Room for Improvement*If stupidity got me into this mess, why can’t it get me out?* With Will Rogers in his mind, Matt glared at the windows that were now securely locked and barred. It was amazing how quickly these dorm rooms had been turned into holding cells, and in spite of himself, he was impressed by the meticulous planning that had so obviously taken place beforehand. Who these people were, why they had invaded the school and what their plans were, Matt didn’t know. He couldn’t, really, considering that all that had been said to or around him had been “Got another one.” when they had caught him and “In there!” while he was pushed into the room, pardon, cell.
He had been careless, so much Matt had to admit in retrospect, but there had also been an unhealthy lot of bad luck involved, which had ultimately tipped the scales in his disfavour. Thinking back to half an hour ago was unpleasant but necessary in order to analyse his mistakes and avoid them in future missions. If there would ever be future missions. That last bit was looking a little uncertain at this point, but Matt was good at entirely ignoring unpleasant things, and so that he did while letting his mind wander. It had all started with Storm’s raising the alarm and handing out tasks to her team…
~Attention, obeX. We will focus on evacuating those who would have problems getting out on their own. Beast has an emergency list ready for situations like that. Please listen carefully, we might not have much time.~
Like most others, Matt was assigned two students to fetch and take to a point inside the Institute from where others would take over and get them outside and into safety. Inwardly, he blamed their having done relatively well during the Training Island team missions that had earned them the questionable honour of being trusted with such an important task. He was determined to not let the X-Men down, and so he listened intently, even though he was only vaguely aware of what all that fuss was actually about. The X-Mansion invaded? That sounded ridiculous, but thinking of how easily Steven Chadstone had got in… maybe not.
His charges were a boy who turned into a slimy, immobile substance when frightened and another one, Seoule, who required a constant supply of electricity to survive. Surprisingly enough, it was the former who posed the lesser problem. The alarm that was sounding in the entire Institute by then had already driven him into such a state that Matt could simply and quite literally bag him and carry him to the designated meeting point. Granted it wasn't the most ego-flattering way of being evacuated, but really, if you randomly turn into a glibbery mass on a daily basis, you can't be too sensitive in that regard.
The second was that bit trickier which it took to get caught. When Contrast entered Seoule's room, he could feel the hair on his arms rise. It seemed as if the air itself was charged with electricity. Nothing dangerous, as it seemed, but enough to be noticeable and uncomfortable. The boy didn't look much older than eight and had his fingers stuck in a power socket. The lights were flickering in almost regular intervals, the sounds they made a counterpoint to the shrill sirens warning everyone that something was going very wrong at Xavier's. Seoule looked terrified. *Very Exorcist meets Sixth's Sense,* Matt thought with a brave attempt at being funny, even if he was the only one who could hear it. He wasn't really in the mood for jokes though.
"C'mon, Seoule, we have to get out of here," he said, not daring to get too close seeing as the small boy's whole formed seemed to be crackling with energy. The car battery he was carrying in his gloved hands was growing heavy, much heavier than its size suggested it ever would. Having to carry it away from himself didn't really help either but no matter how much of an emergency this was, he really didn't want his clothes to get stained with acid and disintegrated next time he would wash them. No random invasion could get him to make such a sacrifice!
"I...um...brought you something to nibble, for the way." He put the chunky box down in front of him and took some steps back, but the child simply stared at him with wide eyes, then slowly shook his head. Matt sighed. "C'mon," he repeated, a touch of impatience in his voice, "There are bad men all around. The sooner we leave the better." Of course he couldn't be sure whether these people really were men. They could as well have been women or something entirely different, but for some reason society prefers presuming that evil strangers must be men and this really wasn't the time for discussions about gender roles.
Hesitantly, Seoule took his fingers out of the power socket and moved towards the battery, grabbing it in a way that showed he knew very well what it was and how it worked. "That won't last long," he stated, his voice somewhere between matter-of-fact and frightened while Matt watched him lift the heavy box with ease. "We'll think about that once you're outside," the light-elemental replied, deciding that the kid's strength was probably a side effect of his otherwise rather restraining mutation.
And then he did what would cost him his freedom. He reached out to usher the boy outside, wanted to get him to move quickly. "Don't!" The warning came to late. The moment Matt's fingers touched Seoule's shoulder, an electrical charge sent him flying through the room and against a wall, taking various objects down with him in an explosion of noise. "Sh!t!" he cursed under his breath, and sure enough, heavy, hurried footsteps sounded from outside the room, approaching. He had to think fast.
"When the door is opened, and I tell you to, then you'll run. You know where the games room is, right? Go there. Look for Mrs Munroe. Do not stop before you're there, no matter what," he said as quickly as he could dare without confusing the child whose eyes had become even larger with fear. "Ok?" A nod. That was something. That he couldn't be touched would help him get away, or so Matt hoped.
Then everything went really fast. The door was opened, and the dark mask covering the intruders face made it painfully clear that this was no knight in a shining armour coming to their rescue. "RUN!" Matt bellowed and after a second wasted with wincing, the boy did as asked. The door was wide open by then, revealing several more masked strangers visible outside. Still dizzy from hitting the wall, Matt narrowed his eyes in concentration as he tapped into his mutant powers and assaulted their sight. Not waiting to see if it had worked, he fought himself into a standing position and tried to run after Seoule who was nowhere to be seen anymore. Apparently he could also move faster than someone his age should legally be able to.
Sudden pain and the feeling of getting all the air knocked out of his lungs made his already weak knees buckle under him as one of the intruders punched him in the stomach. His control was lost, another attempt impossible... that was it. He only heard the crackling of some kind of intercom being activated and a harsh voice saying "Got another one.", then another sharp pain and everything went black.
Absent-mindedly, Matt rubbed his stomach, then the back of his head. Both still hurt, though it was now more of a dull, pulsing sort of pain than the stinging variety he had had the pleasure of experiencing before. The idea to ask the charged kid what else he could do hadn't even crossed Matt's mind when he had heard the footsteps outside, and he had cursed himself for that uncountable times already since he had woken up in this surprisingly harmless-looking holding cell. Super strength, super speed, some kind of electric shield... he might have just had to focus a bit and electrocute them all on the spot. Not the kind of thing you would want a small child to experience but if it had been an option... well... better than being captured.
All those thoughts were pointless now though. It was too late. Matt could only hope that he had been enough of a distraction for Seoule to escape into safety. It was what kept him from beating himself down even more, the thought that maybe he had not failed completely. Once or twice, he had looked out of the window, trying to find out anything about what was going on. But there was only the night, dark and unspeaking. The night and his thoughts, and the sounds from outside that told him that there was no point in trying to break down the door and attempt an escape. Not that he seriously thought that he could have done that, but then again, he had always heard that one would suddenly develop almost super-human strength and agility when panicking.
His hand touched the metal band around his neck. He didn't feel very super-human right now. That little accessory had been there when he had woken up, and from what he could tell, it made sure he was as human as could be. His first instinct had been to crawl into a shadowy corner and turn invisible. Except that it hadn't worked. No flashy counter-reaction, no sound, no sensation of being blocked. The only sign that something was happening, was that nothing was happening. And as far as Matt was concerned, there was very little that would have been more frustrating than that.
TBC - Max, Trip (order doesn't matter)
There comes a time when everyone of us has to take over responsibility for their actions.
It stands to argue whether there is also a time when we can get rid of it again.
Another night at the Dying Star turned to an early morning. As far as Trip was concerned the party never stopped at the clubs exit. That little notion of his often made for more than interesting mornings after. Booze bottles and foreign faces were completely normal to him. The young mutant and a scarlet haired woman, whose name never seemed important enough to request, lay entangled together. The strange woman’s head rested comfortably between his shoulder blades, her hands draped over him. Trip on the other hand lay dressed, his back to the other as if ignoring her entirely. Before passing out, and after the somewhat Mrs. Grey-like girl had lost his interest, Mark took the time to redress himself. That way the girl might take the hint, realize she had worn her welcome, and leave without being an annoyance come morning.
With the myriads of sounds echoing about the halls it didn’t seem possible for anyone to be left asleep. Sirens were blaring, there was shouting, and even the intercom wouldn’t shut up. Yet despite forcefully kicking in the locked dorm room door, a small grouping of the intruders found themselves standing before the twosome. The thunderous boom of door knob colliding against wall swiftly awoke the other. The girl leapt up pulling sheets around her. In haste the red headed woman sprang forward her foot planting firmly into Trips’ calf on her way by. The girl tried to weave a path past the intruders only to be dragged off by the arm.
Light blue eyes peered opened to a blurry mess of people. There was a small groan as Mark started to push himself up. As the young gravity manipulator tried to do so the back of his head was greeted by the butt of a pistol. It was a good hit but wasn’t intended to knock the mutant out. They simply seemed to want him down. The clasp of cold steel wrapping around ones neck was a startling feeling. Startling enough to wipe away the cob-webs of the previous nights exploits; it was quite literally a sobering experience. As the familiar feeling of a knee pressing against his side followed, Mark was overcome with a déjà vu sensation. Sure enough, his arms were forced back and shackled just as he expected. “Let me guess, I’m the dangerous convict and you’re the stern but lonely warden.” Came the irresistible sarcastic remark. Despite that it was a bit surprising just how calmly he responded to the situation. Anger and spite were usually the go to emotion in such situations. Although the more he thought about it, the more he realized he was just so used to this kind of treatment.
Trip had been in handcuffs thousands of times before and not just for recreational purposes either. His past was no secret. Naturally, being such a defiant person he had learned countless ways of messing with his former guards while in transition. At first, the intruders met little resistance as they began to drag their captive down the long empty corridor. Initially, Trip figured on just using his mutant ability. But the more he focused the more frustrated he became. Never had his powers had never been this stubborn before. Aggravated Mark began trying all the small tricks that came to mind. He’d use one of his legs to wrap one of the captors causing them all to fall. He’d shift body weight and leg positioning to create leverage and resistance. Anything and everything he could do to be a nuisance was done. All in all, it looked more like a handicapped wrestling match than anything.
What was probably a thirty second walk took almost ten minutes. Garbled orders were constantly being shouted from both parties. As they neared their temporary holding room, there was a sickening thud not two feet away from the door. Trips’ shoulder had been forcefully driven into the wall. It had happened a dozen or so other times during their struggle, but the later was by far the most painful. Moments later the door swung open and the intruders swiftly shoved him in. The momentum of the shove sent Trip tumbling backwards onto the floor in seated position. Struggling for each breath, he noticed someone else and simply nodded. Who it was, he hadn’t a clue and in all honesty he didn’t care either. A few breaths later and a brief second to spit some of the blood out of his mouth, he chimed in. “They uhh.. Those ones like it rough.”
Re: Room for Improvement
There are few things in human society that have changed as much and yet so little at the same time as the way prisoners are being treated. A few hundred years (or not even that long) ago, there were specialists dedicated to nothing but finding new means of torturing people into making confessions, wearing down their ability to resist until they would do anything that was asked of them. Devices that compressed, expanded, pierced and twisted, psychological schemes that drove people insane, forceful exposure to revolting things - the list of what man came up with to achieves his goal is long, cruel and...
"Bollocks," Matt said to the spot on the wall at which he had been staring for the past ten minutes, busying himself with the idle task of figuring out whether the two points he saw when going cross-eyed were equally dark or of different lightness. As he had been able to find out first-hand during the past couple of hours, there was no need for sophisticated methods of torture. Sitting in an nigh on empty room without knowing what was going on and why would likely turn out to be more effective than the medieval rack as far as actual results were concerned.
The rapidity with which the situation finally changed was almost too much for Matt's dazed brain to comprehend. Almost. The door was opened, someone was pushed in and hadn't even properly landed before it was already closed and locked again. “They uhh.. Those ones like it rough.” The voice sounded familiar, and after having shaken off the slight stupor that had got hold of him before, the light elemental remembered. Training Island, Wolverine's survival field trip...
*Oh joy, it's Mother Superior,* he thought sarcastically, not caring that the image was beyond flawed. When making sarcastic comments nobody but he could hear, Matt figured, he had a right to pick ones English teachers would have marked as wrong and unfitting. Plus he had been hit hard on the head and forced to uselessly stay in the very centre of boredom for far too long. That was his excuse and should anyone dare to ask - which was unlikely but you never knew - he would stick to it.
"Hate to break it to you, but they do it with everyone," he replied, playing along for the simple reason that peacetime animosities lost a great part of their force when there were attacks from the outside. The enemy of my enemy and all that jazz... Also, it was rather nice to finally have another student around as it saved him from having further discussions with random objects. Even if it was Mark. Beggars can't be choosers.
There comes a time when everyone of us has to take over responsibility for their actions. It stands to argue whether there is also a time when we can get rid of it again.
Re: Room for Improvement
Tight grips bit firmly into Max’s arms, it was one of the first things the youth noticed as the darkness began to swirl away from his mind, the feel of his feet covered only by socks could feel the dragging of the ground as he was moved along. And then it stopped, talking caused Max to force open his eyes, struggling to life head from where it hang, though the meek attempt of a struggle as Max tried to move his arms if nothing else caused the grip against them to tighten painfully.
"Matches the photo," One declared, causing the one the two men holding Max were addressing and waiting for to reach out and grab the youth’s chin, lifting the face up and turning it from one side to the next, roughly releasing the grip as the young Chadstone pull his face away, rasping out a "Piss off," dryly as his head throbbed and the world spun slightly. "Very well, tag him and put him in there for now," A thumb jerked towards the room which had only recently had another mutant added to it, "Once he’s in, lock it up, less in there then less chances of this one getting damage, last thing we need is Walsh breathing down our necks," They didn’t want Max getting hurt? What in the world was going on here? They had photos of him?? Something made Max doubt that they were referring to some of the snazzy shots taken in magazines.
As they approached the door it seemed both men took Max by surprise as they rushed him firmly against the door, a loud thud occurring as his body slammed against it and in the force his lip managed to cut against a tooth causing a dribble of blood as both arms were twisted high up his bed and held firmly by one of them. The other was pressing Max’s head against the door, for a moment it was throbbing and had so much pressure he thought they just might have been trying to crush his head within their grip. The only sounds Max could make were pained grunts as he struggled, trying to stifle his screams as their strength overpowered him. A weapon or something seemed to be pressed firmly against the curve of Max’s lower neck, a sharp sting as something punctured the flesh caused a sharp groan of pain. They were then done, and their current target now implanted with a device that few other students were forced to endure which would help the Initiative both track and identify this particular captured youth from all the others.
The door was open and Max’s form finally released from their titan grips, though so roughly had he been released that he stumbled to the ground and fell chest down to the floor… everything hurt… and for that moment as the air was rushed from his lungs at the force of impact, the pain was all that Max’s mind could truly assimilate right now. Two soldiers stood with their weapons ready and aimed at Max and Trip, fingers itchy and ready to pull the triggers, a third soldier stood between them with a small weapon held towards Max. "Make a noise, and you will be dealt with accordingly," The manner in which the two guards beside the central speak seemed to ready their weapons suggested that diplomacy wasn’t going to part of their approach, though Max was pushing himself to stand, awkward in his stiff movements though he looked angry enough to make any words seem to have fallen on deaf ears. "You will be fed twice daily if you cause no problems," There was a motion of the agents hand and all three seemed to back out of the group, though just as the door started to close a final shot was taken towards Max who, despite seeming unsteady on his feet. There was no collar on Max, they team had run out and needed to collect more, so instead the drug had been used one the head agents departure, he assumed Max already had been shot but he seemed violent – for all the agent could tell – so an extra shot just to be sure couldn’t hurt.
The door locked just as Max muttered some indistinguishable profanity under his breath, he’d been drunk before, and he’d been knocked about too, wasn’t often Max had both sensations of drunk and pain so heavily. A long tipped dart stuck out from Max’s chest, which Max had peered down at and slowly reached for, it all seemed so much effort and his legs felt like jelly, fingers struggled to wrap about the tail of the dart in his effort to remove it. There was the taste of blood in his mouth, the feel of its warmth down the side of his face where the he had earlier been smacked so hard he had blacked out. But all that mattered right there was removing the thing that was sticking out of him, the sting it caused in his chest, though the injury on his neck still hurt like hell it was hard to tell which part of the young Chadstone hurt the most. Everything felt so………unreal… and most definitely unstable.
"…Bitch…" Suddenly staying awake seemed difficult, his eyes were heavy and if Max had thought the room was spinning before it just got worse! Instead of managing to pull out the dart he managed to take a few unsteady steps back with his eyes closed. One shot of the drug was enough to unsteady someone, two was definitely causing a problem for Max as far as thinking straight went… heck… as far as anything went right now!
Re: Room for Improvement
Trip sat still for a moment, just long enough to get the general idea of where he was. Pure exhaustion took precedence over any curiosity Trip had toward the other person in the room. Sure there were a whole bunch of “whos” and “whats” to figure out, but they could wait. Allowing himself to collapse backwards was perhaps the smartest moved the gravity manipulator had made all day. A brief moments rest would give him a chance to catch his breath. The pulsating pain left over from the head first wall encounter could also probably use a second or two to subside. Although it was only a tiny dose of relaxation it was enough. The unforgiving steel cuffs that were digging into the small of his back didn’t even matter. Sure he could step through them, and he would, just not right at the moment.
"Hate to break it to you, but they do it with everyone,"
A smirk formed as he heard the response. The voice was recognizable but hardly what he’d call familiar. With just that little bit of information there Trip was already able to deduce that this was probably someone he didn’t get along with. Granted that was a large grouping of people. At least he knew one thing, whoever they were; they weren’t worth getting up for. Still another hand could very well prove useful once he was ready to look for a way out. So for the time being, he decided to play nice. “Damn. And here I thought I was special.” The young mutant responded, his attention still fixated on the dark distant ceiling above him.
Suddenly light flooded the room, drawing his attention. His head turned and contorted to catch the nearly out of sight doorway. Peering up over his own forehead, Trip was able to make out the upper half of a soldier. More importantly the gun barrel directed his way. There was a thud, but whatever it was had managed to evade his vision. It was fairly easy to assume that another person had just been shoved into the room as it had just happened to him seconds before.
"Make a noise, and you will be dealt with accordingly,"
"You will be fed twice daily if you cause no problems,"
It was hard enough resisting the urge to respond upon hearing the first instruction. An innate natural defiance was just demanding to be unleashed. “And If I cause a whole sh*tload of problems, I get a feast right?” Whether the words fell on deaf or simply apathetic ears wasn’t clear. The lack of response wasn’t really expected. Trip had honestly hoped to antagonize the captives a bit more. Any chance to get under their skin; he’d in all likelihood take. All he needed was for one of them to get a little heated and slip up somehow.
With a sigh, Trip raised his legs up over his body as he maneuvered the handcuffs to the back of his knees. A brief rocking motion transitioned him into a sitting position from which he was easily able to step through the cuffs.
"…Bitch…"
The expletive shifted Trips attention from one cell mate to the other. Matt was a bit of a surprise, but no big deal or anything. He could’ve been stuck with worse. Besides, he hadn’t really done too much to irritate Matt. A few comments sure, but that was nothing. Max on the other hand was far more surprising. At least there was someone he could rely on. “You alright, Max?” He asked calmly glancing between the two others. Call it Déjà vu, but in that moment, something seemed horribly familiar. It was too familiar. A cold glare shifted toward Matt, an eye brow rising slightly as a question crossed his mind. “Is Logan F*cking with us again?” If this was some sort of retry on Wolverine's part, it just wasn't funny...
For everyone comes the time when they have to take over responsibility. It stands to argue whether there is also a time when they can get rid of it again.
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