Home Invasion

November 05, 2015:

After their supposed date, Nightcrawler intercepts a home invasion

Crowley's Apartment


NPCs: Three thugs



Mood Music: [*\# None.]

Fade In…

There really wasn't a question as to if she were being followed or not. Lillith always kept her awareness about her, and her gut told her that she was relatively safe. She didn't live too far from OnePP nor the bar, the late night traffic was scarce enough to allow her to occasionally cross the street at a diagonal, looking to and fro and obviously missing the quiet demon behind her. For a moment, she actually stops to talk to a man passing by for a late night walk of his dog, even leaning down to lightly pet the dog as the two exchange pleasantries and pass along on the streets. The man always felt happier that a detective was living in their building. He considered it safe.

Once she reached the door to her complex, the worn down, ratty building, she unlocks it with a few jiggle of her keys and bumps the door hard enough to cause a loud bang to enter. The residents were all too familiar with the sound, knowing that people at their designated times were coming and going.

She lived on the third floor of the complex, disappearing inside for a moment until she unlocks her door and sets her things down into the hallway. The lights were soon flickered on which gave a quiet glimpse inside of her apartment. The walls were white and plain, a few fixtures littering the wall to make it seem as if it were a little bit more richly than she could afford. There was one painting that hung there, a monet, obviously a copy, one that she painted herself to at least make the place look like home.

The furniture was something you could actually shake a stick at, regular brown sofa, large flat screen tv which was affordable, wireless hookup for the television and internet all at once. Desk in the corner which holds her laptop and.. shockingly enough.. papers scattered across the floor with random scribblings of drawings upon them. The scenes were odd, some faded, some not.. pictures of demons that were small and large, often carrying the same look of Nightcrawler and yet.. seemed faded, drawn in black and white.

Lillith doesn't sit down, even though she kicks off her shoes, her gun placed in the stand near the door which is soon locked away with her key.

Kurt feels a bit guilty for following her, once she gets home safely. He knew he was just looking out for her - much as she said he should leave it to professionals, he knew he was plenty professional. More so than she, most likely, when it came to anti-mutant terrorists. Still, she gets home okay and he wonders if maybe his motives weren't as pure as he would have liked. Not that he was leering at her or anything, but it felt like he was connected a bit, knowing where she lived now. Not particularly healthy, Herr Wagner. The loneliness really was starting to get to him.

He's about to teleport away and leave her to her rest when he sees the men going in the back door of the building. They don't look like they belong. He gets a glimpse of something that looks like a gun, too and now he's narrowing his eyes. Seems like maybe his instincts weren't so far off after all.

The bag was set upon the kitchen table as she begins to unravel it, taking out the contents and placing it into the tupperware she usually has set out, opening the fridge to place it inside as she moves to wash her hands. It was just going to be a normal night for her. All she needed to do was straighten out and make sure that everything was secure before falling asleep. Which probably included sweeping the floor and making sure she had something to wear. The television was flicked on and turned up a bit to create background noise as she moves into her bedroom, dressing herself down into a nice pair of yoga pants and a tank top, flack jacket tossed upon the floor willy nilly, hair soon tied onto a bun-like ponytail to stay out of her way.

She was in the kitchen again, opening the fridge, grabbing a beer as she jumps and hops to sit upon the counter top, watching the tv from afar as she leans against the cabinent to sigh.

The men kick open her door hard. There's nothing subtle about their attempts here - they want her out of the way, silence and disposed of. Some of them even ahve notions of having a little fun along the way - there's been a gang-raping spree in some of the nearby neighborhoods, still under investigation, and they're not above getting their jollies in during the course of putting down a mutie-sympathizer. Bitch is probably asking for it.

They come in heavy, two armed with shotguns, the other two with pistols as they make their way into her apartment, trusting that nobody here is going to be dumb enough to call the cops before they do what they need to do.

None of them hear the *BAMF* in the hallway outside as a demon manifests in their wake…

It started slow enough, the lift of her beer bottle to her lips.. and everything stops. It wasn't adrenaline, but a singular awareness that something was about to go entirely wrong. At the same time the door is busted open, Lillith hops down from her counter top, her first path taking her to her room to quietly shut the door, hoping that it doesn't alert them right away to her position. She only had a few minutes to put on her vest, which was slid on hap-hazardly and strapped to her body as she quickly dashes for the closet. The door was closed behind her and she ducks down, searching through boxes which were quietly tossed aside in search of her backup pistol.. which..

..She just now realizes is underneath her mattress…

The men search rapidly but, perhaps, in some confusion, having expected to find her in tihe living room so close they followed on her arrival home. They spread quickly - despite their lack of subtlety in taking down her door, they don't shout or call out, they just start to move, one heading for the bathroom, another for the bedroom ,another the kitchen.

The one left behind in the living room, waiting to back up whoever shouts for help, suddenly finds his own voice muffled as a three-fingered hand wrapas around his face, covering his mouth as a weight suddenly hits his back, rolling and spinning as it shoves him down into a monkey-flip.

She'll hear a loud THUMP on the wall as the killer finds himself flung into it, plaster denting as Nightcrawler comes back up and vanishes in a burst of sulfur just as the man in the kitchen turns to open fire on him.

There was no danger there.. and this was the part where she knew that she wasn't going to.. well, die. She didn't see it in her vision, but she did have a slight feeling that she'd wind up getting hurt. The first hails of gunfire causes her to stand, a looming shadow (not so looming) in the darkness of the closet, the man with the gun passing by just enough for her to burst out at full speed to attempt to shoulder check him into the ground.

The thumps were loud, someone else was here, she wanted to quickly disarm him so that she could either kill him or.. well, knock him out. Her options were limited, being unarmed.

But the man was solid and quick in the sense that when she shoulder checked him, he stumples and lands hard against the dresser, knocking everything onto the floor with a turn to fire three shots center mass, which sends her flying back onto her nightstand, knocking the lamp and the stand itself onto the ground.

Kurt has teleported behind the man in the kitchen as he fires at where the blue elf had been. He throws a spinning kick, lashing out and catching the guy at the base of the skull, making him stumble forward. The thug comes up with a knife in hand, trying to stab at Kurt, but, for all his weekend warrior training he's not really capable of managing Kurt's agility. Nightcrawler dodges a few clumsy slashes with the knife and, at last, ducks low and throws a groin-level palm strike which makes the guy sink to his knees, finishing him off with a spinning slash of his leg to knock him out.

When he hears those gunshots in the bedroom, though, he cries out, "Lillith!" he says and then he teleports, his BAMF audible suddenly int eh bedroom as he appears right on her bed, cannonballing in to leap at the man who just shot her.

It felt like searing hot pain; she couldn't breathe. She could barely even feel her fingers as her entire body goes numb. Her eyes open, tears slowly falling from them as the smell.. what smell was that? It burned her nose..

Her ears were even ringing from the gunshots, her hand striking out to grasp against the wall to try to draw herself upright, stumbling and falling to the ground as the crash of the cannonballing blue man into the thug destroys the mirror upon her dresser and everything else she had lain there. Her hand sinks beneath the mattress to grasp her backup weapon, drawn and quartered down upon the two as she tries to fight through the searing pain to keep herself conscious.

Thankfully, she wasn't bleeding, but she was certain that a few of her ribs were cracked and her chest wall may have been bruised. Par is the course for a cop who wears a vest. You don't die but you're hurting like hell.

Kurt and the man engage in a shadowy battle, the mutant showing his impossible agility as he dodges point-blank shots, jerking his head right out of the way of the gun levelled at him. He lashes out, wrapping his tail around the killer's neck, twisting and wrenching until they're tangled up together. It's impossible to get a clean shot with them like this. Kurt's strength is slightly above the human norm, but not so tremendous that he can just totally overpower the fit man.

Still, Kurt finally wrangles around, wrapping his arms arounad and starting to choke the guy out, the scumbag falling forward onto the bed. Which, unfortunately, leaves Kurt's back totally exposed as the fourth and final killer makes his way in, shotgun raised to finish off the freak who's assaulting his friend.

Lillith rolls away from the bed, keeping herself against the wall, her body at a slight hunch as she tries to blink hard to focus in on the battle. They were moving entirely too much, her gun hand pointed and aimed, one eye closing as she nearly shrinks down onto the ground but.. it looks as if Kurt actually had the man down and she could finally relax.

Her world slows down, eyes dialating as she draws in a breath, her gaze narrowing as her arm swings towards the killer in a mechanical motion which allows her to pull the trigger three times.


She finally blinks as the man goes down, her broken arm pressing against his chest as she falls to one knee, the gun still held at a point downward as she finally stands to stagger into the other rooms. She wasn't going to kill them, she just had to make sure that they were down..

Kurt gasps in alarm as he hears the gunshots, rolling with the man in his grip until he sees his would-be killer slumping to the ground. His own assailant is choked out now, allowing Kurt to release him and roll him off the bed. The mutant takes a moment to catch his breath. He sits up and then pads off the bed, moving over to where Lillith is on the floor.

"It's okay, that was the last of them," he says softly, his accent a little stronger in the wake of such violence. "You are well, all is well, we stopped them, ja? Do you have any handcuffs or rope, that I might secure them in case any of them wake up? I will make sure to get out of here before any of your colleagues arrive - you can just blame a mysterious vigilante. There are enough of those to go around."

The loud thump causes her to turn, her hand reaching up to rub at her eye as she draws in a breath. She was near delirious, in pain, angry.. fed up, fucked up and just wondering where in the hell that she went wrong. What.. the hell happened.

"Kurt..?" She questions, confused in that moment, her brows lowering as she gestures towards the dresser.

Now, so what. Don't think horribly about a woman who has handcuffs in her dresser drawer! She sometimes loses them! Right?!

He doesn't judge - hey, she's a cop, after all, where else is she going to put them? He just gets up and gathers the cuffs, going back to the living room after he secures the men in the bedroom, getting them all propery trussed. Just for the hell of it, he throws in some gags, too, ripping one of their shirts to make a nice cloth to stuff in their mouths. He just doesn't want to hear the anti-mutant crap that's likely to come out of their mouths. He gets enough of that.

He returns, having given her a moment to gather her wits, "I just had a bad feeling, so I wanted to make sure you got home safely. I guess I may have a little bit of the sixth sense, ja?"

She nearly didn't move from where she stood as he went to secure everything within the house, turning just a touch to settle down upon the bed, her cast covered hand touching upon her forehead as she lets out a little sigh. Adrenaline was still there, causing her body to shake, even as she slowly begins to unstrap the body armor that she wore. Which was damaged. She could already feel the bruises grow upon her chest.

As he returns, she looks up towards him, her jaw set into a fit of anger. She wasn't mad at him, she was mad at what happened. But she does immediately stand to draw her arms around him and into a tight hug. She was just.. glad that he was there.

Kurt's surprised at the embrace, but returns it. Very gingerly, as he immediately discerns that she's hurt, "We should get you to the hospital, fraulein. Have you called for assistance yet?" he asks softly. He helps to guide her to sit down on the edge of her bed, taking a moment to leave again just to fetch her a glass of water, returning and offering it carefully.

"I hate to say it, but, fo rthem to have found you so quickly, when they did…someone at that bar must have tipped them off," he says softly.

"No.. no. I'm fine. It's just bruises is all.." She manages to say. But he was off, getting a glass of water in the kitchen. Honestly, if she remembered that she had pictures of him drawn upon the floor, she would immediately tell him to leave, but it was forgotten for now. "I didn't call anyone yet.." She murmurs softly, drawing a hand upon her face as she purses her lips tightly.

"Yeah.." She murmurs quietly, saddened. "Tipped them off or.. I don't even know why they were here.. who they are.. what they are.." She murmurs slightly, dropping the gun upon the bed to shake her hand out, then drinks the water that was offered. "God.. I'm going to be investigated again. It's going to be a pain. This is going to put me out for at least a week.." Desk duty. Which is why she doesn't want to go to the hospital.

Kurt Wagner considers for a moment, "Well…we could not say anything. I'm not saying that we…just let it go, but that doesn't mean you have to get official. We coud take these guys somewhere, dump them. They might come back for you, though. Maybe you can find another pretense to get them locke dup, something that doesn't come back to you?"

All of thissounds very unethical and lying, but, well, while he may be a moral arbiter in some things, Kurt also knows the difference between important matters of good and evil and bureaucratic issues that have more to do with law than ethics. In this case, the important thing is to make sure that Lillith is safe and to makes ure these men face some form of justice - not to mention find out who sent them.

"No.. no.. I'm sure everyones heard the gunshots by now and that the police are on the way.." She finally draws away from him now, then reaches out to lightly put her cast hand up to touch upon his cheek. "You have to go. I'll take care of everything here. It's all gotta be legal or.." She just shakes her head. "I gotta play this one close to the chest.."

And with that said, she was reminded of the many pictures of him upon the floor, her hand reaching out to grasp his shoulder or.. slowly let go. She didn't need to tell him to go out the front door, he could do that teleporting thing that he does to get out. "You need to leave, right now. And never come back. And stay away from me." She didn't want to say it, but.. he needed to be safe, at least until she found out what her dreams meant. If they were even real at all. "Just.. don't contact me. I can't ke.. keep putting you in harms way." She presses a hand against her chest, wheezing slightly.

"Get out of here. I mean it.."

Kurt Wagner is almost touched by it, if he wasn't also a bit angry. He's seen the drawings around - he isn't sure exactly what they mean, whether it's flattering or threatening, but he wasn't about to press the issue to someone who'd just been nearly murdered in their own apartment. When she wheezes, though, he takes her arms and guides her back to a chair, more ethan happy to use a little pressure to sit her down whether she likes it or not.

"I put myself in harm's way, fraulein, and have done so willingly for most of my adult life. I have faced far worse than a few, if you will pardon the term, assholes with guns," he says.

"You need to see a doctor, that much is clear. So, until I know that you are safe and taken care of, I will not be going anywhere. If you wish to use your authority to arrest me for it, by all means, do so. I have been arrested before.

That grasp of her arms causes her to grow still, her feet following the movements but her mind.. elsewhere. If he looked closely, he could see her pupils heavily dialate, and shrink back to normal as soon as she sits. Her hand lifts, her eyes closing, fingers pressing against the bridge of her nose. She had a headache, that was for certain, and mildly irritated at his insistence. "Goddamn it Kurt.." She swears, hanging onto her side. "Fine.. Call them. And then you leave. You can't be seen here or I won't be the one doing the arresting."

Kurt Wagner smiles, "I would never speak with certainty of the will of God, fraulein, but I am fairly certain He would want me to help you, whether you like it or not. All life is sacred, yes, but must be risked, at time, in service of what is right," he says. He draws out his own phone, a simple burner with 911 on speed dial - his large fingers aren't really good for much else, so he just has 911 for it, with a special communicator for the X-men.

He does his best not to have a German accent on the phone, which results in him sounding mostly like a slightly nasal news anchor, "Yes, hello. I just heard some shots in the Corso building. Yeah, the one on Jackson. I think there was a crash, too, like someone falling. No, I haven't heard anything in a while but someone could be hurt. No, I'm sorry, I don't want to get involved," he says and then quicklky hangs up.

"Should take them another ten minutes or so to get here. Don't worry, I can always leave at the last second. Teleportation is good dfor that," he says.

"And what is right is for you to respect my wishes when I state and firmly believe that I do not want to see any harm come to you because of me. If you die, regardless of how experienced you are or not, or even just get hurt a little bit, the guilt will eat at me as it has done time and time again. Your blood will be on my hands. And as much as you'd like to say that it wouldn't, it is true." She wants to stand, but she waits for him to call 911, leaning back within the chair, her breathing ragged, her heart beating so fast she could hardly contain it within her chest.

"It doesn't matter of what you're able of, Kurt. I protect this city and its people to the best of my ability. I'm a cop. A policewoman. Its my duty to see you don't come to harm." She wasn't going to continue to plead and beg. If he interfered, she'd have him arrested.. for his own safety.

Kurt Wagner listens to the harangue for a long moment and finishes with a shrug of his own shoulders, "You, of course, have to do what you think is right. But I will continue to help you regardless and you cannot stop me. If you have issues with guilt, well, that is the nature of human existence. If we take responsibility for the guilt of others, we would become entrapped, forever, in an endless web of responsibility and self-recrimination. I have been there and it is a dark place. If you find yoursef there, I woud implore you to seek help for it - therapy, at the least ,if you're not the sort to go to confession," he says.

"I have made vows of my own, fraulein, as sacred to me as yours are to you. My own duties and my own cause. Simply because I do not have a badge or receive a salary does not make them any less vital to me as yours are to you. If we meet again, as adversaries, so be it. But my life, fraulein, belongs to me and my God and none other. But, as you said, for now. Good day," he says.

And with a bursting BAMF of sulphur, he vanishes. Teleportation makes the last word easy to get.

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