12987/Into the Badlands: Martyrs

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Into the Badlands: Martyrs
Date of Scene: 08 April 2021
Location: The Badlands, South Dakota
Synopsis: Detective Moore has been kidnapped from her home; The X-Men rescue her from her kidnappers in a daring car chase!
Cast of Characters: Storm, Phoenix, Cyclops, Beast, Jubilee




Storm has posed:
A WEEK AGO:

The entire town was in an uproar. But it was quiet; like a slow burn that was lit with the intention of exploding, all due to whispers from a few neighbors who had happened to see or at least be in the know of the deaths of the Dixon family. Rumors began to swirl about the inability of the small town cops, the cops themselves joining into the whispers at the way the Detective stalled on the investigation and called in unknowns.

Because, if you let the locals tell it, they haven't had a murder in over twenty years.

"Listen." The ringleader of the secret town-hall meeting said, hushing the voices that clamored in the gymnasium of the local high school. "We already know that a mutie was behind those killings. They even said it. Now you got that lady detective running around and not telling us anything. She's an outsider! She doesn't even -belong- here!"

The crowd roused, and began their mumblings again.

"I saw it!" One man shouted. "That cop bitch is a mutie!"

THREE DAYS AGO:

The crowd gathered around the home of the detective, shouting in protest at her inability to do her job. In the night, tiki torches would have been a thing but they had branches slicked and wrapped with oil cloths to keep the fire burning. Women and children held each other, some cried, others screamed profane words, handing down hate to little ones who barely could wear a size two..

A brick flies through the home of the Detective. Her third eye opens as she remains against the back of the couch, shotgun at the ready to pull the trigger if they should enter.

She was alone. She was off duty, and repeated calls to the local offices fell on deaf ears..

NOW:

On the day of our lord, April twenty-seventh; an appointment was made a day after the first meet of the X-Men and the Detective to examine the bodies of the Dixon family with the Henry McCoy while the others perform a perimeter search around the home of the deceased. The same route was taken; The Blackbird touches down, cars at the ready, the hours long drive into The Badlands was met with an empty town save for a few lights of the homes of people who decided to mind the business that paid them.

The route was taken to just a few blocks outside of the perimeter of where the Detective lived, barricades set up to make that entire section an autonomous zone. People were milling about, mostly men who looked battle ready, armed with sticks, bats and chains. A few even had their own shotguns slung upon their backs, fingerless gloved hands lining the leathers with a tug to make sure that the fit was still true.

It was a suspicious scene for an outsider; most of the streets were littered with trash that mounted up and set on fire to keep the streets warm. Pictures of the Detective which red spray-painted X's above her face. The Dixon family suffered the same fate; for they had realized that the culprit was the teenaged son, and flyers were already posted in that particular area searching for his whereabouts.

The other cars that were with the X-Envoy veer off into another section of the city to look for another way around, while the remaining stayed behind, gifted with the opportunity to figure out what the hell was going on.

Phoenix has posed:
After they checked out the crime scene proper, Jean and Megan went across the street to speak to a married pair of nosey neighbors about what they'd witnessed. In short, the wife was the neighborhood watch sort who'd been suspicious of the reclusive family and their troublesome child, with anti-mutant sentiments bubbling under the surface. Jean shared some blurry images taken with the wife's phone, of images of men in suits talking to the father not too long before things happened. Sadly poor images. She's good at gossip, not at using a camera phone. Sadly, not much to go on without trying to figure out pictures a few steps above the credibility of Bigfoot photos.

But now, there's more to focus on. Another battle brewing, hatred boiling into the streets. "Madness." She murmurs in a low, tired voice as the car pulls down the road. Her green eyes are heavy as she looks out the windows. "How many times will this same scene play out before something changes? ...guess if you believe the people who've we run into from the future, it doesn't." She's got on plain clothes to not look unusual from the outside, but underneath her shirt she shifts at the weight of the high tech armored vest protecting vitals if her powers fail her.

Cyclops has posed:
"It will continue until the end of time. If it's not mutants, it will be something else. Bigotry has no boundaries, nor does fear of the unknown. Okay, X-Men, we aren't here to start a fight, but to keep the peace if need be. We need to find the detective first to ensure her safety. We'll stay in our city clothes for now, no uniforms. IF we split up, Jean will link us psychically. Hank, use your image inducer, you too Megan. Let's not rile the natives up."

Scott is driving, making his way through the city as he looks to take them to the detective's home. Once there, he will put the car in park and head out to make his way for her door. He slips his phone out, sending her a text message that they were here and looking to speak with her.

<< If they hurt her in any way, Jean. >>

Beast has posed:
"That's the beauty of string theory, Jean. If we do as we do, or we do not, there will be at least one future, where things are not as they have been forseen to be..." Henry McCoy murmurs, pulling the car to a stop. "Stars and Garters, let the fires of Salem light up the night..." he glances over the crowd. "Anyone know if the detective is safe? Can you feel her Jean?"

Winding the window down a little bit, Hank sniffs at the air, not that he thinks he'll have much luck picking anything out of the scent of deluded self-righteousness, burning garbage and fear. Given the powderkeg that this township has been, he's borrowed one of those image inducers and looks relatively normal, in a black hoodie and loose sweatpants after a moment tapping the gadget. He grabs his doctor's kit, just in case and slaps the universal red-cross badge to the front of his hoodie.

Jubilee has posed:
Jubilee rests her arms loosely folded, taking in what people are saying, looking to each. "If we're too late to stop an attack, then what do we do now? This is tough." She lowers her sunglasses, and blows a bubble. Fortunately she can blend in.

Storm has posed:
Bigotry has no boundaries, Scott says.

And tonight he is right. The drive to the Detective's house was precarious. There were jeers, empty beer cans thrown at the trucks on the way, the smell of burnt wood and garbage enimating all the way up to the house that belonged to Rachel Moore. And the house was a sight.

Windows were busted out, curtains torn to shears. In fact, once Scott knocks upon the front door he would see it ajar! The interior was a mess. Blood splatter, bullet holes in the wall, and a fallen man against the window. There was clearly a struggle, but there was no one left behind to tell the tale.

This scene was fresh.

If Henry couldn't tell by the smell of it all, Jean could probably tell by the havoc surrounding the house. The piercing fear. Desperation. The hate and the joy. The eagerness. The murderous intent. It all fills that area as soon as they pass the perimeter, and it was nasty business.

Scott, if he listened, could hear the idling sounds of three cars. Large. Doors immediately slamming and wheels peeling against the concrete in the alleyway all in succession. Someone realized they had company. And they had to get out quick.

Cyclops has posed:
At the sight of the downed man, Scott grits his teeth and puts his shoulder into the door as he steps forward. "It's Scott! Are you in here? Are you okay?" There is frustration in his voice, anger and a hint of anxiety.

<< Jean, cars are peeling out nearby. Scan them and yank whatever you can out of their heads. If they were involved.. If they killed her, I want them to walk back to this house and bark like a dog until I figure out how many times I'm going to let Hank punch them in the face. >>

He looks to hit the lights on on the side of the wall. "Jubilee, in with me, I need lights. Hank and Megan, exterior duties. Search the perimeter."

Phoenix has posed:
Closing her eyes and reaching out with her powers, Jean's face is quickly tightening in a horrible grimace as emotions crash against her mind, sparking moisture at the corners of her eyes. She hisses out between her teeth, "I don't know her well enough to pick her out from the crowd, but I do know it feels... bad. Something terrible has happened. The people are almost crazed. So many emotions... be careful. Be very careful. If they think we're mutants, they may just outright attack us blindly."

Sucking in a deep breath to steel herself, she gets out of the car but holds nearby in case if she needs to clear a path for the team back to the car. Hunkering low to stay in cover, she stretches out her mind towards the fleeing cars. With the potential for several minds, she reflexively honed in on the one with the most emotion among the lot. The easiest to find and the easiest to crack when time is of the essence.

Beast has posed:
Henry McCoy had yet to get out of the car. This might be helpful, or it might not -- it took him a little while to get his bag and badge and Scott was off ahead.

<<Scott, this entire town is a powderkeg. Any weird moves right now and we could make the whole thing explode. ALthough I admire the sentiment, I think it would be more prudent for Jean to cause clumsiness so we can catch up... or we may find ourselves in a /very/ uncompromising position. I'm still in the car. Get back here and lets move...>>

He revs the engine, reaching a hand out the driver's side as he slides into the position and slaps the roof for a sense of urgency with his palm.

Jubilee has posed:
Jubilee has her trenchcoat to her back, shielding her from any shouting or thrown objects, following along with Scott. Happy to help, even in a very basic way, first CLOSES some curtains to make sure nobody sees what's she's about to do. Only then, she throws a glowing orb, emitting pink-warm light, just hovering over Scott and giving him the light he needs.

She also makes a glowing ball in her hand, tossing it into the air idly. "Guh, gross," she blurts out seeing blood on the wall, looking away. "This is really bad. And someone did this."

Storm has posed:
The cars were.. well, not the best. Two older model vehicles and a all terrain truck that clearly has seen better days. Once they clear the alleyway, their skirt out onto the street and begin to take off with speed -away- from the chaos that the town slowly dissolves into.

And all of that? Could possibly hit Jean at that moment. There was trouble in the horizon; unrest and bewilderment were underway depending on how far Jean could reach, but her focus was on the car. And that singular emotion and thought..

'We have to let her go..'
'This is so bad'
'Why did I let them talk me into this?'
'They're going to kill her!'

It was clear that she was gone, no answer was given to Scott, not even the groans of a downed man or woman in other rooms. It was empty. Completely. And no matter how much light Jubilee gives to the situation, it doesn't change.

Cyclops has posed:
After searching the house, Scott gives a shake of his head to Jubilee. "She's not here, which means there's a good chance she may stil be alive. Let's get out of here. Take shotgun next to Hank. Jean and I will take the backseat." He says to the sparkler as he starts for the door again.

<< We're coming back. Place is empty, but she put up a hell of a fight. I wish we brought Foley along for this. We may need him. >>

As he heads back out the door, he starts for the car with a quick step.

Phoenix has posed:
Jean's not out of the car long. As soon as she's pinpointed the cars and the direction they're going, her voice is roaring through the link, << They have her and are going to kill her! The cars that just left. Let's move, NOW! I'll keep as best of a lock on the cars as I can. >> Rarely does Jean bark orders on the field, instead letting Scott do the commanding. But when she does, it's worth taking note of.

She's back in the car and buckling in, then reaching back out again to find the fleeing cars and the minds within them. Latch on, direct the team as best as they can: it's not going to be an easy GPS, but it's what they got.

Jubilee has posed:
Jubilee puts out the lights as soon as they're going to be in sight of anyone outside. Hands on her hips, she sighs. Looking around for trouble, she's fairly dejected by what she saw in there. But, once outside, she starts bouncing practically to get into the vehicle and strap in, ready to go. "Alright. Let's hope for the best!"

Beast has posed:
As soon as everyone is in the car, not even necessarily if they're all buckled in... Hank floors the pedal. He has his own sportscar, he occasionally uses the motorcycles at the mansion but one thing that is actually very handy about hyper-acute reflexes and the like, is that stunt driving... although not movie-stunt driver quality... comes reasonably natural. He /feels/ the machine beneath his hand and is rapidly burning rubber with a look of extreme concentration on his face; the vents are opened, not with A/C or heating, just with air from the outside and his nose flares in constant sniffs to track the flow of more overpowering scents; burning oil, diesel exhaust, overheating engines, burning rubber, that kind of jazz.

"Hold on to your underwear, folks," as he takes a corner as if he was doing the monaco grand priz and guns the engine afterwards.

Storm has posed:
"WOOOO!" One of the drivers scream out of the window, arm reaching down to smack at his car. While they lost one tonight, they were going to take it out on the Detective two-fold for what she did. "She was a damn good shot!" The passenger screams out, then looks into the backseat at the unconscious detective.

There was no hiding this time. That third eye remained open, glaring at the two men. It was unsettling how it moved on it's own, and it causes the passenger to sink down into his eat with a hand upon his head.

The other car begins to swerve, attempting to keep up with the other two, it's enging petering and drawing up smoke. Easily traced if they were close enough. The truck keeps up, swerving to the side opposite of the car, attempting to keep out of the way to not cause a collision and kill them all.

Cyclops has posed:
"Keep them locked in, Jean. Show Hank where they're going so he can follow them. They're going to be armed, I'm sure, so don't hold back. Jubilee, you and I are going to take point the moment we get out of that car. You hit them hard, don't let them put a read on you. This is life and death now, you understand?"

Scott's voice is serious and tight in his throat. A new side of him that creeps out once in awhile. Battling Magneto is one thing, but humans who are killing the innocent? Especially mutants, children even .. he has a limit. It's reached tonight.

"The moment we get our hands on her, Jean, you turn us invisible to their minds. Make them go away if you need to. We just need to make sure she's okay first, then we'll hit up a hotel out of the city if need be and convene."

Jubilee has posed:
Jubilee takes a deep breath. Flexing her hands after Scott's instruction, she nods "Alright Scott. If they have guns..." She sighs and does not want to finish that statement, but she closes her eyes and prepares herself. Fingers on the seat belt buckle, hand on the door.

Beast has posed:
Henry McCoy darts his eyes sidelong to Jean and for a very brief moment takes his eyes off the road to close them against the sense of foreboding that took him there. Maybe an animal instinct stirred breifly. It doesn't cause any sudden accidents though and his eyes narrow to the streets, accelerating into a curve to use the cars momentum to slingshot some torque and make up a bit of distance. Brave move, unless you trust your driving skills not to flake out on you. He guages the neighbourhood a little, which is rather gutted considering that everything's gone to hell in a handbasket for the last little while and guns the truck they're in, through someone's backyard and fences in a short-cut to the next street.

Planks of shattered wood bounce off the hood, along with an unfortunate garden gnome. Luckily that was plastic and it bounces. If someone cares about the little fairy, they'll find it on their neighbour's porch three houses down, upside down in the cigarette butt can.

A little closer! "I can smell the trailing vehicle. Keep a hold of something..." he speeds to a dangerous rev count and pulls down hard to the left on a sharp turn and likely just in time to see the tail-lights of the rear vehicle making its own bend; Beast shifts a gear down to second (because of COURSE this is stickshift) and the engine roars, the vehicle lurches but the gears take the extra power as he floors it forward and pins everyone to their seats -- rapidly up to third, more rev, fourth... and BANG into the bumper of the rear vehicle in a back-end ram! With any luck, this will cause some wonkiness.

Storm has posed:
They weren't out of the woods just yet.

There were rumors that a certain part of the Badlands was a kill free zone. Murder someone there, you do not face the laws of the united states government, in fact, you get off Scott free. (Total lie.)

But they were so close to making it to deeper parts of town until the vehicle that carries the mutants were not too far off. The roar of the vehile that Henry drives catches the truck-beds attention, the man immediately slamming upon the breaks in attempts to trip Henry up, while having his other 'brothers' get away.

The voice of the young man is getting a little bit more urgent, instant regret. Especially when Detective Moore wakes up in the backseat, and begins to scream bloody murder!

Cyclops has posed:
When the car hits the brakes, Scott leans his head out the window and taps his visor, sending a beam of red light to blast the back wheels out and to send the car flying off to the side in a pit manuever. As he leans back, he lets out a frustrated tone. "Punch it, Hank."

"Jean, see if you can convince those guys to hit the brakes. Jubilee, get ready, you'll be on my six the moment we hit the pavement."

Phoenix has posed:
"I'm going to try and stall the car she's in to slow them down! Don't hit that one, she could get hurt!" Jean snaps as she drops the tracking connection once they're in sight. "Soon as I kill the engine, I'll work on protecting the detective. We'll deal with the others later."

Then, she's reaching out towards the car in which the detective is trapped. Physically, even with a window in her way. Pink light surrounds the front of the truck. She may not be the automotive technician Scott is, but she's learned what important wires are where as well as something even more important - the fuel line. It's little trouble to telekinetically yank is free, spilling out the car's lifeblood across the desert floor and starving the engine of fuel and causing it to quickly begin slowing. As soon as she feels it come lose, she's turning her psychic powers on those in the truck. The same pink light snaps away from the engine and to the space between the drivers and the detective, forming a defensive bubble around the prone woman to help shield her from whatever may come.

"I have her! Go!"

Beast has posed:
Henry McCoy fluidly swerves as Cyclops neatly takes out the flatbed, powering beyond the truck at speed. He once again makes good use of the gears and the fact that the desert at the edge of town has less obstacles, to plough through some tumbleweed, leap over a greasewood stump in a little Dukes of Hazard moment and power around infront of the last vehicle with the truck they're in broadside to the oncoming. He slams on the handbreak at the last minute and has the engine block facing the oncoming now with its added weight of crumplezone and cattle-catcher at the front. THey have the edge on simply more expensive vehicles after all. This is a dodge cummins diesel with all the damn trimmings, so it is! He ducks down then, grabbing the doctor's bag and keeps himself out of the firing line.

Jubilee has posed:
Jubilee hangs on, unbuckled, ready to go. She may be a gymnast but jumping out of a car at full speed isn't a good idea for her. So as soon as things are slow enough, she hops out.

Sunglasses in place even as she does a roll, she hops up and starts firing. In the general directionof where the people with guns are, she's laying down fireworks. Bright, hot. Now, she's not trying to kill anyone, but those will definitely dazzle, burn, and hurt.

Storm has posed:
Scott's beam-strike hits true; the back wheels of the truck were concussed and blown off rotor, sending it careening into another parked car and out of the game. Thankfully, or not, no one was injured, save for a bumped head and a bruised ego. And a broken nose.

One down, two left. The second to the last car keeps on the tail of the first, which was clear who had the Detective. The one who begins to fight the passenger and the driver both, sending the main car swerving back and forth. It looked like a jumbled mess, who could tell which body was which?

It was a clear fight to the death, and all of them were going out swinging.

Jean's dismantling of the car proved true, as it begins to slow, the driver hectically turning the wheel back and forth as he tries to bat away the fighting detective. He couldn't see the pink, all he could see was red..

The second to the last vehicle was attempting to keep up, but once the quicker car intercepts and slams, they instinctively slam upon the break as well, cutting the wheel to the left which causes the car itself to trip up and flip, landing upon its roof. And spins!

Jubilee's firework proved true, with the car slowly coming to a stop, their eyes blinded by the hot light, the driver goes in for the gusto. Why not. They were going to die. The cops mutant friends were coming to kill them.

The passenger manages to break free of the detective, punching her hard enough to break his own knuckles (without her feeling a thing), and sinks into his seat to avoid the lights and howl. The driver? Ready to face his fate, pulls the gun from his belt to aim towards the Detective, and fires.

Point blank. Where that evil eye is placed.

Cyclops has posed:
"NO!"

Scott's voice rips free as he pulls himself out of the car the moment Jubilee does. He can see everything move in slow motion as he taps his visor to send a blast of red light just over the Detective's shoulder, looking to strike the gunmen square in the chest. It's a thin beam, designed to sting and to knock him over and off his feet, as opposed to a wide beam meant to pummel.

There is rage burning through the psychic link from the field leader that they all share. Seeing red is taking to a new level as he runs forward, his hand up to his visor, ready to send another beam to whoever 'dares' think about moving.

Phoenix has posed:
It's not easy. It's hard as hell. Harder even then Jean is audibly gritting her teeth as she holds both hands out in front of her with her fingers curling inward like claws hooking around something. "...c'mon, work with me girl..." She growls through those teeth with her eyes wrenched shut, focusing on battling the wild will of the woman that tries to fight against what Jean tries to protect. Even as hell is breaking loose around them, Jean seems utterly focused on her task and leaving her well-being to Hank's driving and a band of nylon holding her to the seat.

The screeching of metal. The squeal of tires. The emotions of people on both sides amped up to 11 and in various states of rage and panic. But Jean trained for these situations. Hours, days, weeks, years; mental blast shields drop down to cut her off from the distractions until there is nothing but the psychic line between herself and the detective and the bubble she has formed around her.

The gun goes off, and she can only hope its enough.

Beast has posed:
Henry McCoy has been busy with his dextrous hands. A tranq gun in the medical bag, dart, dart, dart, dart, dart. Loaded, locked, he rolls out of the car, using the door as a shield, shoves the gun between his teeth and takes off in a mad spring on all fours, zigzagging low on the ground to get to a position where he can at least take out a few of the contenders with a well placed tranq in whatever body part he can reach.

Because he knows. He knows that despite rage, if there are deaths when justice could have been served, they are no better than those that they fight. And he knows Scott. He will GUILT. "Night night, Bo-jangles," he mutters as he takes aim and pops off a couple of the rounds, leaps with the gun in his teeth and bounces off the roof of a car to that terrible sound of a gunfire.

His animal instinct was right.

Jubilee has posed:
Jubilee fires off a few more shots, Pink, blue, and yellow streaming through the air at the car. But she's not just sitting there, oh absolutely not. She ducks her head, lays out on her stomacn on the ground, and makes herself as small as possible as she fires off the second round of shots. She has one job (well, two if you count not getting shot), and she's doing her job.

Storm has posed:
All it takes is a second. A hitch of a breath, a flinch, a drop of sweat and hesitation.

The powers and abilities of all combined in that moment to create a moment of perfect storm; the shot rang out. Rachel's head snaps back but she was shielded from the bullet. Concussed, outcold yet again. Three eyes closed. Hit was the driver of the car two fold, tranq dart to the back. Blast to the shoulder. Passenger, out as well. The needle impales an arm and they all slump in the vehicle, the vehicle which now is left running with a foot down upon the gas.

Thankfully it didn't go anywhere; the heat of Jubilee's fireworks melted the tires enough to stick it to the concrete, now all that was left was burning rubber.

There were no deaths this night; amazingly. The Detective relatively safe yet bruised and burned, spurned by her own department and left to hang high and dry..

ELSEWHERE:

"You mean those dumb fuck's fell for it?" The man says, overlooking the nights sky in his high rise office building. He always worked late, in fact, his office was equipped with a bedroom where he could sleep if he needed. His hand raises to slick back his black hair, one leg kicked up over the other, rocking back within his leather bound chair as he cracks out a laugh.

"I didn't expect that." He tells the voice on the other end. "Listen, we got time to find the boy. I figure at this point, we're going to let him sit and stew. Once the Badlands is a place that's near inhabitable, that's when we'll move in." He nods his head, turning his chair to face his desk.

"Yeah. Kill him afterwards. He'll be pretty useless by then."

THE BADLANDS:

Charlie was in bad shape; even as he walked along the desert floor and deeper off the beaten path, his bare feet bled. But they didn't bleed the normal blood that he was accustomed to. It was sticky, and it smelled almost like acid. He even looked a sickly green, but it wasn't due to exposure to the cold air of the desert, it was exposure to himself. Leaflets hung from parts of his hair that he continually ripped out, his body remained hunched, he coughed and green smoke poured from his lips that nearly had him wretching. "I want to go home.." He whimpers quietly, path drawing him towards another crevice in which he has grown used to sleeping in. Last night, he had almost taken root, and he felt he would die if he did. "..Moom.."

There was nothing left. This was all that there is.