Raiding The Facility

August 30, 2015:

Brins phone is tracked and a rescue attempted

Shipshewana - Indiana

Characters

NPCs: None.

Mentions:

Plot:

Mood Music: None.


Fade In…

SHIPSHEWANA, INDIANA:

All through the night Jean flew, from New York with a straight shot towards Indiana. It took almost everything she had, along with the shocks and dose of barbituates from the collar which was soon running that well dry. Lobo-tech had contingencies, but not this far along. Not this far along especially without the 'product' away from the 'manufacturer'. Coupled that with the wounds that she's sustained from Bobby's rightful lash out, the holes in her back were soon quelled and cooled as the ice melted and nearly left her bleeding. But.. just further along.. just a little bit more..

And they were there. Shipshewana is a small town in the Newbury Township in La Grange county, coupled with the third largest Amish nations in the US. So it was a wonder as to why Jean would really come there; only that she gleamed from one of those attackers that actually shot Brinley was this small city, this location. And a building that she flew over..

But she didn't have time to stop now. She needed to rest.

Brinley's phone retained it's signal, occasionally cutting off once Jean and her flew over deadzones, only to pick back up in a different location. Anyone who was tracking them would see that, and could easily guess the direction in which they were heading. To the dreaded midwest.

And this location is in a barn that wasn't abandoned, though the quiet clucks and whinnying of horses.. and the god awful smell is what would possibly wake Brinley up, not to mention the needle pin-pricks of hay that Jean made for her to sleep on while Jean herself remained in the corner to nurse and bandage her wounds.

The farmers were old people.. they kept that stuff around the house. Thankfully, they were out visiting their newest great grandchild.


Thanks to The Incident (TM), a few years ago, Brins mind had been stitched back together by telepaths - maybe Jean was one of those - and certain blocks put in place to allow the young woman to function. Jeans emotional backlash a week or so ago had weakened those blocks and, indeed, removed some, meaning Brins dreams were far from pleasant and her waking hours had become a battle to suppress those memories again.

So it is that the sleeping Brin twitches and turns on that bed of hay crying out to teammates, one name more than the others, who never made it back from that mission. The smell and pin-pricking hay is actually a welcome relief to the young woman, pulling her from that dark place to consciousness.

Brown eyes opening, the tears she'd been shedding in her sleep leaving tracks down her grimy face, Brin freezes as she takes stock of her situation - WHERE THE HELL WAS SHE AND WHAT HAD HAPPENED! - last she remembers was Jean breaking the windows and floating before her in X-Red HQ.


"You were crying in your sleep."

Jean's back remained towards Brinley, her top reached for and slowly shrugged on and fitted around her body. Her hair was a mess, which was soon fixed with a few swipes of the brush that she managed to acquire from the main house, her head tilted as she draws her red locks forward, stroking and petting rather calmly. It was the simple things that both Jean and Mackenzie enjoyed, like sitting in silence, brushing the hair..

"I've come to realize that whomever you people are, you are truly damaged." Beat. "We are truly damaged." The brush was soon tossed aside as she slowly rises, her hand pressed against her back as she lets out a slight groan. Her body retained that hunch, as one would with dealing with the pain, slowly striding her way towards Brinley with her hand raised to stop her from whatever attack that she was about to do. Or.. emotional attack.

"What ails you." It was not a question. "That other side of me would not let me see. But it seems to know. I would seem to know too. Right?"


Sitting up, wincing as the bullet wounds in her arm and thing pull and pinch, putting her back agains a wall, Brin raises fingers to cheek, feeling the dried tears there. "I often do. I… I… don't sleep much."

Watching the woman brushing her hair and then striding towards her, Brin schools her expression to calm… she wasn't about to attack or even try to work out Jeans emotional state - she's too confused herself at the moment.

The question… has Brin looking at Mackenzie - things are clearing for the young mutant. "Wouldn't let you see?" So, some part of Jean asserts itself - to protect them, perhaps? "You do know, you … helped … me. I was… broken … in an attack."


"No." Mack confirms, but she does shake her head just a touch as she lets out a little sigh. There were things that she herself couldn't speak upon; the brain washing created stories that didn't make sense afterwards, even if she were to retell it with a spoken word instead of memory. It was all fragmented, coming apart by the day.

"I don't remember." She states. Then turns away from her to stride slowly towards the window, the light shone easily enough upon her face to view the pale nature of her skin, the cut that Bobby left upon her cheek, the dull green eyes that look into the field of corn. "But there are some things that I do know, things that I don't think should have been done. But I suppose there were reasons as to why they were done, we feel.." Her jaw tenses.

"But.. eventually you'll come to know that whatever has happened then, a long time ago.. has made you who you are now." Her eyes lift towards the ceiling, as a little bit of information bleeds through the wall of control. "Blocks?" She glances towards Brinley for information. "On your mind?" We could do that?

'Yes, we could.'

"But why?"


Stilling her mind, stopping it reaching out to touch Jeans, Brin blinks slowly as Mackenzie speaks, reaching for the discarded hairbrush. Jean might enjoy brushing her hair, so does Brin … the practice relaxing and familiar.

"Yes, blocks." The young woman winces again as the brush hits a snarl and she takes a few seconds to tease it out, letting her thoughts wander. "What I became after that attack… " the words delivered quietly "was inhuman. They had to be done." Admittedly, she should have gone back and had the blocks gradually removed - but this had been easier… until now. Jean will sense the uncertainity about that approach on the young womans mind.


Jean turns and watches her for the moment, her teeth grinding just a touch. She listens as she would, her eyes lifting up as tiny bits of information was fed through the lines, her head shaking slightly as she shuts it all out.

"Inhuman. We're all inhuman, even those not of our kind show the capacity to be total, and utter monsters." She touches the collar around her neck, which glows and beeps ever so faintly. "But we also show, all of us, that we can come back from that. And the even more resilient.." She pauses in her words as she pushes away from the window, only reaching for the rake that was nearby. She begins to work at the ground, scraping away the debris and hay, her lips pressed into a slight frown. "..can come back from that without the assistance of someone like.. us." Her hand lifts to press against her chest, features torn.

"Come back from that. Because it's who you are. What you are." She continues to rake until the wood was exposed, the rake soon tossed aside. "And in the end, we're truly just like everyone else. Man, woman, child.. animal.. we were born to stand."

There was a mingling of voices with those words, perhaps they were not her own. Perhaps they were Scott's, guiding Jean to guide 'Mackenzie' to speak. To encourage. To rally a battle cry worthy of Mana. Perhaps, this was Cyclops' design.


Word of the attack on the X-Red facility has naturally reached all of those attached to the X-Men, even those who don't really consider themselves to be members. One of those would be Emma Grace Frost, who for reasons she seems unwilling to examine in herself, nor explain to anyone else, seems to have taken the case of one Jean Grey, aka. MacKenzie Green, rather personally. She's 'invested', as it were. Which is why she suggests to Elizabeth, who ahs access to Cerebro /without/ needing to override advanced tech security, that they seek out this Brinley woman MacKenzie has kidnapped, and use that to locate their quarry.

Then someone - who shall Britishly remain nameless, for her own safety - mentions tracking Brinley's cellphone. What a cheap, all too easy solution to the problem. Emma feels cheated. But it does work. And Emma will keep all of her muttering inside her own skull, so as not to reveal just how petty she can be when her Big Plans (tm) turn out to be unnecessary.

Emma does get the chance to contribute, though, as she provides a Frost International Lear jet to pick them up and carry them all the way to some backwards hick hellhole in the foresaken midwest. Do people actually live in places like this? Seriously?

Most upsetting to Emma so far seems to be the fact that she once more has to go on one of these 'missions' dressed completely inappropriately. Who wears so much black?! It makes her look so washed out and colorless. And these tactical uniforms are so shapeless. Emma wouldn't be caught dead wearing something like this. But the point is not to get dead at all. The plane is high enough overhead that it's highly unlikely anyone at ground level would even notice its passage. The pilot curses a bit, but manages to keep the plane on course and not crash, when the hatch to the plane is opened, and two women dive out into the clear blue sky. Such a waste of a perfectly good airplane.

For her own part, Emma is falling at full acceleration. She doesn't skydive, nor does she know her way around a parachute for an accurate landing. So she's just falling … a glittering, black-shrouded diamond statue. Right out of the slightly overcast blue sky.

BOOOM!

Wow, what a hole in that poor, defenseless field. Poor cows, may not give milk for days.


Bobby's solution for arriving here is hell. Literally. Once information had come indicating that Jean and Brinley had stopped moving, or at least that Brin's phone had done so, the ice nerd called up Magik for a quick teleport through Limbo a field in approximately the ass end of nowhere. He's not in uniform for this. And he's not in a particularly charitable mood either as he stalks toward the barn from the opposite end Emma just arrived at.


Of course tracking Brins cell phone works, she'd hit the alarm code as Jean had appeared. Sometimes the simplest solutions are the best!

Finising brushing her own hair, Brin moves clumsily and uses the band on her wrist to secure her hair in a loose pony tail at the base of her neck. "Come back from it?" she murmurs "I'm trying to… " she hadn't sought assistance this time… choosing instead to face it and try and work it through.

BOOM Brins eyes widen at the sound and glances around and up at Mac, who's just spoken in multiple voices.


Perhaps the secret to wearing black is one of those ancient ninja techniques passed down over the generations, because Betsy wears her black, synthetic silk leotard, too. And she wears it quite well. It's a working uniform, far from her old one-piece 'actually a swimsuit' outfit; thin and flexible padding at key locations protects her vitals from stray threats, and clever sewn-in loop points allow for a discreet but quite generous array of her preferred infiltration equipment to be attached.

Emma goes first- mostly because Betsy wanted to see the woman's reaction to a 10,000 foot dive- and then the kunoichi follows, hair tied back and a thin screen of purple energy protecting her face (and hair). She moves her hands back and forth, coasting along the winds while Emma sort of drops through them with the grace of a falling rock, and with a subtle flare of telekinesis, Betsy arrests her descent and lands neatly, tucking into a quick roll and popping to her feet about thirty feet from Emma. Though dressed for efficiency, she's hadly incognito, and whips her hair back from the temporary net and, while walking, whips out her little ever-present emergency makeup kit, does a quick touchup, and moves on silent toes towards Emma.

~I'm sensing Jean and… is that Brinley?~ Betsy projects in a tight focus to the woman as they approach the barn. ~No- there's an energy nexus of some kind about a hundred meters north of us. That's… Bobby, if I'm not grossly off my mark. He seems agitated,~ Betsy tells Emma, ~but not quite hostile. I'll mask our approach and survey the area, if you'll be a dear and keep nosing around for any newcomers?~ Betsy proposes.

All this happens at the speed of thought, in less time than it takes for them to take two long strides.

Betsy drowns a wave of concern for her friend behind a hard wall of internal focus.


"There is no try. Only do." Those voices seem to say, her gaze leveled upon Brinley until the *Boom* is heard and felt with the slight rattling of the doors. Jean snaps out of her mingled reverie, her gaze nearly bewildered as she holds her chest, taking one slight step back as she tries to still her alarm. Must remain calm, lest the collar itself go haywire. It was on it's last leg, who knows what happens when it goes off.

"I'm sensing two." She states, almost as if she were reporting in from a battlefield that they casually run. That sense draws a certain chill up her spine as she gives a little smile. "Your friend is here."

'Our friend.'

"What?" She glances around, her hands at a brace, fingers soon curling into a fist to pop knuckles as she prepares herself for a fight. But that fight wouldn't be with him. "And they're a little bit early. Get up, Ms. Myers. It's time to 'do'."


~// One moment, dear. //~ Emma sends back, as she scrambles up out of the crater she just created, now that she is no longer in diamond form and can receive - and send - telepathically once more.

Disgusted with the dirt on her gloved hands - if there were no gloves, Emma would still be in that hole, waiting for someone to lift her out; she does NOT do dirt under the fingernails! - Emma still draws the sidearm she brought and follows Elizabeth. She's no ninja, but she can walk quietly with some effort. Imperfectly, but quietly. And she keeps scanning for additional minds. Her precision and ability to hide her own mind suffers from the need to do such broadly-based scanning, hence MacKenzie managing to notice her presence.

~// Mister Drake, I presume? Emma Frost. Elizabeth and I are approaching from the northern end. I should warn you, MacKenzie is even more mentally unstable. //~ Emma updates the Iceman. Here it comes.


~She kidnapped Brinley from our headquarters last night and then flew off with firey birds wings. I am well aware how unstable she is.~ Returns Bobby. That bit about burying Jean? He may possibly make good on that. The air's getting colder as he advances. Ordinarily the ice nerd would try to reign in his power and keep his temper from affecting it. He's not right now. It's a quite literally cold rage that will in a few minutes have hoarfrost forming on the plants around him.

Throwing the door open doesn't seem to be the best play here, especially after what he's zeen Jean do. So he stops outside the barn and eyes it, taking in the timbers and the state of the roof. Were Brinley not in there he'd be sorely tempted to just pile snow on the roof until it gave way. But he's not going to do that. Not yet. ~If you're going to make a play now's the time.~ Or you know, he'll get this started. Ice makes a lovely pry bar when it coems down to it. "Jean?! I know you're in there! What have you done with Brinley?!"


For the first time since waking, Brin lets her mind reach out, sensing Bobby and the other two… But it's to Bobby she reaches, sensing his anger, accepting it…

"He's your friend too." unaware of the mental dialogue occuring in Mackenzie's head, she struggles to her feet, the sharp sting of the pulling on the wound on her thigh contorting her face for a moment. "I won't hurt my friends. Not even you can make me do that." Maybe that's bravado on her part.

Eyes cut to Jean at Bobby's call "I… I'm here, Bobby." OK, her voice might not be all that stable but it's strong at least.


Only a (two) lifetime(s) of discipline keep Betsy from outright grinding her teeth at Bobby's heated/cold anger. She grabs that frustration by the throat and along with her mounting worry, lashes them to her purpose at the moment- getting Jean out of this alive. ~Let's try not to get her /too/ perturbed,~ Betsy projects in a tone of prim British rebuke. ~Because no, you have absolutely no idea how unstable she is, and frankly, compared to some of the tantrums I've seen her throw in the past, this is a walk on the primrose path. Keep her confused and distracted. I'm ending her misadventure,~ she projects with a grim sort of finality.

Betsy wraps herself and her thoughts in shadow and breaks into a silent jog towards the east end of the barn, where her perception of the area tells her is closest to Jean and Brinley's position. There is nothing to sense- all her efforts are turned into making her a literal shadow ghosting towards Jean Grey and her 'hostage'.


CHICAGO, IL:

'Sir, I don't know what's going on, but the satelitee images show a disturbance at the facility in Shipshewana.'
'Bring the images to me on screen.'

The images show the large field and the barn, with three figures over head. However, it shows one figure walking away from the crater that must have recently happened.

'We knew this time would come. Send out an alert to the facility in Shipshewana. Enact burn protocal Mark Zero-Six-Five."

THE BARN:

"I know that." She states towards Brinley, bending to reach for the rake again.. yet thinking the better of it. She tried her best to not use her powers as much, for the barbituates were getting nearly too much to handle, especially missing a few days sleep.

"And I'm not asking you to attack your friends. I'm asking you, in.. my .. odd.. way.." She was struggling obviously, but her eyes soon shoot towards the door at the sound of Brinley's voice, allowing her to answer. "..It's clear, Myers, that there's a struggle going on. That something has happened to me and this Jean Grey. And I need you to trust in us now to help me find out what. Because we both want to go home.. and we can't. Not like this."

Her hand stretches out towards the floorboard beneath them, the wood soon crackling and peeling.. until a series of loud snaps is heard, each lined wood tearing apart and breaking to reveal pure metal underneath. "Don't quell him. Don't soothe him. I.. need all of your anger right about now. Because we.." meaning her and Jean.. "..can't do this alone."


To help sell things, Emma picks up projecting a duplicate psychic image of a relatively unshielded Elizabeth, right in the same relative position she was just in, advancing on the north end of the barn with Emma even as the real Betsy is heading for the eastern edge to make a different entrance.

~// We're here to save two lives, Mister Drake. Not just one. As much pain as Ms. Myers is in, and she is afraid, she is not currently concerned for her life. Her confusion is mirroring that from Ms. Green. And now it's time for us to move. Green is convinced the collar is going to go haywire any moment now. Elizabeth, dear, do please remember McCoy's lecture on the device. //~ Emma coaches everyone, as they approach their entry points.

Rather than blasting through the barn, Emma reaches out, lifts a latch, and slides the rickety barn door open as she slips inside, pistol out and in a two-handed grip as she advances. "MacKenzie … It's time to stop running." she offers aloud. She knows Jean is rising high, ready to make a breakthrough. But MacKenzie is still the mind most in control. The one that needs to be spoken to. They're here to bring them all home. Somehow.


"Let her go and we can talk." Bobby calls back. Betsy is ignored. She might be ready to do something soon but that's all that Bobby really cares about at this point. As if to underscore how serious he is A number of foot long spikes of ice appear above the barn and drive themselves into the roof. Simultaneously Bobby starts to pour ice into the cracks between the boards. Water breaks a lot of things just in the natural process of freezeing, since it expands when it does so. Iceman has learned to use that fun bit of physics to get into places in creative ways in the past. The walls and barn door ice up groan under the pressure and a wave of cold indicates inside that Bobby has moved closer. It just takes a little bit more pressure at the right angle to send a four foot section of the wall splintering outward. And then there's Bobby with a track and field style javelin of ice in his hand.

Whatever the other telepaths may sense one thing will be quite clear: Jean's recovery alive is not a priority of Bobby's. He's quite willing to leave her cooling corpse here if that's what it takes.


Brin watches Mackenzie and nods solwly "I will aid you." But trust, no? She trusts Jean, but not Mackenzie… and Jean is in there somewhere.

As to anger being needed? "You need him under control and he will kill you…" Brins stunned at that realisation, but she's sensing it loud and clear from Iceman. And Brin really doesn't do anger… but she can focus when needed… "What the hell is that?" She looks at the metal lining under the floor… clearly there's something more here. Fear fades to curiosity as she looks between the floor and Mackenzie.

And then the door blows and there stands Bobby, javelin in hand…


Betsy is so close. /So close/. Even for a ninja, it wouldn't be much of a challenge, but compounded by Betsy's talents at stealth and silence, it's practically cheating. One door opens. One wall gets blasted in. Brinley, staggered; Jean/Mack, an unknown quantity. Emma. Bobby, clearly in a murdering mood.

And for the second time since these misadventures began, Betsy is almost shocked to realize the depths to which she's willing to go to keep Jean Grey alive. A part of her brain works clinically to calculate the angle, speed, and approach of a jump that would let her take Jean in one swift stab to the brain. Another part notices a shadowed approach, obscured by haybales- a leap, a blast of psionic energy, a knife through Bobby's brain to stun him into submission. Or worse.

She shakes her head at the clamoring internal dissonance, wavering a half-step. And then she realizes the barn is no barn.

Her brain goes into high gear for another half-beat, exploring possibilities, flinging her tactile gestalt awareness into that steel vault underfoot. It's not as easy as reading open terrain, but she can suddenly hear the clamorous thoughts of scientists and guards below- and where there are guards, there are surely prisoners…

"Mackenzie," comes Betsy's soft voice, from behind the redhead. She steps out of the shadows slowly, hands visible, making every effort not to startle the woman. "There's something under this barn, isn't there," she says, her tone quietly confident, eyes locked on Mack's. "Something you want to show us. Something you wanted to show Brinley." Her eyes slide to Brinley, then Bobby, then back again to Mackenzie. "Can you tell me what it is?"


A glance out the window shows Betsy running towards the barn, which causes Jean to set into a mild panic. She floorboards were soon ripped asunder, careful around Brinley and herself, controlling the trajectory of splinters so that no harm would come to either of them, even though harm.. physical and mental, already had it's due.

The opening of the door already has her shields slamming upright, a step upon now metal floors has her hand rising to still Emma, without the use of powers, but a gesture alone. "Don't.." She wasn't running, but there was no time for her to explain, especially as Bobby intercepts as well, javelin in hand, preparing to fire. Her other hand goes out towards him, wanting to halt as well, and show that she was unarmed. Her methods, weren't thought out with a clear head. Not at all.

But it was Betsy who gets the final scare, arriving from behind Jean which causes her to shriek out, jumping away from the ninja with an arm that flails slightly at the air; a knee lifted and stomped upon the metal and a few punches thrown into the wind as a look of anger soon crosses her features.

"YOU ALWAYS DO THAT!"

What? Perhaps Jean was shocked enough to finally let those words through; it was anyones guess.

But her words break through the clouds of confusion, a slight nod given, trying her best to not allow those tears to momentarily fall. The empaths present would feel guilt, an incredible amount of it, something that she tried her best to hide.

"I did.. didn't know.." She confesses.. dropping her hands to her side. "But they're here.. they're.. all here.." At least three terrified minds if they choose to focus upon the ground, the other three silently sleeping under their thrall.


The sudden realization that there's more under this barn refocuses Bobby. He looks over to Brinley and then Jean and then the other two telepaths, jaw setting. He, uh, cant just dismiss the javelin so it remains in his hand. "Clear off the metal. I'll ease your way in."

The temperature atop it plunges. Down, down, well below freezing. Cold metal gets brittle. Especially if its rapidly cooled. Jean or Betsy or Emma, hell even Brin can probably shatter it and get in. Once they are… they'll see what has to be done.


Emma advances, slowly and steadily, until she helps form a perimeter around the two previously missing women. She glances down at the metal, and nods. She can pick up the confusion, the roiling uncertainty of identity inside Jean's mind. "Alright. You both need medical attention. But … we should deal with this."

Emma backs up just far enough to let Iceman do his thing, and she nods. "One moment, ladies." she offers, as her mind drops out of the telepathic network currently in place, her form changing into glittering diamond once more. "Everyone ready?" she asks aloud. She waits for a hint of assent, and then hops up, coming down on that super-cooled metal even as she crouches with the landing, swinging that diamond-hard fist at the surface to shatter it. Sure, she knows she'll be dropping down. She's prepared for it.

Knock knock! Avon calling!


"I know…" Brin speaks quietly to Jean, trying not to let the fear she senses below overwhelm her. Glancing to Bobby, she let's her mind brush his - she's ok, not harmed anymore than she had been before, and now she has a purpose to focus on.

Stepping back as Emma and Bobby do their thing, she'll follow the lead for the moment - field ops aren't generally Brins' thing.


Betsy can't help it- she barely swallows a girlish giggle at Jean's flailing reaction, a bit of giddy relief at the gamble paying off making her tones a bit higher than normal. She composes herself quickly but allows herself a truely affectionate eye towards the redhead, who is very obviously still hauling her best friend around inside.

"It's all right, darling," Betsy soothes, stepping towards Jean. A hand rises and falls, the motion aborted by self doubt. It's not 'Jean' inside of there. But then again, was Betsy still Elizabeth when she came back?

She spreads her hands out, firmly stomping on gnawing self-doubt, and offers Jean a reassuring hug.

The moment passes and she readies herself once again, hair whipping up into a neat bun at the base of her neck, two stilettos disguised as chopsticks holding it in place. She dons her half-mask and nods at Brinley and Bobby, then Jean, then gives Emma a thumbs up.

The moment Emma knocks the door down, Betsy somersaults in with a flip, landing with a sword out in her left hand and her splayed fingers coiled around a primed bolt of psionic force. She quickly clears the hallway, hugging a wall, and puts her hand against the metal. Thoughts surge and push as she telekinetically tap-tap-taps her way around the facility with a sort of psychokinetic echolocation, trying to get a sense for how it's laid out.

~Linking in,~ comes her calm voice in everyone's mind, as Betsy startes roping people into a gestalt mental process and feeds them a diluted version of her tactical awareness.


Jean knew, somehow, that Bobby was useful for something! A quiet little jab was given to the self as she watches the ground freeze, taking the necessary steps backward and with a turn towards Betsy to return the hug.. no matter how awkward it felt. But.. it was good to feel another persons touch, to have someone understand. To work for the same goal that didn't involve the harming of another.

'You have a lot of apologizing to do.'

"I know." She says to herself, and to everyone present.

The crackle-shatter of the frozen metal ground causes Jean to look over, a gaze gone towards Bobby and then Brinley, leaping into the darkness just after Betsy..

And the link..

The laboratory was almost immaculate. Almost. Save for the space that it obviously posesses, it also wasn't lacking in equipment. Ahead there was an intersection, a five way star that links the facility at the middle. There were also people rushing, carrying boxes around to be tossed into the incinerator at one hallway, and at the most five guards who were preparing to gear up with body armor and weaponry to usher their 'experiments' out.

Another room houses the mechanics and chemicals, while the hallway leads to the offices that the people currently rushed into and ran from. The last two rooms housed the medical facility, where currently, a young woman remained upon the table as another, a man, screams a scream that no man should be able to produce.

A guard stops, his eyes upon the three that sunk into the hole, his rifle rose to eye level as he snarls. "WHAT THE FUCK?!"


Emma hates letting go of the diamond form in a situation like this. She' snot nearly bulletproof enough without it. But she's also unable to connect telepathically, even receptively, while in diamond form. So she has to let it go. Even in the face of a guard raising his rifle threateningly.

Unfortunately for said guard, and everyone else inside this facility, Emma doesn't play by anyone's rules but her own. If she has her telepathy back, along with her fleshy vulnerability, then she's going to use her powers for her own safety. Everyone else be damned.

Emma's mind reaches out, seeking every guard, every scientist, everyone inside this entire facility. This is where that disciplined, cold, exceptionally precise mind of hers comes in handy. She finds them. Some may be resistant. Some may even somehow be immune to her will. But she finds them. And she simply turns them off, like lightswitches.

~// Sleep. //~

Emma lifts her pistol as she raises herself from her crouched landing on the floor beneath the shattered armored ceiling, and keeps it aimed at the guard as he slumps and collapses to the ground. And despite her desire, she does not actually fire into his skull. Even if she wants to. ~// Alright. Let's get moving. //~ The field of sleep will continue to grow outwards as she seks out those minds. Time to seize some evidence, damnit. Alright, fine. And save lives. Whatever.


Bobby is on his phone. They'll want out fairly quickly for this and if there's not an airplane standing by then portals will have to do. Back to X-Red would be ideal. They can handle at least some of them from there. "I've got Magik standing by." He murmrurs as he slides down the hole. There doesn't seem to be much else left to do other than wait for the signal to extract but there's always a chance.


Following Bobby and Jean down into the hole, Brin waits for Emma's efforts to take effect. Following the sound of that eeiry scream, she motions to Bobby to follow her, please… she knows what's she's sensing. "Call the office, tell the Rescue medics we'll have incoming that will need attention." Hopefully, Emmas Field of Effect has reached the medlab by the time Brin gets there.


Betsy's reaction to the shooter is to explode into a backflip, like a grasshopper startled by a noise, and flip into the air. She moves so fast her feet pound twice on the wall and ceiling and she lands behind Emma's diamond form, psionic force cradled in her right hand-

-and she realizes rather abruptly that Emma's a bit curvier and squishier than a diamond ought to be. She blinks, the hand resting on Emma's shoulderblade tapping fingers experimentally, then she leans around the woman and looks at the downed guard.

"I say, thank you, dear," Betsy says with proper British understatement once it catches up with her what happened. She slips around Emma with a touch to her shoulder and collects the guard's gun, producing a series of clackity gun-like noises as she examines it with a professional eye, and collects some ammunition to boot. Then she kicks him in the ribs just for the hell of it. "Don't point a gun at my friends, you colossal twit," she mutters, finally getting to take out a bit of her frustration on /something/.

Tucking the gun up tight against her shoulder, a bandolier banging against her hip, Betsy starts moving quietly down the hallway looking for all the world like she's done this sort of thing a million times, the gun traversing back and forth to aim the barrel wherever her eyes happen to be looking.

"Be careful, Brin," Betsy advises the empath calmly, confirming the direction from which the screams seem to be coming. She moves to the opposite side of the hall from the other woman, a few paces ahead to clear the way for the slightly more vulnerable X-member.


For once, it seemed that everyone.. even though Mackenzie was not Jean was not Mackenzie, were on the same wave-length. Somewhere inside, she moved with them like a well oiled machine, the arrival of the guard did spark a tiny flame to burst within Jean's eyes but was cooly taken out by Emma's gifts.

She remains behind, watching as Elizabeth and Emma take the lead, turning to see Brinley and Bobby possibly take another path, while her consciousness begins to split and tear itself asunder to seek out the minds and aid in their sleep.

For if one wasn't enough, there were two. And then there would be three.

The second half of that consciousness begins to move like an orchestra; her hands lifting to press against her temple as those who had fallen with the papers allows the documents to fly, whipping and whirling into folders, collapsing themselves back into their boxes, slowly slid across the floor.

'~Watch your step.' It was going to be a heavy haul indeed..

By the time Brinley does reach the medical bay, the screaming man had stopped, his collar, much like Jean's, flashes rapidly, green.. yellow.. red.. repeating the sequence over and over again as his body trembles and shakes. He was being fed a heavy dose of barbituates and shock, all the while his eyes remain focused upon the screen, the flashing pictures told of war.. another mans story that tries to bleed and subdue itself into his brain.

The woman remained unconscious through it all, it seemed as if her time had been done for now, but the steady cadence of colors told that her time would be due soon.

If Bobby should venture in his own route, the second medical bay would house those who were almost in preparation to be transfered to the next room over, and they either clung to the bars in hope, whilst others cried in the corners, huddled with their arms risen to shield themselves from any backlash that was to come.


Leading with Elizabeth, Emma moves with far more tactical accumen than even she herself possessed, as she reads Elizabeth's own responses and mirrors them herself, adapting and adjusting as they make their way through the facility. When they reach the medical bay, Emma looks towards MacKenzie, and then Elizabeth.

"You will have to be the one to take this apart. I suggest, if you are going to do so, you practice on this gentleman, before working on MacKenzie's. The level of barbituates in his system is risking his life, and they do not care." She offers this aloud, not trying to hide anything, as they continue their work. There will be a lot of boxes to carry. Perhaps they can ask some of these grateful prisoners, about to be freed to assist? Emma is not exactly one to relish physical labor.


Bobby winds up in that other med bay. His eyes narrow as he sees the caged mutants. "Stand back from the bars." It's the same trick he used to help them get in here but it works. A quick freeze followed by a kick shatters the locks on the cells one after another. "Don't wander far, we'll get you all out of here. They may need some help in the next room though." Where'd Jean go? Bobby just hopes she's not causing trouble.


"We'll use stepping disks to transfer the files." Brin's vaguely aware of Jean organising the boxes. If their stacked together, Magik can open a disk right under or over them and take them back to X-Red.

For a long moment, she watches the man and the screen with the disturbing images, indecisive… unsure. They're playing with someone's head, afterall… and then making a decision, reaches up to turn the screen off. At least she can try interrupt the programming process… and it might not kill him. But then again…

"I suggest that we take them back, first. And then mess with those collars. Our time here is likely limited and none of us are medics, I believe?" Brins had training though, still undertaking it.


"I can handle them," Betsy says to Brinley with some assurance, coming around the corner into the medlab. With the constant flow of awareness between the team members, it's hard to be surprised. "The area seems secure, but I'd rest easier knowing we've someone on hand to manage any lingering traps or androids. Bobby, if you'd ensure that the guards are disarmed and corralled somewhere?" she suggests to the Iceman. "Brinley, go with Jea- Mackenzie, and do endeavour to keep her calm," she requests politely of the empath. "Emma, a lookout if you wouldn't mind, and search the guards' memories for any indications of automated countermeasures."

Betsy slings the rifle across her back and moves to the first man, touching his cheek and brow, then with a careful, deliberate motion, creates a needle-like point of psionic energy on her fingertip nearly eight inches long and pushes it between his eyebrows. With an expression of steady concentration, she probes and pushes- and then he sighs and goes completely limp in the posture of the truely asleep.

"He'll likely be comatose for some time," Betsy informs Brin, moving to the next patient and repeating the procedure. "I've isolated the part of his brain that communicates a need to wake up, and shorted it out. We can get them somewhere safe and have Emma or the Professor do a more rigorous examination and come up with a plan of treatment." She moves with assured motions, systematically neutralizing all of the patients one by one with a cool expression. Even the conscious ones awaiting treatment get a gentle touch to the brow and then that psionic lance between their eyes that doesn't even leave a mark on the skin. A bit cruder than Emma's methods, perhaps, but just as effective.


Jean was right where they left her, at the apex of the hallways, her mind gathering the boxes and dragging them to a stack just as they intended. Whilst they weren't speaking through the mind-link, intentions were felt and her own guesses were surmised within that instance.

They were making quick work, it was a quiet snatch and grab, what was once a bustling facility of illegal activities was now officially shut down in the middle of extraction. And once all of the evidence was gathered, Jean slowly sighs, her hand reaching down to tug at the collar as she takes an about-faced turn into the other direction, towards the offies.

The doors were kept ajar by a lingering body in the way, Jean stepping over the sleeping woman as she glances up towards the monitors to watch her temporary teammates in action. They moved as one, even Mackenzie could appreciate that methodology, but.. try as she might, to block out the horrors of what has been done to her..

'Do you know where it is.'

"Yes." She mutters quietly.

'Take it.'

She moves from the monitors towards the wall, her hands pressing along the surface, the plaster behind it splitting and crumbling away to reveal a small, set in cabinent, which was soon shattered. Tapes along tapes were taken, shuffled through, tossed aside.. a few stuffed within her pockets until she finds one that reads 'Alpha'. That too, was stuffed into her top, as a slight sigh is drawn from her breath.

'Do you have it? What you wanted?'

"Yes."

'Can we go home now?'

The answer was left into the air as she takes a slight step away from the busted wall, her expression grim as her bottom lip begins to tremble. "Not until I burn it all and everything inside.."


"MacKenzie - and Jean - need our help." Emma offers to Elizabeth, as they are cleaning up. She works quickly to free those Betsy has rendered unconscious, and then moves towards the hallway as she activates her previously inactive X-teams communicator, sending out coordinates for pick-up. Medbay tables and chairs will disappear, as those portals start appearing in the proper places.

"She's in the offices, that direction. The fractures are widening, and she's getting ready to do something incredibly destructive." Emma fills in Elizabeth, as she goes about doing what she needs to do, searching the minds of the unconscious, unshielded scientists and guards, looking for knowledge of the countermeasures in place here. "There are charges throughout the superstructure here. They're not as easily or quickly set off remotely, but they can do so. Assuming they started the countdown when we busted in, we have perhaps five more minutes before they detonate. Likely closer to two minutes."


Uh, if Jean's burning things down then it's time to go. Bobby sends that text out. It says only one word: 'Now'. Stepping disks open near over the staff, the files, the former prisoners. A couple more open near the X-Men. In short order folks are herded out. Bobby motions to Brin. They'll need to set things up on the other end. "Jean, come on." He'll trust the other two to come or get out as they need. And then he steps through. It's a very short jaunt through hell to the other side.


Brin returns as Bobby motions and gently takes Jeans arm, if she'll let her, "Come with us, we'll need some help on the other end, please." It's a request and Brin steps through hell, back to the safety of the X-Red HQ, where she'll start organising things on that end.


Betsy's the last one out- she acknowledges all the communiques and transmissions and conversation, but she stays near Jean. Even as Jean starts the fires- even as she woman starts to set off the chain reaction to end the entire affair and bring it down around them in a cataclysm of fire. She stands with one hand on Jean's shoulder, one on her arm, holding her friend gently as the entire place roars in flame and fury as Jean smashes and wrecks it with wild, careless force, mind lashing out with unrestrained fury.

In the last moment before the place collapses, a telekinetic field protecting them, Betsy's hand slides up the back of Jean's neck, weaving fingers through her hair, and she bumps her forehead against Jean's temple with a bittersweet affection, holding her friend close for a moment.

Then that psionic knife slips into Jean's brain from behind, scattering shards of psionic energy through her neural web, and induces a deep, dreamless coma. Betsy catches Jean and hoists her over one shoulder without comment or complaint, and she steps into Magik's portal and vanishes, leaving behind only melted, scarred steel and the remains of a laboratory.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 License