that he could land a few quick blows. Deakins was both hardier and much stronger than he looked, though - part of his mutation - and he grappled with Forrester determinedly, getting in a few good hits of his own.

Kylun shot up the wall, hand over hand with the reckless speed of someone who had been climbing almost as soon as he had walked. He kept his eyes on the struggle above, trying to puzzle out enough of Forrester's opponent's mutation to have a plan in place when he arrived. 'Spider-Boy,' Forrester had called him, and indeed he moved like one. Might he be vulnerable at the joints, then?

Forrester managed to throw him off, finally, although Deakins just caught himself on the rock and scuttled back upwards and at him. Go intangible, maybe? Let him flail away at me at his leisure...

But even as the decision was half-made, Deakins reeled suddenly. He slid several feet downwards, towards Kylun, before he caught himself. Forrester blinked. What the fuck? he thought, then froze as Deakins looked up at him, his eyes and expression both absolutely empty.

The next thing Kylun knew, both Forrester and his opponent were tumbling past him to the ground below. He leaned back against the inevitable tug on the rope, and drew in enough slack to bring Forrester to a relatively soft landing, then bounded back down to the ground himself. "What happened?" he asked, eyes on their momentarily limp opponent.

"I don't know," Forrester said, wheezing a bit as he pushed himself upright. He hadn't been that dense. "Something changed in him, as if he were triggered or something, and then he just came at me..."

~Cyclops to all X-Men,~ Scott's voice crackled over the coms. ~Something's happened - the second-generation operatives have gone berserk. Some sort of trigger - they're turning on other Mistra personnel.~

"That does not sound good," Breslin said urgently, running over to them. "I think we need to rethink here..." She stopped, her eyes going wide as both Duvall and Deakins started to stir, getting up. "Oh, no way..."

~*~

"Stay down," Nash warned the young second-gen lying at his feet, groaning. He stepped aside while two members of the government team which had accompanied him and Blaire rushed forward with cuffs and a syringe prepped with a sedative, all ready to go. Apparently they were all equipped with sedatives of a type that would put most mutants out like a light, irregardless of metabolic differences. Nash had been glad to hear that; it meant that they had come in with the intention of taking as many of the operatives into custody as possible, rather than looking at them simply as hostiles. Very reassuring. He looked around at Blaire and managed a tight smile, ignoring the way the front of his armor was smoking. No damage to his skin, of course. "Come on," he told her. "We're almost to the generators."

The sound of the regular murmur of rights being read was the last thing Alison heard as they left the room, even as the young mutant was being dosed with the sedative, followed by one of the agents reminding his partner that they'd have to make sure he'd understood when the sedative wore out. The regular thread of Nash's footsteps own the hallway soon replaced that as she followed him. ~I can laser a way through if need be.~ She switched to coms by reflex, the light shield currently not in use in an attempt to keep her power reserves as high as possible, the sonic devices affixed to her suit thrumming steadily along. ~Dyson mentioned they'd probably changed the codes...~ She trailed off, not knowing if the first gen had found the time to override them or not, since no news had been heard from him since.

Nash didn't want to think about not having heard from Dyson. Far too many members of his team were out of contact, and that bothered him, despite how well things were going... Another energy blast came down down the hallway and around the corner, and Nash let out a growl and charged, thoroughly tired of this. He hadn't expected the second-gens to adapt so quickly to seeing first-gens change sides like this. It was offensive, in some kind of obscure way.

His attacker was Morris, another of the younger second-gens - and one of the more stable of the group, he'd always thought. "Becky," he rumbled, shrugging off her next blast. "Stand down, okay?"

"Bite me, Nash!" she spat, flushed and wild-eyed. "What the hell are you doing?"

Alison didn't interfere just yet - this was Nash's ground and people he knew, and saying anything might undermine any chance he might have, though she suspected there was none at all in reaching any of the second generation operatives. She just couldn't blame him for wanting to try and reach his people anyway, somehow. She followed him down the corridor at a slow pace, back to the wall - not yet shielded up but ready to do so with a simple thought if need be. There was no one else in sight in the hallway, but she knew better than to think things would be so simple. Not so close to the generators.

~No one in sight yet.~ If need be, maybe, she thought, she could shield him as well - or far more easily knock out the second gen now glaring up defiantly at him - they were on time, so far. On schedule and on time, as indicated by the reports filtering in over her comm, both on the command channel and the general one.

No point in arguing with Morris. "You'll thank me when you wake up," Nash said, and slapped her, comparatively gently. It was enough to spin her around and send her tumbling to the floor, unconscious. He shrugged a little at Alison. "She's not a bad kid," he said a bit helplessly.

Alison just nodded, a sympathetic glint shining clearly in her eyes. ~Who else is usually teamed up with her and what kind of powers might we be facing when we move on?~ Tim had given them a lot of intel to work with, in the time they'd had to pick his brain, but there were still things that had been left unknown - this was one of them, basic on the field information Nash could supply easily. She crept closer to him, back still to the wall, keeping watch down the other side of the hallway so that they covered each other's back neatly.

Nash thought. ~Caffrey and Alvarez,~ he said. ~She metamorphs to steel, he's got a touch-activated neurotoxin. Best not to let either of them get anywhere near you.~ Alvarez could actually take him down with a touch, too; they'd tested together in training and the side effects had been nasty. Nash grimaced a little and started forward more carefully, leaving Morris for the government troops.

They met no further resistance on the way to the generator room. That bothered Nash; Caffrey and Alvarez, at the very least, had to be around here somewhere. "Shall I leave this to you?" he asked Alison, aiming a kick at the reinforced steel door. "Not that I couldn't smash things up quite nicely, but I think your lasers would be more efficient."

"Probably a bit less noisy too," a humorless grin escaped Alison, even as she took up a stance in the middle of the hall, eyeing the area for cameras that might need taking out before getting to work on the door. It took unnaturally fast for her to slice through, faster than any regular cutting laser might have done - four of the six sonic devices were powering her steadily at this point though and she had no worries about either sustaining the lasers at need, or a shield if anyone decided to come through the door once she was done, to express their displeasure at their method of entry. Soon, the last slice was done and door stood in place, light streaming from the path she'd carved through the metal. She could always try to solid light blast the panel down, but it was far more effective, really, to let Nash deal with it from this point, so she stepped to the side to grant him access to the door.

The kick was a little more effective this time, and Nash headed into the generator room. "Efficiency again?" he asked her, looking around at the generators. "This'd take me a while, I think, although I can certainly help..." He indicated one generator as he went on. "We probably want to take down this one first - that's the one supplying power to the training barracks. If the teams headed there can get the kids out quickly, it cuts down on the risk to them."

~Cyclops to all X-Men,~ Scott's voice came over the coms, definite urgency in his voice as he cut through the rest of the chatter. ~Something's happened - the second-generation operatives have gone berserk. Some sort of trigger - they're turning on other Mistra personnel.~

Without further ceremony, Alison pointed and fired - metal hissed and warped, sparks starting to dance within the generator she'd just lasered through neatly. "Next." With each one Nash pointed out, Alison quickly aimed and let loose with laser fire, sometimes more than once if the generator was of a large size. "Ware the fumes," she warned him at one point, even as she was taking out the last one.

~*~

"Here," Cole said, still out of breath as they stopped in front of the reinforced steel door. The rest of the medical bay was quiet around them; Curran and his team had just taken out the last group of Mistra medical personnel. "Tried to kick it down, but I couldn't... and it's got a biometric lock." Please, Jackie, be in here... be okay...

"Aha. Fortunately, in my handy-dandy utility belt, I have tools." The lock wasn't terribly sophisticated, by his standards... of course, he hung around with people who built robotic squid for fun. And he'd seen this particular kind of lock before, and knew how to take the faceplate off without it thinking it was being broken into... it was all in knowing where the contact points were.

A minute or so later, the door shushed open. "There," he said happily. Forge could have done this in seconds, of course, but still.

Cole drew his gun and preceded McCoy through the door, without thought as to what might be on the other side. Gunfire immediately came at him, one shot clipping his arm, but he gritted his teeth and dodged, firing back and felling the shooter, a woman he didn't know in the uniform of a medic. "Valeri!" he yelled, taking off down through the large, open lab-like area and down the hall to where the secured rooms were. "Jackie!"

Hank followed, keeping an eye out. The rage that had driven him to what might be slightly excessive force earlier had lessened a little, but he still felt quite a lot like hitting people. Although of course the wounded person they'd come to rescue was first priority...

Empty rooms. He could see through the small, barred windows, and they were just empty rooms... "Jackie!" Cole tried again - and heard something. His eyes widening, he ran down to the end of the hall, and this time, he did kick the door in.

And there she was. Her broken legs in traction, dark circles beneath her eyes - but awake, and alert, and alive. Which was all that mattered in the end. She gave him a weary, pained smile. "You sure took your sweet time, Chris."

"Well, we had to pause in the conditioning room to rescue a little girl and, incidentally, break a great many bones." Hank grinned. "The psis now hurt even more than you do. Isn't that a jolly thought?"

Valeri raised an eyebrow at him, then looked at Cole. "The X-Men?"

"And friends, apparently. Tim... Tim and Mick are here, with them. And Nathan." Cole couldn't help a quick smile at the sudden, stunned look of hope in her eyes. "Yeah," he said hoarsely, fumbling with the traction set-up. "We're getting out, J. All of us."

"We should get her onto a gurney or a stretcher," Hank said, nudging him gently aside and starting to detach her from the equipment. "I can carry a stretcher without help, if necessary. I'd rather not jostle her around more than we have to." He patted her leg reassuringly. "I'm a doctor, by the way. As soon as we get you out of here, we'll see what we can do for you." He paused. "Are you in pain, by the way?"

Her smile was ghostly this time. "Course I am. You don't get pain meds when you screw up on a mission."

"Well, that I can do something about now." He rummaged in his utility belt. He didn't trust any of the medications around here. "I carry some painkillers in case of battlefield injuries. Moving now is going to hurt, and I have this funny thing where I don't like to see people suffer." Cole gave him an odd look, and he smiled sheepishly. "Well, I don't like people who don't make a practice of torturing little children to suffer."

The sound of gunfire and energy blasts was suddenly audible, even through the walls, and there was a very distinct explosion. ~Cyclops to all X-Men,~ Scott's voice crackled over the coms. ~Something's happened - the second-generation operatives have gone berserk. Some sort of trigger - they're turning on other Mistra personnel.~

Cole's eyes widened. "What the hell?" he asked, alarmed.

"Just what we all needed." Hank took advantage of the woman's distraction to give her the shot, and looked around. No stretcher. Damn. "Would you mind, my dear, if I carried you without the aid of a stretcher? I'd prefer not to, but it's quicker than looking for something." He triggered the com. ~Beast here - I have one wounded ally here, and one able-bodied. Are any of them near the medical block?~

More gunfire, closer, and then Curran's voice broke over the coms. ~McCoy, Cole, we've got incoming, get the hell out of there!~

"I'll cover us," Cole said, darting back out the door and drawing his guns again. He took two steps down the hall - and stopped, staring at the wall to his left as he heard...

Hank ducked when he heard the crash of the wall coming down, instinctively moving to shield the injured woman. "Well, THAT isn't good," he muttered. "I'll be right back, my dear." He followed Cole out the door, and had to duck an energy blast. "SHIT ," he muttered under his breath, and waded in.

They poured in through the missing section of the wall, three second-gen operatives. People Cole knew, some of whom he'd known for years, if not particularly liked. But even the worst of them had always seemed at least somewhat human, sadistic or psychotic tendencies aside. Now, though... now, there was nothing approaching sanity in their eyes. They lashed out wildly with their powers, in absolute silence, and Cole found himself fighting for his life instantly as they focused on him.

In the lead was Vansen, who'd always struck Cole as a little more stable than some of the others. But his eyes were just as vacant, and he shifted to his rock-form as he ran, grasping the front of Cole's body armor and lifting him up, slamming him into the wall. Cole choked out a curse, his hands locking on Vansen's arms as he tried desperately to disrupt the other operative's nervous system. But the charge wouldn't penetrate Vansen's skin.

Hank dived under another energy blasted, tugging the currently stone-like mutant off of Cole by the back of his neck and one leg. Before the man could flail around and grab hold of HIM, he aimed for the hole and threw as hard as he could. As heavy as the stone-man was, that was still a reasonable distance. And bouncing on his face might be distracting, Hank hoped. "This isn't good, is it?" he asked dryly, hauling off and decking a woman who seemed determined to fillet him. Because she was a lady, he pulled the punch enough that he only knocked her out and broke her nose, instead of breaking her whole face.

Wheezing, Cole straightened and started to answer, only to be tackled by Meyer, a pyrokinetic barely out of the training barracks. She held onto him doggedly, her power flaring around her even as he managed to send first one charge through her, then another. Then he smelled his armor starting to burn.

~McCoy!~ Curran was shouting over the coms. ~We've got to get the prisoners out of here, they're going after them! Pull out!~

~Go! We'll be right behind you!~ Hank responded. The prisoners were the first priority. He and Cole stood at least a chance of getting out without Curran's help. The prisoners didn't. He could carry the woman with broken legs without help and still have a hand free, if he had to.

Then he smelled the burning and swore again, in Russian this time, as he turned and saw Cole's armour crisping around him. The woman was a pyro of some description - and fur, as Hank had learned the hard way, was flammable. He looked around, and grabbed for a chair with which to swat her away.

He had to get in contact with Meyer's skin, to hit her with a full charge, Cole thought disjointedly, and managed to get his hands free to touch her unprotected face - and screamed as the skin on his hands blistered instantly. Meyer twitched and jerked as the neuro-electrical charge went through her, but she didn't let go, and Cole screamed again as the fire blazed brighter, the flames almost white.

Hank swatted her away with the chair, and grabbed Cole as he staggered. This was NOT good. One injured person he could handle. Two would leave him more or less defenseless if he transported both of them at once, and he couldn't exactly leave either of them behind... "We might want to give some thought to constructive running away, at this point," he muttered into Cole's ear.

Cole sagged in his grip, the front and sides of his armor charred and smoking. He tried to answer McCoy, but his lips felt oddly numb, and even the noises around him, the fighting outside, Jackie calling his name from back in the room, were starting to go distant, like he was hearing them from underwater...

"Chris! Chris... McCoy? Can either of you hear me?" Valeri called, her voice hoarse, yet agitated. "Watch it, I can see Reeves moving!"

Reeves, the woman on the floor whom Hank had just knocked out, launched herself up into a crouch and then at Hank, her hand morphing once more into a sickle-shaped blade.

Reeves? Who was Reeves? Hank looked around... and then he roared in pain as the blade sank into his leg, piercing his calf right through. The pain was excruciating, but he didn't move until she yanked it out again - a stab wound was one thing, but if he struggled, he might wind up with the muscle cut in half. As she pulled back for another strike, he backhanded her away, sending her sliding across the floor to hit the wall. Three injured. Hell. This was not looking good...

"Chris!"

Cole heard her, wanted to tell McCoy to get back in there and get her out of there, but he couldn't form the words. Couldn't think, and his knees buckled completely.

Hank decided he didn't know enough curse words. While he had a moment - the two women were trying to shake off the blows he'd already handed out - he spotted a rack of bandages and grabbed one, wrapping it hastily around his leg to stop the worst of the bleeding. Too tight, and it would cut off his circulation a bit, but it'd do for now. The pyro was staggering to her feet again, and he threw the chair at her, knocking her down once more. Slinging the limp Cole over his shoulder, he headed back into the room with the injured woman. "We have some serious problems here," he said grimly. "I'm having a little trouble getting them to stay down."

Valeri's eyes were locked on Cole. "You have to get him out of here," she said hoarsely. "I can..." She stopped, swallowing, and raised a hand to the collar around her neck. "Get the collar off me, and I can hold them off while you get him clear. Then you can come back for me."

Hank shook his head. "I can't just go off and leave you here," he said quietly, reaching for the tools in his belt again. The collar was a fairly simple one, thank goodness, and it only took him a moment to get it off. "You'll be killed."

Valeri gave him a strained smile. "I generate microwaves, McCoy. No one's getting near me unless I let them. It's the only way you can get yourself and Chris out of here safely, if I cover you."

"Are the painkillers kicking in?" Hank asked, eyeing her worriedly. If she was still in pain, she wouldn't be able to concentrate forever...

She gave a breathless little laugh vacant of any humor whatsoever. "I managed to keep fighting while your teammate al-Rashid was stomping on my broken legs back in Canada, McCoy. I can hold off a few second-gens, whatever the hell has been done to them, while you get Chris clear." Her eyes lingered on the unconscious Cole, tenderness and a certain resignation on her face for a moment before her expression went professionally blank. She leveled a hand at the doorway, firing off a blast at the movement she both heard and saw. "Go!"

Hank nodded reluctantly. She was right. If he was anyone else, he wouldn't even be walking now. As it was, he'd need both hands free to move, and he could balance one on his shoulder, but not both. Resettling Cole on his shoulder, he reached out to touch her arm gently. "I'll take care of him," he promised her, and then he headed for the door again, ducking through and hiking up his legs to swing himself along on his broad, knuckles.

Vansen, on the floor in the hall outside, his rock-like skin smouldering, made a grab for Hank, but another blast from inside the room drew his attention. He staggered to his feet and inside, Meyer and Reeves following him.

Hank moved as fast as he could, looking for a safe place to drop Cole, just for a few minutes, until he could go back and get the woman out as well... but not fast enough. He was barely at the end of the hall when he heard the explosion, heard walls toppling and a brief, cut-off scream. He stopped, shoulders slumping. Damnit. He should have expected that, should have figured out a way to take them both...

Cole stirred at the jolt as he was set down, his eyelids fluttering. Where... what was going on, where was... "Jackie?" he muttered faintly, trying to focus on the large, blurred blue shape that appeared above him. "McCoy... where's..."

"I'm sorry, Cole," Hank said quietly. "I think we're the only ones who made it out." And he added that guilt to the rest of his collection... he'd been too late, failed to save people, before. It didn't get any easier.

More gunfire, from outside. "But..." Cole started, a dull, bewildered protest, before the pain of his burns got the better of him again and he passed out.

Hank picked him up again, wincing as his leg throbbed and oozed. "Time to head out," he said softly, and headed for the evac area. It might take him a little while to get there, with a bad leg, but he would. He'd promised he'd take care of Cole, and that much, at least, he was determined to do.

~*~

I am the enemy you killed, my friend.
I knew you in this dark; for so you frowned
Yesterday through me as you jabbed and killed.
I parried; but my hands were loath and cold.
Let us sleep now ...
–'Strange Meeting', Wilfrid Owen