ArchivedLogs:Animal Kids Rescue!
| Animal Kids Rescue! | |
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| Dramatis Personae | |
| In Absentia
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2013-05-22 X-Kids and an Anole are rescued from FIGHT CLUB by a Kurt. (Part of Thunderdome.) |
| Location | |
It's a basement, somewhere, that much is clear from the slightly musty-cool feel, the lack of windows, the stark-bare cement decor. What purpose this place originally served is hard to discern; something industrial, judging by the heavy reinforced eyelet hooks still set into the ceiling, now devoid of any loads to bear. Of late the place has been repurposed, though. Around two parallel edges of the room, sturdy cells have been constructed, heavy reinforced metal segmenting off large cage-like cells. The enclosures are largely identical: two sets of bunk beds with pillows, thin sheets, identical grey wool blankets. A pair of large covered bedpans, a bucket usually filled with fresh-ish water. The center of the room is divided in two. One half is large and open, a spacious expanse of cement floor and emptiness. The other half holds long trestle-tables, long benches, both riveted into the cement floor. The ceiling -- of the room, of the cages -- hold very noticeable dark security-camera bubbles. There is one door leading out of here, heavy steel that is securely chained and barred from the outside. "Okay," Peter says, standing - behind Anole. "We'll take this slow..." Peter is in the center of the cell with Anole; the former is clad only in sweat-pants - the black carapace coated teenager gleaming a dark metallic blue in what light is available. He is currently behind the LIZARD TEEN - both arms on Anole's hips, having hefted him a /foot/ off the ground with relative ease - leaving the green boy's feet to dangle. "Go ahead and tongue the ceiling, and I'll start pulling. Really slow. If it starts to hurt, just, uncurl your tongue. Or make - a 'stop Peter' noise." Peter doesn't indicate what a 'stop Peter' noise is. He just... presumes Anole will be able to /make/ one. "Ready?" And if Anole is? Peter proceeds to shout: "THWIP!" THWP. This comes pretty much in time with Peter's 'thwip'. Anole's loooooong sticky tongue unfurls, thwapping against the ceiling and staying there. "-oo thure thith ith a 'ood flam?" OK, it's hard to talk with your tongue stuck to the ceiling. And, "ech." Maybe the ceiling tastes no better than the beds. "This," Shane says from his position on the bed, "is a /terrible/ fucking idea. You need your tongue. For eating, and shit." The blue sharkboy is -- actually /both/ the blue sharkboys are -- perched on a lower bunk in one of the cages. Peter, rather /changed/ since he was last seen at Xavier's (dark blue-black chitin covering all his previously fleshy skin), is holding a small lizardy teenager by the waist. Anole's tongue is stuck to the ceiling. Peter is pulling. Shane looks much as he always does. Blue. Sharky. Admittedly, he's thinner, admittedly his skin is /cracking/ in places, too-dry, too-flaky, admittedly he's pretty bruised, a few healing scars across his bare arms and chest. His nice linen dress pants are bloodstained, torn to shreds. He still wears a bowtie anachronistically /neatly/ tied over the collar that circles his neck. All their necks. "Maybe," Sebastian is curled up next to his brother, also shirtless, his skirt torn to ribbons used now as makeshift bandaging. He just has boxers. "Maybe he's tired of tasting the really bland breakfasts here." "I /like/ those eggs," Shane protests. "Are you /really/ gonna use Anole as your --" "-- of /course/ he is, that's just what his webshooters /needed/. Lizard-upgrade." Sebastian grins at this idea. Bright and toothy, unlike his usual reserved smiles outside these cages. Teeth -- missing in places. But toothy all the same. The clanging, unchaining, scraping of the door is a pretty /common/ occurrence around these parts. It's not quite time for the next meal but there it is! Maybe an infirmary-patient being returned. Maybe someone else being taken. Except that's not what appears at the doorway. Instead there are -- well, people. Unguardlike people. Some of them quite /familiar/, though, to some of the people in the cages. He's hard to see in the shadows, and he doesn't move like a human does, at least not here. To the boys from Xavier's school, this should be more familiar than not; it's not at all a rare occurance to see one Kurt Wagner--Nightcrawler, when he's on the job--moving on four limbs. He's dressed in the sleek, dark leathers of his uniform, highlighted with red in homage to his old circus outfit. Most of what is visible of Kurt are his eyes, the bright lights of yellow darting back and forth...and lighting on the people inside this particular cage like golden homing devices. Kurt rushes up to the cage and draws up into a tense crouch outside of it, almost like a meerkat, blinking furiously. "Die Kinder." He says, and the expression he offers is almost--almost--a smile. He has something in his tail. "Hold on. I am going to get you out of there. Are any of you hurt?" "This is an /excellent/ idea," Peter tells both Anole /and/ Shane, glancing the latter's way with a rumple of his brows. "If this works -- /dude/ he could be on my back and we could WEB-SLING while CAMO'D it would be frigging awesome--" Peter is, very gently and very /slowly/, continuing to pull on Anole. "--the moment it feels bad just, /stop/, and--" The sound of clanging doesn't make Peter stiffen - but the sudden mass of shapes entering? /That/ does. At once, Peter freezes, his grip tightening on Anole's hips; when Kurt appears at the entrance of the cage - Peter jerks. And starts to hyperventilate. "...wh--K--" Peter's hands immediately release Anole, letting him slide back to the ground. Just rooted in his spot, /staring/ at him. Eyes wide. Like he's seeing some sort of /ghost/. Anole /squeaks/ -- at least kind of, it's a little strangled. His tongue is still stuck to the ceiling and as he is let go, he just /dangles/ there. Hanging. Swaying a little. "'ether! -- nngh." A moment later, and he's peeling his tongue off to drop to the ground, landing in a crouch and staring out at the man outside with wide green eyes. "-- UM." He glances nervously from Kurt to the cameras overhead. "/Um/, you should probably, you should be in the -- in the cage, they'll /shock/ you if -- you're new." He frowns, biting at his lip. "Peter are you -- are you OK?" The twins are scrambling to their feet even as the door is opening. There are /familiar/ scents in the air, and they /rush/ to the cage doors as they arrive. At first their attention is -- /past/ Kurt, on the others, /riveting/ on Jax at the other side of the room. A tiny whimper sounds in Shane's throat. Sebastian's hands curl tight around the bars. It's only at a delay that they take stock of Kurt. They stare, too. Huge pupilless black eyes looking down at the yellow once. Shane's hands tremble. Bastian's claws scrape against the metal. But both are kind of stunned-silent. "Wunderbar." Kurt mutters to himself as Peter starts to hyperventilate. His tail swings around to deposit what it was holding into his hands--and it turns out to be a collar remote. "Boys, boys." Nightcrawler tries to meet the eyes of either twin, bobbing his head into their line of vision. "I know. /I know/. But I need you to focus, please, first. Peter must be calm. If I cannot find the release for the cage I will be teleporting you all out...if he is breathing like so, too out of rhythm, it will be far worse for him, ja? Soon, soon." He drags his gaze down to the remove a few seconds later, slowing his gestures briefly. Careful, careful now. Luckily it's all clearly labeled, so finding the 'remove collar' button shouldn't be too hard even for the ESL elf with funny fingers. Peter is /not/ calming down. Peter is, in fact, a few moments away from just collapsing. His breath is coming out in wheezy little rushes; his eyes are huge, gleaming saucers -- and his arms are now /curling/ around Anole's shoulders. Just, seizing him, as if he expected that he might vanish at any moment. His head thunks to Anole's shoulder, squeezing maybe just a little /too/ tight. All of Peter's weight rapidly descends atop of him - just, /melting/ - as if Anole was expected to support Peter. "We're leaving," Peter hoarsely whispers, throat clenched, face buried. Probably just as the collars are released. "He's taking--we're--it's--home." Anole's eyes widen. His breath sucks in, mostly, at his squeezethunk against still pretty /bruised/ flesh. Reflexively, though, he lifts his arms to support Peter. Or -- try to. He's not very /good/ at it; he stumbles back a half step, starts to sink downwards. "I don't -- we're -- but they'll -- if we go they'll --" He holds Peter tight. And still /stares/ uncomprehendingly at Kurt. "Teleport -- But -- you -- Peter," he finally manages, "pleasebreathow." Sebastian's gills are quivering, fluttering open and closed in restless-panicked /not/breathing. /Attempted/ breathing, faultily-uselessly trying to gillbreath on land. Shane's do much the same; his eyes shift back away from Kurt to Jax across the room. Back to Kurt. His hand slowly lifts, to slip his bowtie slightly upward and pry away his collar from the (chafed, chapped, slightly singed) skin beneath. His fingers close around the collar tightly as his hand drops. "Kurt," he says, very solemnly, "I could kiss you." This finally seems to snap Sebastian out of stunned-stupid. "... like /that's/ new." Shane snorts, and pushes away from the bars. He's -- kind of stiff. Kind of stilted. He moves over to Anole and Peter, and rests a hand at Peter's elbow, supportive. "We're going home." "Pa's --" Sebastian starts, and Shane cuts this /off/ even before it gets anywhere: "/busy/." But this word is a little tight, a little edged. To Kurt: "Everyone's going to panic." "Everyone is panicking," Sebastian points out. "Or --" He glances around the room. "... shutting down." "Can we help?" Shane wants to know. "Explain things, maybe. So they understand." "That it's not a trick. I don't. Think," Sebastian says, "anyone expected to --" "/We/ expected it. Of /course/ they came." But there's more /relief/ in Shane's voice than confidence. Once the collars have been deactivated and unlocked for all four boys, Kurt passes the remote back to his tail without once looking at the handoff. "Shane, mein jung Freund, I believe that would be terribly inappropriate." He tells Shane, his voice slightly distracted as he examines the bars. He still manages the tiniest bit of a quirked smile. "We are taking everyone, Bastian, there may be some confusion but we will work it out. We will not leave anyone behind." He drops his bright gaze first to look at the shark-boy, and then at the others in the cage. Finding the clasp is taking far too long. "Prepare yourselves, this may be slightly unpleasant. Peter and our new green friend first, and then you twins. You have my /word/ I will not leave you in there." Kurt's voice rings like clashing steel for a second there--Peter and Anole may not understand, but Shane and Sebastian will. After all, they already /know/ that Nightcrawler spent his own long years trapped in a cage far too similar. The elf takes a deep breath, and the small space is rattled with the sound of an imploding bamf, flooded with the scent of rotten eggs. It's going to get worse before it gets better. Nightcrawler reappears inside the cage, and he reaches out with both hands, trying to gather Anole and Peter in something like a lose hug. "I am very sorry for the roughness of the ride." He tells those two, and gives the twins a lopsided little grin, all fangs. "Be right back." BAMF. The world turns into hell's dryer for a few seconds too long for Peter and Anole. Breathing is a lot harder in the brimstone dimension. Luckily, it is only a few heartbeats before everything turns on its side in order to stay upright, and they reappear outside of the cage. Kurt releases the boys a little tenderly, giving his head a shake to clear it so that he can attempt the second bamf for the twins. Peter's not exactly in the best condition himself; there are - multiple bandages, stitches across his torso - arm - two metal braces on his left hand, holding what are likely broken fingers - and a faint discoloration across his mottled carapace, /possibly/ bruising, though it's hard to say. As Anole starts to slump beneath Peter's weight, trying to hold him up, Peter shows little to no signs of helping; he is, apparently, in the process of just /breaking down/. Whatever tenuous strength he used to keep it together is in the process of snapping like a twig. When Shane touches his elbow -- he produces a strangled sob -- and /WHUMP/. Dead-weight. When Kurt gathers him and Anole in a loose hug - whatever the configuration - Peter's still making those weak little wheezy-whimper sounds. A few seconds in the BRIMSTONE DIMENSION certainly don't hurt; he is left struggling for breath. But at the end of it - when he sees that wherever he ends up isn't - /there/ - well. He just collapses on the floor. And keeps sobbing. Bruises be damned, Anole /squeezes/ tight onto Peter at that slump, buckling the rest of the way to the floor. And then squeezes /harder/ when they're outside, just -- clinging. "You didn't tell me," he whispers shakily -- to Peter, though no doubt the twins' sharp ears can hear it, "that Hogwarts had /angels/." His arms stay around Peter. His head tips forward to rest against the other boy's shoulder. His tears are quieter, just silent-slipping down his cheeks. SQUEEZE. Sebastian's arm curls around Shane, when the others are teleported out of the cage. Holding. Tighter. Shane squeezes /back/, mostly when Peter starts sobbing. He watches the spider-boy with notable worry written onto his features. Watches the bars of the cage with that same worry. His face has the screwed-up determindation, though, of someone who is /so totally not/ going to cry. At least not till they're home. "Lot of confusion," Shane agrees. "There -- usually is. You get used to --" He swallows. "We'll sort it out. Peter," Sebastian starts in on this with a distinct note of worry in his tone. But then he just trails off, and buries his face against Shane's shoulder. "Oh," he says, quietly, "we've got a lot of angels." Nightcrawler opens and closes his eyes a few times, slowly, gathering his strength. "You should not /have/ to." He says to the sharktwins, his voice suddenly very rough. "I told myself a long time ago I would not allow this to happen any more." Kurt's tail lashes briefly, back-and-forth, perilously close to clipping Peter and Anole as it goes. BAMF. Then there's the fuzzy elf inside the cage reaching for both twins with his strange hands, voice still as rough as before. "Come on. Let's go home." BAMF. | |
