2013.07.23 - GHlfghsbkkk

It's a hot Sunday afternoon in Mutant Town. Thermometers across the neighborhood clock in anywhere from 94 to 98 degrees. The forecast calls for a 70% chance of rain, and though the skies directly above have remained blue, the clouds forming upon the Jersey horizon suggest that it's about to change.
There are many busy street corners in this unique district of Staten Island. This one in particular surrounds an MTA station, with no shortage of street vendors out to make use of the heat, selling fresh fruits, water, and other such survivables. A group of mutant children are currently chanting in a circle surrounding a fire hydrant, while one young girl has her fingers curled around the heavy cap that keeps its water secured.
With a popping sound, the little girl exerts her mutant strength, and the cap comes flying off. The children are immediately doused in water, and begin to scream and cheer at the tops of their voices.
 
In a very short space of time Rachel Summers has gone from living on her own, essentially from hand to mouth, relying only on herself, to living in a mansion crowded with other people, acquiring a room-mate and dealing with a snoring purple dragon. While it's a distinct improvement on her previous life, and she's very much enjoyed some of the benefits (such as the shopping trip with said room-mate, which explains her outfit), after a while it all became a bit... too much. The intact mansion starting to feel unreal, despite the press of minds around her. Basically, Rachel needed to get out on her own. And where better than mutant town, for that? It's the one place that, despite not looking like an obvious mutant, she doesn't feel like she needs to be looking over her shoulder for Hounds or Sentinels all the time.
So that's why she's here, getting some air, reminding herself that all of this is real. And wondering why Doug /really/ caught her just before she got out the door, and insisted on coming with her.
"C'mon, Rachel, are you going anywhere, or just for a walk?" Doug had asked. Upon being told that it was just a walk, Doug grins. "Then come on. Let's check out the vendor market over on Staten Island. You'll love it." 
Imagine, fresh fruits -and- water (and quite possibly, not-quite-FDA-approved items) available. 
Hopping out the train station, the young blond is quickly at work grabbing ahold of raw milk (tsk, if something went wrong, there were always healers about...) and unroasted coffee beans just to test out different approaches to roast coffee with different flavorings. (Whether or not Kitty would survive the bacon roasted coffee was another question). 
Nudging Rachel as she was at a stall, Doug peered over to see what she'd found. "What've you got?" 
Amidst the hustle and bustle, three men emerge from the MTA station. It would be easy to miss them, had they went about their business like most commuters. However, these three don't walk far from the mouth of the subway station, and they begin looking about, as if they were up to something.
One of them is an older man with dark skin, though a youthfulness exists in his eyes that disagrees with the age lines upon his face and hands. The other is a younger Asian fellow, most likely about the same age as Doug and Rachel. His hair is styled in a post-punk, bordering on hipster fashion, and the fact that he's wearing a studded jean vest wouldn't really set him off as anything to be afraid of. Except, of course, given such heat today. His hands, clad in black, fingerless gloves are stuck knuckle-deep into the pockets of his skinny jeans, and a sneer spreads from one end of his face to the other.
Each of them stand shoulder to shoulder with a tall African. His eyes are concealed by black ray-ban's, and the ball cap upon his head conceals the short hair beneath.
Passersby eyeball the trio as they stand not far beyond the subway station's exit, some avoiding them, others passing scowls and not-so-mild-mannered suggestions that they 'move the hell out of the way', and so forth.
 
Of course, Doug /could/ just be being friendly and companionable, and it's far too nice a day to be paranoid... so Rachel had gone along with it.
Now she's where she wanted to be, though, it's clear that her plan hadn't extended much beyond getting here. While Doug enthusiastically gets stuck in - and she's eyeing his purchases, wondering if she's going to be required to sample whatever it is he's planning to prepare, she hasn't done much more than idly browse. She has acquired a fresh, dark green apple, though, and the crunch as she bites into it comes just as Doug nudges her. "Mmmf?" She says indistinctly, swallowing before she'd really chewed enough and struggling not to cough her bite of apple back up again.
"Nothing yet." She tells him truthfully, although she nods toward the next stall along, a bit hesitantly. Unlike the other small enterprises selling food and drink, this one has woven leather bracelets, some with beads and decorations, others just plain and braided. Rachel's not too used to having money in her pocket for frivolous purchases, and she finds she wants one.
As she turns back to browse, taking a second, smaller bite of her apple this time, her eyes travel over the three figures making an obstruction of themselves. She pauses for just a second, before moving on, her free hand reaching out to lift one of the intricately braided bracelets with a finger. "What do you think?" She asks Doug, eyes darting back to the three men as she speaks, asking two questions.
Grabbing what looks like a starfruit, Doug nods, starting to stock up. Wisely, at least, he steers clear of the prickly fruit known as durian, because HOLY HELL those things stank to high heaven. 
As he tucks the last purchase into a bag, the young man glances at Rachel's indicative look then towards where she's observed the men dressed out of condition for the weather. 
Their body language seemed to indicate they were looking for something, or someone, and Doug shakes his head, in an indication of 'Stay out of the way, unless they're coming for it. No sense inviting trouble.' 
Of course, the X-Men being the X-Men, trouble always found them anyway... 
At long last, the trio of men finally start to walk away from the subway entrance. They, like many others, make for the market, as if they fully intend to browse and make purchases. The tallest of them, however--the African with the ball cap and shades--momentarily stops nearby the children playing in spurts of water. Reaching up, he removes the shades, tucks them away into his shirt pocket, and looks on with an earnest smile.
One of the children suddenly stops playing. A young boy, he looks about until his eyes meet those of the African. The African walks up to the young boy, kneels down into the water, and puts a hand upon the child's face. He smiles warmy, leans forward, and whispers something into the boy's ear.
Promptly, the boy gasps, jumps up, and goes running full speed throughout the market until he finds his mother, who happens to be standing nearby Rachel.
"Mommy!" he cries, and clings to her leg. However, it isn't fear that registers in his face or bounds through his mind... it is wonder and relief.
 
Rachel offers Doug an almost imperceptible nod of agreement. She's really not looking for trouble either, and after a couple more minutes she's slipping the braided leather bracelet she'd coveted over her hand, her half-gone apple held between her teeth as she does so. It's inelegant but effective. The three men are still on her radar, as it were, and she's marked that they've finally moved off from the patch that they'd claimed, but she's not paying them any more attention than that.
Bracelet in place, apple back in hand, Rachel falls in alongside Doug once more. "What are you doing with all that, anyway?" She asks him, eyeing his bag, genuinely curious.
Out of the corner of her eye she catches sight of the man walking toward the children and crouching down. She shoots a glance that way, tensing slightly - it's in plain sight of dozens, but things still happen - but then the boy comes charging toward his mother, and Rachel's shields aren't prepared for the surge of positive emotions from the small figure. Blinking, she raises her free hand to rub at her temple as she firms up her shields, and shoots another curious look toward Doug.
"Eat them," Doug comments wryly. "What else are you supposed to do with food?" 
And trying all the new things he'd never tried before, simply because it was worth a shot. Except the durian, which he -would- point out to Rachel. "Careful with that.... if you crack it open, it stinks like unholy hell." 
And yet, going about his business, one eye kept on the ... strange arrivals, Doug wasn't quite sure what to make of it, and lifts another questioning eyebrow at Rachel. If you're so curious, -you- say hello, is that expression. Still, if she insists... "Come on, let's go."
Picking up his bags, Doug starts walking towards the station. And if he happens to come near the men, well, that -was- his path... 
"What is it, darling?" asks the mother, who kneels down beside the child. Then, she gasps, and reaches toward the boy's temples. "Michael!" she gasps. "What happened?"
The boy turns and looks over toward the tall man, who has rejoined his fellows as they meander through the market. "The tall dark man took them away!" he cries.
The mother strokes her child's temples for a moment, then looks across the way toward where the men walk. Her jaw tenses and her eyes grow defensive. "I told you not to talk to strangers!" she scolds the young boy, then rises and grabs his hand tightly. "Come on, Michael, let's go."
As the mother and her child begin to walk away, the child offers his own protests. "But mom! What am I going to do without them?"
"Don't ask questions, Michael. We'll go and see the doctor right away."
Meanwhile, the three men continue walking through the market. While they don't seem to be up to any trouble, the tallest one has replaced his shades and seems to be looking about, perusing the crowd, while his buddies shop around. Eventually, his sunglasses come to rest upon Rachel and Doug, and there they linger for a few moments.
Rachel's brow creases in a slight frown as Doug begins walking toward the station. Maybe it /is/ time to bring this excursion to an end... but Rachel's curiosity has been aroused, and her stubborn streak along with it. Added to which she's not at the X-Mansion right now, where she's been on her best behaviour... and the temptation is just a little too strong.
"What's the rush?" She asks Doug casually, even as she's turning to look back at the mother and son. He might have been feeling wonder, but she seems shocked bordering on distressed. At this low level, there's no outward sign as Rachel reaches out with her telepathy, no fiery aura to betray her as she slips into the mother's mind (assuming it's unshielded, of course), and skim off her surface thoughts, looking for the source of her concern.
As a result, she's not looking in the right direction when the man in the shades is looking at HER.
Something about the words of the mother and the boy itches at Doug's mind. Something familiar. It was as though the boy had lost -something-, something that needed checking out. 
And the expression of the man in shades, coupled with the body language, has Doug murmuring, "Come on, Rachel, let's just get home. Now." 
A hand goes into his pocket, as he fishes around for his tracking device, getting ready to activate it if there was even a hint of dangerous body language... 
The mothers thoughts are, in fact, unshielded. Her son, Michael, is a mutant. She is not. However, she cares for him and holds no prejudice towards any mutants. Michael sprouted his horns two years ago, and his doctor explained that the terrible headaches Michael has suffered ever since were a result of the horns putting pressure against his skull, and thus, the brain itself. She is concerned because, out of nowhere, Michael's horns have disappeared. His mutation, gone.
Suddenly, Rachel's telepathic and telekinetic abilities go suddenly silent. Muted, as if she lost them in the blink of an eye.
As for Doug, there is but a hint of body language. It comes from the man in shades, who reaches out to grab the Asian by the scruff of his studded denim vest. Words are mouthed. "Those mutants there..."
But then, Doug's mutant abilities go suddenly silent as well, the rest of those mouthed words are unintelligible.
The Asian man turns and looks directly at Doug and Rachel as well. A frown forms on his face, and he leans back over to the African to whisper something in response. Then, he smirks, as if the whole situation were entertaining to him.
 
Rachel's not the top telepath in the X-Men, but an unshielded mind is no challenge to her whatsoever - and the mother will never know she had a visitor inside her mind. What Rachel finds in there, though, makes her suddenly stiffen. There's been so much to keep track of since she moved into the mansion, some of it was bound to slip away from her - but a little adrenaline aids her recall no end. "I think that's a good idea..." She replies quietly to Doug, eyes still on the receding figure of the mother and son as she says the words. Just to be sure she's not over-reacting, she reaches quickly out with her mind toward Doug, just to confirm her suspicions, and finds - nothing. A blank wall of nothing, and for Rachel, it's almost as if everything's gone utterly silent.
Her eyes widen in shock and her head snaps round, eyes locking on Doug - her face now surrounded by thin, claw-mark tattoos. There's a wall of ice behind her eyes. She knows what she looks like and she's working very hard NOT to think about it. "I think you're right." She tells him, carefully, unaware that he's been affected too. "I'm not feeling myself any more." She tries to nudge him toward the station, one hand reaching into the pocket of her skirt for the tracking device she'd been given, wishing very much that her blaster was in there and not stuffed in the back of a drawer at the mansion.
And suddenly the powers are gone. Untranslatable, and unable to speak.. With his powers shut down, Doug's language defaults to his first language, one inborn to everyone - body language. 
His first call out is in a gutteral gibberish, even as he presses the tracking device. 
And then, judging by the expressions of the people that there was absolutely nothing comprehensible about what he spoke, Doug spoke no more, instead moving swiftly and quickly. The self-satisfied body language? Meant they were entirely too satisfied, and would probably not be prepared for a sudden attack. Did they move their feet to try and protect? Read that, move to hit in a different location. 
What SHIELD had trained him to do, to read body language in a combat setting, was coming into play, and this was the best chance they had, to keep them occupied until backup came... 
[X-Men] Talkin' Bout Shift says, “IC: Doug Ramsey (Cypher)'s tracking device goes off, alerting the X-Net that 'Subject Inhibitor Prime' has been spotted. His location can be easily pinpointed in Mutant Town, Staten Island.”
[X-Men] Talkin' Bout Shift says, “IC: Rachel Summers' tracking device also goes off. The location is identical to Doug Ramsey's.”
The trio of mutants are, in fact, taken by surprise. The older black man, one Frank Smith, gasps and takes a step to the side, trying to get out of the way. It's the Asian Doug may have to worry about. With a snarl, he puts himself in front of the taller African, crouching down and adopting a stance that a trained SHIELD agent would certainly recognize.
Seems the Asian knows a few things about personal combat, namely, jujitsu.
Oddly enough, the Asian doesn't do anything that would immediately be taken as offensive. His stance is purely defensive, and seems to be meant to deter Doug from being able to land a hit on the African, or Mr. Smith.
Over the X-Net, Shift's voice is among the first to squawk to life. "Dis is Shift," he transmits. "I am in East Brooklyn. Headed your way as quickly as possible."
East Brooklyn, however, is pretty far away.
 
It's not the loss of her powers that's the worst thing that's happened to her, from Rachel's point of view - it's that because they're gone, Doug can see her Hound marks. Oddly, it's the complete gibberish that he spouts that gets her past that. He's with her, he's affected too, and he can't afford for her to be taking any personal time right now.
She's caught a little flat-footed by Doug's sudden surge to the attack, it's not what she's expecting from him, but she's damn sure she's not going to let him take on three guys alone. Even if two against three still isn't great odds. Caught flat-footed by Doug's charge, Rachel's a step behind him, which gives her eyes time to flicker across their opponents. She's worried, but she's had to fight without her powers before, she's not helpless... but she wishes she wasn't wearing a miniskirt and wedged sneakers to do it.
As the Asian squares up to Doug, and the older black man seems to want no part of the fight, Rachel comes to an impulsive decision. Darting suddenly to one side, she aims to sprint past the Asian and go right for the big African. He's the target, after all...
Jiujitsu. With jiujitsu, that was essentially turning one's strength against him. Which meant anticipating, and reacting. It's not like Doug couldn't read and project body language at all. And so, focusing on making -himself- speak a completely different language, rather than natural instinct, a task made all the easier by how jiu-jitsu was trained to -react- and respond than to take the initiative, 
Doug proceeds to lead the Asian man into a dance, where he would speak 'left' in one gesture while his body acted 'right' in the next instant, Doug's body language guided the Asian jiu-jitsu one direction, and his SHIELD training took advantage of the openings in the next. In short... Doug 'lied' to him in body language and took advantage of the natural instincts of a jiu-jitsu fighter... 
As soon as things get physical, the crowds begin to scatter. There are shrieks of fear and shouts of protest, but as Doug and the Asian square off, nobody else is about to intervene.
It only takes a couple of exchanges for the Asian to realize that he's being outsmarted, rather than out-skilled. The look of secured focus upon his face quickly melts into shock, and in about two blinks of an eye, he's getting it handed to him.
The African backs away, watching as his front man engages Doug with no sign of success. A frown forms upon his face, but otherwise, he does nothing. It's Frank Smith who acts.
The grizzled old man, scowling in protest, mutters a curse under his breath as Rachel goes for the African. He futzes around inside the pocket of his loose slacks, until he produces, of all things, a TAZER. He lifts it quickly and aims it toward Rachel, and fires.
The cables whiz through the air. Frank doesn't have the best aim, but it's good enough. The cables strike Rachel in the shin, and begin delivering their current with the tell-tale sound of repeated sparking.
 
Rachel called that one wrong.
She'd thought the older man was bottom of the threat list, and it costs her. She sees the weapon come out, tries to put on an extra burst of speed to throw his aim off - along with a futile attempt to raise a telekinetic shield and loose off a psi blast, all at the speed of thought and all utterly useless. She's caught, and down she goes in a heap of spasming limbs as the electrical charge races through her body and takes her out of the fight before she was really in it.
It wasn't as though the Asian wasn't the better fighter - he was, by all means. But like poker, the war was won not by skill, but by whoever was the better bluffer, the one whose moves couldn't be read... and in -that-, Doug Ramsey -could- take advantage of body cues and language like few others, when his training was covered. 
And while Doug wasn't the most skillful -fighter-, at least he knew -where- to hit to make sure it counted, reading the grunts enough to tell how much injury he'd committed... and then, as Rachel's scream echoed, just as he'd finally judged the Asian disoriented enough to try and put down for good. Reacting -now-, before his opponent caught on that -this- action wasn't a lie, Doug closes in, grabs the Asian, and flings him into the electrified cables... 
Lowering the TAZER, Frank Smith guffaws. "Don't mess with me, kid, I fought in 'Nam! Twice!"
Suddenly, it's the Asian who is being shocked. The current is cut off from Rachel before it would have left her completely unconscious. She'll hurt, and she won't be able to move just yet, but her recovery will be much quicker.
The Asian, however, is now the one twitching on the ground.
"Damnit!" curses Frank, who turns the device around and starts jabbing at its controls in an effort to stop its current from flowing. "-The hell!" he grunts out of frustration.
The African speaks at last, his voice strong and heavily accented, as if he were native to Africa rather than born in the United States. "Frank." He speaks the man's name with a touch of disdain, before raising his hands into the air and looking over at Doug. "Stop what you are doing. Now." His tone is pleading, and so is his body language. "Please, I beg you. I do not want dis violence!"
However, his eyes are still completely concealed behind those shades. His body language screams out that he is pleading, but as most poker players are well aware, there's nothing better than a good pair of sunglasses.
 
Rachel can't even hear the man mocking her as she writhes on the floor, her whole body on fire and completely out of her control. It seems to go on forever - and then it cuts off, and all Rachel can do is slump limply on the ground, gasping for breath. Get up! She tries to force her body to obey her, but she's still trembling from the after-effects of the current, her muscles feel like water, and she HURTS. It doesn't matter how much she wants to push herself up off the ground, her body's not listening to her.
And following through with the open distraction of Frank while he was trying to sort out the electric shock, the linguist X-Man is on him almost a once, taking advantage of him to try to knock him out before he has a chance to react. 
"GHlfghsbkkk" is Doug's reply to the Haitian, as he maintains a careful distance, trying to both ensure the other two were not going to get back up anytime soon, and take the tazer for himself so that he can use it. 
No time to look at Rachel. Remain focused on the goal. It wasn't as though he understood the gibberish the man was speaking anyway, and he had -no- particular faith in the man's body language, given that body language -could- lie, as he knows, and he didn't know the person well enough to recognize any giveaway tics... 
The African continues to back away, even while Doug makes quick work of knocking out Frank Smith. Vietnam veteran or not, Frank was an old fellow, and it wouldn't take much to take him out and steal his TAZER.
While muscle control starts to come back to Rachel, however, the African decides that it's time to pull out his trump card. They are in Mutant town, after all.
Closing his eyes beneath the sunglasses, the African exerts his focus. A ripple effect rolls out from him, shutting down the effects of every X-Gene mutation around the square. One by one, its effects are noticed by the people amongst the marketplace who have stayed to watch. Cries of shock go up as furred people start to shed, and other visible mutations begin to go away. Those whose mutations are curse begin to talk amongst themselves, and those whose mutations are a source of benefit begin to feel the negative effects of being normal again. The general pandemonium begins to build and mount, anger and confusion quickly overwhelming those who find the experience a benefit--and as with any large group of people who are suddenly, for lack of a better term, attacked--the mob mentality wins.
Shouts turn into fighting, and the entire square breaks out in an angry riot. Rachel, Doug, and their foes aren't immune to the mob effect, and soon, the crowd is advancing upon them as well.
With a smirk, the African dives behind a group of angry mutants, and goes running full speed for the subway station.
However, his friends, Frank Smith and the jiujitsu-wielding Asian, are left behind.
 
Though the pain ebbs from Rachel's body and it starts to pay attention to her once more, she's still very shaky.
Rolling over onto her front, she pushes herself up to hands and knees and just about manages to stay there. Raising her head, she looks for Doug - and the relief at seeing him having downed TWO of their foes almost sends her right back to the ground again. Instead, she takes in the near-riot that's starting to close in on them and finds some more motivation. Kneeling up, she pulls out her communicator, finding the right button on the second attempt. "This is Marvel Girl." She says, then swallows and sounds like herself again. "We have two hostiles down but if you're not close we're going to lose them." Clicking off the communicator, Rachel grits her teeth and gets to her feet. The after-effects are fading, but she still feels like she's been beaten up. Not to mention she's grimy from rolling around on the floor and her tights are in shreds.
She moves quickly over to Doug, looking with increasing concern at the ring of suddenly powerless mutants as it contracts around them. If she had her telepathy she could try any number of things, but right now...? "I wish you could understand me, Doug." She says, grimly. "I think we're going to have to run."
KSvjb jsahusoi SPOUJiisnmjn!" 
It's a good thing Doug was having trouble with language, or the profanity might have overloaded Rachel's delicate sensibilities. 
Closing the gap to Rachel, the young blond looks down at the communicator, repeating something in gibberish, before reading her concern. 
Glancing back at the crowd, another gibberish sentence is spoken, and then Doug immediately -shoves- Rachel, trying to get her to run. Yeah, good idea, RUN. 
Rachel and Doug's communicators come to life with Shift's voice. "Shift here." Every time his voice isn't speaking, the transmission is filled with the loud sound of a motorcycle engine. "I'm too far away. Can you get de hostiles to a safe place? We must retrieve dem for questioning!"
Meanwhile, the African has disappeared into the subway terminal. Shortly after his disappearance, every mutant in the square is suddenly rejoined by the effects of their X-Gene mutations. For Rachel and Doug, of course, this means that their respective telepathic and language abilities are suddenly back.
For the angry mob, it means that fists and punches turn into bursts of fire, blade-ridden arms, and the like. It also means that their closing in on 'ground zero' has been stalled. Briefly, perhaps, but it is a window of opportunity.
Frank Smith and Jiujitsi are still prone on the ground, unspoiled.
[X-Men] Talkin' Bout Shift says, “IC X-NET CONVO -- Shift: "Dis is Shift. I am in East Brooklyn. Headed your way as quickly as possible." -- (a minute or so passes) -- Rachel: "This is Marvel Girl. We have two hostiles down but if you're not close we're going to lose them." -- Doug: "(GIBBERISH)" -- Shift: "Shift here. I'm too far away. Can you get de hostiles to a safe place? We must retrieve dem for questioning!"”
 
More concern is bleeding through into Rachel's voice as she swiftly replies into her communicator. "I don't know, we're... GNNK!" The last is a strangled noise of shock as her telepathy suddenly switches back on - and the angry, distressed and confused thoughts of the mob all around them rushes into her unshielded mind.
Swaying on her feet, she's not in any condition to act on Doug's insistent shoving, and it's a minor miracle that she stays upright. <<Don't... I need...>> She sends into Doug's mind, not even really aware she's not speaking out loud, and presses her palms against her temples, eyes squeezed shut - and then she's forced her shields back into place, and the crowd is a dull roar instead of an ocean that she's drowning in. Gritting her teeth, eyes still tightly closed, she grinds out between her teeth, "Get... back..." And /pushes/ the crowd, telepathically, to turn their attention elsewhere.
Just for a second, it looks like Rachel catches fire, a vaguely bird-shaped aura of flame around her as she pushes her powers hard, but then it collapses in on itself and Rachel, herself, almost collapses onto Doug, hanging onto his shoulder to keep herself upright. The marks on her face are still unhidden, she doesn't have the reserves to cover them up right now. "I need a second..." She says, sounding dazed.
"JSKhjshjcjkxjk-0gtssmove before they get us!" Doug exclaims, just before he realizes suddenly that Rachel has used her powers, and that he actually -did- catch Shift's reply. 
A quick moment of re-orientation, as Doug re-assesses the situation, and then he spins back, looking frantically for the two 'nullifiers'. Catching ahold of Rachel, Doug half-drags half-carries the redhead towards the two nullifiers, doing a swift kick to the face of the just-awakening Asian so that he'd stay put. "C'mon, Rachel, stay focused, stay with me here. Just... just keep a watch on them." 
And then, hoping like hell -this- worked, Doug assumes a -fierce- body language position, something like an alpha trying to warn people to stay -back-. It's not unlike the natural -command- of a Captain America or a Superman. "Stay back! We've got -this- situation in hand, and they'll be dealt with!" 
C'mon, Shift, get your ass here, before they figure out his confience wasn't the -same- as what he was projecting!
Between Rachel's telepathic shove and the alpha stance of Doug, the crowds do well enough to leave the four alone. The angry mob even begins to dissipate at the edges, as if sensibility were coming back to some, and it's those who begin to shove back into the crowd, hoping to try and settle things down a bit.
It doesn't help that the police are starting to show up, either.
Helicopters start to fly over the area, shouting demands through their loudspeakers that go relatively unnoticed given the noise coming from the angry mob. A trio of NYPD officers come running out of the subway station, hands on their guns. Two of them make for the crowd, while a third takes notice of Rachel, Doug, and their quarry.
"You two! Don't move!"
The officer is choked off when a plume of black smoke forms around him, part of it shoving its way into the officer's mouth and nose. The rest of that cloud forms up into Shift, who wears his X-Men uniform. One of his arms disappears into the thick smoke that fills the officer's mouth, while the other reaches around so that he can grab the officer's hand to keep him from drawing and firing.
"Jesus," he curses, and turns to look at Doug and Rachel. "What the hell happened here?"
 
Rachel remains leaning on Doug for a couple of seconds more while a nasty headache starts to brew behind her eyes, but then pushes herself upright and takes a step away from him to prove that she can /stay/ that way. "Got it." She tells him firmly, trying to make up for her earlier weakness. As Doug goes through his Alpha Male routine, Rachel quickly turns her attention to the fallen men. The one Doug kicked seems uninclined to get up, and Rachel concentrates on telepathically leaning on the other one to make sure he stays unconscious.
The arrival of the police officer makes Rachel wince unconsciously at their luck, but she takes a steadying breath and is about to intervene - when she doesn't have to. At Shift's dramatic entrance, the expression on Rachel's tattooed face is unabashed surprise - and then in the blink of an eye her skin is unmarked once more. It adds to her headache but it's manageable. Quick steps take her toward Shift and his captive. "We found your guy." She says, then winces again. "He got away." She doesn't sound happy about that in the slightest, and a muscle in her jaw jumps in sympathy with her disgust at herself for that one. Shifting her eyes to the police officer, Rachel acts quickly, reaching out a hand to gently touch her fingers to his temple. "We were never here." She says softly, then glances at Shift and nods.
"Really long story," sighs Doug, as he realizes he's lost all the groceries he'd picked up at the beginning in the process of dealing with the men. 
Oh well, one hoped, the raw milk would turn whoever had it sick. 
With Rachel seemingly steadier, Doug moves towards the two men, moving to yank the Asian up. "Can you get us back quickly, or do we have to drag them the whole way back?" Doug asks of Shift and Rachel, a bit more deferential now that the adrenaline rush was over. 
The officer's mouth is suddenly freed from Kwabena's 'choke hold', and the thick tufts of smoke form into his arm again. All he needed was that nod, and as quickly as the officer is released, he runs to join his buddies who are doing crowd control.
"That's okay," breathes Shift to Rachel. "Dis is the first solid lead we've had." He darts his eyes toward Doug and answers, "It won't be a problem. Get dem down into de subway station." He flips out a cellular phone, and begins jabbing a number into its keypad. While he moves to offer one free hand to whomever needs more help with the prone would-be enemies, he's speaking into the receiver. "Ehh, Frederick!" And without hesitating, he breaks into his native Dangme tongue. "--I need you and that van of yours! Corner of--" Bear and Atlantic!"
 (--Afrikaans.)
Rachel takes a calming breath as Shift releases the police officer and nods in quick acknowledgement of his words. "Let's hope they can give us something." She still doesn't sound wildly keen on how well things went, but at least she's doing something useful. Walking back to where the guy who tased her is lying, Rachel resists the strong urge to kick him. Instead, she reaches down and hauls him upright. With one hand. It's not the most subtle use of telekinesis in the world but it gets the job done.
"I've got this one." She confirms to the others, and hauls him purposefully toward the subway. Her head is really starting to pound now, but she's still making sure that anyone who looks too curiously in her direction looks away again quickly.
Sighing in relief at Shift's reply, although he does have to wonder who this Frederick was that Shift could demand a van and a meeting with quickly, Doug balances his hold on the Asian. Huh. He'd gotten stronger, hadn't he. 
Man, growing up really did kind of sneak up on you. 
Dragging the Asian down the steps, Doug glances at Rachel. "By the way... uh... your face...?" She'd covered up when Shift arrived, but... something -had- been there. He just hadn't had the chance to comment in all the distraction...
" "--Okay, good, and not a word of this to anyone.--" Yeah, brooklyn. "--Alright, thank you,--" goodbye!"
Hanging up the phone post-haste, Shift eyes Rachel as she hefts Frank Smith. Pocketing the phone, he moves over to give Doug a hand, and grabs the Asian by the other arm. He's tempted to say something snarky to Doug about being nice, but instead, he keeps his mouth shut and just... observes.
Once they are down into the station, he motions over toward a locked maintenance door. "Ovah dere," he huffs, and moves off with his team mates toward the door. Releasing the Asian to Doug's strong arms, he crouches down and forms a fist. Flesh crackles and hardens, joined by a silent snarl, and with a single and forceful punch, the locking mechanism is destroyed. The door swings open toward them, and he grabs it to haul it open for the others. "Go!" he urges.
 (--Afrikaans.)
 
Rachel stops dead in her tracks when Doug mentions her face, the hand gripping Smith going white-knuckled for a moment that'll leave him wondering where the five bruises came from when he wakes up. Rachel swallows hard, then forces her whole body to come down from the bowstring-taut tension it was suddenly being held in. "I was branded." She says dully, not looking at the others, and starts walking again with a slightly robotic gait. "It's not a very nice story." She says in the same flat tone, then comes to a decision. "But I owe you, so come and find me later if you want to hear it." She's back to sounding like Rachel again, and she glances back, from Doug to Shift, putting on a smile to apologise for the way she reacted.
She's not in any mood to stick around, though. When Shift smashes the lock out of the maintenance door, Rachel's through, quick and light, despite the dead weight she's carrying.
"It's..." Well, Doug -had- stepped in it, and he'd have to apologize later. It was apparently -not- a strange injury suffered during ... the recent incident, so that line of thought would have to be dropped. 
Holding the Asian as Shift gets the door opened through forceful means, the young man nods, using the Ghana native as support in getting the unconscious body onto his back so that he could carry him faster and quicker towards their destination. 
At least, at long last, they had -some- sort of clue towards who the nullifiers were... 
As far as Shift is concerned, let them be followed. They'll likely be in Frederick's van and long gone before anyone with real tracking skills hunts them down, especially given the trio's unique talents. For his part, he seems not to pay much attention to the exchange between Rachel and Doug, though as they make their way through the maintenance tunnel, he does offer one bit, to Rachel.
"It's nevah a nice story."
Pushing open another door, they are joined by beams of light from above, where a steep staircase leads to a horizontal street access door. Shift climbs up first, unlatches the door, and pushes it open. There, he waits to offer a helping hand in getting their prisoners up.
Out on the street is a large van, its windows blacked out. Not at all inconspicuous, but then again, there are hundreds of van's like these all over New York City. This one has a large logo spraypainted on the side, which reads, "Bug-B-Gone Pest Control".
 
Rachel had kind of expected Doug to be unprepared for the truth, and the fact that he can't come up with anything to say does leave a slightly bitter taste in her mouth. She'd probably stew over that, if not for Shift's unexpected words. She looks around at him, knocked out of her dark thoughts, looking a little bit startled, but then he gets a genuine smile and a nod. And nothing more needs to be said.
Rachel follows along, her mind once more on the job they're doing right now, rather than things they can't change. She keeps up with the others without trouble, though on the final staircase the size of her load becomes an issue even if his weight really isn't, so she's grateful to have someone to hand him up to.
Emerging onto the street, Rachel looks at the van appraisingly, then tilts her head to look at Shift. Explains the phone calls. "You've done this before." She remarks, more amused than accusing.
Doug -had- taken the 'ask later' at face value, and while Rachel seemed disgrunted, Doug had a nod, a focused mien, and a piggybacked nullifier to deal with. 
As the van comes by, Doug gently places the man down with considerably more gentleness. So he -was- a nice guy. Sue him. 
Boarding the van with the nullifiers, the young blonde helps Rachel get on board, and then slumps against the back of the van's interior walls. "Okay. So what do you intend to do now, Kwa?" the young linguist asks tiredly. 
"Not my first rodeo," answers Shift. He waits while the others get on board, then closes the doors and scrambles up front. There are two men up there, one driver, one passenger, both Africans with accents similar to Kwabena.
There is a hurried exchange of dialogue in different dialects of Ghanaian, all which Doug would easily discern. To make a long story short, these are trustworthy guys who get work from Shift every so often, under the guise of his identity amongst those in the streets as a hired merc.
"Don't worry about Freddie and Baye," offers Kwabena as he returns to the back of the van and finds a seat where one is available. "Dey know how to keep quiet." To Doug, he offers an answer. "They're taking us to de safe-house in Brooklyn. Warehouse, has full covah in de form of an import-export company. I keep some high strength restraints and sedatives dere, but once we determine dat dey are not a threat, we can considah transporting dem to Westchestah for interrogation."
 
In addition to attempting to fight bad guys and getting tased, Rachel hadn't considered the need to climb into the back of a van when she'd picked out today's outfit. Just one more thing that makes the day perfect. Reaching up, Rachel takes Doug's hand and lets him pull her on board, before kneeling down near to Doug and waiting for Shift to join them.
Rachel nods in simple agreement with Shift's words - if he trusts them that's good enough for her, in her current state - but she does listen to what he says, and gets a thoughtful look on her features, even though there are faint lines of pain at the edges of her eyes, betraying her headache. "If you like..." She offers, tapping her right temple with her index finger. "I could try to get you a sneak preview?"
"I see..." Although the covert operations were never quite what the movies made of it, Doug could acknowledge the necessity, but it -wasn't- for him. And so when they arrived, and Shift starts to take them in, the young mutant shakes his head when invited to go in. "I'll pass, thank you," he says softly. 
For once, he could agree with Rachel's approach - at least, it was less... violating in a way he couldn't explain... 
Riding in the back of a van is not the most comfortable way to go, and the group is given their fair share of bumps and quick turns. However, for the time being, they are safe and most importantly concealed.
It's a long way to Brooklyn, after all. The van will have to go over the Staten Island ferry, then travel over the Williamsburg Bridge and out to East Brooklyn. It would seem they have plenty of time on their hands.
At Rachel's suggestion, Kwabena perks a tempted eyebrow. He looks at the two prone prisoners, and lets out a quiet sigh. "I wouldn't ask you to furthah exert yourself," he offers. "But, if you think you can manage it, be my guest." He then looks between the two and asks earnestly, "Are eithah of you injured?"
Meanwhile, Shift reaches into one of those pouches on his X-Men uniform and produces a trio of energy bars. Using his powers does exert a lot of energy after all, and he's feeling good and hungry. He keeps one for himself, then offers the other two out for the taking.
 
Rachel is jostled and bounced along with the others but makes no complaint, instead keenly watching Shift for his answer. If he wanted to make sure she'd actually do what she'd offered, he picked the right one.
Even kneeling on the floor of the van, Rachel's shoulders straighten. "I can manage it." She says, firmly and apparently full of confidence. She seems to feel she has something to prove, and she's already scooting forward to get closer to their prisoners/victims when Shift's question makes her pause. "Only my pride." She tells him, and while not strictly true, there's nothing worse than bruises and the odd scrape. "I'll take one of them, though." She says immediately that the energy bar is offered, unwrapping it and taking a quick bite. "Thanks." She says, then narrows her eyes on the two unconscious men again. Smith, she decides, first. He looked more like management material than the other guy, in her mind. "Let's take a look." She says, her eyes going distant as she reaches out toward the man with her mind.
"Not too badly, though Rachel got shocked by a taser," Doug sighs. "At least I had -one- language when our powers got nullified, so using it..." Rubbing his temples, Doug slow down enough to unwrap the energy bar, and then slumps back, leaving it to Rachel to glean the information. After snapping off half, he offers the remainder to Rachel. "You're gonna need this, I think," he adds, a note of concern in his voice.
"Ouch." Kwabena winces at Doug's explanation, then offers Rachel the briefest of apologetic looks. However, he quickly goes silent when Rachel visibly goes to work.
The strongest memories in Frank Smith's mind are the most recent ones. He had encountered the African not more than a couple of days ago, in a dive bar somewhere. It was 10:00am, and Frank was drinking, but this was not at all unusual, for Frank has suffered a mutation that caused him to have horrible pains and nightmares... unless he drank.
He'd been drinking since eight years old.
The African had come to Frank in that bar, and taken away his mutation. He'd introduced himself as Isaac, and only Isaac, only to have later explained that he is able to block the mutation effects of other mutants.
The Asian is a different story. His mutation caused him to have a hyperfocus upon anything he put his mind to, but for many years it had tormented him. He'd been unable to hold down work, maintain friendshis, and had eventually turned to crime. Isaac had come along and removed the ability, but that left the Asian with a number of skills, which easily explains away his jiujitsu mastery.
 
Somehow, the first energy bar is already gone, so Doug's half is taken gratefully by Rachel, who quietly replies, "You're probably right."
Rachel makes the initial contact cautiously, having been blindsided enough today that she doesn't want to take any more risks, but when nothing reaches out to bite her she lets her eyes drift closed. Swaying with the motion of the van, she deepens the connection, beginning to probe, then pauses. "I'll be a lot easier..." She begins, <<If I you see what I see.>> She finishes telepathically, having drawn Doug and Shift into the link with her. She makes the connections light, she has not desire to pry into either of their minds, but the flow of information from the defenceless, unconscious minds is crystal clear.
When she's done, Rachel opens her eyes - and puts a hand down to steady herself as a bump in the road almost topples her. "That's all I can get for now." She says, tiredly, shifting herself back to her original spot and leaning her head against the wall of the van. "And I think... you're going to have to wake me up when we get there." The tone's vaguely apologetic, but her eyes are closing again whether she wants them to or not.
Category:Log