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The rest of Lynette shift had been uneventful, thankfully. After that speedy guy took out those asshats that were giving him a hard time, the rest of her evening was full of dishes and service. Once the bar was cleaned up, she exits the building and makes sure the front door is securely locked behind her. Bundled up, as much as possible, she seems to be carrying a massive bundle of furs and pelts; something that had been left behind by Creed before he left to do, well, Creed things.
The streets, for now, were silent and peaceful. Fresh snow was starting to fall, creating that ease and calm that comes with the pure weather and the late hour it has become. After a deep breath, the girl smiles at herself, and even though she shivers, she turns and starts heading down the sidewalk, heading North, toward Westchester.
*
Outside the bar, a little ways down the street, is parked the Impala. Partially covered in the light dusting of snow that had accumulated since it had stopped, the black car catches the light of the streetlamp overhead and glistens softly, as if something out of a movie. Leaning against it, a cigarette in his mouth, stands Jamie, cool as a cucumber. Literally, because he's totally not dressed for snow. "Hey, darlin'," he calls out to Lynette, flicking the remnants of the cigarette into the snow under his feet, and then moving to crush it with a foot. His footsteps carry him in the poofy mambo's direction, leaving size 10 footprints behind in the white powder that has fallen. "You been huntin' and trappin' on your breaks now?" He motions with his hand toward the pile of furs, trying to hold back a laugh, unsuccessfully. "Figuring out a solution to your problem with the cold, huh?" Grin. Big, cheesy, shit-eating grin.
*
"Walkin' home alone is dangerous, don't you know?" A gruff voice speaks up as a large figure steps from the shadows. "Dangerous folk about." Victor moves from the shadows, features revealed in the limited streetlight as he crosses his arms over his chest, a light sniff given as he regards Madrox. "Who's your friend?"
*
"Ah, /Jaime/." Lynette muses, speaking French that sounds wonderfully like the man's name. "Y'always 'round, ain't y'?" She smirks before glancing down at the furs and shaking her head. "Oh, non. Dis ain't my. S'left b'hind by…" Then, Victor speaks. With a bob of her head, she motions in Creed's direction before turning to hand the bundle back to the massive figure. "Him. Here y'go. Y'left dis at de bar." At the question, she nods without hesitation. "Mmmhmm. Jamie, dis Vict'r. Vict'r, dis Jamie."
*
"Always, darlin'," Jamie grins. Well, at least one of him. You can be pretty certain though, that if the car is there with him, you've got the original (something his writer just realized). Jamie regards Victor for a moment. He's huge. Victor would no doubt hear Jamie's heart jump a bit, from nerves. "Holy shit, man," he says, his voice a bit quieter. "You're fuckin' huge, man. What's your secret?" Raw eggs, and a whole cow for every meal, is Jamie's guess. It's his nature to cover up discomfort with inappropriate humour. "Bet you've got no trouble in the romance department," he says, giving the man a smirk. Please don't eat me. "See, that makes more sense," Jamie states, looking from the pile of furs to Victor again. Damn man. "You skin these with your bare hands, too?" Hard to tell if Jamie's making fun, or if he's expecting to be thoroughly impressed, and maybe a little bit scared. Possibly already both.
*
"Red meat. Clean livin'" Victor says, a little too much sneer in his voice to be serious. Taking the offered coat he chuckles, throwing it over one of his shoulders. "Thanks, didn't want it to get wet. Sure you don't need it? Don't exactly seem a winter sort." Jamie's humor? It almost might be thought to be ignored, if it wasn't for the slight ghost of a smirk at the vaguely bumbling akwardness.
*
Lynette giggles at Jamie's reaction to Victor. When the coat is taken, she shakes her head. "Nah. 'f I wear it den y'know it get wet. Dat t'ing jus' drapes off me n'leaves me wit a cape." She grins, placing the thought of what Lyn would look like in such a sizable garment up for grabs. "I must be a lucky girl, bein' looked afta' by such fine gents. S'gettin' cold, dough, maybe we get goin', non?" She turns to Jamie and offers him a gentle smile. "Y'mind if I bunk at y'place t'night? Gotta be t'work early t'morra, n'dis cold is messin' wit me."
Without pause, she holds Jamie by the wrist, and then Creed as well, before leading the pair toward the Impala. "Com'on, lets hit up a dina first. M'hungry."
*
Jamie looks to Victor, giving a nod, while still laughing a little bit at the mental imgae of Lynette wearing Victor's coat; or more appropriately, the coat just kind of being piled on top of her while she struggles to get both arms into the sleeves at the same time. "Figured whole cows came into it somehow," he says before turning to answer Lynette. "Always welcome, darlin'. Maybe I should just get you a key cut," he says, considering the notion in his own head. "And food's a good idea. I'm starved," but what else is new. Jamie can always eat. "You might have to slide into the back there, darlin', not sure the big man here's gonna fit anywhere but the front seat." Though he doesn't seem put off by the idea of Victor tagging along for dinner.
*
A chuckle from said 'big guy' and he nods, seems Lynette isn't giving him much of a choice, comical as it is for someone of her stature to be dragging him around. "I could eat," he acknowledges, stooping a little to get into the car. "Something other then booze."
*
Lynette slips into the back of the Impala, and waits for its seat to be set back into place. Once Creed also steps in, she smiles at the massive, burly figure, before offering Jamie a smile as well. "Where we headin'? S'm where wit coffee n'pie, right?" She practically bounces in the back seat with a bit of excitement. For whatever reason, being with the pair seems to grant the Creole a sense of ease. "Oh, Jamie, if y'c'n' tell, Vict'r's one 'f'us." She explains gently while thumbing toward the man with a fluffy collar to that massive coat of skins.
*
"There's a dinner a few blocks from here, imagine they'll have what we're looking for," Jamie says, sliding into the driver's seat. He looks over to see if Victor's buckled up, but even if he isn't, he won't argue with the man. Probably not going to argue with him about anything. Ever. He does buckle his own though, and shifts the car into drive. "They've got pie. Saw a sign out front." Which was the whole criteria for the decision, naturally. "I figured he might be," Jamie replied to the revelation that Victor's a mutant, too. "No offense, man. You kind of stand out. Gotta respect that." And they're off!
*
Victor's response is a passive 'grunt' of acknowledgement. He did stand out, and that wasn't something he could exactly change, even if he wanted to. He didn't. For the most part, he's quiet on the ride as the muscle care begins to pull out and onto the slush of the wintery street. His pale eyes flit about, taking in the view outside his window, and every now and then, he sniffs. "Wait." He mutters under his breath before reaching over and curling his fingers around the hand-crank for the window. Now blessed with fresh air, he takes in a few quick intakes of air, and then a much larger one. "Stop the car. We got company." The last few words roll from the man's lips with the vibrations of a growl.
Lynette grins at the idea of going somewhere close. Usually, that meant she could enter and it would be an issue. She could even sit with her lighter skinned friends; the night was coming up roses. But once Creed starts reacting oddly, she blinks and quirks a brow. When he says wait, she keeps her silence, glancing Jamie's way via the rearview mirror.
*
At Victor's command, Jamie puts on the brakes, and the car comes to a stop at the side of the road. "What is it, fella?" That's likely to earn him at least a stern look, but at least he didn't follow it up a crack about Timmy being trapped in a well. He looks back through the rearview mirror, and up ahead, waiting to see what it is that Victor smelled. If he's learned anything in his time with the Brotherhood, it's not to question when someone says they see, hear, or smell something. They're usually right about these things. "Can't come to this part of town without running into some kind of trouble, lately, hey?" He glances back to Lynette, "You see anything?"
*
Victor steps out of the car and comes to his full height once more. A chilly wind kicks about his dark hair, causing it to cling in his beard and into that high tuft collar. Another growl vibrates through the man's chest before he stalks off and into the darkness of an alley.
Lynette shakes her head, frowning gently, especially after Creed exits the car and closes the door behind him. "Sadly. Don' like it, dough. I kinda t'ink a'dis place as m'neighborhood." Did she see anything? She shakes her head once more and crawls into the front seat, lowering the window gently and parting her lips. The tip of her tongue rests out and into the air, but it's brief exposure. "Huh, jus' people." She explains. "Don' know who, dough. Vict'r left de bar earlier, too. Dunno why, so…maybe de same reason?"
*
Jamie watches Victor get out of the car and disappear. "Huh, just like that, he's gone." Then he watches as Lynette 'tastes' the air with her tongue. That's new, at least to him. "Whoa. Your tongue has so many uses," he marvels, and then smirks. Yep, sexual innuendo in the midst of a tense situation. That's our Jamie.
And that's when the crowd ahead appears, marching down the street. There's a bunch of them, mostly young white men, of all shapes and sizes. They're chanting something, which is muffled by the distance, and the fact that Jamie and Lynette are still in the car, but they're standing in the street, so they'd fully block the road. Jamie opens the door, and steps out, quickly spawning off a couple more duplicates of himself with a few stomps of his feet against the pavement. As they draw closer, their chant becomes clear.
"HUMANS NOW, MUTANTS NEVER. HUMANS NOW, MUTANTS NEVER…"
*
Lynette gently slaps back against Jamie's arm. "I c'n smell wit it." She explains as if that wasn't an odd reason. Sitting back in her pre-warmed seat, she moves to slip on a belt, but then she hears voices. Looking up, she notices the group moving down the street. "De hell? S't'ree in de mornin', n'dey wanna protest /now/?" A pause, she watches Jamie move out, and the mandra grow in volume.
"Merde. Jamie, jus' get back in de car, chere. Dey c'n say what dey wanna. No crime dere." She reminds him; it was freedom of speech, after all, even if she didn't like it, nor agree.
*
"They're blocking the road, darlin'. Nowhere we can go until they pass.. and if they touch my baby, I'll fuckin' kill 'em," one of the Jamies says. The spread out in front of the car, waiting for the crowd to approach. The do, and as they come closer, it becomes clear why they're marching through Harlem at ass-o'clock in the morning. The first few of them are simply marching and chanting, but are carrying bats, hockey sticks, a couple of them with rifles. Anything they could pick up from home, apparently. And deeper into the crowd, torches. And a space made between them for another. A man, naked, his arms /nailed/ to a makeshift cross, bleeding as he laboriously, torturously walks through the street.
*
"They're blocking the road, darlin'. Nowhere we can go until they pass.. and if they touch my baby, I'll fuckin' kill 'em," one of the Jamies says. The spread out in front of the car, waiting for the crowd to approach. The do, and as they come closer, it becomes clear why they're marching through Harlem at ass-o'clock in the morning. The first few of them are simply marching and chanting, but are carrying bats, hockey sticks, a couple of them with rifles. Anything they could pick up from home, apparently. And deeper into the crowd, torches. And a space made between them for another. A man, naked, his arms /nailed/ to a makeshift cross, bleeding as he laboriously, torturously walks through the street. He's been beaten to a bloody pulp, even before being crucified like this, and has long since given up the crying, the screaming. Now it's just numb, the pain, as he waits to die. It's coming, and he knows it. Just a matter of when.
"What the fuck..?" Jamie murmurs, seeing the spectacle before them. One of the Jamies circles back around to the driver's side, and gets in, while the others step forward, and spawn a few more duplicates themselves, until they are at least as many as the crowd ahead. The one in the car turns to Lyn and says, in a voice that bears no argument, "I'm gettin' you out of here, darlin'. Ain't no place for a lady."
*
At first, she thought it was only a protest. They all had a right to opinions. Then, the picture became much clearer. From annoyance, her expression shifts to one of abject horror and strong shudder of fear rolls down her spine. Her mouth gapes, and even as Madrox lives up to his code name, she looks at the one addressing her directly. "Non! We c'n' leave. We gotta save dat man!" Her hand reaches out, gripping at the sleeve of his leather jacket, holding a fistful of fabric. "Don', we c'n' leave. I ain't leavin'! Jamie…"
She wasn't begging for long. He might want to drive, but she was already stepping out of the passenger side door and walking along the slush of the road, closer to the group of Jamie's and the pending mob. Taking a breath, she moves up her hands and starts to concentrate. She has to do…something, and for now, it was pulling the safeties on the guns, resting the weapons as something non-lethal, at least from a distance.
*
Driver Jamie hadn't started to move yet when Lynette stepped out. He would have tried to argue with her more, but it was a futile move from the start. The important thing is to get word back to the rest of the Brotherhood, and so when Lynette's clear, the Madrox in the driver's seat gives her a look like, 'Really, last chance before I go', and then goes when it's clear that she's not leaving. The Impala backs up into a quick three-point-turn, and hauls ass the other way. With any luck, they'll still be here when he gets back, and maybe with backup.
Lynette's attempts to subtly put the safeties back on the guns, though not quick, is largely successful, and the mob is too preoccupied with their chanting, and the poor man they've lynched, to notice. The chanting dies down soon enough, though, as the group of Madri move toward them. "Stop right there, friends," one of the lynch-mob members call out. It's dark, and they probably can't tell that all of the Madri look the same. "If you are a friend of humanity, stand aside, or join us in teaching this mutant scum his place. If you stand against us, you will share his fate," he says calmly, holding his baseball bat across his arm. Sharp eyes might notice the nails.
"You are some sick fucks," one of the Jamies says, his voice carrying a much darker, angry tone than his usual; and for good reason. "Aint' no friend of humanity, if this is how humanity's gonna treat us," he shouts at them, and the Madri charge toward the mob, picking their targets and silently coordinating with the others. The mob, in response, lifts up whatever weapons they might have, ready to defend themselves. Let the games begin.
*
Before a hit makes contact, there's a scream from the back of the group. The masculine figure, read to dish out 'justice' for the sake of mankind, has been snatched away by something moving quickly in the shadows. The screams stop, their echoes bouncing between buildings. A stream of crimson rolls down a sidewalk, steaming and drizzling down the round of a curb, soaking into the snow. A broken weapon clatters onto the ground; one less spear to pierce the side of the mutant victim. Finally, Creed returns. Stalking out from the alley where the body had been stolen away to, his eyes are wild and pale with intensity. Fangs baring, and clawed fingers rest by his sides, with frest scarlet dripping off their tips. There are no words, and as Jamie charges from the front, Victor rushes from the rear.
The floofy haired mambo had her own idea of what needed to be done. For now, the men would battle, but she would try to save the man who was waiting to die. Draping herself in shadow, the girl sprints to the side, running around the group, or attempting to, so that she can reach the man with his cross, and head him away from the bloody battle just waiting to happen.
*
The screams fill the air, and there can be no doubt that the police will be alerted soon enough. In the meantime, though, it's a fight. The Madri are decent brawlers, to be sure, but unarmed as they are, they have little to defend themselves against bats and knives. Victor's return more than makes up for it, though, and after that first man is killed, a few others rush to meet the very large, savage mutant. Guns are fired; or at least attempted to, as they discover the safety's been flipped back. A clever trick on Lynette's part that may have bought some time, but it doesn't take much for them to switch it back to the 'off' position. One Madri gets a bullet to the leg, falling to the ground in pain. The other men with guns though, train them on the beast from behind, firing with abandon at the enormous figure.
The mutant they had captured, and nailed to his own personal cross, is practically at death's door. Once a proud, dark-skinned man, standing over six feet with a build to match, he's been reduced to a shell of his former self. When the fighting started, he fell to his knees, finally able to rest after God knows how long he had been made to march. At least as much as on can with a large wooden apparatus attached to your body. He doesn't move, just kneels, hunched over. There's a big enough break between the crowds of opponents that Lynette would have no trouble getting to him, and when she does he looks up at her with his battered, bleeding face, as he tries to offer her a look of peace, as one who had accepted his fate. Delirious from his ordeal, he rasps, "Are you an Angel, sent at last to deliver me from this Hell?" His voice is soft, and blood runs from his mouth as he speaks, sputtering at the last word. "Did I.. pass this test..?"
*
Victor's body keeps thundering forward, his speed picking up even as bullets sink into his flesh, creating pockets in the fabric of his clothing. Blood sprays and stains, but the massive figure doesn't even pause. He's forward, charging, arms out until he launches in the air and lands within beautiful arm's length. With one arm he bats one of the men away, crushing his fist acros his face and threatening to twist his skull the other way around. His other hand grips the arm of one shooter, pulling it up, and out, dislocating it with a sick 'pop' of the ball rolling out of its socket. Not stopping there, he gives it another tug, pulling the limb from its owner and using it as a make shift club.
The darkness fades from the girl's face as she eyes up, and faces the man on his knees. Her lips fill out, quivering rapidly as both of her hands reach up and cradles the man's busted cheeks. "Y'y ain't gonna die." She tries to promise before hugging around him and reaches up to the nails, attempting to pull them out and free him from its piercing grip. She was already crying, and if there was one thing about the girl, she was a horrible liar. One arm clings to him, keeping him steady, sharing what warmth she had even as fat tears roll down her cheeks. "Y'passed. Y'did good f'all of us." She promises into his ear, even pressing a kiss to his temple. "Jus'…relax. Close y'eyes. I get y'outta here, sugah."
*
It doesn't take the mob long to know they're fighting a losing battle. Some of their number dead already, another fully missing his arm, the rest scatter, shouting cries of defeat and curses against mutants as the go. The ones that can manage to escape, at least. The Madri have killed three, who lie dead on the ground. Victor's victims too lay lifeless. Jamie starts absorbing the other Madri, one by one. The last of the mob flee quickly, leaving their dead behind, and abandoning whatever goal they had hoped to achieve. But they'll reform, and in greater numbers. This was, to be sure, just a taste of things to come.
The crucified mutant offers Lynette a very weak smile, "Thank.. you.." he says slowly, quietly, and though he tries to let he move him, he's simply lost too much blood; he's weak, he's too tired to continue. And he's a large man who is quickly becoming dead weight. She may make it three, four steps with him before he completely loses consciousness, and another couple, at most, before his last breath passes from his mouth and into the cold December air. Moments later, the sounds of sirens can be heard, growing steadily closer as police near the scene.
"Sola," Jamie says to gain the girl's attention, using her codename rather than his usual 'darlin', or her name, signifying that this was now Brotherhood business. "Vic," he doesn't have a codename, that Jamie knows about, at least. "Time to go." They do /not/ want to be here when the cops arrive. There'll be a pile of bodies, and questions none of them want to be the one to answer.
*
Victor drops the limb that he has used to beat another man to death. Wild eyes glance up when his name is spoken, and tendrils of hot air roll from his flaring nostrils. Bloody and stained, he stalls in place as the wind kicks up his long hair, and his body starts to reject, and push out, every bullet that had sunk into his flesh. The sound of the sirens causes his ear to twitch, and a growl to rumble from his powerful chest. Madrox gets a glance, as does Lynette, before Victor turns and rushes off on his own way.
*
Lynette clings around the lifeless form of the large man still within her arms. She gives him a soft shake, or two, as if trying to rouse him from a slumber. Shuddering, her slender shoulders tremble as more sobs whine from her hitching breath. She doesn't hear her name, or the sirens. That was just a myth, it couldn't be true. This was more important. She wasn't letting the man go. "Non," she speaks softly, in no more than a whisper. "Non', gotta get'm t' de hospital. Jamie he needs help. We gotta help'm."
*
With Victor gone, Jamie swiftly crosses the makeshift battlefield toward Lynette. He looks the man over quickly, and without regard for the blood, presses two fingers to his neck, searching for a pulse. EMT training coming in handy. "No pulse, Lyn," he says coldly, "He's gone. You drop him and we run, or the next place we bed down for the night'll be a jail cell," he states matter-of-factly. Army training, you could practically hear it in his voice if you knew what to listen for. "And I'm not gonna let that happen. He's dead. It's awful, but there's nothing more we can do." He was dead the moment they nailed him to that chunk of wood; it just took his body some time to figure it out. "We get caught out here, he died for nothing. We run, maybe we find the ones responsible and make them pay for it."
*
She was frozen, her lips turning a soft blue from the chill and how it seeps into her very being. Her arms tenderly settle him on the ground, trying to make him as comfortable as possible. She doesn't have the words, but she stands and starts to move. Swaying, she rests into Madrox's chest and then nods, panting and regaining her sense of what was happening. Bodies. Death. Sirens coming closer and closer. "Run…" She was use to that. Gripping his hand, she follows after where he choses to lead her.
*
"Atta girl," Jamie says softly. He'll support her, even carry her if he has to, but they're getting out of there. On foot, since the Impala went back to the safehouse to tell them what was going on. The fight didn't last long enough for backup to arrive, and intrinsically, the dupe that went to get it would know. They always seem to know. Jamie leads Lynette away from the scene, sticking to back roads and alleys as much as possible, to avoid being seen and possibly questioned by any police they might come across. Better safe than sorry. They make it back to Jamie's apartment eventually, and he leads her up and inside, where it's warm and safe. He splits off a duplicate, and that duplicate leaves again immediately, to make his way to the safehouse to join the other, and tell them exactly what happened.
*