Fanfic Time: X-Wars, part 4

Continued from yesterday:

  Jean crouched behind Piotr as salvo after salvo was spat out at him. They hit his metallic body with deafening clangs, and he grunted.

  Storm managed to save her butt by creating a miniature whirlwind of mighty power which spun around her and deflected all bullets.

  The others took a more straightforward approach.

  Gambit, with almost superhuman speed leaped, ducked, and dived from the bullets. He landed in the thick of the terrorists, where he brought his Bo Staff to work. Twirling it in his hands, he slammed it into the terrorists, sending them flying higgledy-piggledy in the air. Cyclops and Havok, as soon as they entered the room, also took up the cause, sending beams of energy flying into the terrorists.

  Their numbers lessened, their ammo running out, the barrage of bullets lessened somewhat, allowing Jean to take a more active role.

  She telekinetically tore some of the guns out of the terrorist's hands, and slammed their own weapons back in their faces. She picked up a few men, and slammed them against the walls, and brought up a telekinetic barrier around Gambit briefly, protecting him from the latest round of salvoes.

  Nightcrawler watched on, not yet fully noticed by the X-men.

  He sneered, this was odd. Most unexpected. And who had invited them? He wondered. Like Warren, he had his suspicions, and if they were right, then this mission was going to get *nasty.*

  Just the way he liked it.

  Well, if it was a choice between two enemies, he might as well chose the ones he knew, the ones he was sure he could beat. Then he could move onto dealing with these… these… X-men.

  He whispered into his mike.

  ‘Spiral, X-stacy, attack the FoH terrorists, when we’ve taken them down, we’ll worry about these other mutants. Copy?’

  'Copy.’

  'Copy.’

  Nightcrawler ginned, his pointed teeth shining in the crazy light, then he leaped.

  He landed squarly on the shoulders of one terrorist, he wrenched the gun out of his hand and slammed it back into it’s owners face.

  Leaping up again, performing a quick summersault, he kicked another man in the head and whipped a second man across the face with his tail. Ducking a punch from a third man, he took the opportunity to slam a three-fingered hand into his genitalia, and the attacker fell to the ground with a whimper.

  Turning, Nightcrawler caught sight of Spiral, and what a sight it was! The woman had got hold of four guns, and was holding one in each arm, rattling them off and laughing madly, she seemed to hardly care who she hit. Her other two arms were holding scimitars.

  Now back to the X-men, there are fewer terrorists now, though they have taken to another deadly tactic. They are no longer firing at the X-men, or Nightcrawler, or even the deadly Spiral. They are firing at the prone crowd. Colossus desperately tried to block the bullets, but even is bulk is not enough to protect the innocent partygoers. So Jean brought up a huge, telekinetic barrier to stop the bullets. It was a huge strain, and took up all her concentration, but what else could she do?

  Storm tried to help, bringing a gust of wind to stop the bullets, but, as this was over a larger area, she met with only moderate success. So the other three X-men continued fighting desperately, but even with their amazing powers they met with difficulties.

  Suddenly Jean felt somthing cold against the back of her head. She turned, and saw a terrorist, who had broken off from the main group and sneaked up upon her, she had a gun to her head. No time to move, no time for telekineisis, this was it. She was going to die. She closed her eyes.

  The man smiled, and pulled the trigger.

  There was a sound like {bamf!}

  Jean wondered if that was what a gunshot sounded like when one was close up, but she was alive. She was still alive!

  She opened her eyes and saw a blue-furred demon, grinning roguishly at her, holding the gun the terrorist previously had against her head. Beneath him, her would-be-killer lay, she noticed his head was at an odd angle.

  She also noticed the sound of gunfire has finally ended.

  'It’s over,’ she breathed in relief.

  The blue demon’s smile widned. He lifted the gun and returned it to

its previous position, right against Jean’s temple.

  'Wanna bet?’ he asked. 

~

  “I’m not a gambling kind of girl,” Jean replied icily, eyeing his strange, three-fingered hand and wondering how quickly she could telekinetically rip the gun from his grasp. _Not faster than a speeding bullet at point blank range._

  The demonic mutant’s grin spread a little wider. However, he paused as a new voice answered.

  “O’ course, gambling be jus’ right for some people.”

  Gambit’s foot slammed into his head before Nightcrawler even had time to turn around, and the rain of bullets went sailing into the ceiling. The two of them spun through the air, both landing delicately on acrobatic feet.

  “Why else you think my name Gambit, eh?” The Cajun smirked, energy pooling around his eyes as he reached for his card deck.

  Jean sat up in time to see him fling a trio of missiles, which Nightcrawler avoided adroitly. He flipped into several consecutive handsprings, coming to land with his feet braced against the far wall. Then, to her great surprise, he just kept on going, sprinting up the brickwork and across the ceiling like it was nothing.

  Gambit frowned, taking in the crowd his opponent now stood - literally - over, and pocketing his deck lest any hit them by mistake. He cast a quick assessing gaze around the ruined dining room.

  This was supposed to have been an easy mission with no bloodshed and plenty of good PR. It had turned into a frenzied battle the likes of which none of them had seen since their days as unwarranted vigilantes, before Dann and his cronies suckered them into working for the 'high and mighties’, as Alex put it. Several terrorist bodies lay strewn across the floor, as well as those of a few innocent bystanders. Their leader was sprawled, half off the podium, with eyes wide and a surprised expression etching his cold dead face. He hadn’t been expecting death this night.

  _You an’ me both, bub._

  Who were these clowns? Dann’s noted hadn’t made any mention of a demon or a six-armed woman with PMS. And since the entire purpose behind this operation was image management, it was unlikely he’d forget to mention something like that. Which led Gambit to believe that Dann hadn’t known about these mutants, nor of their purpose in being here tonight.

  Somehow it wasn’t a very comforting thought.

  _Still got de camera to worry about, too,_ he thought, and sent a quick message to Jean to take care of it. Things could get very ugly - well, uglier than they already were - very quickly, and there was no need to show already-nervy people a bunch of mutants fighting mutants with big scary powers.

  He was rewarded with a swift blossom of flame as the new crew’s camera spontaneously combusted from a few telekinetically crossed wires. If anyone found the damage afterwards, they’d just assume it was a design fault and have done with it.

  _Nice an’ neat, chere._

  _Shut up and watch what you’re doing._ Jean rose and diverted her attention to where Cyclops and Havok were currently trying to subdue the other female mutant - who wasn’t going quietly. Every time they shot at her, a strange invisible forcefield, even subtler than Jean's telekinetic one, sprang up to deflect it.

  Colossus and Storm hustled the guests and other onlookers discreetly out of a nearby exit. They too, it seemed, had come to the conclusion that having innocents around during a power-battle was in the top ten of Very Bad Ideas, along with lighting a match in a gas filled room and jumping from a plane without a parachute.

  Colossus looked up at her. _We could really use some help here._ As if to emphasise his remark, a blast of red laser shot from Scott’s visor, miraculously pinged away from the six-armed woman and ricocheted off the Russian’s back. It left him unharmed, but burned a sizeable hole in the back of his costume.

  Jean sprinted to where she’d be most useful, throwing up a screen to safeguard the people until they attained the door. Some of them ran, some screamed, but all went in the same direction - the exit.

  One man stopped, looking back, and Jean shoved at his arm to propel him forward again. He stared at her, taking in the meagre costume Dann had forced her to wear and arching an eyebrow.

  “Who are you people?”

  “We’re the X-Men,” she replied, throwing back another barrage of Havok’s power gone awry. “The good guys,” she added as an afterthought.

  “You’re those mutants who sold out to the government,” he said flatly, and the quality of his tone took her by surprise so much that she found herself meeting his gaze instead of watching her teammates. His eyes were blue, harsh, and framed by neatly cut blonde hair. His jaw had a grim set to it, and a small cut on his cheek leaked blood onto the collar of his long duster.

  A woman dressed in an outfit almost as skimpy as Jean’s tugged at his arm, her short black hair ruffled and a long slash running from inside elbow to wrist. She must have been his date, but he ignored her, gaze fixed contemptuously on the telepath.

  “Sold out?” Jean repeated, incredulous. Of course, she’d thought it before, but to hear someone else say it. Someone not on the team…

  “Jean! Watch it!” Colossus’ voice rang out, sharp and clear, and Jean barely had time to redirect the round of bullets headed her way. It seemed the mutant woman had taken the offensive again, using what weapons she’d procured from the 'terrorists’ to great effect. Cyclops and Havok both dived aside, the former incinerating a salvo aimed at him, and the latter dodging behind a table that then erupted in a deluge of wooden splinters.

  Reaching out and straining her powers, Jean maintained her shield whilst simultaneously snatching two of the four guns from her and hurling them out of the smashed window into the night.

  When she looked back, the strange man was gone, and though she looked for him, it looked like he’d escaped along with everybody else.

  She never saw the large white feather she stepped on, and when she peeled it off her gore-smeared boot later that night. Jean Grey would just attribute it to the pigeons all this high rise hotels cultivated.

~

  “You afraid t’ come down an’ face me, mon petit ecureuil bleu?[7]”

  The demonic mutant stood upside down, hands on hips. His spaded tail lashed mockingly as he gave a short, barking laugh. “Why don’t you just shoot a few more of those cards up at me? After all, it worked *so* well before.”

  Gambit grunted, frowning. He couldn’t use his powers so long as there were bystanders around to get hit with them, but it galled him to think he had an opponent within his reach, and yet could do nothing about it.

  The other mutant laughed again, crouching down onto all fours. “I recognise you. You’re those X-Men, aren’t you? The government’s pet mutant 'crime-fighters’.” He spat as if onto the ceiling by his feet, but gravity intervened, dragging it floorwards. Gambit stepped aside, allowing it to descend.

  “So you know who we are. So what? Many people do, cochon[8]. You prolly know why we’re here, too. The big question is, who’re you? An' what’re you doin’ here t'night? I severely doubt you came jus’ fo’ the fine cuisine.”

  The demon vanished. Not in the sense that he moved very fast, but in the sense that he suddenly wasn’t there anymore. Instead, Gambit  found himself looking at a plume of purple smoke, just before a similar cloud materialised above him and a foot cracked the back of his head.

  Stars exploded, and the thief went down hard, off balance. He flung out his hands, letting them take the brunt of the fall, but as quickly as he’d flipped over the foot smacked him upside his chin again, laying him flat on his back. He reached for his bo, but it was torn from his grasp to go spinning across the room, and strong hands pinned his wrists as the demon’s face smiled inches from his own.

  “For someone on the taxpayers’ bankroll, you don’t earn your money very well.”

  Gambit felt the energy flare around his eyes, spilling onto his cheeks when his hands found they had no handy missiles to charge. “Y'know, that accent gets real old, real fast, mon ami.”

  “Save it, human-lover,” the demon spat. “You’re a traitor to your own kind, rescuing humans like they’re actually *worth* something. Verrater[9], selling out your birthright with cheap tricks and firework displays. I’ve seen you on TV, bandying your gifts for human entertainment.”

  “Better 'n usin’ 'em t’ kill people. That’s your job, eh? That an' your little friend with PMS over there.” Even in sticky situations, the Cajun still found time to get in a few jokes. Dann’s portrayal of him as the resident 'bad boy’ was rubbing off a little too much, in Gambit's opinion.

  The demon shifted imperceptibly, and Gambit abruptly found himself with a knee pressing against his throat. A very strong knee, intent on cutting off all air to his windpipe, and doing a very good job of it, too. Scowling, the thief tried to struggle free, but the lithe form was deceptively muscular, and dark spots bean to dance on the edge of his vision.

  “Fils d'une chienne![10]” he gritted, expending more breath than he could spare. He promptly cursed himself as well, lashing out with desperate strength. How had this happened? He was Remy LeBeau, prince of thieves and fighter extraordinaire. How the heck had one little elf brought him close to the brink of death so easily.

  The 'elf’ leaned closer, smile stuffed with fangs. “The name, since you asked so nicely, is Nightcrawler. Tell it to the boatman on the other side _mon ami_.”

  “Tell it to him yourself, creep!” A blast of coloured light slammed into Nightcrawler’s side, flinging him off the gasping X-Man and into the wall he’d run up only minutes ago. This time he got no purchase, and slid down into a fumbling heap as the brilliance dissipated around him.

  Gambit struggled to get up, and slender hands hooked under his arms to help. He looked with surprise at the shortish blonde woman by his side, who glared openly at the fallen mutant. “You’re the one giving mutants a bad name! You’re just as bad as that Fiend of Humanity jerk.”

  Gambit recognised the singer they’d come to rescue - what was her name, Dazzler? Alison something? - and frowned. “I think you mean *Friends* of Humanity, petite.”

  “You weren’t just staring down one of their guns. I prefer my version,” she retorted, eyes blazing as brightly as her powers - for that, surely, was what the light show had been.

  Given she’d just saved his life, Gambit decided to let it go, and diverted his attention to where Nightcrawler had leapt back to his misshapen feet. “You dare to compare the Legion of the Unwanted to those… those *Damonen*[11]?”

  “Look who’s talkin’, detritus.[12]” Gambit reached inside his duster for his deck, still breathing heavily but recovered enough to charge a handful of cards and wave them threateningly above his head.

  Nightcrawler watched, and seemed to make a split-second decision. He turned and started bounding through the rubble, yelling as he went.

“Spiral! Open a portal, stat!”

  The six-armed woman looked up from where she had both Havok and Cyclops suspended by their throats, the former unconscious, and the latter minus his visor. Tutting openly, she threw the two of them down, but kept the visor[13], twisting her body into a complex pattern of dance steps as a bright white light made the floor beneath her feet shine.

  Both Gambit and Dazzler started to give chase, but Nightcrawler had already reached the portal, and was consumed in luminosity before they'd even gone three steps.

  “This isn’t over, X-Men. The Legion is always watching, and I expect a rematch later, Herr Gambit.”

  The glow faded, revealing only a slightly scorched spot, and all those still awake and able looked around at the suddenly silent room. 

  A figure appeared at the door, trailing a dark cloak behind her. “Is it over?” Storm asked.

  Gambit’s jaw was grim. “Oui et non, chere. Oui et non.”

~

  Warren allowed himself to be tugged by his along the streets. He hated to admit it, but the previous scene had shaken him up more than a little. The girl (what was her name? Tracy? Stepheny? Stacy?) had pulled him out of there, leading him purposefully down the streets.

  'Wh… where are we going?’ asked Warren, for some reason he was having trouble thinking straight. _Must be the shock,_ he thought. 

  In truth it was more to do with the subtle pheromones X-stacy was exuding, but she was hardly going to point this out.

  'I know a place,’ she gapsed, 'a safe place! Come on, those Terrorists might still be following!’

  'I… I don’t think that’s too likely, they–’

  But Warren never got to finish his sentence. Suddenly a blue-furred… thing… the same demon-creature that had appeared at the party, materialised before them, seemingly out of nowhere.

  Warren’s date screamed, and fainted.

  Or rather, Stacy followed her instructions to the letter. Nightcrawler was unsure of how this meeting would go, especially after the fiasco before, he wanted to keep some link to Warren, wanted to keep this agent undercover.

  Warren balled his fists and prepared to spread his wings, he wasn't sure of what exactly was going on, but he was willing to bet it wouldn't be good.

  'Easy, mein Freund,’ soothed the demonic creature, 'I am not here to fight.’

  'Really?’ spat Warren. 'Didn’t get that impression before!’

  'Well, as I recall, I saved your life. The FoH bastards don’t take to kindly to mutants.’

  'You killed people! And what makes you think I’m a–’

  'Easy, Gabriel, I’ve seen you fly. Nice skills by the way, I was impressed by how you dealt with those muggers. Very nicely done! Such a shame your skills were wasted with saving such human trash as that woman. She never really thanked you, did she?’

  Warren was caught off guard, somone knew of his secret, someone outside his family and close circle of friends, it seemed like the world was going mad. 'I… she did thank me…’ he said, at a lost for any other answer.

  'Nein,’ said the demon, shaking his head, 'she thanked *God* she thanked *Jesus,* she never thanked *you.* That’s the thing with humans, they rarely look beyond first impressions. People scream when the first see me, they never look further. They pray to God when they see you, and again they never look further, never try to get to know *you*. We're *things* to them, Warren, not people.’

  'Th… that’s not true.’

  'Really? Then tell me, are you happy to be a mutant?’

  Warren blinked, 'I… no… no, of course not.’

  'Why not? You have Wings, angel boy, wings! You can do what no other human can, you can fly! And yet they hate you, and teach you to hate yourself. They’re jealous of what you can do, they feel threatened, they want to stop you. Tell me, are you thinking of taking that operation?’

  Warren was beyond shocked now. How did this thing know so much about him! His tongue wasn’t working, he could only shrug.

  'Well… seems to me you’ve got two choices. You can go back to your nice penthouse, get that little operation, and never fly again. You can be another human puppet. A harmless little mutant, but don’t worry, kids, he’s been neutered! He can’t hurt anyone.’

  Warren frowned at this, his hands balling again at the demon's sarcastic words.

  'Or,’ continued the creature, 'you can come with me, learn to love your wings, bring power to your people, protect them from those who want to hurt our kind, continue the fight for humanity. You can be yourself, Warren.’

  The offer was tempting, he had to admit, but something was wrong… very, very wrong.

  'What do you mean?’ he asked, 'the fight for humanity?’

  'The humanity that wants everything to be nice and safe! The humanity that believes that mutants are all raving maniacs who, with a bit of work, can be neutered into peaceful little puppies. You saw those X-idiots, working for the government, showing how 'harmless’ and 'malleable’ mutants are. But it’s not like that! They don’t understand that not all our kind can be tamed or neutered so easily, not all our people will go down without a fight! We need to fight them, Warren, need to show them our power. So that our children won’t be enslaved, so that when the real enemies come, the real mutant bastards, humanity won’t be caught off guard. Sometimes we have to be cruel to be kind, Herr Engle.’

  'But by killing people… your just making them frightened, paranoid, more convinced that mutants are just creatures to be put down!’

  The demon threw back his head and gave out a laugh which sounded more like a howl, 'Ja,’ he chuckled. 'Right! Let me tell you one thing, Engle, in the long term, it’s better to be respected and feared than to be controlled and laughed at. It’s better that humanity has some respect for our kind, even if there is fear too!’

  'But that’s no reason to go killing people!.’

  Warren’s voice was rising in anger, there was a ripping sound, and his jacket fell to the gound, torn shreds of cloth, as behind him his wings blossomed, etherial and beautiful in the moonlight.

  'Really? I think it’s plenty reason, if it means our children don't get kicked and used as well! And make no mistake, Herr Engle, that will happen. Either the Humans will strip every right we mutants ever had because we are too tame to let them, or because some big bad guy comes along and trashes us all, because humanity isn’t used to us fighting back. I’d rather have a few dead bodies now, than millions later on.’

  The demon was looking mad now, and so was Warren, the two mutants faced each other down, strange mirror images of each other.

  'You know,’ growled Warren, 'you’d make great PR.’

  'I could say the same for you, Engle.’

  'Seems to me,’ murmered Worthington, things suddenly becoming a lot clearer, 'that I’ve got two choices. I could ether be your puppet, or go with my parents and be theirs, be humanity’s. I chose neither. I’m free, demon, I do as I want. I don’t give a shit what you, the government, or my parents want. I’m me, and I make my own path!’

  'Very well,’ hissed the terrorist, 'it’s your choice. But my offer remains open. Soon you’ll discover the error of your ways, trust me. When you do, the Legion of the Unwanted will be waiting.’

  There was a sudden sound like {bamph!} a puff of brimstone, and the demon was gone.

  Warren let out a long breath, wondering what to do next.

  He turned, meaning to check on his date, but she was nowhere to be seen.

  _Must have run off as soon as she woke up,_ thought Warren, hoping fervently that she hadn’t seen his wings.

  With another, long sigh he took off, he needed some night air to clear his senses and mind. It had been one crazy night, and possibly one of the most important of his life.

~