1963-08-26 - A Bird In the Hand Two Wolves in the Bush
Summary: A protest in Central Park goes awry. Jean gets caught up in the excitement.
Related: Missing Pieces Plotline
Theme Song: None
logan jean laura 


It's evening in Central Park. The sun still peeks out behind a few buildings, but has long started its descent, heralding the end of yet another day. While the park isn't always the safest place, today its busier than usual. A group of students has gathered for a peaceful protest in solidarity with those planning on marching on DC in the coming days.

While the act of solidarity is not remotely invasive in this locale, it does draw attention and spectacle to anyone passing by. The noise alone is reason to believe that it has some form of merit.

Slowly, over the course of hours, the numbers have increased, now currently spilling into the street. Some sit, others stand, others still play guitars, creating a thrum of noise that is unmissable for blocks.

What they're protesting is less clear.

With so many barefoot, maybe it's shoes.

Along the edge of the park, two types of officials stand. NYPD in their standard uniforms linger and government types dressed in black mill about the area. Perhaps they expect it to get rowdy?

Not far away, another throng of vans pulls up, prepared in the event the protest turns violent.

*

"See?" Jean says, her brown bag of heavily buttered and salted popcorn in hand. "I'm getting better." Who she was talking to wasn't clear. Was it the thing that constantly plagues her mind, or was it Logan, who walked along side of her. "All things considered, the last time I was in a crowd this big, we were attacked by scorpions and I managed to get my arm broken." Levity of the situation, it has her smiling, and digging a full hand into the bag to shove a bit of it into her mouth with a few kernels that flop upon the concrete.

"I wonder what they're on about.." She muses, taking a slight step in to give Logan a bump with her own shoulder, the bag shaken and offered towards the older gent with a need to pass it on less she dies of a salted-buttery thirst. "Let's find some water."

*

Logan snorts, puffing on a stogie and leaving a trailing cloud of smoke in their wake, like a little hairy, deadly choo choo. He flares his nostrils and nods in a direction, "Water's over that way," he says. Yeah, he can smell water.

"Try not t'get roughed up today, huh, darlin'? Makes a body get anxious, you gettin' messed up all the time. I want people to know me fer my pleasant disposition an' genteel manners, not my berzerker rage-outs," he chuckles.

*

Somewhere along the edge of the crowd, an unassuming young female stands, watching the crowd. One assumes it's the spectacle she's watching, anyway— she doesn't seem engaged enough to be part of the crowd so much as a curious on-looker. But then again, she's about the right age. X-23 is of course, anything but unassuming, and anything but interested in what citizens are upset about.

*

The crowd in the park becomes more disorganized as some amble down the street in curvilinear paths as if transfixed by something unseen. Their trajectories become faster and more purposed as they begin to spill into the streets. It nearly seems planned, the way some in the crowd stand and walk into the street — some leaving friends and comrades behind them in confusion as they move.

The police begin to trail the movement, with one officer crustily suggesting, "Stick to the park. If you move to the streets, we will need to intervene as you'll be obstructing — " but even as he speaks, the young people continue on the move. "Round them up!" the officer calls back to his fellow officers, prompting some of the police to move on those entering the streets.

*

Jean willingly follows Logan, though she managed to remain at his six as she focuses on rolling the bag up against her stomach. Her head was dipped low, purposely ignoring the buzz within the back of her head, the tickle at the base of her neck, the pressure behind her ears…

All of it screamed for her to reach out and just give it a listen and a pry, perhaps then she would have seen that things were about to get a little bit rowdy.

"Honestly? What's the worst that can happen?" She asks aloud, finally skipping forward with a tug down of her skirt and a smooth of fabric, "Though, you do have to wonder why people are always protesting. Like, don't they have jobs?" She frowns slightly. "I'm always eating.. maybe I should get a job.." Jean not prying and not mind-melding with everyone's emotions makes her a very, very odd conversationalist. What is up is down, sometimes what's down is down and what's left is a circle. "I think you'll be alright tonight."

*

Logan shrugs, "They're young. Nothin' wrong with protestin'. I walked a few pickets, once upon a time, outside factories in Chicago. Meat packin'. Sometimes, it's the only way you can hold folks accountable, especially powerful folks," he says.

"That said, most o' these kiddos smell awful strong o' marijuana. Ain't no judge, but seems to me what they're mostly sufferin' is being jugged out their damn heads," he says. He gets a cup of water for him and turns to hand another to Jean.

There's a scent in the air that's tickling at him, but it's tough to pick out amidst all the crowd. "Drink. Your job is school, kiddo."

*

X-23 looks.. not unlike a cancer patient, what with her hair trimmed down to short fuzz as it is. Or a serious delinquent, given the black jacket and heavy boots she's wearing. That latter seems to occur to at least one cop, that stops her and the crowd starts to move in directions it shouldn't be. Her gaze turns slowly to the officer that's grabbed her shoulder, then to his hand. "Hold it right—" he never finishes the sentence, since he ends up kneeling on the ground, clutching at his hand. X-23's gone again, vanished into the crowd's motion, before the pain can even clear, eyes scanning as she enters what the scientists like to call "the Prowling Phase".

*

ROLL: Obtuse +rolls 1d100 for a result of: 16

*

ROLL: Obtuse +rolls 1d100 for a result of: 95

*

Police begin to pluck those interfering with traffic on the road, making arrests as needed, but the action doesn't deter those determined to enter the black pavement. They push against the incoming crowd, attempting to cart those present towards the unmarked white vehicles.

Two identical blonde girls pad along the edge of the park, milling about the people present. Their hands link tightly and the look towards a bridge in the centre of Central Park. Nothing about the bridge seems exceptional.

Until something seems very off. People staring at the bridge scream, and trample away from the scene.

*

ROLL: Jean +rolls 1d100 for a result of: 85

*

"I know my job is school, and once I'm able to test and get my diploma, I would.. really like to get a job. I feel like I'm just wasting space there." A solemn moment for Jean has her taking the cup and sipping, her eyes soon widening to the way that the crowd moves, and even her.. with her limited experience with the public knew that something in itself wasn't right.

She was wordless, immediately stepping off to the side, the cup discarded as well as the popcorn that she was hoping to save for later. Dire as everything seemed, she tried.. tried so hard to keep herself calm, breathing in her nose, through her mouth, thumbnail digging into the side of her finger..

The scream shakes her and throws her off, her hands immediately lifting to block herself with a few quick shakes, her gaze directed towards the bridge and seeing nothing.. and still she resists to look into the minds of those around her. This.. this was unreal! "JAMES!" Time to go.

*

ROLL: Logan +rolls 1d100 for a result of: 67

*

Logan grabs Jean's wrist and starts to haul ass, moving to get out of the crowd as quick as he's able. He doesn't have the first idea of what's going on yet, but running straight into it, with this many cops around, probably isn't the wisest idea.

And then he sees it, looking over his shoulder: a big robot, making its metal-headed way into the crowd. He pauses and pulls Jean close, "Find someplace to lay low. I'm gonna go jack that thing up. Should be short work fer my claws," he says, turning and leaving her behind as he charges into danger, fighting the wave of the crowd.

*

There's another figure moving thr wrong direction through the crowd, but it would take a VERY good eye to pick out the short, slender girl as she weaves in and out and through the throngs running away from the park. She has a very particular set of parameters to work with on this particular operation. The disturbance of Logan muscling his way through the surge of bodies, for instance, draws her attention, and she taps her radio on briefly.

"Twenty-three. Investigating potential target. Out."

*

A stampede of sorts sees people scrambling away from the bridge. They can't move fast enough as whatever haunts them comes out of the woodwork. Others, who seem unaware of whatever is seen by those clambering away, find themselves caught in the jostle, struggling to get up and move amongst the chaos that has broken out amongst the crowd.

The blondes, hand-in-hand, linger along the side of the park. They glance expectantly towards the bridge and ten back towards the cancer patient that is X-23. There's no merriment in their gaze. But to those paying attention, the twins gain increasing suspicion when people run around them, almost as if the pair are inside an invisible bubble protecting them from the onslaught of people.

*

Thankfully, him snatching up her wrist wasn't too painful, and even though the crowds she was able to follow him with a little bit of ease and a telepathic nudge to clear the way. Though once he pulls her in, she glances back into his direction, and then towards the bridge, and to Logan again as he shoves her off with a slight look of irritation. "LOGAN! Wait! There's nothing there!"

But what in the world was he looking at? Now temptation was at its all time high, her fingers soon pressing against her temple as she lets her mind soar. It was like little tiny flames; lit one by one in a sea of those that linger and move. All she had to do was capture one.. maybe two.. just to see what everyone was fighting or running from..

*

Logan pops his claws and moves to charge towards the robot that he sees, leaping up and planting his booted feet on a hot dog cart and leaping towards the massive metal thing (that may or may not be there).

He certainly plans to hit it hard, aiming to nail it right in the chest or, at least, the groin given its great height, his lips peeled back in a snarl. Jean's comment, he assumes, is about the thing lacking a mind, that she just can't sense it with her psychic powers…

*

She can feel their eyes on her, and she meets the blonde twins' gaze with a subtle nod, eyes following the glance one of them gives in another direction. Just in time for Logan to jump the 'dogs. Aha. Target: locked. Threat assessment: Severe. Paarameters and responses fall into place— the twins will call her if they need her. This will need to be Dealt With. X-23 accelerates her pace through the crowd, plotting— and tracing— an efficient approach through the remainder of the milling crowd. As it thins out and the cover becomes minimal, she increases speed and breaks into a sprint, feet light on the stride to keep her steps soft despite the hurry.

*

One of the blondes curiously looks towards Jean as she calls back to her friend — the sole person in the crowd running towards the bridge. The girl tugs her sister's hand, prompting the other, with hive-like accuracy to watch the red-head with rapt interest. Silently the pair loom. They pad towards her, still managing that psychic bubble around them. In unison, their heads cant to the side with unspoken curiosity.

A buzz grips through their radio in a few words both themselves and Laura can hear. With the order spoken, they close all distance from the red-head, popping their bubble and allowing her in it.

One of them reaches into her pocket, and extracts a small tranquilizer dart that is, rather quickly, thrust towards the red-head.

Meanwhile, the grass along the park has become ragged from the trampling away from the park, and several white vans pull up, forcing arrestees inside them one at a time.

*

Green eyes flash open as she stares out into the crowd, people were leaving because of a big monstrosity upon the bridge. But she can't see a thing. "Logan!" She calls out again, but he was already middair and there was no stopping him when he was on heroics. She almost wanted to chase after him, to use her gift to snatch him back from the sky, but the arrival of the young twins stay her hand as she takes a slight step back with worry.

"Are you two alright?" She asks quietly, reaching out a hand to try to rest upon their shoulders, but their finger-work was quick in the fact that the dart immediately finds itself planted into the palm of her hand. "OW! HEY!" It burned, that entire area, her hand immediately shaking as she takes a step back, a little look of anger given towards the twins. And soon after? She was starting to feel a little sick.. "You.. You… n.. ne.. Lo.. Sam…" Oh man, she had to run!

*

Logan finds himself half-drowned, waterlogged and coughing up water as he comes up, only to duck the perceived blow from the robot. That thing outta be tin-can by now, he can't quite figure how he hasn't put much of a dent in it yet.

Still, Logan is nothing if not persistent. If Jean called out for him by name, there's a chance he might hear her, but, short of that, he's fairly focused on fighting his figment.

*

Well. Not much chance of Logan hearing a flying assassin girl coming now, is there? X-23, with her programming reinforced with actual orders, launches from the edge of the water without hesitation, tucking up into a ball, and lines up her aim on the top of Logan's head. With any luck (and the huge distraction), she can stomp his noggin into the water and bounce high enough to catch a handhold on the bridge.

*

The girls look back at Jean owlishly. They blink in unison, and their lips press together at the same time. It's almost as if one is a replicate of the other. In unison they say, "The subject is ready." Or nearly ready as the case may be. The pair looks up at her and then each other, giving themselves a few beats to assess the situation. "Give into the sedative. You will feel better than if you fight it," the pair asserts, still in unison, begging the question: do they share a mind?

Police have begun to press people into white vans. A fellow near the front, presumably a commander, gruffly notes: "Get them into the system and get them tested. The instigators of such trouble need to be dealt with according to the letter of the law."

Another figure steps out of one of the lead vans. "Give the order to move the first wave out."

*

Jean staggers, bumping into a fleeing body, nearly tumbling to the ground but her lack of grace in movement oddly enough kept her upright. Her hands struck out to feel something, anything, in which the cold brick of the building leaned upon became her support. She was backing away with a hunch, the two girls suddenly turned into four, then eight.. their faces meshing and melding together, departing and splitting into fours, a kaleidoscope of twin faces in a sea of flashing lights.

"SH…shuzhhfup.." Brilliant, Jean! The words nearly fall from her mouth like animated drool, a letter P falls to the ground and evaporates into a cloud of glitter dust.

That glitter dust forms into a lizard that lashes it's long tongue out to smack her in her face which causes a scream and a flail of hands that causes a varying effect of telekinesis.

A fire hydrant explodes from the ground as a torrent of water shoots into the air.
A nearby window shatters completely, sending shards out into the air which hang like dazzling lights.
A man with a baton ready to strike at the authorities was suddenly wisked into the air and tossed into a nearby fount.

She falls back upon her ass, attempting to crab-crawl backwards away from the two girls, her hand striking out to blow a force of TK towards the girls..

But their heads detach from their bodies like balloons released from their strings and grasps, popping one by one. (She missed.)

*

Logan finds himself coiling, getting ready to leap and strike at the thing. He registers the incongruities but, in his frenzy, he's not thinking entirely clearly. Ironically, the thing that might shock him to his senses is the unexpected attack from his erstwhile clone.

He takes the blow in the back of the head, driving him down into the water again and causing him to thrash until he comes up snarling, "What is flamin' goin' on here?!?" he shouts.

*

ROLL: Obtuse +rolls 1d100 for a result of: 71

*

ROLL: Jean +rolls 1d100 for a result of: 31

*

Eventually Logan will look up in an effort to figure out what's going on. And by the time that happens, X-23 is standing on the edge of the bridge overhead, just… watching him splash around. No emotion, no expression— just an odd detachment, a really strange scent underneath the sterile antiseptic hospital smell clinging to her clothes, and the stance of someone waiting patiently to see what he does about it. King of the Hill, come push her off.

*

The blondes continue their owlish peering at Jean, causing their heads to cant to the side simultaneously. "We do not pick her up," the say blandly, prompting the man that had been lingering by the van to come forward.

"Get transport here immediately. We have a live one." He turns to face the girls. "Lift the illusion. We have enough subjects for today."

The blondes glance at one another, and then, just as quickly as the Robot had arrived, it vanishes without a trace.

*

There was nothing more for her to do. While Jean had a fighters spirit and a will that was growing as the days were long, there was no holding out to the drugs that were coursing through her system. It felt familiar. Like her very first home. A memory to when she was strapped down and drugged so that the screaming wouldn't disturb the other residents..

The balloons were flying, the ground beneath her felt as it turned upon it's own head and she was looking down towards the stars within the sky. The lights.. the lights that twinkled and shined were slowly fading…

..and everything there after went black.

*

Logan breathes heavily, looking up at X-23 with narrowed eyes, "Whatchoo lookin' at, kid? You got a hell of a kick, that's fer sure…an' ya smell…" he says, being reminded of Aki, yes, but not an—

Jean.

Where's Jean?

"JEAN!" he yells, turning away from Laura and trying to run back towards the crowd. After all, she's already been attacked by metal scorpions before - doesn't take a huge leap to get from that to big robots. And girls who smell like metal and drugs and death.

And the tank. Shit. She smells like the god damn tank.

No time to think about that now. Run. Find. Hunt.

*

The girl lets him run through his thought process, and tenses as he starts to run for Jean. There's a brief pause, and she tilts her head as if listening to something, then crouches and leaps again, just the barest of gravel crunches under her boots as she takes off from her perch.

Once again, she tucks, but this time the atack is a little different. X-23 times a precise spin and lashes out a boot heel at the back of Logan's neck. She… is really fast. Highly trained. And if it wasn't him, extremely lethal. Should convince him he can't ignore her, though.

*

The van carrying Jean speeds down the street, aiming to get a fair distance from Central Park. It kicks into higher gear as it goes, seemingly opting for as quick a getaway as it can manage.

*

Logan takes the kick in the base of the neck, but responds with rather savage reflexes of his own. His adamantium spine and the thick muscles of his neck shield him from the worst of the impact as he lashes out and grasps at X-23's ankle, attempting to take her and hurl her aside.

He can't hear Jean, but, with the crowd starting to scatter, he turns and narrows his eyes at his attacker, "Care to fill me in on yer problem, kid, or you just feelin' desperate t'get yer innards burst today?"

*

X-23 is easily thrown, but twists to land on her feet, boots digging in to the turf to skid her to a halt. Normally she doesn't go in for banter, but… she returns Logan's gaze, walking a circle to place herself between him and roughly where Jean was taken down. During the trip, she tilts her head, as if she's come across a particularly interesting species of butterfly.

Then she twitches oddly, and a deeply-buried collection of directives bubble to the surface. Her lip curls in a smirk.

"I am not required to explain myself to a Defective, Broken Weapon."

*

Logan snorts, "I ain't a weapon, darlin'. I'm a man. Just like yer a girl. I dunno what kinda nonsense they filled yer head with an', quite frankly, right now I don't give a good god damn. But if you an' yer mad science daddies did anything to hurt my friend, I'm gonna tear yer god damn spines out and tie 'em up into a little bow."

"You play coy and untouchable all you damn like, but maybe you ain't heard about me. Because if you had, you would know, little girl, that you ought to be god damn afraid to piss me off. And, darlin', you are standin' right on the flamin' nerve. Now - WHERE. IS. JEAN. GREY?" he says, spitting out the syllables of the last with a snarl.

*

Twenty-three tilts her head, as if thinking. "The girl. Yes. Gone. You left her. Made it easy. You are sloppy. Emotional. Defective. Useless. It is not surprising they replaced you, X-1."

*

Logan snorts, "Replaced me? That what they tell ya? I escaped. I tore myself out of that fucking hell of a tank and I ripped my way through…" he says, closing his eyes for a moment as he feels the rage starting to rise in him.

"What the hell do you people want with her anyway. And stop talkin' like a damn robot, yer flesh an' blood just like anybody, I can hear yer heart, even if it is cold and broken."

*

"Weak. Poorly designed, poorly executed. Suboptimal. Undisciplined," X-23 responds in a litany. "A mistake. Defects that have been corrected. You are obsolete. It is a shame you do not even realize it. You could have been outstanding. Unfortunate. But perfection requires a modicum level of waste product." She… has not moved, simply rattled her statements off.

*

Logan waves a hand, dismissively, "Eh, yer just a flunky. I ain't got time to waste with you. Go back to yer bosses and tell 'em I'm comin'. If yer capable o' that," he says.

He turns his back on her and just starts to stop off but pauses and looks back over his shoulder. "I ain't gonna fight you. I got more important things t'do. Go on. Scat," he says, before turning to head off and find a pay phone. He's gotta get ahold of Chuck.

*

The girl tilts her head as if listening once more, then performs a crisp about-face. "You should have focused on the objective, X-1. Now she really is out of your reach," she notes, tone dismissive as she walks away. "Pathetic."

*

Logan doesn't care what the scientists or their flunky think. He'll find Jean, one way or the other. And then, once she's safe and sound.

Then he'll make them pay.

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