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om_mainHunkering down where John's been hiding, John, Midnighter and Rahne fill each other in on the past. They're interrupted by more Marauders, and two of them have surprising mutant powers. A brawl ensues, and they pursue a fleeing Marauder.
WARNING: Graphic Violence
John slid through the open window from the fire escape, nobody around any the wiser. He was silent as he slid in, leaving the window open this time, so that Midnighter and Rahne could follow him through. He'd chosen a vacant apartment in the beat-up end of town that nobody would care about, at least for a few days. Third floor; not too high, not too low. He could jump it and be fine if he rolled with the landing.
"Keep your voices down," he advised, quietly, as he ushered them in. "Tell me about these Marauder guys." John had been thinking. They were new, definitely. And they were odd. He hadn't seen any tags, any kind of turf signs that he could recognize and attribute to them. But maybe he hadn't been looking in the right places.
"Tell me about Creed," Midnighter replied instead, his voice a low rumble as he took in the apartment Daken was squatting in. His brain was already figuring out appropriate scenarios in these surroundings.
Rahne settled in the windowsill with her arms crossed. She would not be shipped back to school like a blasted suitcase. Though every moment looking at John further soured the mood. It was the principle, at this point. She wasn't some dainty little China doll, and she certainly wouldn't be made to look one in front of John bloody Howlett.
If it could be truly called an apartment, the little block of space in the building was barely furnished; the living room where they stood was bare save for the carpet on the floor. The kitchen had a stove, a fridge, and counters and cabinets, but nothing in them. The bedroom was also empty, as was the bathroom. "Creed?" John thought for a moment, and then nodded, rolling his eyes. "Psh. Only reason I remember him 'cause he used to throw his name around. Some enforcer for a local street gang. Big guy, not so tough though. Put him in the hospital awhile back, he's actually one of the guys who got me caged in juvie. I'm assuming he's made a full recovery?"
"He's a mutant," Midnighter replied, keeping an eye on his cell phone as he stood across the room from Daken, closer to Rahne than to him. Rankin had better call him back soon. "Healing, senses, strength? Something like your package, or mine."
"So you need to come back to school. With us. Because this... guy is looking for you and there's no point giving him a chance, is there?" Rahne frowned at the boys. They looked like a sodding war council, when this was meant to be a rescue mission.
John wanted a war council, though. This had been exactly what he'd been itching for. "His Marauders or whatever jump whoever might be looking for me, and you think that removing me solves the issue? If Creed thinks I'm around to see it, he might get a bit more drastic to try and send me a message. I ain't fond of the idea of "Come Here Howlett" drawn with someone's blood in the streets for everyone to see," John replied, frankly.
"Either way, this is bad. We're not far from where you guys were jumped, and if Creed can track, you can bet your ass he can find us. And I'd prefer to be on the offensive. We need to find a group of their guys, hit them, and hit them hard, and get them to cough up where we can find Creed, and shut his mouth one way or another." He glanced to Midnighter's phone. "And put the damn phone away, Midnighter. We're doing this with the three of us, or just me. Those are your options."
"If you're going down that fucking road, we won't be doing this, I will," Midnighter retorted sharply. He had absolutely no doubt that he could take both of them out - hopefully without harming Rahne too much. Then Rankin could come pick them up.
Then again, Daken was right about Creed tracking them here, and he had no clue when Rankin would check his fucking phone and return his call. No way he'd risk them being unconscious when Creed showed up.
"You stay until Rankin gets back to me, then he's taking you back, and I won't hear a fucking word on the subject," he went on, scowling at Rahne before he turned back to Daken. "Let's go." They had to move before Creed caught up with them, and if Midnighter had his way, he only would when they were ready for him to.
The entire floor rattled before they'd taken five steps, then shifted, sinking inward and starting to disintegrate from below.
For one crucial moment, John was put off balance, his foot going through the floor immediately as he shifted his weight onto it. He planted his hands against the floor, bracing, even as the world started to list in his eyes as the floor sank. "Son of a bitch!" he yelled, casting a look around. Rahne was closest to the window. With some luck, she could get out in time to spare. Midnighter was near him, though, and probably didn't have his foot going through the floor yet...
Fuck him, was the first thought that coursed through Midnighter's brain, along the rapidly shifting scenarios. Fuck him for paying too much attention to outside, and no attention at all to beneath them. Fucking rookie mistake.
"Get the fuck out!" he yelled at Rahne, and hoped that she had enough sense to listen. For his part, he had every intention of going down with the floor, now that he was paying attention to the right place - all the sooner to get his fists on people.
Rahne clung to the windowsill, breathing, trying to push her heart back down into her chest. She had no idea what was going on and spending precious moments trying to figure it out wasn't getting her anywhere. So she came at it from another angle. Who did she want to be in a moment of danger?
Rahne's body changed, her claws giving her a better grip on the sill. The floor creaked under her feet, groaning in protest of the added weight of her hybrid body. Cautiously, she let go and slid down the now-sloping floor. Not far from where John was, she crashed through to whatever was below.
The empty apartment below was, unsurprisingly, a ruin of shattered wood. The collapse from above had left the floor here dinged in places, but it seemed to be holding for the moment. Nor was the manner of their opponent's exit at all subtle; someone had managed to punch, kick or otherwise wrecking ball their way through the wall and into the adjoining apartment.
John watched Rahne fall through the floor, and whether or not he wanted to, he was next, plummeting through the hole that had been started by his leg going through. He landed a few paces away from Rahne, getting low to the floor immediately, nearly on all fours, casting a look about and getting as much of a noseful of the air as he could, trying to sort out any unfamiliar, strong, recent scents. Best to get a bead on whoever this was and get to them, before they got away. He just needed Midnighter to join them.
Midnighter slid down the sloping floor and landed in a crouch, for a few seconds paying more attention to the fleeing four unknowns than to the other two pupils. Neighbors were mostly in too much shock to have any kind of reaction, even the one in the apartment next door, the one whose wall was a distant memory.
Midnighter turned on Rahne, taking just a second to let his senses make certain that she was alright, then glared at her and, with a simple, "Don't follow me," that he hoped both of them would listen to (if only so they could come up on the rear of their attackers, a strategically sound tactic), he turned to open the window and jump out into the street. He should hit the pavement a good ten seconds before they burst out into the street, giving him time to position himself right beside the front door. Ready for them.
Smart guy in a fight, that Midnighter, John evaluated. Then again, that was like saying winter was cold in New York. It was just a plain fact. It didn't matter to John though, because he was heading the other way. Pinch them. And also make sure someone didn't slip through a crack somewhere. John dashed out the open door, not caring what happened to Rahne, seeing retreating backs heading down a spiral staircase.
Straggler in the back, John noticed. Weak link. He vaulted over the railing, landing on the opposite side of the stairs, one floor lower, in front of the guy who John assumed was a Marauder. The knife in his hand that came up to greet him was the only justification John needed. He grabbed the offending wrist, twisted sharply, and when the knife hit the floor, John intercepted a punch from the other arm, blocking with his own, and then gave the kid a sharp headbutt, feeling him go limp. John released his grip on him, turning down the stairs and hustling after the fleeing group.
Hopefully Rahne wouldn't be far behind. And hopefully nobody innocent would get hurt along the way. One down, and that was one less for Midnighter to claim as his doing.
In a split second, Rahne was left all alone. Just like that. "Bollocks," she murmured, and didn't even feel guilty about it. Well, she wasn't to follow Midnighter, and she certainly wasn't going to follow John. But she could probably be of some use, somehow. Walking slowly and carefully, she scented the air. There were plenty of people around, but she was searching for the stinging smell of sweat, and adrenaline. Enemies, taut for battle.
Midnighter let the first guy run out the door, and greeted the second one with a punch to the throat, grabbing him and throwing him back into the third person there. The first one was headed back to him, and he dropped to evade his lunge, shifting to the side so he could use the idiot's imbalance to run him head first into the wall.
A tanned girl with short, ragged hair flashed him a grin from the doorway as she caught her lackey effortlessly. The manhandled tough managed a strangled sort of yelp through his injured throat a half-heartbeat before he found himself hurtling through the air again, this time aimed directly at Midnighter.
"You can keep him. Not my type." A fist the size of a grapefruit was headed for Midnighter's head a second later.
Quiet, or at least quiet as he could be given the circumstances, John moved from the entrance of the apartment building, following the tanned girl out by a fair distance, seeing her rush Midnighter after she'd thrown a guy at him. Her funeral. His hand flexed, and the next motion would have brought out his claws, but a flash of movement caught the corner of his eye, coming from an alcove nearby.
Searing, white-hot pain streaked in his upper arm, his chest, his shoulder, and his side, hilts of knives sticking from the entry points, the one in his arm sticking through the arm and fastening him to the drywall. A lanky kid stepped from the alcove, twirling another knife on his fingers. "Well, well," he murmured. "Creed's going to be so pleased we finally found you, Howlett." John's eyes locked on this newcomer. He didn't know anyone who could throw four knives that hard that fast. Clearly, he was dealing with a mutant. The pain was blocked out, though. It wasn't any worse than his wrist claws coming out, when he thought about it. John couldn't help but just grin back to his new enemy.
"You're gonna wanna run," John grunted, tugging the knife out of his side so the wound could heal. The kid twirled the knife on his fingers once again, and smirked.
"We'll see."
Well. That sure was a clue. Even this far away, the scent of blood washed across Rahne practically like a physical force. She turned and sprinted to the central hall and down the stairwell with heavy footfalls, not bothered about stealth. In the doorway she paused for a moment.
Things had changed. There was a sense of tension out here that she hadn't felt before, when she and Midnighter got jumped in the alley. Rahne was willing to bet that one of these people was the one who had collapsed the floor. A mutant, like them. She took a mere moment to look around. It was a fair bet that wouldn't be the person poking at John with knives--that was a petty fighting tactic, compared to smashing buildings. So she rushed him.
Information was filing through Midnighter's brain, even as he evaded the baseline human thrown his way. The mutant's attack was telegraphed, and it was easy enough to dodge her fist, twisting on the spot to let it punch harmless at the air beside his head, even as he made the most of her proximity, launching one of his own fists at her throat with a lot more force than he normally would have. He could tell that he would need it to lay her out, just like he could tell that he really didn't want to let her land a hit, given her seismic abilities.
She saw the punch coming and threw herself back, at the same time taking the easiest route she knew to take an opponent off his feet -- the ground began rumbling ominously, setting the block to quaking.
John's assailant took a quartet of quick steps backwards as he saw Rahne in her lycanthropic form rush from the doorway, pulling a knife from under his jacket. But when the ground took to quaking, he stumbled, but the moment he realized he was going down, he did something strange, that John hadn't seen before. He spun, knives flashing out from the momentary blur that was his form, two bright lances of metal flying towards Rahne's bulk.
They'd ignored John, so far, and even with the ground shaking, John took the knife he'd pulled from himself and threw it at the woman, glad that he was at an angle where he wouldn't risk hitting Midnighter (not that Midnighter would care or be unable to dodge it anyway) or Rahne. Hopefully, with her back turned to him, he had a chance of striking true with it, but it wasn't like John had practiced throwing knives every day. Before he even saw the results of his attempt, he was pulling the other two knives from his arm and side, so that the wounds could close.
Rahne tilted and threw her weight forward even as she began to tilt to the side. Her left arm went cold and buzzing numb for a moment from catching most of her weight, but on 4 limbs she was steadier. It was a lucky thing that the quake had come when it did, as her fall made the knife throw a miss; it clipped her on the temple and went spinning away.
As she crouched, she began to change. In a moment she was wearing her wolf body and bucking off her human clothes. Now, with the advantage of balance, she surged toward the boy with the knives, jaws snapping.
Midnighter calculated his assault precisely. Part of her focus was on the quake, and he could tell that the knife would land hilt-first against her back, a harmless attempt but, perhaps, enough of a distraction for him to get a punch in. And a punch would be all he needed, although he had other preferred scenarios to follow up on if he didn't manage to land it. Foremost was rolling and grabbing the knife on his way; he wouldn't miss a throw, even with the ground shaking, not if he was quick enough about it. The quake was just one more parameter his brain constantly analyzed and integrated into his calculations.
He pretended to need a moment to get his balance, then surged forward right as the knife harmlessly hit her in the back.
Arclight went down cursing, and aimed a vicious kick upward. "Son of bitch." She spat a mouthful of blood at him and tried to twist free. The ground began to lurch crazily.
Riptide couldn't believe this shit. He knew Arclight was intense, but she was just getting crazy. If she took it much farther they risked the entire apartment building going down on top of them!
They hadn't counted on Howlett having friends. The kid had always gone it alone, and the wolf that was starting to bear down on him was, well, the last thing he wanted. Still, the best he could do at this point was scramble away, trying to get to his feet so he could back up Arclight against her foe, though he was now realizing that all he'd done was arm him. Best to just cut and run, and live to fight another day.
"Cops," John said, hoarsely, loud enough for his enhanced-senses friends to hear. He could hear the sirens approaching, and he for one wasn't going to get arrested again for this kind of shit. He didn't toss the knives that were covered in his blood; no need to give anyone any evidence against him. He'd find someplace to dump those. With the ground lurching like it was, John didn't try to chuck any of the knives, but he took one in each hand, holding them in a reverse grip and loped his way towards the one who'd stuck him in the first place, hoping that between him and Rahne they'd be able to run him down.
Rahne was literally snapping at the boy's feet when she heard John say something about the cops. One twitch of her ears easily confirmed it--there were the sirens, obvious now that she was listening for him. Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no. Rahne trotted cautiously toward Midnighter, to wait at his heels for his orders.
Before she had time to bring any buildings down, Midnighter aimed a punch at the side of her head, perfectly calculated to knock her out without causing brain damage. The quake settled down within seconds, but he could hear the sirens getting closer, too, and he let the mutant drop to the ground. "Let's get out of here," he told Rahne, then followed after Howlett, taking one last look around to make sure he hadn't missed anything.
John gathered up the knives that had his blood on them; last thing he wanted was the cops getting his DNA or something from this. He'd ditch them somewhere else, somewhere out of the way. "C'mon," John said, nodding in the direction that the other mutant had fled. "Track him, Rahne. But keep a safe distance. My money's on that he's running back to Creed, and we're gonna track him right back to the bastard," he said, scowling.
Of course, Riptide didn't know any better, and he had to report to Creed anyway. Arclight was going to get nabbed, one way or the other, but she'd get out on her own. If anyone could spring themselves from the pen, it was her. Still. Creed needed to know. The tables were turning, the shit was hitting the fan, and all that good stuff.
Given the head start he had, he ducked into the nearest alley that had an entrance he could remember, and pried open the grate with one of his sturdier knives. The ladder was long, and it didn't go into the sewers. It went somewhere deeper, somewhere darker.
WARNING: Graphic Violence
John slid through the open window from the fire escape, nobody around any the wiser. He was silent as he slid in, leaving the window open this time, so that Midnighter and Rahne could follow him through. He'd chosen a vacant apartment in the beat-up end of town that nobody would care about, at least for a few days. Third floor; not too high, not too low. He could jump it and be fine if he rolled with the landing.
"Keep your voices down," he advised, quietly, as he ushered them in. "Tell me about these Marauder guys." John had been thinking. They were new, definitely. And they were odd. He hadn't seen any tags, any kind of turf signs that he could recognize and attribute to them. But maybe he hadn't been looking in the right places.
"Tell me about Creed," Midnighter replied instead, his voice a low rumble as he took in the apartment Daken was squatting in. His brain was already figuring out appropriate scenarios in these surroundings.
Rahne settled in the windowsill with her arms crossed. She would not be shipped back to school like a blasted suitcase. Though every moment looking at John further soured the mood. It was the principle, at this point. She wasn't some dainty little China doll, and she certainly wouldn't be made to look one in front of John bloody Howlett.
If it could be truly called an apartment, the little block of space in the building was barely furnished; the living room where they stood was bare save for the carpet on the floor. The kitchen had a stove, a fridge, and counters and cabinets, but nothing in them. The bedroom was also empty, as was the bathroom. "Creed?" John thought for a moment, and then nodded, rolling his eyes. "Psh. Only reason I remember him 'cause he used to throw his name around. Some enforcer for a local street gang. Big guy, not so tough though. Put him in the hospital awhile back, he's actually one of the guys who got me caged in juvie. I'm assuming he's made a full recovery?"
"He's a mutant," Midnighter replied, keeping an eye on his cell phone as he stood across the room from Daken, closer to Rahne than to him. Rankin had better call him back soon. "Healing, senses, strength? Something like your package, or mine."
"So you need to come back to school. With us. Because this... guy is looking for you and there's no point giving him a chance, is there?" Rahne frowned at the boys. They looked like a sodding war council, when this was meant to be a rescue mission.
John wanted a war council, though. This had been exactly what he'd been itching for. "His Marauders or whatever jump whoever might be looking for me, and you think that removing me solves the issue? If Creed thinks I'm around to see it, he might get a bit more drastic to try and send me a message. I ain't fond of the idea of "Come Here Howlett" drawn with someone's blood in the streets for everyone to see," John replied, frankly.
"Either way, this is bad. We're not far from where you guys were jumped, and if Creed can track, you can bet your ass he can find us. And I'd prefer to be on the offensive. We need to find a group of their guys, hit them, and hit them hard, and get them to cough up where we can find Creed, and shut his mouth one way or another." He glanced to Midnighter's phone. "And put the damn phone away, Midnighter. We're doing this with the three of us, or just me. Those are your options."
"If you're going down that fucking road, we won't be doing this, I will," Midnighter retorted sharply. He had absolutely no doubt that he could take both of them out - hopefully without harming Rahne too much. Then Rankin could come pick them up.
Then again, Daken was right about Creed tracking them here, and he had no clue when Rankin would check his fucking phone and return his call. No way he'd risk them being unconscious when Creed showed up.
"You stay until Rankin gets back to me, then he's taking you back, and I won't hear a fucking word on the subject," he went on, scowling at Rahne before he turned back to Daken. "Let's go." They had to move before Creed caught up with them, and if Midnighter had his way, he only would when they were ready for him to.
The entire floor rattled before they'd taken five steps, then shifted, sinking inward and starting to disintegrate from below.
For one crucial moment, John was put off balance, his foot going through the floor immediately as he shifted his weight onto it. He planted his hands against the floor, bracing, even as the world started to list in his eyes as the floor sank. "Son of a bitch!" he yelled, casting a look around. Rahne was closest to the window. With some luck, she could get out in time to spare. Midnighter was near him, though, and probably didn't have his foot going through the floor yet...
Fuck him, was the first thought that coursed through Midnighter's brain, along the rapidly shifting scenarios. Fuck him for paying too much attention to outside, and no attention at all to beneath them. Fucking rookie mistake.
"Get the fuck out!" he yelled at Rahne, and hoped that she had enough sense to listen. For his part, he had every intention of going down with the floor, now that he was paying attention to the right place - all the sooner to get his fists on people.
Rahne clung to the windowsill, breathing, trying to push her heart back down into her chest. She had no idea what was going on and spending precious moments trying to figure it out wasn't getting her anywhere. So she came at it from another angle. Who did she want to be in a moment of danger?
Rahne's body changed, her claws giving her a better grip on the sill. The floor creaked under her feet, groaning in protest of the added weight of her hybrid body. Cautiously, she let go and slid down the now-sloping floor. Not far from where John was, she crashed through to whatever was below.
The empty apartment below was, unsurprisingly, a ruin of shattered wood. The collapse from above had left the floor here dinged in places, but it seemed to be holding for the moment. Nor was the manner of their opponent's exit at all subtle; someone had managed to punch, kick or otherwise wrecking ball their way through the wall and into the adjoining apartment.
John watched Rahne fall through the floor, and whether or not he wanted to, he was next, plummeting through the hole that had been started by his leg going through. He landed a few paces away from Rahne, getting low to the floor immediately, nearly on all fours, casting a look about and getting as much of a noseful of the air as he could, trying to sort out any unfamiliar, strong, recent scents. Best to get a bead on whoever this was and get to them, before they got away. He just needed Midnighter to join them.
Midnighter slid down the sloping floor and landed in a crouch, for a few seconds paying more attention to the fleeing four unknowns than to the other two pupils. Neighbors were mostly in too much shock to have any kind of reaction, even the one in the apartment next door, the one whose wall was a distant memory.
Midnighter turned on Rahne, taking just a second to let his senses make certain that she was alright, then glared at her and, with a simple, "Don't follow me," that he hoped both of them would listen to (if only so they could come up on the rear of their attackers, a strategically sound tactic), he turned to open the window and jump out into the street. He should hit the pavement a good ten seconds before they burst out into the street, giving him time to position himself right beside the front door. Ready for them.
Smart guy in a fight, that Midnighter, John evaluated. Then again, that was like saying winter was cold in New York. It was just a plain fact. It didn't matter to John though, because he was heading the other way. Pinch them. And also make sure someone didn't slip through a crack somewhere. John dashed out the open door, not caring what happened to Rahne, seeing retreating backs heading down a spiral staircase.
Straggler in the back, John noticed. Weak link. He vaulted over the railing, landing on the opposite side of the stairs, one floor lower, in front of the guy who John assumed was a Marauder. The knife in his hand that came up to greet him was the only justification John needed. He grabbed the offending wrist, twisted sharply, and when the knife hit the floor, John intercepted a punch from the other arm, blocking with his own, and then gave the kid a sharp headbutt, feeling him go limp. John released his grip on him, turning down the stairs and hustling after the fleeing group.
Hopefully Rahne wouldn't be far behind. And hopefully nobody innocent would get hurt along the way. One down, and that was one less for Midnighter to claim as his doing.
In a split second, Rahne was left all alone. Just like that. "Bollocks," she murmured, and didn't even feel guilty about it. Well, she wasn't to follow Midnighter, and she certainly wasn't going to follow John. But she could probably be of some use, somehow. Walking slowly and carefully, she scented the air. There were plenty of people around, but she was searching for the stinging smell of sweat, and adrenaline. Enemies, taut for battle.
Midnighter let the first guy run out the door, and greeted the second one with a punch to the throat, grabbing him and throwing him back into the third person there. The first one was headed back to him, and he dropped to evade his lunge, shifting to the side so he could use the idiot's imbalance to run him head first into the wall.
A tanned girl with short, ragged hair flashed him a grin from the doorway as she caught her lackey effortlessly. The manhandled tough managed a strangled sort of yelp through his injured throat a half-heartbeat before he found himself hurtling through the air again, this time aimed directly at Midnighter.
"You can keep him. Not my type." A fist the size of a grapefruit was headed for Midnighter's head a second later.
Quiet, or at least quiet as he could be given the circumstances, John moved from the entrance of the apartment building, following the tanned girl out by a fair distance, seeing her rush Midnighter after she'd thrown a guy at him. Her funeral. His hand flexed, and the next motion would have brought out his claws, but a flash of movement caught the corner of his eye, coming from an alcove nearby.
Searing, white-hot pain streaked in his upper arm, his chest, his shoulder, and his side, hilts of knives sticking from the entry points, the one in his arm sticking through the arm and fastening him to the drywall. A lanky kid stepped from the alcove, twirling another knife on his fingers. "Well, well," he murmured. "Creed's going to be so pleased we finally found you, Howlett." John's eyes locked on this newcomer. He didn't know anyone who could throw four knives that hard that fast. Clearly, he was dealing with a mutant. The pain was blocked out, though. It wasn't any worse than his wrist claws coming out, when he thought about it. John couldn't help but just grin back to his new enemy.
"You're gonna wanna run," John grunted, tugging the knife out of his side so the wound could heal. The kid twirled the knife on his fingers once again, and smirked.
"We'll see."
Well. That sure was a clue. Even this far away, the scent of blood washed across Rahne practically like a physical force. She turned and sprinted to the central hall and down the stairwell with heavy footfalls, not bothered about stealth. In the doorway she paused for a moment.
Things had changed. There was a sense of tension out here that she hadn't felt before, when she and Midnighter got jumped in the alley. Rahne was willing to bet that one of these people was the one who had collapsed the floor. A mutant, like them. She took a mere moment to look around. It was a fair bet that wouldn't be the person poking at John with knives--that was a petty fighting tactic, compared to smashing buildings. So she rushed him.
Information was filing through Midnighter's brain, even as he evaded the baseline human thrown his way. The mutant's attack was telegraphed, and it was easy enough to dodge her fist, twisting on the spot to let it punch harmless at the air beside his head, even as he made the most of her proximity, launching one of his own fists at her throat with a lot more force than he normally would have. He could tell that he would need it to lay her out, just like he could tell that he really didn't want to let her land a hit, given her seismic abilities.
She saw the punch coming and threw herself back, at the same time taking the easiest route she knew to take an opponent off his feet -- the ground began rumbling ominously, setting the block to quaking.
John's assailant took a quartet of quick steps backwards as he saw Rahne in her lycanthropic form rush from the doorway, pulling a knife from under his jacket. But when the ground took to quaking, he stumbled, but the moment he realized he was going down, he did something strange, that John hadn't seen before. He spun, knives flashing out from the momentary blur that was his form, two bright lances of metal flying towards Rahne's bulk.
They'd ignored John, so far, and even with the ground shaking, John took the knife he'd pulled from himself and threw it at the woman, glad that he was at an angle where he wouldn't risk hitting Midnighter (not that Midnighter would care or be unable to dodge it anyway) or Rahne. Hopefully, with her back turned to him, he had a chance of striking true with it, but it wasn't like John had practiced throwing knives every day. Before he even saw the results of his attempt, he was pulling the other two knives from his arm and side, so that the wounds could close.
Rahne tilted and threw her weight forward even as she began to tilt to the side. Her left arm went cold and buzzing numb for a moment from catching most of her weight, but on 4 limbs she was steadier. It was a lucky thing that the quake had come when it did, as her fall made the knife throw a miss; it clipped her on the temple and went spinning away.
As she crouched, she began to change. In a moment she was wearing her wolf body and bucking off her human clothes. Now, with the advantage of balance, she surged toward the boy with the knives, jaws snapping.
Midnighter calculated his assault precisely. Part of her focus was on the quake, and he could tell that the knife would land hilt-first against her back, a harmless attempt but, perhaps, enough of a distraction for him to get a punch in. And a punch would be all he needed, although he had other preferred scenarios to follow up on if he didn't manage to land it. Foremost was rolling and grabbing the knife on his way; he wouldn't miss a throw, even with the ground shaking, not if he was quick enough about it. The quake was just one more parameter his brain constantly analyzed and integrated into his calculations.
He pretended to need a moment to get his balance, then surged forward right as the knife harmlessly hit her in the back.
Arclight went down cursing, and aimed a vicious kick upward. "Son of bitch." She spat a mouthful of blood at him and tried to twist free. The ground began to lurch crazily.
Riptide couldn't believe this shit. He knew Arclight was intense, but she was just getting crazy. If she took it much farther they risked the entire apartment building going down on top of them!
They hadn't counted on Howlett having friends. The kid had always gone it alone, and the wolf that was starting to bear down on him was, well, the last thing he wanted. Still, the best he could do at this point was scramble away, trying to get to his feet so he could back up Arclight against her foe, though he was now realizing that all he'd done was arm him. Best to just cut and run, and live to fight another day.
"Cops," John said, hoarsely, loud enough for his enhanced-senses friends to hear. He could hear the sirens approaching, and he for one wasn't going to get arrested again for this kind of shit. He didn't toss the knives that were covered in his blood; no need to give anyone any evidence against him. He'd find someplace to dump those. With the ground lurching like it was, John didn't try to chuck any of the knives, but he took one in each hand, holding them in a reverse grip and loped his way towards the one who'd stuck him in the first place, hoping that between him and Rahne they'd be able to run him down.
Rahne was literally snapping at the boy's feet when she heard John say something about the cops. One twitch of her ears easily confirmed it--there were the sirens, obvious now that she was listening for him. Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no. Rahne trotted cautiously toward Midnighter, to wait at his heels for his orders.
Before she had time to bring any buildings down, Midnighter aimed a punch at the side of her head, perfectly calculated to knock her out without causing brain damage. The quake settled down within seconds, but he could hear the sirens getting closer, too, and he let the mutant drop to the ground. "Let's get out of here," he told Rahne, then followed after Howlett, taking one last look around to make sure he hadn't missed anything.
John gathered up the knives that had his blood on them; last thing he wanted was the cops getting his DNA or something from this. He'd ditch them somewhere else, somewhere out of the way. "C'mon," John said, nodding in the direction that the other mutant had fled. "Track him, Rahne. But keep a safe distance. My money's on that he's running back to Creed, and we're gonna track him right back to the bastard," he said, scowling.
Of course, Riptide didn't know any better, and he had to report to Creed anyway. Arclight was going to get nabbed, one way or the other, but she'd get out on her own. If anyone could spring themselves from the pen, it was her. Still. Creed needed to know. The tables were turning, the shit was hitting the fan, and all that good stuff.
Given the head start he had, he ducked into the nearest alley that had an entrance he could remember, and pried open the grate with one of his sturdier knives. The ladder was long, and it didn't go into the sewers. It went somewhere deeper, somewhere darker.
