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ax_mainJean's team comes knocking on the Right's door.
Jean swore under her breath as the portal faded out behind her team. This was bad.
Frumplin had lead their scout to where Caleb was being held. But the temporary bolthole that The Right had scuttled off to wasn't a base off in the middle of nowhere. It was a single-story white building sitting center of a perfectly manicured lawn. Flowers, neatly rounded shrubberies, and a subtle buff-and-white sign that read "Dearborne Behavioral and Community Health". Two streets down from a Target shopping center, within spitting distance of suburbia.
They'd chosen great camoflague and a better shield. Somewhere underneath that facade of healing were the twisted minds that had decided that Caleb had no right to humanity. And Jean had no patience for it.
"Cal? Have you got a good grip on my TK?"
Between the two of them, Jean was pretty sure they were more than capable of kicking over this particular anthill. It was dealing with whatever was swarming inside that would be the problem. But that's why Cal and Laura were on point.
A flower was plucked from a nearby bed as if by an invisible hand, and then tossed back in. "All good," Cal confirmed, his tone a little too even. His heartbeat had slowed, and every breath felt momentous. He knew this feeling, and the headspace he was settling into. He knew what came next. He'd been trained for this. He had everything he needed. Clint's healing, the Professor's telepathy, Clarice's teleportation, Jean's telepathy and telekinesis, and Billy's knives. They wouldn't know what hit them.
They should never have grabbed Caleb.
"But I can't get anything from inside," he added, after attempting a psi scan. It made sense, if the Professor had never been able to use Cerebro to track down the Right, but Cal would have felt better knowing that Caleb really was here.
Laura scowled at the scenery, hating that she had to at least give thanks to her Facility for being out of the way of innocents. With Jean and Cal they had enough power to destroy this lab, but the could not an that made her even more irritated. She took a deep breath in through her nose, trying to pin point the red head’s scent, but it was heavily muddled by other scents so that meant he could be here or he had been. She looked over at Jean and cocked her head towards the building in silent question. Jean was leader and she would listen. “Should we try to get in before we bring out our powers since we are not exactly in the middle of no where? I can try to slash at the doors without anyone noticing.”
She curled her hands into fists.
Jean shook her head. "No. We're not playing to their strengths. We're going in hard and fast. We'll have everyone in there occupied with us, not trying to move Caleb." Or whoever else might be in there. "We'll get in as quickly as we can and portal out from the inside. If we're seen..." That's what selective memory blanking was for. "...we'll deal with it.
Betsy nodded, triggering her psi-blades as she readied herself. "On your six," she said seriously.
Jean nodded in acknowldgement, then turned to Cal and Laura. "Let's try to keep casualties to a minimum. That said, if it's you or them... well, you can guess, right?" She smiled very faintly. "'At my signal, unleash hell.'"
Now.
This was what Cal had been trained to do. His heart felt like it had slowed down, and he shouldn't be looking forward to this so much, but here he was. If it was what he needed to do, to be, to make sure Caleb got out okay, then here he was.
When he heard Jean's signal, Cal didn't pause to think. He tore the doors off their hinges even as he took off running, ready to take what they threw his way. The first volley of projectiles - whatever they were - got diverted to the side with another use of Jean's telekinesis, allowing him and Laura to reach the first guards. Billy's knives shone as they found their marks, disarming and neutralising, just short of anything lethal. For now.
Laura’s claws came out immediately as she followed Cal inside, appreciating him taking care of any bullets, and jumping in to slash at any enemies who did not already have glowing knives in them. She made sure to keep her cuts none lethal, no main arteries or lost limbs, but brutally cutting up their faces did not count as lethal in her book.
Anyone still conscious after their swift encounters with Cal and Laura soon experienced a jab from one of Betsy's psi-blades. Overloading their brain wouldn't feel good, on their end, but they would eventually wake up. Just not while she or the others were in the building.
Jean followed in their wake, pushing her telepathy to try and power through the layer of psychic static blanketing the building. It was the mental equivalent of trying to kick in a door, and all while keeping an "eye" out for hostiles in the real world.
Not to mention gawkers.
The guards were pulling back from direct engagement, leading them further into the facility. Jean pushed her powers, trying to grab even a hint of a battle plan from the minds of the combatants - or even Caleb's location - but it was like wading through knee-high sand.
A high, shrill tone warbled at the upper range of Jean's hearing, just before a wave of concussive force raced at the team.
Cal barely managed to blink himself away mid-blast, very glad that he had taken off his bracelet for this. No way he could've managed if he had had to verbally okay this teleportation. Not that he managed very much, but at least, when he blinked behind a couple of the guards using whatever kind of cannon this was, he skidded mostly harmlessly for a yard or two instead of slamming back into a wall. What little damage he'd taken healed immediately, and that slide only served to bring him by the guards in question, and his training took over. One of Billy's knives sliced into the weapon to his left, and Cal disarmed the guard in his right with a couple of moves, knocking him out with the butt of his own cannon. Another knife sliced into the knee of the guard to his left, and unless Jean or Betsy were injured, Cal intended to keep moving forward, trusting Laura to have the other concussive weapons. The weapon he had grabbed got blinked away into two separate pieces, each half clattering to the floor beside him.
Laura grit her teeth as her body healed against any damage the blast had caused, not even glancing back to see if everyone was alright before she ran forward claws ready.
A few swipes and the left over canons were in pieces, along with one of the guards hand.
Jean managed to slam a partial telekenitic shield up in front of herself and Betsy before the wave hit. The shield trembled, then splintered, but the remaining force only staggered her and left her ears ringing instead of sending her slamming against the wall.
Dammit... Betsy, you all right?
Her head was spinning a bit, but Betsy managed to offer, Alright, yeah, but let's not do that again. She felt like she had smacked her face into a pole, but she kept moving.
This was getting them nowhere fast. They were stuck in this room with more guards flowing in, and while they would eventually run out, they might have taken Caleb away by then. I'm scouting ahead, Cal warned the others, and blinked farther into the room to knock out a couple of new arrivals, but then blinked away again, and into the hallway beyond.
The sudden appearance of a hostile behind them distracted the guards. Jean lashed out with another TK wave, slamming as many of them to the floor as she could.
Take these guys down, she informed the other two. Let's keep them off Cal's back.
***
Cal had always suspected as much, but this settled it: teleportation was the best power the Right could have given Pam. Clarice's brand was even more dangerous, with the javelins he could send at hostiles - or their weapons. Coupled with Billy's knives and Jean's telekinesis, it was only the very rare injury that needed healing as he blinked from room to room, although it always did within seconds.
He kept an eye out for Caleb's spell book, just in case, hoping they hadn't destroyed it (surely they would want to study it, and the new spells within?), but found the holding cells before he found a trace of the book. Now it was just a matter of finding which one Caleb was in.
A piercing alarm pulled Caleb back into consciousness. He stirred where he was slumped in the corner of his cell and quietly swore in German. Everything hurt. The guards had called it a lesson and a punishment. They’d beaten him until he’d blacked out, and he couldn’t say he regretted it. His handler was dead. He could still smell charred skin and burnt hair on himself—A scent that made his stomach turn, but even that he couldn’t regret. His handler was dead and good riddance. The asshole should never have killed his cat.
With a pained groan, Caleb slowly sat up. He gingerly touched his swollen cheek, then the cut on his lip. His gaze swept over room. It was bare and empty, except for the dried puddle of blood that stained the concrete by his knee and the thin grip he had on his composure slipped. Panic swelled in his breast, squeezing his lungs. They’d gotten him again. He was going to die here. And, God, Cal… Where was he? Had they—No. No, he would have seen Cal in the van and for a brief, wild moment, he felt relief.
Cal had been trying cell after cell, until he found the right one. There was a blink of pink energy, and Cal appeared in front of Caleb, dressed in black tactical wear and very obviously uncollared, himself. He took a moment to breathe when he saw the state Caleb was in, and resisted the urge to go back out and lay waste to the place and everybody in it, fuck Jean's instructions on the use of lethal force. He took a step towards his friend. "Let's get you out of here.”
For a moment, Caleb thought maybe he’d broken again. Whatever that nameless girl had fixed inside him had snapped again and he was drooling in the corner of his cell and hallucinating Cal appearing like an action hero. But, he knew well enough that his imagination, cracked or not, had never been so kind. Or maybe he was just desperate enough not to care if this wasn’t real.
With an abortive sound, Caleb scramble-stumbled to his feet and flung himself at Cal, hugging him.
"Whoa," Cal muttered, and needed a second before he hugged Caleb back. Cautiously, because he didn't want to hurt him, but he also wanted him to feel the steady comfort hugs were supposed to provide. "It's okay. I've got you." He squeezed Caleb slightly. "Let's get out of here."
Even as he finished speaking, the door to the cell opened up, and Cal pulled back from the hug to face the woman standing in the doorframe. Dressed to the nines, as always, in a sharp, black pant suit, long dark hair pinned behind her head, her make-up flawless, Sandra looked surprised to see Cal for a second, but then recovered quickly, and smiled at him. "You couldn't stay away, could you, Cal."
That smiled tugged at something inside Cal, but he ignored it, stepping in front of Caleb. Don't freak out - not again - don't let her get to you. Still, his heart pounded so loud that he could hear it, especially when she slid a hand inside her jacket. He didn't know what she had there - a weapon, a collar? - but Billy's knives appeared in Cal's hands. “Don't."
Caleb stared wide-eyed at the woman. She was the worst out of all of them. She’d just watched when they’d beaten him, that same little smile on her face the whole time. He would have been terrified to see her before finding out she was Cal’s handler, but now… “Run,” he said quietly enough that only Cal would hear him. “Just go.”
Like fuck Cal would run. He could blink them away in a heartbeat, probably before she got whatever she had in her jacket out of there. But then she'd still be out there. Ready to do this bullshit to others, like she'd been ready to do it to Caleb, now.
"Come on, Cal," Sandra went on, her voice honey sweet, the voice she cajoled him with, when that was in her best interest. In his, she'd once made him think. Everything she did was for his benefit, she'd assured him, even when she had to punish him. He'd grown to believe her, in time - sometimes. But no longer. "You've had a nice vacation." There was a weapon in her hand. A gun, but not one of the usual models. (Cal would know.) "Time to come home."
She raised the gun, but Cal raised his hand, the knife disappearing from it as he used Jean's telekinesis to slam his handler back into the wall. He held her there and pulled the weapon from her hand, disassembling it with a thought. It clattered to the ground in pieces. His heart was going a mile a minute as he strode over to her.
"Cal..." she pleaded, her voice strained.
"Are you proud of me now," he asked her, his tone flat, his eyes holding a riot of emotions. And then he slid one of Billy's knives up through her ribcage, and into her heart. They'd taught him just how to.
He watched as life went from her eyes, as her last breath left her lungs, as she fucking died. At last, he'd managed it. Then he stepped back and let her body crumple to the ground.
There were so many things he wanted to say to her, still.
He turned back to Caleb instead. "Let's get you out of here.”
Caleb wanted to say something. To comfort Cal, or reassure him. But, he knew now wasn’t the time. With a nod, he limped past him, pausing beside his handler’s corpse to spit on her before hobbling the rest of the way out of the cell.
The hallway was empty, and quiet except for the alarm still blaring. Caleb glanced around nervously, his heart racing. He needed to find his book. And his holster. He didn’t want to lose that. “Which way?” They’d thrown a bag over his head when they’d brought him in. He had no fucking idea where he was.
Contacting Phoenix psychically, at this distance, with their anti-psi measures, was a lost cause. "We're teleporting," Cal told Caleb, before he tried to go any further. He steadfastly ignored Sandra's body as he joined his friend out of the cell, and brought a hand to his ear to turn on the earpiece. "Phoenix, I've got him. Where are you?"
"We're about finished mopping up here." Just behind Jean's voice, there was a quiet "snikt". "How's Caleb?"
"Ready to get outta here," Cal replied, because what else was he supposed to say? "You found his book, by any chance?"
"Yeah, we've got it. No gawkers here so far, and no sign of other captives. Let's get going while our luck holds out."
"Meet you where we came in," Cal said, and cut communication. "They've got your book," he told Caleb, and called up a portal in a flash of pink energy. "Let's meet up and all get back to school."
Caleb stared at the portal. Escaping from the Right once had been a miracle, but here he was escaping a second time. All thanks to X-Force. They didn’t have to come for him, but they had and he didn’t know what to make of that. He wasn’t sure he ever would. Without a word, he stepped through the portal that would bring him one step closer to freedom.
Jean swore under her breath as the portal faded out behind her team. This was bad.
Frumplin had lead their scout to where Caleb was being held. But the temporary bolthole that The Right had scuttled off to wasn't a base off in the middle of nowhere. It was a single-story white building sitting center of a perfectly manicured lawn. Flowers, neatly rounded shrubberies, and a subtle buff-and-white sign that read "Dearborne Behavioral and Community Health". Two streets down from a Target shopping center, within spitting distance of suburbia.
They'd chosen great camoflague and a better shield. Somewhere underneath that facade of healing were the twisted minds that had decided that Caleb had no right to humanity. And Jean had no patience for it.
"Cal? Have you got a good grip on my TK?"
Between the two of them, Jean was pretty sure they were more than capable of kicking over this particular anthill. It was dealing with whatever was swarming inside that would be the problem. But that's why Cal and Laura were on point.
A flower was plucked from a nearby bed as if by an invisible hand, and then tossed back in. "All good," Cal confirmed, his tone a little too even. His heartbeat had slowed, and every breath felt momentous. He knew this feeling, and the headspace he was settling into. He knew what came next. He'd been trained for this. He had everything he needed. Clint's healing, the Professor's telepathy, Clarice's teleportation, Jean's telepathy and telekinesis, and Billy's knives. They wouldn't know what hit them.
They should never have grabbed Caleb.
"But I can't get anything from inside," he added, after attempting a psi scan. It made sense, if the Professor had never been able to use Cerebro to track down the Right, but Cal would have felt better knowing that Caleb really was here.
Laura scowled at the scenery, hating that she had to at least give thanks to her Facility for being out of the way of innocents. With Jean and Cal they had enough power to destroy this lab, but the could not an that made her even more irritated. She took a deep breath in through her nose, trying to pin point the red head’s scent, but it was heavily muddled by other scents so that meant he could be here or he had been. She looked over at Jean and cocked her head towards the building in silent question. Jean was leader and she would listen. “Should we try to get in before we bring out our powers since we are not exactly in the middle of no where? I can try to slash at the doors without anyone noticing.”
She curled her hands into fists.
Jean shook her head. "No. We're not playing to their strengths. We're going in hard and fast. We'll have everyone in there occupied with us, not trying to move Caleb." Or whoever else might be in there. "We'll get in as quickly as we can and portal out from the inside. If we're seen..." That's what selective memory blanking was for. "...we'll deal with it.
Betsy nodded, triggering her psi-blades as she readied herself. "On your six," she said seriously.
Jean nodded in acknowldgement, then turned to Cal and Laura. "Let's try to keep casualties to a minimum. That said, if it's you or them... well, you can guess, right?" She smiled very faintly. "'At my signal, unleash hell.'"
Now.
This was what Cal had been trained to do. His heart felt like it had slowed down, and he shouldn't be looking forward to this so much, but here he was. If it was what he needed to do, to be, to make sure Caleb got out okay, then here he was.
When he heard Jean's signal, Cal didn't pause to think. He tore the doors off their hinges even as he took off running, ready to take what they threw his way. The first volley of projectiles - whatever they were - got diverted to the side with another use of Jean's telekinesis, allowing him and Laura to reach the first guards. Billy's knives shone as they found their marks, disarming and neutralising, just short of anything lethal. For now.
Laura’s claws came out immediately as she followed Cal inside, appreciating him taking care of any bullets, and jumping in to slash at any enemies who did not already have glowing knives in them. She made sure to keep her cuts none lethal, no main arteries or lost limbs, but brutally cutting up their faces did not count as lethal in her book.
Anyone still conscious after their swift encounters with Cal and Laura soon experienced a jab from one of Betsy's psi-blades. Overloading their brain wouldn't feel good, on their end, but they would eventually wake up. Just not while she or the others were in the building.
Jean followed in their wake, pushing her telepathy to try and power through the layer of psychic static blanketing the building. It was the mental equivalent of trying to kick in a door, and all while keeping an "eye" out for hostiles in the real world.
Not to mention gawkers.
The guards were pulling back from direct engagement, leading them further into the facility. Jean pushed her powers, trying to grab even a hint of a battle plan from the minds of the combatants - or even Caleb's location - but it was like wading through knee-high sand.
A high, shrill tone warbled at the upper range of Jean's hearing, just before a wave of concussive force raced at the team.
Cal barely managed to blink himself away mid-blast, very glad that he had taken off his bracelet for this. No way he could've managed if he had had to verbally okay this teleportation. Not that he managed very much, but at least, when he blinked behind a couple of the guards using whatever kind of cannon this was, he skidded mostly harmlessly for a yard or two instead of slamming back into a wall. What little damage he'd taken healed immediately, and that slide only served to bring him by the guards in question, and his training took over. One of Billy's knives sliced into the weapon to his left, and Cal disarmed the guard in his right with a couple of moves, knocking him out with the butt of his own cannon. Another knife sliced into the knee of the guard to his left, and unless Jean or Betsy were injured, Cal intended to keep moving forward, trusting Laura to have the other concussive weapons. The weapon he had grabbed got blinked away into two separate pieces, each half clattering to the floor beside him.
Laura grit her teeth as her body healed against any damage the blast had caused, not even glancing back to see if everyone was alright before she ran forward claws ready.
A few swipes and the left over canons were in pieces, along with one of the guards hand.
Jean managed to slam a partial telekenitic shield up in front of herself and Betsy before the wave hit. The shield trembled, then splintered, but the remaining force only staggered her and left her ears ringing instead of sending her slamming against the wall.
Dammit... Betsy, you all right?
Her head was spinning a bit, but Betsy managed to offer, Alright, yeah, but let's not do that again. She felt like she had smacked her face into a pole, but she kept moving.
This was getting them nowhere fast. They were stuck in this room with more guards flowing in, and while they would eventually run out, they might have taken Caleb away by then. I'm scouting ahead, Cal warned the others, and blinked farther into the room to knock out a couple of new arrivals, but then blinked away again, and into the hallway beyond.
The sudden appearance of a hostile behind them distracted the guards. Jean lashed out with another TK wave, slamming as many of them to the floor as she could.
Take these guys down, she informed the other two. Let's keep them off Cal's back.
***
Cal had always suspected as much, but this settled it: teleportation was the best power the Right could have given Pam. Clarice's brand was even more dangerous, with the javelins he could send at hostiles - or their weapons. Coupled with Billy's knives and Jean's telekinesis, it was only the very rare injury that needed healing as he blinked from room to room, although it always did within seconds.
He kept an eye out for Caleb's spell book, just in case, hoping they hadn't destroyed it (surely they would want to study it, and the new spells within?), but found the holding cells before he found a trace of the book. Now it was just a matter of finding which one Caleb was in.
A piercing alarm pulled Caleb back into consciousness. He stirred where he was slumped in the corner of his cell and quietly swore in German. Everything hurt. The guards had called it a lesson and a punishment. They’d beaten him until he’d blacked out, and he couldn’t say he regretted it. His handler was dead. He could still smell charred skin and burnt hair on himself—A scent that made his stomach turn, but even that he couldn’t regret. His handler was dead and good riddance. The asshole should never have killed his cat.
With a pained groan, Caleb slowly sat up. He gingerly touched his swollen cheek, then the cut on his lip. His gaze swept over room. It was bare and empty, except for the dried puddle of blood that stained the concrete by his knee and the thin grip he had on his composure slipped. Panic swelled in his breast, squeezing his lungs. They’d gotten him again. He was going to die here. And, God, Cal… Where was he? Had they—No. No, he would have seen Cal in the van and for a brief, wild moment, he felt relief.
Cal had been trying cell after cell, until he found the right one. There was a blink of pink energy, and Cal appeared in front of Caleb, dressed in black tactical wear and very obviously uncollared, himself. He took a moment to breathe when he saw the state Caleb was in, and resisted the urge to go back out and lay waste to the place and everybody in it, fuck Jean's instructions on the use of lethal force. He took a step towards his friend. "Let's get you out of here.”
For a moment, Caleb thought maybe he’d broken again. Whatever that nameless girl had fixed inside him had snapped again and he was drooling in the corner of his cell and hallucinating Cal appearing like an action hero. But, he knew well enough that his imagination, cracked or not, had never been so kind. Or maybe he was just desperate enough not to care if this wasn’t real.
With an abortive sound, Caleb scramble-stumbled to his feet and flung himself at Cal, hugging him.
"Whoa," Cal muttered, and needed a second before he hugged Caleb back. Cautiously, because he didn't want to hurt him, but he also wanted him to feel the steady comfort hugs were supposed to provide. "It's okay. I've got you." He squeezed Caleb slightly. "Let's get out of here."
Even as he finished speaking, the door to the cell opened up, and Cal pulled back from the hug to face the woman standing in the doorframe. Dressed to the nines, as always, in a sharp, black pant suit, long dark hair pinned behind her head, her make-up flawless, Sandra looked surprised to see Cal for a second, but then recovered quickly, and smiled at him. "You couldn't stay away, could you, Cal."
That smiled tugged at something inside Cal, but he ignored it, stepping in front of Caleb. Don't freak out - not again - don't let her get to you. Still, his heart pounded so loud that he could hear it, especially when she slid a hand inside her jacket. He didn't know what she had there - a weapon, a collar? - but Billy's knives appeared in Cal's hands. “Don't."
Caleb stared wide-eyed at the woman. She was the worst out of all of them. She’d just watched when they’d beaten him, that same little smile on her face the whole time. He would have been terrified to see her before finding out she was Cal’s handler, but now… “Run,” he said quietly enough that only Cal would hear him. “Just go.”
Like fuck Cal would run. He could blink them away in a heartbeat, probably before she got whatever she had in her jacket out of there. But then she'd still be out there. Ready to do this bullshit to others, like she'd been ready to do it to Caleb, now.
"Come on, Cal," Sandra went on, her voice honey sweet, the voice she cajoled him with, when that was in her best interest. In his, she'd once made him think. Everything she did was for his benefit, she'd assured him, even when she had to punish him. He'd grown to believe her, in time - sometimes. But no longer. "You've had a nice vacation." There was a weapon in her hand. A gun, but not one of the usual models. (Cal would know.) "Time to come home."
She raised the gun, but Cal raised his hand, the knife disappearing from it as he used Jean's telekinesis to slam his handler back into the wall. He held her there and pulled the weapon from her hand, disassembling it with a thought. It clattered to the ground in pieces. His heart was going a mile a minute as he strode over to her.
"Cal..." she pleaded, her voice strained.
"Are you proud of me now," he asked her, his tone flat, his eyes holding a riot of emotions. And then he slid one of Billy's knives up through her ribcage, and into her heart. They'd taught him just how to.
He watched as life went from her eyes, as her last breath left her lungs, as she fucking died. At last, he'd managed it. Then he stepped back and let her body crumple to the ground.
There were so many things he wanted to say to her, still.
He turned back to Caleb instead. "Let's get you out of here.”
Caleb wanted to say something. To comfort Cal, or reassure him. But, he knew now wasn’t the time. With a nod, he limped past him, pausing beside his handler’s corpse to spit on her before hobbling the rest of the way out of the cell.
The hallway was empty, and quiet except for the alarm still blaring. Caleb glanced around nervously, his heart racing. He needed to find his book. And his holster. He didn’t want to lose that. “Which way?” They’d thrown a bag over his head when they’d brought him in. He had no fucking idea where he was.
Contacting Phoenix psychically, at this distance, with their anti-psi measures, was a lost cause. "We're teleporting," Cal told Caleb, before he tried to go any further. He steadfastly ignored Sandra's body as he joined his friend out of the cell, and brought a hand to his ear to turn on the earpiece. "Phoenix, I've got him. Where are you?"
"We're about finished mopping up here." Just behind Jean's voice, there was a quiet "snikt". "How's Caleb?"
"Ready to get outta here," Cal replied, because what else was he supposed to say? "You found his book, by any chance?"
"Yeah, we've got it. No gawkers here so far, and no sign of other captives. Let's get going while our luck holds out."
"Meet you where we came in," Cal said, and cut communication. "They've got your book," he told Caleb, and called up a portal in a flash of pink energy. "Let's meet up and all get back to school."
Caleb stared at the portal. Escaping from the Right once had been a miracle, but here he was escaping a second time. All thanks to X-Force. They didn’t have to come for him, but they had and he didn’t know what to make of that. He wasn’t sure he ever would. Without a word, he stepped through the portal that would bring him one step closer to freedom.
