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om_mainWhen Simon and River take a trip into the city, they are attacked and Simon is incapacitated. Something takes over in River and she takes out the men that attacked them before calling in help. Faiza, Philip, Betsy, and Illyana come to the rescue.
WARNING: Graphic Violence, Discrimination
BACKDATED: June 11th, 2015
The trip to the natural history museum had been a resounding success, Simon had decided. They'd spent over two hours just wandering the exhibits, murmuring corrections to one another and trading smiles. It had seemed to him that River had come through the experience mostly unscathed, managing to keep her calm and joy even at times when they'd been crowded in by overexcited children or bratty pre-teens.
It was for that reason that he'd decided to take a detour through Central Park to show her the Shakespeare Garden. After all, both of their codenames were taken from his works, and it seemed like the perfect place to end a peaceful trip to New York City. Unfortunately, Simon was so caught up in River and her happiness, and the beauty of the onset of spring budding around them that he didn't notice when two men cut over the bridge behind them, following them into the narrower, and more abandoned part of the garden.
River was too wrapped up in Simon, and the quiet joy he reflected back at her, to pay much attention to anything else. She had learned, in time, not to mute the rest of the stream of thoughts and feelings all around her, but to focus her attention where she wanted. She had her hand in the crook of his elbow as they chased the bronze plaques quoting Shakespeare, each time trying to guess which quote it would be before they could read it.
But something was nagging her, like an unpleasant itch at the back of her mind, and eventually, she traced its origin. Her hand tightened on Simon's arm and her breath caught in her throat. "No," she whispered when she managed to push her breath out, eyes wide and filled with fear as she looked up at Simon. "We have to go."
Simon looked up from the plaque he'd been reading just in time to see a blur rush him from one side, a fist connecting with his jaw with enough force to knock his head sideways. He staggered back against a bench and managed to bring an arm up to block the next blow.
For the first time, he was able to make out two joggers, male, who looked as though they made a living out of working out. The first one - the one who blindsided him - was shorter, more heavy-set, but clearly physically fit and gunning for a fight. "You're that kid. You're that snot-nosed little freak lover. The one that says those things - those fucking mutations - are the next step in evolution! What's that mean, huh? What's that mean? The rest of us are fucking monkeys?!"
Suddenly, the garden was deserted, and Simon couldn't tell if it had always been like that, or if people had cleared out at the commotion, but he was disoriented, and all he knew was that River was with him, and these guys were dangerous, and he couldn't let anything happen to her. Through the pain splitting his skull and his jaw not wanting to work properly, he forced the words out, strained, "River, run."
River had cried out when the punch connected, taking a flurry of steps back, instinct, need. She'd curled up behind a bench, her knuckles white on the wooden slat she was gripping, and her breath was coming out in panicked little puffs, but she couldn't look away. Couldn't move, couldn't look away, hate and confusion battering at her and she didn't know where she was anymore.
Not seeing his sister, Simon decided she must have taken his advice, and when the next blow came, he ducked the fist, slamming one of his own into the heavier man's kidney. The howl that erupted split the air, and suddenly, the man's friend shouted angrily, moving in fast.
A blocked jab, then then second of the men - taller, with a shock of red hair, freckles, and a temper - grabbed him by the arm, twisting painfully until he felt the tendons slip out of place, pain rocketing along his nerves.
"Who's superior now, you little twit," the first man snarled, laying into his midsection with enough force to double him over. "You're a traitor to your own kind, you know that!? Think you're so smart. Think on this!"
Simon didn't have time to see the blow coming, and with his arm held twisted behind his back, he had little way to maneuver anyway. Everything had happened so fast, in the blink of an eye. No time to run. No time to call for help. No time to protect her. As the upper-cut connected with his jaw, white-noise exploding through his skull, Simon thought bitterly back to the day on the mats with Jean-Paul. He'd never been fast enough.
He fell, twisting, and his head caught the metal arm of the bench, his skull cracking with a sickening sound before he slumped to the ground at its base, blood already starting to pool.
A scream ripped through the air, just like Simon's pain and blackout had ripped through everything else to overwhelm River, bringing him into sharp focus amid the cacophony of feelings and thoughts.
"Who're you?" one of the two men asked the thin girl he found crouched behind the bench.
"She was with him," the other one stated, as the little girl got to her feet. He pulled his foot back, intending to kick the race traitor in the stomach, and everything blurred for a minute.
River was the only one left standing, her breathing even. The two men were on the ground, unconscious. Between them, they had five fractures, a few bruised ribs, and two concussions.
Her gaze fell on Simon, and the eerie calm that had settled over her shattered. Everything came rushing back in and she dropped to her knees beside Simon and the growing pool of blood. This time, her scream wasn't physical, but a raw, desperate sound on a psionic level, a sound that would punch anyone that could hear it with the hurt and fear packed inside it.
Out in the city Betsy stopped what she was doing, body going still at the sound of the scream. She took only briefest second to step aside, out of the way of anyone that might interrupt her, before sending her mind after the cry. A bright purple butterfly manifested in front of River, taking Betsy's consciousness to the scene. She scanned for immediate danger while asking the girl, River, do you need help?
River's hands were gripping the fabric of Simon's shirt, and her mind was nothing but confusion and pain as Simon's blood reached her knees on the ground. "Save him save him save him," she muttered, "I can't, I don't know what to do, he isn't telling me..."
Hold on. I'm getting help,Betsy told her decisively. She soaked in as much information she could about the location. I'll be back, I promise.
The light flashed out as Betsy raced off to contact the professor. They'd need a teleporter, healer, and someone to deal with cleanup. Betsy was only gone as long as it took to relay the situation and give Illyana River's location. Charles could handle the rest. When she was done her astral form returned, hovering close to River.
Illyana hadn't wasted any time when the Professor had contacted her. It was River, and she was in trouble, and that was more than enough to get her moving. Fortunately, she had strong enough mental images of both Phil and Faiza that she hadn't had to take time to find pictures (or possibly, she considered, the Professor had supplied them; she honestly wasn't sure and didn't care). With the mental image of River's location in mind, it was easy enough to transport all three of them to the gardens. Nothing, however, had really prepared her for Simon's condition, the pool of blood around him, or the expression on River's face.
Squashing all of that down for the moment, she hurried over to River's side and reached down to tug at her arm. "River, c'mon, let's get out of the way so Faiza can do her thing? She can help Simon." She kind of doubted River should watch, even if she wanted to. But if Faiza had managed to put Nico back together, she didn't have any doubt the older girl could do the same with River's brother.
Philip was depressingly prepared, he'd only needed a few moments to grab a pack and he was ready. He took in the scene after the teleport, Faiza would let him know if she needed his help, Illyana had River in hand for the moment. The question was, what to do about the thugs. Restraining them was quick enough, wasn't it useful that hardware stores sold cable ties in great big, untraceable packages. He frowned when they were secure (and with little consideration for their injuries), trying to decide what to do next. After a few moments of thought, he reached for his phone.
Wide brown eyes latched onto Faiza as River stood up at Illyana's urging. The world narrowed down to her, and River took a single step towards her, made sure she had her attention as she said, "Please save him," a whisper with the power to shake her world.
The good thing about being the healer was that Faiza didn't need a pack, really, though she grabbed a few things that would be necessary after the healing. She set her bag down, kneeling beside Simon just before River caught her attention. She gave the girl a grave nod before turning her attention to Simon.
Other than the very first person she'd healed, this was the most difficult to see. She barely knew Nico. She hadn't known Jean-Paul at all. Sirius's injury was nowhere near life-threatening and there hadn't even been time to THINK when she'd healed her first person. Simon, though, was somebody she knew. Somebody she worked with and trusted and it was enough to make her worry for just a moment before she reached out, power curling around her hands before reaching out to envelope the injured man beside her. Let the power take him apart so that it could put him back together.
It wasn't worse than Nico, really, easier to just let her powers take over and do what needed to be done. She understood on an instinctive level what was happening, even if she didn't have the knowledge to describe it. It still took a minute or two before everything snapped back together and she dropped her hands to her thighs before reaching out to take his shoulder. "Simon?"
Simon's eyes slit open, his vision swimming. For a moment, he just stared at Faiza, uncomprehending. Then he reached to push himself up, despite the fact that his head protested painfully, the back of his head and neck warm and wet. "River?" he breathed faintly.
River pushed away from Illyana and rushed to Simon before he was even done saying her name, ending up back on her knees beside him. It didn't matter what she had just seen; he was alright, he would be fine, he was alright, and she could feel his pain and it meant that he was alive. "I'm here," she told him in a sob, "don't move, I'm here."
Illyana watched River and Simon for a moment, then took a breath and turned towards Phil. "Do you want me to do anything with them?" she asked quietly, gesturing towards the guys on the ground.
"One second," Philip said as the call connected. "Hi, it's me. No, nothing's the matter. He's fine, I'll tell him you said so." His voice dropped a little, though people close enough would probably be able to hear at least his side. "No, I've got a situation and have some baggage that needs dealing with, I wanted to see if you had advice. Two. No, absolutely not.
He sighed and shot Illyana a 'sorry, one more second, look. "No, I'm serious, they're staying that way..."
She wasn't Phil, but Faiza looked up and answered. "Illyana, could you take River and Simon to the infirmary? Preferably as close to a bed as you can get them." She turned to Simon. "Remember, I can't replace blood and you've lost a fair amount. And it's possible there's going to be lingering dizziness from the blow to your head." While the surface damage had been repaired, the brain was a strange organ and there was no telling what would linger. "I'll let Dr. MacTaggart decide if you need a transfusion, but I'd say you're likely to be resting for a while yet."
"On it." Illyana moved in a step closer and called up a stepping disk, making sure it was large enough to encompass River, Simon, and Faiza. "I'll be back," she called over to Phil," then disappeared. Next stop, the infirmary. If there was one positive thing about her recent stay there, it was that she knew just the spot.
WARNING: Graphic Violence, Discrimination
BACKDATED: June 11th, 2015
The trip to the natural history museum had been a resounding success, Simon had decided. They'd spent over two hours just wandering the exhibits, murmuring corrections to one another and trading smiles. It had seemed to him that River had come through the experience mostly unscathed, managing to keep her calm and joy even at times when they'd been crowded in by overexcited children or bratty pre-teens.
It was for that reason that he'd decided to take a detour through Central Park to show her the Shakespeare Garden. After all, both of their codenames were taken from his works, and it seemed like the perfect place to end a peaceful trip to New York City. Unfortunately, Simon was so caught up in River and her happiness, and the beauty of the onset of spring budding around them that he didn't notice when two men cut over the bridge behind them, following them into the narrower, and more abandoned part of the garden.
River was too wrapped up in Simon, and the quiet joy he reflected back at her, to pay much attention to anything else. She had learned, in time, not to mute the rest of the stream of thoughts and feelings all around her, but to focus her attention where she wanted. She had her hand in the crook of his elbow as they chased the bronze plaques quoting Shakespeare, each time trying to guess which quote it would be before they could read it.
But something was nagging her, like an unpleasant itch at the back of her mind, and eventually, she traced its origin. Her hand tightened on Simon's arm and her breath caught in her throat. "No," she whispered when she managed to push her breath out, eyes wide and filled with fear as she looked up at Simon. "We have to go."
Simon looked up from the plaque he'd been reading just in time to see a blur rush him from one side, a fist connecting with his jaw with enough force to knock his head sideways. He staggered back against a bench and managed to bring an arm up to block the next blow.
For the first time, he was able to make out two joggers, male, who looked as though they made a living out of working out. The first one - the one who blindsided him - was shorter, more heavy-set, but clearly physically fit and gunning for a fight. "You're that kid. You're that snot-nosed little freak lover. The one that says those things - those fucking mutations - are the next step in evolution! What's that mean, huh? What's that mean? The rest of us are fucking monkeys?!"
Suddenly, the garden was deserted, and Simon couldn't tell if it had always been like that, or if people had cleared out at the commotion, but he was disoriented, and all he knew was that River was with him, and these guys were dangerous, and he couldn't let anything happen to her. Through the pain splitting his skull and his jaw not wanting to work properly, he forced the words out, strained, "River, run."
River had cried out when the punch connected, taking a flurry of steps back, instinct, need. She'd curled up behind a bench, her knuckles white on the wooden slat she was gripping, and her breath was coming out in panicked little puffs, but she couldn't look away. Couldn't move, couldn't look away, hate and confusion battering at her and she didn't know where she was anymore.
Not seeing his sister, Simon decided she must have taken his advice, and when the next blow came, he ducked the fist, slamming one of his own into the heavier man's kidney. The howl that erupted split the air, and suddenly, the man's friend shouted angrily, moving in fast.
A blocked jab, then then second of the men - taller, with a shock of red hair, freckles, and a temper - grabbed him by the arm, twisting painfully until he felt the tendons slip out of place, pain rocketing along his nerves.
"Who's superior now, you little twit," the first man snarled, laying into his midsection with enough force to double him over. "You're a traitor to your own kind, you know that!? Think you're so smart. Think on this!"
Simon didn't have time to see the blow coming, and with his arm held twisted behind his back, he had little way to maneuver anyway. Everything had happened so fast, in the blink of an eye. No time to run. No time to call for help. No time to protect her. As the upper-cut connected with his jaw, white-noise exploding through his skull, Simon thought bitterly back to the day on the mats with Jean-Paul. He'd never been fast enough.
He fell, twisting, and his head caught the metal arm of the bench, his skull cracking with a sickening sound before he slumped to the ground at its base, blood already starting to pool.
A scream ripped through the air, just like Simon's pain and blackout had ripped through everything else to overwhelm River, bringing him into sharp focus amid the cacophony of feelings and thoughts.
"Who're you?" one of the two men asked the thin girl he found crouched behind the bench.
"She was with him," the other one stated, as the little girl got to her feet. He pulled his foot back, intending to kick the race traitor in the stomach, and everything blurred for a minute.
River was the only one left standing, her breathing even. The two men were on the ground, unconscious. Between them, they had five fractures, a few bruised ribs, and two concussions.
Her gaze fell on Simon, and the eerie calm that had settled over her shattered. Everything came rushing back in and she dropped to her knees beside Simon and the growing pool of blood. This time, her scream wasn't physical, but a raw, desperate sound on a psionic level, a sound that would punch anyone that could hear it with the hurt and fear packed inside it.
Out in the city Betsy stopped what she was doing, body going still at the sound of the scream. She took only briefest second to step aside, out of the way of anyone that might interrupt her, before sending her mind after the cry. A bright purple butterfly manifested in front of River, taking Betsy's consciousness to the scene. She scanned for immediate danger while asking the girl, River, do you need help?
River's hands were gripping the fabric of Simon's shirt, and her mind was nothing but confusion and pain as Simon's blood reached her knees on the ground. "Save him save him save him," she muttered, "I can't, I don't know what to do, he isn't telling me..."
Hold on. I'm getting help,Betsy told her decisively. She soaked in as much information she could about the location. I'll be back, I promise.
The light flashed out as Betsy raced off to contact the professor. They'd need a teleporter, healer, and someone to deal with cleanup. Betsy was only gone as long as it took to relay the situation and give Illyana River's location. Charles could handle the rest. When she was done her astral form returned, hovering close to River.
Illyana hadn't wasted any time when the Professor had contacted her. It was River, and she was in trouble, and that was more than enough to get her moving. Fortunately, she had strong enough mental images of both Phil and Faiza that she hadn't had to take time to find pictures (or possibly, she considered, the Professor had supplied them; she honestly wasn't sure and didn't care). With the mental image of River's location in mind, it was easy enough to transport all three of them to the gardens. Nothing, however, had really prepared her for Simon's condition, the pool of blood around him, or the expression on River's face.
Squashing all of that down for the moment, she hurried over to River's side and reached down to tug at her arm. "River, c'mon, let's get out of the way so Faiza can do her thing? She can help Simon." She kind of doubted River should watch, even if she wanted to. But if Faiza had managed to put Nico back together, she didn't have any doubt the older girl could do the same with River's brother.
Philip was depressingly prepared, he'd only needed a few moments to grab a pack and he was ready. He took in the scene after the teleport, Faiza would let him know if she needed his help, Illyana had River in hand for the moment. The question was, what to do about the thugs. Restraining them was quick enough, wasn't it useful that hardware stores sold cable ties in great big, untraceable packages. He frowned when they were secure (and with little consideration for their injuries), trying to decide what to do next. After a few moments of thought, he reached for his phone.
Wide brown eyes latched onto Faiza as River stood up at Illyana's urging. The world narrowed down to her, and River took a single step towards her, made sure she had her attention as she said, "Please save him," a whisper with the power to shake her world.
The good thing about being the healer was that Faiza didn't need a pack, really, though she grabbed a few things that would be necessary after the healing. She set her bag down, kneeling beside Simon just before River caught her attention. She gave the girl a grave nod before turning her attention to Simon.
Other than the very first person she'd healed, this was the most difficult to see. She barely knew Nico. She hadn't known Jean-Paul at all. Sirius's injury was nowhere near life-threatening and there hadn't even been time to THINK when she'd healed her first person. Simon, though, was somebody she knew. Somebody she worked with and trusted and it was enough to make her worry for just a moment before she reached out, power curling around her hands before reaching out to envelope the injured man beside her. Let the power take him apart so that it could put him back together.
It wasn't worse than Nico, really, easier to just let her powers take over and do what needed to be done. She understood on an instinctive level what was happening, even if she didn't have the knowledge to describe it. It still took a minute or two before everything snapped back together and she dropped her hands to her thighs before reaching out to take his shoulder. "Simon?"
Simon's eyes slit open, his vision swimming. For a moment, he just stared at Faiza, uncomprehending. Then he reached to push himself up, despite the fact that his head protested painfully, the back of his head and neck warm and wet. "River?" he breathed faintly.
River pushed away from Illyana and rushed to Simon before he was even done saying her name, ending up back on her knees beside him. It didn't matter what she had just seen; he was alright, he would be fine, he was alright, and she could feel his pain and it meant that he was alive. "I'm here," she told him in a sob, "don't move, I'm here."
Illyana watched River and Simon for a moment, then took a breath and turned towards Phil. "Do you want me to do anything with them?" she asked quietly, gesturing towards the guys on the ground.
"One second," Philip said as the call connected. "Hi, it's me. No, nothing's the matter. He's fine, I'll tell him you said so." His voice dropped a little, though people close enough would probably be able to hear at least his side. "No, I've got a situation and have some baggage that needs dealing with, I wanted to see if you had advice. Two. No, absolutely not.
He sighed and shot Illyana a 'sorry, one more second, look. "No, I'm serious, they're staying that way..."
She wasn't Phil, but Faiza looked up and answered. "Illyana, could you take River and Simon to the infirmary? Preferably as close to a bed as you can get them." She turned to Simon. "Remember, I can't replace blood and you've lost a fair amount. And it's possible there's going to be lingering dizziness from the blow to your head." While the surface damage had been repaired, the brain was a strange organ and there was no telling what would linger. "I'll let Dr. MacTaggart decide if you need a transfusion, but I'd say you're likely to be resting for a while yet."
"On it." Illyana moved in a step closer and called up a stepping disk, making sure it was large enough to encompass River, Simon, and Faiza. "I'll be back," she called over to Phil," then disappeared. Next stop, the infirmary. If there was one positive thing about her recent stay there, it was that she knew just the spot.
