Hurt

August 15, 2015:

Kurt happens upon Jean in Battery park; Emma and Rachel to the rescue.

Battery Park

Characters

NPCs: None.

Mentions:

Plot:

Mood Music: [*\# None.]


Fade In…

Kurt's wearing a hooded sweatshirt, pulled up, but has been climbing a lot of rooftops as well. He's not even sure entirely what he's looking for - he might be working with X-Factor, on occasion, but he's no detective, not yet. But he feels like he has to do something and so he's been going out and about and just…looking. You can't go near M-town yet, the National Guard is still all over the place.

Sometimes Jean liked to go for walks in the park, though, this park in particular. Kurt had met her here on occasion, usually with his holo-generator on, and they'd grab a hotdog or an ice cream cone and talk or debate or just generally be friends. While Kurt was friendly with most everyone, he didn't have a great deal in the way of real friends, even in the X-men. Jean was one. And now he was beyond worried about her. He stands by the bench where they last met, his hands pushed into the pockets of his jacket and thinks…

This was a familiar place for her, Mackenzie walked through the park with her hands stuck deep into her pockets, arms fanned out a she catches the cool breeze in the night as she glances up towards the sky. She stops for a moment, then draws her hands from their place to check the wrist watch upon her wrist, fingers tapping against the time as she does an about face, intending to pace a groove into the ground.

She was waiting for her handler. He needed to charge her bit before the time ran out. She had at least two hours underneath her belt but she never liked to skimp on time, the collar upon her neck beeped slighty which causes her to stiffen and jerk, her fingers pressing alongside her temple of where the device lay.

"Fucking John.." She swears to herself, checking her watch again, then settles to the nearby cart to quick grab a hotdog before he closes up shop.

"One with everything."
'Even onions?'
"Of course."
'Haven't seen you around in a bit. Hows everything going?'
"I'm sorry.. do I know you?"
'Uh.. no.. just.. here. It's on the house. Or cart.'

Kurt Wagner decides to grab a hot dog himself before he grabs the shuttle back to Westchester. He's not deeply hungry, but he knows he should eat and Kurt Wagner is nothing if not dutiful. He finds himself approaching the cart when he sees a familiar figure, although he has a hard time crediting it to anything but his imagination. He already thought he saw her two or three times on this trip - his mind has been centered on her too much for anything else.

"J-Jean? Is that you? Jean!" he calls out. He doesn't particularly care about being humiliated at this point - if it's not her, she'll likely just run away screaming anyway. Most people don't react well to him.

"Thanks Haus." Even though it wasn't his name, it was typical military talk as she begins to unwrap and unravel her dog with all of the bits falling into the wrapper. Just when she was about to take a bite of the wholesome goodness, some man… was he blue? Approaches, his voice almost a little too aggressive for her tastes, her body straffing back as the hotdog is slapped to the ground due to shock and her fingers letting go.

"Who?!" She nearly shrieks out, her hand going behind her back as the other holds upright to halt his process. No powers included. "You need to stay back.. Sir.." That word was nearly spat out. "..Or.." He.. looks mildly familiar. "..just stay back."

Kurt Wagner holds up his hands in a placating gesture, although his hands only make his inhuman nature a bit more obvious. "Jean…I…it's Kurt, Jean. Kurt Wagner. I'm your friend. Try to remember, he says. He pulls his hood back, exposing his features fully, "I don't know what's been done to you. I suspect it has something to do with that collar, but I don't care if it's a collar, a hat or a full ensemble…it's going to be okay."

He doubted there were any X-men even close to in-range with him, if he could even get a signal on the comm this deep in the park. He probably should've thought to get back-up, but, well, lhe wasn't really thinking. Hell, he hadn't thought he had a shot in hell. Perhaps the Lord had guided his steps…

The vendor nods his head almost eagerly, a look of worry within his gaze as he steps around the cart, his own hands risen but instead of approaching, he stays where he is.

'Its true. Sir Wagner is your friend. We both are. You don't remember us?'

Jean shakes her head as she takes another step back, her features contorting just a little, her gaze falling towards the three fingered hand, her own shipping to the front to reveal a glock that she always carries..

..always carries.. It, didn't feel right.

"My name is NOT Jean, and I don't know you! BACK away or I swear to god I will shoot you dead!" The further away she had gotten from the two men, the closer she was to the bench, the bench that soon presses back against her shins as she stumbles just enough to catch herself from falling back upon it. "I mean it, you mutant filth! Ge.. g.." No, that wasn't right..

Kurt Wagner can see the confusion on Jean's face, the way she looks panicked as the vendor joins in with him. "t's all right, she's just…something's happened to her. I know you don't think that is your name, fraulein, but you are Jean Grey. YOu are my friend. And friends don't shoot other friends," he says. And then there's a sudden BAMF as he seemingly evaporates in a puff of smoke, only to appear right in front of her, snatching the gun from her hand and BAMFing away again back to where he was.

"Please. Let me help you. I mean you no harm, I swear to you in the name of God Almighty…"

'I'm.. gonna go.'

The vendor wastes no time as he packs up, taking his money and actually running away from the altercation together.

Mean while, Mack was about to shoot, until the puffs of smoke happen and the gun was wrenched from her hand without so much as a blink given in her direction. She inhales deeply, the smell of sulfur.. it.. was almost familiar to her but enough to make her cough out, her hand grasping at her chest as she begins to sidestep the thing all together.

"D..don't.. bring God into this!" She manages to his, turning to run towards the path, coughing as her hand reaches into her pocket to retrieve her cellular device. It wasn't like her own, no. It was one that was given to her, numbers programmed in with a push of a button as she holds it against her ear.

"I'm not going to make it! Send someone, anyone! John.. where are you?!"

Kurt teleports again, his trademark BAMF, the surge of smoke, only to appear directly in Jean's path, blocking the way. He's at least far enough ahead that she doesn't run right into him, his hands stretched out, "Jean, please, it's going to be all right…" he says. He notes the calling out for a John, although that's not exactly a great clue. Why can't bad guys have distinctive first names or codenames? It would be much easier to track down a Benedict Cumberbatch or a Caspar Weinberger than a "John".

"I am your friend, Jean. We have been here together, before. We have eaten hot dogs at that very cart. DOwn there, by that bench, is when I first told you I was leaving the X-men to join the seminary…you were very kind, even though you knew it was a mistake long before I did, I suspect…"

'Alpha, we're an hour out. John can't be located.'
"Then I'm dead!"
'You're not, stand there and fight.'
"Who the hell is JEAN?!"
'Alpha, pre-releasing your powers in five. Good luck.'

The BAMF stops her cold in her tracks for but a moment, her hand clenching the phone she has within her hand a little too hard, hard enough for the case to suffer a minor crack. And.. she doesn't stop, taking that path directly into him with a short stop and a jump into a fluid roundhouse kick with the aim towards his jaw.

It didn't matter if she hit him or not, she'd keep going, obvious rage drawing upon her gaze, her feet pressing into the ground as she draws her hands back to leash a telekinetic forward that would hopefully blow him back and out of her way.

Kurt's training is still formidable, his skills more ethan adequate for Jean's as he shows his impossible physical dexterity, flicking himself away from the kick just in time and actually doing a somersault backwards out of range, "Jean!!" he calls, starting to chase afterward only to get hit by the TK shove, flinging him back and into the air.

Only for him to BAMF again in mid-flip, putting himself right back in her path again. "Please. Stop. I don't want to fight you. I only want to help," he says and he narrows his eyes, locking onto that collar. He already teleported the gun away. Perhaps he can teleport away something else.

It was more than enough range for Jean to turn and run, heading in the opposite direction until he BAMF's in front of her again. She doesn't have full use of her powers just yet, but she could slowly feel it building, which means that flying? Is a no go for now. "You don't want to help! NONE OF YOU DO! You only seek to destroy and conquer no matter the cost!"

She advances, fingers curled into a fist as she begins to strike at the air, each strike missing yet packed with a force of TK that follows the direction of her fists yet sweeps out in deadly arcs with intent to connect. There was no going back, no holding back, and it was obvious that she meant to give him a killing blow. "I. AM. NOT. JEAN!"

Kurt is lucky enough to be impossibly fast, his reflexes beyond the human, but he can still feel the edges of the TK-bump she put on each of her blows, enough to keep him a bit at bay as he ducks and weaves, too focused on avoiding her blows to concentrate enough to do a teleport. "Yes, you are, you are Jean Grey.. Jean Grey. Kurt Wagner. Scott Summers. Kitty Pryde," he says, backflipping from another blow, "Professor Charles Xavier! Rachel Grey! Hank McCoy! Warren Worthington!" he cries, just shouting the names of her friends and family at her.

He wasn't teleporting. That could be key. While he was trying to dodge and weave, she noticed that little tidbit and decided to do the unthinkable.

Her hands lift up, grasping at the air as she lifts herself into, using the momentum and leverage to crash down upon him the full weight of her TK, along with a mix of gravity and his own limbs to hopefully keep him trapped.

"SHUT UP!" She screams out.. but.. it made her heart hurt. Those names.. it was all so confusing. Who is Jean Grey? Who the hell is Charles Xavier? Scott Summers? "SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP!"

Kurt Wagner grasps at her, trying to get his hands at her collar, just wrestling with her. He knows he'se making himself vulnerable,l but he also knows that, in some way, he's getting through, even if it's only al ittle bit, the violence of her reactiont ells him so, "Scott! Think of Scott, Jean! Think of Charles! You've known them almost your whole life! You love them and they love you! We all love you! Don't give up, Jean, I kknow you're in there, fight, fight for yourself, fight for them, fight for us, Jean!!!" he cries, damning his thick fingers as he tries to work in close enough to grasp that collar, but her TK is keeping him too far away, his muscles straining against the resistance as he tries to reach it…

Somewhere inside, there was someone trying to get out. Clawing at the blocks, beating hard against that brick wall as rubble starts to fall..

A ruby visor was snatched from the ground and given to a strong hand..

A cup of tea offered to a man in the wheel chair…

Those defenses start to fall, at least until the collar itself starts to beep rapidly, sending a shock to the system which allows that TK wall to fall and a three fingered hand to reach closer, which was soon grasped and — tugged —.

She leans into him now, her movements almost automatic, militant, dragging that hand forward and past her as she spins to place her shoulder beneath his bicep, cracking it down upon herself to dislocate and dislodge from it's place with a loud *SNAP*.

She doesn't let go, but she does duck underneath that dislocated arm to draw her own around his neck, tugging him close against her as she begins to squeeze.

"I warned you.." She hisses quietly, tugging hard enough to attempt to crush his windpipe or.. perhaps the softer method, put him to sleep. Either would work fine with her.

Kurt Wagner shudders and fights against her, crying out sharply as she dislocates his arm, as he feels the sinews and muscles in his shoulder tear - not so long repaired from the bullet he took there for this very woman's daughter. He keeps fighting though, through the pain, tears in his golden eyes as he keeps trying to get to that collar, until she crushes down on his throat and he feels his windpipe start to break, his vertebra straining against his spinal cord, the pain unimaginable and he can only think AWAY.

And he vanishes beneath her in another puff of sulfurous smoke, appearing again about fifteen feet away, coughing and clutching at his throat, laying on his back, only having enough wherewithal to escape the immediate threat but not much else, plenty of damage already done.

Jean finds her arms collapsing within themselves as he vanishes away, the trail of smoke easily matched a she lifts into the air, the tips of her feet dragging against the ground as she approaches the fallen, blue man, her eyes a red, hot glow as she looks down upon him. It was a moment of peace there as she lowers yet again, her body a lurch forward to land atop of him, straddling his chest to keep him pinned with her natural weight and an added force of TK just in case.

She tugs and wrestles the hand from his throat, her thumb pressing hard against his palm as she grasps a finger, pulling it upright with a slight struggle to bend it back far enough until it *SNAPS*.

"Consider yourself lucky.." She murmurs quietly, drawing her hands along another finger, knowing that there will be a fight with this next one.. "…that this is not your neck I SNAP.." *CRACK* ".. and.."

Stop this.. it hurts.. please..

And she does.. shoving that arm away as she takes a slight breath, tears falling from her eyes which are soon wiped away, her hands pressing along her body to find her phone but.. there was nothing there. Where the hell did she throw it?

Kurt Wagner cries out at the breaking, curling up as his fingers are snapped, clutching the wounded arm to his chest as he feels the tears leak from his eyes. He's in too much pain to focus - teleportation he can still manage, but not enough to do something as dextrous as snatch that collar from her neck. His entire side burns, the searing pain of having his body battered, and yet he still manages, in a rasping, broken voice.

"Jean…I forgive you…" he murmurs, managing to tap the emergency beacon on his communicator as he finally passes out…

+MEET: Rachel Grey has arrived via +meet.

There was a grit of her teeth as she looks down at Kurt, a loud scream issued as she curls her fists to pound the mans face into oblivion. Well, not oblivion, but a few punches wouldn't hurt.. a few punches that draws blood from the nose and Jean away from him all together. "I.. AM NOT JEAN!" She screams out at him again, kicking his pained arm thrice out of frustration, the heaves in her chest hard as she begins to cry, her hands raising to grip at her hair as she paces back and forth in anger.

She spies her glock upon the ground, and almost hesitantly, she makes her way towards it to bend and snatch from the grass, cocking it back as she walks towards the blue man to hold the pistol aloft from her and towards his head.. her hand immediately shaking..

Kurt Wagner lays unconscious at Jean's feet, his arm twisted at a very wrong angle, along with the fingers which have clearly been turned back to the point of breaking. There are tears on his face, his mouth open as he's lost consciousness from the pain, the tell-tale deep black of his bruising around his throat from where she nearly strangled the life out of him already. His body's curled in on itself, battered and helpless…

+MEET: Emma Frost has arrived via +meet.

As much as Rachel would have loved to take the Blackbird and a full team of X-Men when an emergency beacon was triggered; someone had to respond immediately and she was capable of flying /very/ fast if need be.

It would take some effort but she was ready for it; even after what had happened in M-Town.

Approaching Battery Park, the blue-gold ethereal flame wreathed Rachel can be seen plainly by the woman known as 'Alpha' who with her considerable telepathic powers will be able to realise is simply an illusion.

As the young woman set down near the pair, she extended her left hand outwards and tried to erect a telekinetic forcefield around Alpha to try and trap her before crying out, "This is not you, fight this!"

On her way towards a business meeting, Emma Grace Frost has put all thoughts of X-Men and such out of her mind, focusing instead on the business at hand. She sits inside a pristinely white limousine, tablet in hand, reviewing details. Most women in her position would have an assistant back here helping her, but Emma refuses to trust anyone so close. There is only the driver up front.

And then that damned earpiece goes bonkers. Why did she ever agree to take the thing?

Emma taps it, allowing the comm feed to continue. What follows really does move at the speed of thought. It's one of the X-Men, Wagner, the one Emma met in the medbay, the one responsible for rescuing Summers. The one who said he would go looking for Jean. Jean Grey, Elizabeth's best friend. Apparently also something to Summers, though Emma did not pry overmuch on that regard.

Afterwards, Emma won't even be able to explain why she does it. Somehow, some way, some buried primal lizard-brain instinct is triggered. Poor Lawrence. He's going to have such a headache. Emma's commands are swift, brutally efficient and unrelenting.

Long white stretch limos don't usually roar at unsafe speeds down Lower Manhattan streets. But this one does, the roar of its outsized, enhanced engine like thunder on a clear day. When traffic interfers, the car ramps up onto the sidewalks to get by, horn blaring. When signals change, the car charges through, fishtailing wildly to avoid impacts Emma can only sense in advance because she can feel the minds of those in the vehicles, and is driving poor Lawrence like a combat drone.

When the car reaches the park, Emma does not even let the driver slow down for the fenced barrier around the park. Instead, the car fishtails again towards one of the openings and picks up speed, ramming through and sloshing across the soft turf, aiming like a homing missile on the locator signal - and the now-sensed mostly unconscious mind - of Kurt Wagner.

The back door opens as the car fishtails, and Emma Frost comes out like some avenging Valkyrie in white, hands outstretched as she takes Lawrence's pistol from his outstretched hand, extended through his lowered window. Her voice is backed up telepathically: "Back away and lower the pistol. You fire on that man, I swear to you, Elizabeth will hate me for life, but I will end you."

There in lies the question; the question of wills and whether a true killer that lies within would actually pull the trigger. But this wasn't Jean in control, some implanted memories from some other woman meshed and embedded in her brain; coupled with a child long lost due to mutant infractions that even Jean herself can't remember. All false, all fake. But the true intentions of Jean herself bleed through when she couldn't pull the trigger. Somewhere, deep down inside, she recognizes him as a friend. Not a threat, even though she broke him moments before.

Those memories cause the collar to beep rapidly, issuing more jolts that shoot from her neck to her brain, the unbelievable headache that causes her to focus on Mackenzie Green in the here and now, and this threat needed to be elimiated. Thirty more seconds..

Her finger squeezes the trigger just in time for the TK shield to erect around her, her hand immediately drawing up as the bullet bounces twice around the shield, keeping it held aloft before it actually hits her center mass, her gaze, that unholy red falling upon Rachel as .. great. Another one pops up.

"You don't know me!" Alpha (her codename) snaps out, but one thing was clear. They knew her. But her eyes dance and cross along the grass as the limo comes carrening with bravado across the area, and the woman ejects herself with her own gun trained upon her person.

What sort of stand off is this?

One that makes Mackenzie, aka Alpha, grin.

A foghorn blares in the distance, Jean's eyes cut towards the direction as her fingers repeatedly squeeze upon the trigger.. it was quick and loud in succession, bullets pinging to create a wreath of death enclosed within that bubble, but then it stops.. Jean's own ears ringing, her voice loud as she holds herself hostage.. and the others.

That horn alerted her to a human sort of sinister that only a true Purifier could manage, that left hand of hers drawing out, obvious strain within her gaze as the small sounds of screaming could be heard. What in the world was she doing?

"I'm ready." Jean calls out with a laugh, tears obviously drawing from her green gaze, her face nearly burning red from the strain she puts upon herself. The lights of the collar burn fiercely, as well as the gadget upon her temple, but as long as the fire keeps itself inside of her, Jean was safe.

"Are you ready to face the choices that are in front of you? Either of you?! One hundred and fifty lives, for the price of two. Let me leave this place and I'll let them all go. And if you refuse? Me and this blue piece of shit mutant are dead." The bullets that swim around her area slowly begin to turn in her direction..

"CHOOSE."

Kurt Wagner just lays there like a slug. It's his only defense.

Rachel didn't seem impressed, threatened or cowed by whatever force had taken control of her mother; in fact she rolled her eyes at the threat, "I'll kill her myself before I let you control her." It was not an empty threat.

~Emma, this may not be pretty.~

The young woman walked towards Nightcrawler and 'Alpha' and reached out with her telekinesis and began to try and take control of some of the bullets; the ones aimed at Kurt and /some/ of the ones aimed at Jean.

"Do it."

She was fully intending to let at least a few of the bullets hit Jean, just not the ones aimed at vital areas. Unless of course, it was all a bluff.

~// This stopped being 'pretty' when Jean assaulted Herr Wagner and rendered him unconscious. Save that damned vessel. I'll have no more blood on my hands than absolutely necessary. //~

The platinum blonde valkyrie in pristine white business attire with a Glock in hand maintains her aim, and her intent. There is no better negotiator in the world, and her confidence shows she knows it.

"I don't negotiate with terrorists." Emma offers coldly. "I told you to back away. Now. You do it anyway."

In that instant, Emma's skilled, dedicated, focused mind reaches out for the mind of 'Mackenzie.' She is not, all told, the equal of Charles Xavier in sheer telepathic force. But she is precise. Direct. Forceful. And incredibly focused. And she unleashes all of that might with but one intent: Lights out, show's over. Time to KO this intended killer before anyone else gets hurt.

Jean Grey rolls 2 on 1d2.

There was a look of confusion in Jean's face as she tilts her head to the side. Her eyes alighting upon each of the bullets as they turn more in her direction, their alignment was off, the line of their sights were non-lethal.. partial bluff. She will work with this. And then? She gets the go ahead.

"Selfish. Typical mutants." And those were her last words..

That outstretched left hand slams down against her side as the screams intensify from the boat from afar, the loud groan echoing along the channel as the boat seemingly bends and cracks. And that's it. It was enough structural damage to send bodies carrening from the sides, and to set off a row of panic that could be felt, psychic or not.

And then she lets go, the bullets pinging against the TK shield at her back, blowing tiny holes through her arm as her own TK shield erected a little too late. She cries out in pain as she pushes herself back, shattering the shield at her back with the help of the bullets that pass through, preparing to continue that strafe and lift into the air with a trail of fire at her feet…

SNAP

Her head is knocked back from that psychic pinch, her body gone limp as she falls the two feet she managed to gain in the air, right to the ground where she hovered.

Kurt Wagner breathes little spit bubbles and twitches occasionally in his pain coma. Good times.

"I'm sorry." Emma would be able to immediately sense that Rachel was not apologizing to anyone present; she was apologizing to the 150 lives that would be lost on that boat thanks to her actions.

Reaching within the folds of her cloak she pulled out a futuristic looking pistol, dialled the charge level back from lethal (wtf) to a very very high powered stun and fired it at the unconscious Jean.

"Get Kurt out of here Emma. Don't let anyone else know you came, especially if this goes south.." She was even willing to keep Emma out of trouble, not just with the authorities; but the X-Men.

Some subconscious fragment or notion of Jean somewhere reaches out to her and makes her feel a sense that her priority needs to be on the people on that boat, not evacuating Jean like she had planned.

She didn't like it, but she didn't want to deal with Jean's disapproval. Hopefully, it didn't go south.

Taking off into the air, she flew towards the boat (Ferry?) intending to try and save the people onboard.

Though she knew the terrible risk she was taking with those others' lives, Emma wasn't kidding: she considered this altered Jean a terrorist, and simply allowing a terrorist to dictate actions and tempo is a road to disaster. Emma had hoped Rachel would be able to realize her telekinetics offered a possibility of saving those lives, if more messily than if the boat had not been crushed in the first place.

She lucks out that Rachel does in fact do that, if not quite so quickly as Emma had expected. She'll take it, and try to remember that not everyone reads minds, thoughts and intents as actively as she does. More communication in the future.

The valkyrie in white dashes forward, as her commands reach Lawrence incide the armored limo, bringing her driver out and sending him towards Jean, to bind bullet wounds as best he can before working to drag her to the car. Emma, meanwhile, runs for Kurt's fallen form, scooping him up - even if roughly - and staggering him to the car.

Kurt gets laid over the bench seat across from Emma's in the back. Jean will be given the trunk, assuming Lawrence can in fact manage to get her there.

Meanwhile, Emma taps the earpiece and calls in. "Rescue effected. Primary package secured. Target package on site, civilians at risk, second operative on scene attempting to render aid. Activating extraction plan." Then her phone is out, as she orders up her chopper. It will meet the limo at one of her warehouses near the docks, and transport up to the Mansion as quickly as possible.

Then maybe poor Lawrence can get the car repaired. And cleaned. What a mess.

Those invisible hands still pawed, pounded, and scratched upon that brick wall.. until nails peeled back and knuckles bleed, but it still did not scratch the surface.

The shot hits her, causing her body to shake and tremble, nearly twisting to the side as fingers seize and grasp at the air with no release.. it was all a whirlwind of course, that phantom brain dashes away towards the boat.. while another approaches to bind the wounds upon her arm with tight ties that 'wake' her up, but she doesn't move.

Possum. She plays it well.

It was only then that when he hooked his arms beneath her own to drag her towards the limo is when that foot kicks up, snap-kicking the top of his head (not lethally), but enough to get him to release her, her body rolling as the good hand is planted into the ground, the red-headed mess snapping her head upright as a grin is given, her entire form slowly simmering with a wake of fire that coats her entire being.

She takes in a breath.. leaning her head back..

*THOOM!*

The fierce blast of TK was enough to send the tires skidding across the grass, pitting and denting the interior as she takes off like a fire angel in the sky. Her devices are low.. she possibly only had thirty minutes left, she has to get to her handler.. and soon.

ON THE BOAT:

The people weren't calm, there were women and children crying, holding each other as they were sure to sink to their own doom.

'It's alright, everyone, stay calm, life boats are retracting as we speak.'
'Women and children first!'
'Hold on to me, love. We'll get through this!'
'Wait, there's someone outside! They've come to help!'
'Screw that, I'm swimming, ain' nobody got time fo dat!'

LOGNOTE: Add in disruption to collar.

Kurt Wagner slowly stirs to a hint of consciousness in the limo. He finds himself looking across at Emma in the backseat of the limo. One of his golden eyes is puffy and spiderwebbed crimson from the broken veins within it. His voice is a hollow, painful-sounding rasp. He tries to push up only to cry out, his arm collapsing underneath him, unable to support his weight.

"Jean…she's in there…must…help…Jean…" he mutters - only for the car to suddenly get jacked and spinning around, throwing him from the seat and onto the floor onto his broken arm, the hot, electric stroke of pain enough to send him back into oblivion.

Rachel was an unmistakeable sight to the people on the boat. The Rachel Grey case had been very public and the sight of the woman wreathed in that golden blue electric fire had been broadcasted to millions of people around the world.

Like so many big news stories, something else had come along to replace it; like the /actual/ terrorist attack on Washington.

"Oh my god! It's Rachel Grey, run for your life!" One man screamed as he leaped overboard, his former hesitation at jumping squashed. He wasn't going to be saved he thought, his life was in danger.

For a brief moment panic overwhelmed the people on the boat. None of them had even knew she had been released, there had been no publicity surrounding it.

An invisible force field surrounded the boat and began to lift it upwards as Rachel focussed her powers, straining and reaching out to grab the people who were jumping off.

Waves of calming psychic energy washed over the people on the boat to make the situation less hectic.

"Wait! She's saving us!" A woman pointed out as the boat was gingerly lifted and guided towards land.

"Why would a terrorist save us?"

"Maybe she isn't! They let her go, right?"

The truth was, Rachel was going to be very angry when she found out that Jean had been allowed to escape. How many more lives would be lost before an opportunity to stop her again was had?

Emma was 'driving' Lawrence, honestly hopeful all of this would work out, when suddenly Mackenzie erupts into action. The poor man is going to have quite the scalp laceration and bruising, but he does indeed release her, staggering towards the car as Emma's commands head him for the driver's cabin, clearly deciding to Hell with the trunk.

Then THOOM

The car lurches and twists, bucking as the blast strikes. Emma tries - and fails - to secure Kurt before he falls. In the end, all she can do is reach into his mind, block out the pain so he is incapable of feeling it, and then drag him back up onto the bench seat.

Lawrence almost manages to get clipped by the car, only narrowly missing it as he tumbles away. He heads for the trunk first, slamming it down, frowning as the bent frame members prevent it closing. He whips out his belt, looping and twisting it, and uses that to secure it in a more down than up position, then jogs to the driver's side door, pulling with both arms to get it to screech closed. "Going, Ma'am." he offers, as the car starts driving. It is worse for the wear, but it will drive.

"Status update: Target package has escaped. Civilians have been saved. Moving to extraction. We should be on-site in under one hour." Emma communicates. She's not happy MacKenzie got away. But saving lives takes priority in the lexicon of the X-Men. Jean Grey included.

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