2012-07-04: It All Falls Apart


Timeslip_icon.jpg Rage_icon.jpg Kiloton_icon.jpg Mekk_icon.jpg

Summary: Summary of what happened.

Date: July 4, 2012

Log Title: It All Falls Apart

Rating: R

NYC — Upper East Side

The Upper East Side of New York City is New York's richest living area. The apartments here are off the most expensive in New York, and in the United States, and the businesses that make their home here are some of the wealthiest companies. Elegant rows of landmark townhouses line the side streets. There aren't as many shops here as there is housing and businesses.

Leaning against the wall, a cigarette between his teeth, the small titanium ring around it preventing Quenton from crushing the filter, is the rage filled mutant, eyes on the street. He's in the alleyway, deep in the alleyway, at a fire escape leading up into one of the buildings. Smoke exhales through his nostrils. He wets his lips briefly, fingers dragging along his cheek, before looking over the rail antsily. Ten minutes before showtime.

"…You're smoking," Shane murmurs, leaning against the wall. While the slight young student might appear relaxed, one armored boot up against the wall, arms crossed over her chest, those that know her better would spot the lie; her eyes are those of a hunted animal, terrified and desperate, as if she's running through all the ways this could end as horribly as possible. "You don't smoke."

As always, Heather keeps to the rooftops, wearing the dark gear that she usually does, and holding her black combat umbrella ready at her side, the young woman peers about, trying to make sure to keep tabs on activity, without ever being in view quite long enough to be properly noticed, except by those who knows that the temporal manipulator is present. She looks at her watch, and then sighs.

Mike Drakos does not have his parent's permission to do what he's doing, although he did leave a timed note for his advisor at Barnes, and it's not like he could reach them at the moment - they're somewhere in Africa - and besides this is urgent. So he's pinged Heather with a "Hey, I got new info on the Ferellis and Q's folks, it's bad. Meet you somewhere?"
And that would be why he's here, on the roof, with a satchel of vampire-hunting supplies, abusing his image inducer to look like part of a wall.
He speaks up when Heather finishes her recon. His voice is kept quiet, and is paced at the speed that the time-shifter would understand, which means it's a strange brlrlrlwlwl sound if anyone else hears it.
"Problem. The younger Ferelli wasn't the only vampire. If I can believe my sources, they turned the mother. And by turned, I mean predator with a temper."

"I don't," Quenton agrees, still taking a drag and then lifting his eyes to the sky, watching the clouds and what's visible of the moon. "Not usually, anyway. Have been, lately. Trying to see if it will calm me down. I'm on a fucking tranquilizer, too, and I don't feel any different at all," he mutters, foot tapping against the cast iron floor of the rail, causing it to whine a little in protest. "Nerves, though," he murmurs, glancing over to her, studying her face. The cigarette is flicked away. Like, seriously flicked away, the thing shooting down the alley like a fast ball.

They don't have to wait long, though. Coming in front of the alley is a dark car, and when it pulls up, out of it walks several men, all in black suits. One of them Heather could identify as none other then Romeo Ferelli, who has his hands in his pockets. The leader of the group must be Benjamin Ferelli, a portly, smaller man, though despite the fact he might know the temporal shifter is there and he's about to meet with a mutant who can throw cars, he seems pretty at ease. And finally, there's a large man, identifiable by Mike and maybe Heather as Tony Ferelli, who was always Benjamin's muscle, known for tearing people apart. "You here, Michaels?" the mob boss calls out, Italian accent thick.

Shane's head snaps up as the car pulls up, fingers tightening on her arms at the sound of easy, casual footsteps drawing closer. Drawing in a slow, shaky breath, she touches Quenton's arm briefly, meeting the rager's red eyes, and nods once. "Got y'r back," she whispers. "Get'm."

Heather looks towards the wall for a moment, opening and closing her mouth a few times. It takes a lot to catch the stoic Heather off-guard, but at Mike's news, the temporal manipulator utters one word: "Shit." She rubs her face quickly, zipping towards the edge of the roof, peering down towards Quenton. She tips her umbrella in silver, and then holds it at ready by her side, in case the mobsters make a move.

Mike is not a superspeeder, but the edge isn't that far, and his movements are efficient. He removes two sharp pointed objects from the satchel, offering one to Heather.

"Hawthorne or Yew, both have reputed anti-vampiric traits," he speedtalks. A glance at the group below confirms the other information: the Ferellis are going to try to grab "the kid" — and the rumors Mike 'overheard' were something about 'kill any uninvited guests' but that could be bravado. The rat who was talking too much at the Bar With No Name doesn't appear to be here, unless he's the driver.

"If it gets out of control — if I get out of control, and you can't calm me down, I need you to run. You hear me? You run away as fast as you can." Quenton glances over the railing, before he jumps. Hitting the ground in front of the mobster trio, he immediately takes a step forward, not pausing at all when Romeo draws a gun faster then the eye can see. Or, well, faster then normal eyes can see. Heather can see him grab it up, and draw it, but it's still ridiculously fast. "Where's my family?" he wonders, eyes flitting between them, hands clenched into trembling fists.

"Easy, Romeo," Benjamin murmurs, eyes trailing over the rager. The large man, Tony, mutters, after sniffling, "He ain't alone, pop. There's others." Ben just waves that off. "I knew he'd bring his little speedster girlfriend, the one that beat Romeo up over here. Hell, probably more. Doesn't matter much," the mobster says. "Ain't here for a fight, though, kiddo," he says to the red-eyed rager. "Here to give a little information. You know that rage thing you're always fighting? That's constantly hurting you from the inside? See, did a little research. Your mother has the same thing, but she didn't quite have that little fucking X-Gene you have," he mentions, a hand slipping into his suit jacket for a cigar, tucking it between his teeth. "Same thing about your brother. Didn't quite get that, either, did you? All it took is one tiny little chromosome, and now you got fucking superpowers." He's rambling, now, and the more he drones, the more steam can be seen rising from Quenton's back.

"Here we go," Shane mutters, closing her eyes as Quenton jumps down. One hand curls into a fist, knuckles popping briefly, as the Ferellis start their taunting. "C'mon, Q… Keep it together…" Glancing up at their backup, the living bomb furrows her eyebrows, hoping they can hear the byplay as well as she can.

Heather listens to Benjamin speak and then notes to Mike, for his benefit, "I am not Quenton's girlfriend, their intelligence is inaccurate." She touches her fingers against the wall, listening to what is being spoken to Quenton. She speaks in quick speak, "No, no, I hope that they do not draw the rage from him…"

Mike came prepared (insomuchas one can be) for a vampire party. However, he did not come prepared to take down a raging Avenger Boy - in fact this is the first he's heard about any kind of a genetic rage trigger for Quenton. *Should be easy enough for Dr. McCoy to … no, don't spend cycles on that. Those guys are too dangerous. Shift UV laser into headlamps.*
The faint 'click' inside Mike's head MAY be audible to something with super-hearing. Certainly it was loud to his own auditory sensors, but he has the gain turned up so he can listen to these people. And perhaps identify whether any of them lack heartbeats, like vampires.

"You mean trigger it? Probably too late. Q's heart rate has doubled to 1000 beats per minute."

"See, kiddo," Benjamin murmurs, idly, "we came to help you. To give you a gift, so to speak. Help you with that fire inside of you," he murmurs. "Bring her out." Quenton's eyes trail after Romeo as he moves. He's fast. So fast. Benjamin himself actually isn't a vampire, and neither is Tony. Only Romeo is. And when the door opens… well. Then out comes Missus Michaels, Quenton's mother. She leans against Romeo and is nipping at his neck, as if in some kind of high. What the hell is that about? No heartbeat. Quenton's eyes stare at her as she smiles at him. "Hello, baby."

"Where's dad?" is the rager's only reply, but Mike can hear his heartbeat slow, and increase irregularly, the steam still rising.

"Who cares. Aren't you happy to see me?" is her reply. And that's when he loses it. Something in Quenton snaps, and he jerks towards the mobsters, letting out this primal growl, and —

"Stasis," Benjamin mutters, and suddenly Quenton's trapped in mid air, jostling and flailing about, growling and roaring at the man. "See, I forgot to mention that little detail. I'm a sorcerer."

"You said you wouldn't hurt him," his mother says, though she doesn't sound as concerned as a mother should.

"Ain't gonna. We're just letting this burn for a while, while I siphon the power out. As for the others?" Benjamin's eyes lift to the sky, as if expecting superheroes to pop up. "Find 'em. Kill 'em."

"We must move quickly. Aid me where possible, we have learned from the same teachers, our styles are likely compatible," Heather rises up from her hiding place and hops down from the rooftop, kicking off the edges of the buildings to build downwards momentum and attempt to slam down on Benjamin Ferelli's head with her combat umbrella, brows furrowed. Her recorder plays, "You may have sorcery, but I have an umbrella. Let us see which serves who better."

Great. A sorceror. It'll be Mike's luck that he's not the kind who's hindered by cold iron, too, since the ones who deal with demons generally aren't. But siphoning power? That sounds really NOT GOOD. Benny doesn't need more power, and Quenton doesn't need to be life-sucked, or whatever it is.

The robot kid splits his consciousness into four, and somewhere in an impossible direction his engine starts running a bit faster. One of him starts sending a message to SHIELD and Xavier's — advising of the situation. It will be too slow, but it might help for rescue. Another begins tracking the vampires, and Tony. A third part, sensors and image inducer as active camoflage, and the fourth part … prays and he jumps. Yes, it's a long drop, but not THAT long, and he's got good shocks.

"Time to see if I believe enough," Mike says as he commits to the movement.

Well. Heather's umbrella hits something. Some sort of bubble that lets out a loud crack and some sort of blue-green glow pulses from the impact. "There you are," Benjamin says, watching her and wetting his lips. He lifts his cane, something red drifting from Quenton. "Man, this kid's rage is gonna make this a sitch," he claims, and his other hand lifts and a large green fireball ignites in it, which he throws at Heather. Easily dodged.

Romeo and Missus Michaels (We'll call her M for the sake of combat), they hear something hit the ground and turn that way, Romeo drawing his guns and backing away, firing shots that way. M backs up, letting out screams of rage, because, well, she can't see where the robot kid is. And Tony, he's changing. He crouches down, hunches over and then he's a giant, bipedal wolf. Good thing silver was brought.

Bouncing off of the bubble, Heather lands easily on the ground, sidestepping the large green fireball and then opening her umbrella. She takes a few quick steps forward towards Benjamin with umbrella open, before closing it again, the speed bringing forth a burst of air towards him to try and temporarily hinder him. Heather continues on her path even as she closes the umbrella, accelerating and then stabbing at the werewolf with the tip of the umbrella.

Heather's on the wolf. The sorceror has a shield. Might as well test the cold-iron hypothesis. If cold iron fails to disrupt the shield then maybe the hawthorne-wood stake will work, or the ash. If he can get through, Mike can try the 'pressure points' technique to paralyze the magician's voice-box. At the worst it can only end in catastrophe, right? A being of technology and strong belief vs. a criminal of sorcery and (probably) equally strong belief?
Of course, there's always the chance that one of the vampires might try to use that "hypnotic eye trick" on him. Mike's eyes are headlights. Ultraviolet laser headlights. Whilst not necessarily strong enough to do more than burn skin, those are probably going to hurt like death in the eyes.

Benjamin is burst back by the burst of air, but he scowls and lifts his hand, electricity flitting from his fingertips towards Heather. Each bolt is fast, as well, but the motion she sees and the glow of his fingertips could be a sign it's time to get out the way. The cold-iron doesn't quite disrupt the shield, but it does draw the sorcerer's attention, furrowing his brow. Meanwhile, Tony is stabbed at by Heather, the animal letting out a low growl as smoke begins to rise from the wound. A claw jerks over towards the woman, attempting to swipe at her, while Romeo continues to fire in the direction of the camouflage Mike. M is backing up, letting out angry screams, because this combat situation is NOT what she expected.

Heather's eyes flick towards the bolts of lightning, and the woman moves with an unnatural speed, sidestepping the estimated paths of the electricity, and then trying to keep the werewolf between herself and Benjamin for the last few bolts, jabbing at Tony at every opportunity that she can take between bolts. "Run away, creature, and you will at least have the possibility of survival."

Benjamin is burst back by the burst of air, but he scowls and lifts his hand, electricity flitting from his fingertips towards Heather. Each bolt is fast, as well, but the motion she sees and the glow of his fingertips could be a sign it's time to get out the way. The cold-iron doesn't quite disrupt the shield, but it does draw the sorcerer's attention, furrowing his brow. Meanwhile, Tony is stabbed at by Heather, the animal letting out a low growl as smoke begins to rise from the wound. A claw jerks over towards the woman, attempting to swipe at her, while Romeo continues to fire in the direction of the camouflaged Mike. M is backing up, letting out angry screams, because this combat situation is NOT what she expected.

Heather's eyes flick towards the bolts of lightning, and the woman moves with an unnatural speed, sidestepping the estimated paths of the electricity, and then trying to keep the werewolf between herself and Benjamin for the last few bolts, jabbing at Tony at every opportunity that she can take between bolts. "Run away, creature, and you will at least have the possibility of survival."

Did she really call him 'Creature' just now? Mike.3 confirms it: she did. And made an Ominous Warning. Never going to achieve that level of Superhero Schtick, Mr. Drakos.

Being made of cold iron did not break through the shield, and Il Capo's throwing lightning. Mike is, visually, a distorted blur as he moves, though not QUITE like the spider-faced alien guys in the movies. His movements are still faster than normal human, and he has two weapons in his satchel that were intended for vamps but might work just as well on wolves and sorcerers.

Most people don't know that you need to get permission to use Holy Water for "off-label' uses. Mike got permission; his mother is a priest, his father was a priest, and both of them have contacts of which Robot Kid took advantage. He got it because of Jill, just in case, but … this situation is applicable. And he also has some of that incense they use for high holy days; it's powdered, in two small bags, extremely pungent and strong once it's let out. So he bursts one bag, aiming it at the sorceror. Lightning will probably ignite it, and it's been blessed, so if there's much in the way of demon-powered to his spells? It should itch at least.

Apparently, there is much in the way of demon-power in old Benjamin. It passes through the shield and hits the man, and he backs up, letting out a groan. Perhaps equal parts unlucky and fortunate both, this frees Quenton. And Quenton is on the portly man, grabbing him and lifting him into the air and against a wall. Whatever the case, Romeo has pinpointed where Mike is, and he's blurring after him at incredible speed himself, just firing away. In the meantime, Tony is not very interested in leaving, it seems, still swiping at Heather and pouncing for her. He is slower then she is (who isn't) but he's still faster then any human would be, snarling. M just wails and heads for the car.

"Fine." Heather does a full force drive of the umbrella at the werewolf, using her momentum to possibly grievously injure the creature, before pulling back from the creature. "Are you okay, Insert Codename Here To Protect Your Identity?" She takes a few steps back quickly, picking up a fist full of pebbles and then launching them at the car at high speeds like bullets to try and disable it.

"Wisely and slow; they stumble that run fast" Mike says, as another spray of bullets ridiculously misses him, except for one that gets past his anti-rock screen; he's been lucky so far… Of course the one that does hit, smashes his left knee joint.

"No, but if you leave the car for me I'll fix this and wreck their suspension," Mike.3 speed-answers Heather. Mike.2, tactical Mike, throws two stakes at Romeo in retaliation, aiming for the direction Romeo should dodge from the first one, and then dive-rolls to try to get within ten feet of that car.

"These violent delights have violent ends, and in their triumph, die like fire and powder which as they kiss, consume." Robot does Shakespeare. Annoyingly, it's slightly auto-tuned.

There's a scream that ends in a gurgle from where ever Benjamin is. Romeo doesn't exactly dodge the stakes, instead he turns into mist, the stakes passing through him, and then reforms back into his physical form, the vampire going back to shooting with the heavy duty guns. Meanwhile, Tony is still standing, despite the lunge, letting out a low growl. He's stumbling, but he hits the wall and manages to latch onto it, leaping for Heather as she grabs up the pebbles. The car gets hit by the rocks, which for some reason emits a giggle from M and a groan from inside of it. The door is pulled open, and she yanks out of it Derren Michaels, Quenton's father. "Stop!" she screams, wrapping her arm around his neck. "Stop or I'll kill him!"

Heather 'sheathes' her umbrella and focuses for a moment when M pulls out Derren Michaels and Tony lunges at her, her eyes glowing purple, and then from an outside perspective, the time manipulator simply vanishes. With time stopped, she only has a few moments in this state, so she makes the most of it: She runs forward to where the stakes hang in the air, pulling them out of stasis, throwing one lightly towards Romeo from behind, trusting the momentum of stop time, catching any bullets she comes across before stopping at M, the stake in her hand pointed at her heart when she resumes the flow of times. With one hand, she drops any bullets she caught and says stoically, speaking through her recorder, "Let him go, or I kill you. Twitch to hurt him, and I kill you. Do anything but release him, you are dead. Do you understand?"

New vampires are more susceptible, the training materials said, except when they're not. Typical SHIELD dry humor. Mike was prepared to throw the second bag of incense towards Heather, knowing she'll be able to snag it out of the air sometime in the relative 15 or so of her minutes it's airborne. He planned to throw holy water on Ms. M. But then he has greatly limited mobility from the smashed knee, and Heather has suddenly done that weird timey-wimey thing that makes his energy tendrils twitch… and so Mike vanishes a tenth of a second after that. Becoming the car takes all of his processing at the moment, and it's not obvious just what happened unless you're in the beam of the headlights, which have just changed to full-spectrum "daylight" bulbs behind bulletproof glass.

Mike's in the car. Romeo's staked. He drops down, appearing dead, unmoving. Whether that's the end of him or not is unknown, but he isn't bursting into dust or flames like most vampires would. Tony may have been unaccounted for, uncaring for M as he begins bounding for Heather, but he's suddenly seized by the nape and lifted into the air by one hand. Dropping the very dead body of Benjamin Ferelli (and it's very dead, the portly mobster's eyes are gone and his skull is split into two) is Quenton, eyes completely red, as if they bled over, red veins also popping from him. His hand looks like it's suffering from some sort of very hot burns. But he's uncaring, as he growls and turns and begins smashing poor Tony's head over and over again into the wall.

M? She's scared, staring at Heather, backing up into the car that is now Mike. But she does release Derren, trembling as she does. "You whore. You ruined everything. You're ruining everything." Apparently she thinks the blurring about from Mike was Heather as well. Oh, the small victories.

Heather stares at M for a few moments and then shakes her head at what's happening to Tony. "What did I ruin? This trap for your son? Look at him now. You are no mother. Get into the car, and stay there, and do not move. I will have words with you in a moment. And if you come out or you come towards me I shall slay you without a thought. Believe me when I say: I am fast enough. Look at what I have wrought. Do not try me," plays on Heather's tape recorder, even as she zips towards Quenton raising her hands in the air in a calming gesture. "This is enough, Quenton. He is either dead or dying."
She's in the car. Come into the parlor, er, backseat, little fly.

The seatbelts grab for the vampire lady, attempting to pull her back and bind her in place. Meanwhile, Mike gets acquainted with his new accoutrements. Silver… that's actually a SILVER drink bucket. Now how convenient is that? Because the car is turning into a modified paddy-wagon, and a modified paddy-wagon has no need for a drink bucket, but it DOES have need of handcuffs and ankle restraints, and what better to make them out of? So Mike restructures them as the car changes from comfort to less comfort. *If she'll just stop squirming while he … puts them … on … flail flail.*
The stories say you can restrain a vamp with silver and they can't break it. We'll see if that's true.

"She should be glad I didn't make it a hearse," Mike speed-talks to Heather through the car radio. Of course, he's pretending NOT to notice that Quenton is beginning to look a bit like Cuchulain going into Warp Spasm.

Success. Mike has the vampire lady successfully snared. The good guys beat the bad guys.

But there's still the issue of dealing with Quenton. The days when he was the fifteen year old Avenger Boy were happy, carefree ones, with those ridiculous lab coat capes, gardening gloves and rubber ski masks, that smile, the crappy banter he'd have with would be evil-doers.

But those days have certainly passed, and it'd be hard to tell that the black clad mutant holding a poor brutalized evil werewolf in his hands is the child superhero. Squeezing the back of the werewolf's skull, Tony is a whimpering mess before he's dropped and Quenton begins sauntering for Heather. Perhaps the right cross swing he throws her way, air rippling behind his arm wasn't quite in the plan.

"You are enraged," says Heather, ducking down underneath Quenton's fist, "Speak to me, Quenton." She moves quickly and gracefully, hair being pushed back by the rippling air. "Should you bring me harm, you know that you will torture yourself."

It seems like hours ago, but this has only taken perhaps ten minutes, and Mike started his entry to this unpleasantly lethal fracas by sending emergency messages to the X-Men and his SHIELD contact to advise what was happening. And it would be a good thing if Emma, maybe, or a Hulkbuster team, were to show up. For that matter, Mike wouldn't mind seeing Bruce Banner or his cousin show up.

"Heather? None of my nonlethal techniques is going to take down his rage before he gets hurt, or before he hurts someone else. If you have to, get away, and I'll evacuate his parents."

The front door of the paddy-wagon slides open for Quenton's father. If he can get him inside he'll be safe…
Frustration, now. Quenton speaks, if that's what you count the primal roar he answers with, moving instead for a tackle towards Heather, one that if dodged would lead them at least further down the alley, though the dead end might not become a dead end any longer.

"Don't you see? Look at him," screams M, struggling with the seatbelt. "Who's the real monsters? Us, for trying to give him a chance to burn his rage off, at least for a little while? Or him? Look at him!"

Quenton's father, Derren Michaels, is silent, on his knees, weak from being fed on so often. But he watches his raging son, then glances at Heather, before weakly pulling himself up and beginning to stumble in their direction, not taking the offer of the front door, though he glances behind him, and then around him, as if Mike is some apparation somewhere. "Thank you," he says quietly. "But I wanna see my boy." He stops near Romeo's unmoving body, picking up one of the guns and tucking it behind him, in the waistband of his jeans.

Heather's edges blur and she draws the combat umbrella, opening it again and driving it forward quickly to send a burst of wind up at Quenton to try and slow him down, before indeed dodging backwards from Quenton's tackle, running up the wall if she must. "Do you really want to hurt me? I have done nothing but try to help you. This is not who you are, you can achieve control."

The car talks. "Sergeant Michaels, the best way to help your son is to let us calm him down. The worst way is to approach him with a gun behind your back, especially if you intend to use it. Nothing they told you about him being a menace is true, they just wanted to feed on his energy."

Mike has searched his nonlethal weapons design list and finds only two that might work, and only one that he can fabricate quickly: the "flashy thing" device that he didn't get to use during the riots at the Genoshan Embassy last year. It actually uses a combination of strobing lights of different colors plus focussed sound - not at damaging levels but in chaotic forms - to distract, disorient, and generally mess with people who are being hostile. It only has profound effects on one target, and it takes a powerful computer to continually adjust it to disrupt, but then Mike has one of those. The weird-looking box with speakers and its array of lenses emerges (impossibly) from the top of the paddy-wagon.

"At least let me try this. It may hold him until help arrives." Mike focuses the thing on Quenton and fires - a stream of flashing light and bizarre noise.

"I'm not going to shoot my own son," the grizzled middle-aged man mutters, though he shoots a bewildered look to the car. Still, he presses forward, the sound making it perfect for Quenton to be momentarily stunned right as he's about to start going to work on the wall that Heather ran up, beginning to smash into it with his fists. He pauses, the sound making him cover his ears briefly, and he closes his eyes at the light. Right as his father's hand hits his shoulder.


It's with equal parts tragic and great force that the man is hit. There's a sickening snap as he flies towards the car that is Mike, and unless avoided, or otherwise deterred, he smashes into it and just drops. Quenton, still blinded by the light,

Heather's eyes widen for a few moments, dashing past Quenton to try and stop his father from smashing against the car, being sure to decelerate at a constant rate to prevent any further damage from the impact against the car. She looks over her shoulder, and then down towards the struck man to see if he breathes, or if he is a body.

Airbags are usually on the inside of a car, right? Well, Mike (having played ghost and then ghost-in-machine) is not above another disturbing ghost-thing - and the doorframes and steering wheel warp out of their proper shapes, and airbags detonate and inflate at a Heather-liesurely pace, but well fast enough that when the hard-hit policeman reaches them, they are able to catch him and absorb all but the slightest shock, and they don't deflate completely, instead holding the man so he doesn't drop hard. The stun-beam is NOT stopped, though there's a moment where the bags' shadow-edges eclipse part of the lightshow.

It all happened so fast.

When you're terrified of what people can do to you on a normal day, and you're *certain* that somewhere, somehow, someone is going to top the things that've already happened to you, fear is almost a necessary survival trait. Cowering on a fire escape as the fighting moves away, for example, could be seen as almost prudent. But fear wears itself out, after awhile, and the voice in the back of your head grows hoarse and faint, allowing the world to seep back in, around the edges. So it's numbly, as if in a trance, that Shane forces herself to approach the violence. Her hands are shaking, eyes red and puffy, cheeks soaked through with tears… And yet she presses forward, armored boots clomping audibly against the pavement. Her eyes, locked on Quenton, never wavering as she moves closer and closer into the teeth of the whirlwind. "…Q," she manages, voice rough and scratchy, likely lost over the teen's thunderous roar.

The damage is severe. Derren's neck is broken, and perhaps more than just that. His body just seems… crooked, somehow. It's literally broken. Blood spews from the mouth, still warm, but the Sergeant is definitely a corpse. The lights perhaps had nothing to do with it, or the sound, as Quenton was facing the wall and if his father touched him would have likely reacted the same way. M, Olivia, the vampire lady, Missus Phillips, whichever alias you want to call her, she just stares outside the Mike window with a sick fascination. The Blackbird disappears, in trying to find a place to land, or drop whomever they sent. And Quenton? He's not even aware right now he killed his own father, just stumbling back and flailing with one arm, knocking several bricks free of their walls.

And he may as well be dealing more damage to the people he loves. Shane draws closer, her voice indeed unheard as Quenton roars with anger and frustration, back hitting the wall. He whips about, punishing that wall with a severly
burn-scarred fist. The body of his father just remains limp in a cushion of Heather's arms and Mike's airbags.

Heather rests the Sergeant down gently, shaking her head and whispering something to herself that does not pass through the translation system. It seems that unlike usual, her voice has slowed enough to become understandable. Quick, but understandable. "I failed." Heather walks towards Shane, closing the gap, reaching to put a hand on her shoulder, not putting any force behind it and giving her a look of concern.

In the past, Mike has been known to shut down his emotional responses because they stopped making sense for humans. He's managed not to do that for some time now, but he's doing it again. He felt the life energy leave that body. He ran several thousand alternative approaches that might have stopped Sgt Michaels from approaching his son, but none of them were valid in light of the man's own free will. The mother remains restrained in the back. Mike will hand her over to SHIELD, or to the X-Men if they wish. But he'll be pretty completely robotic for some time. This was just too damn raw and horrible and the reaction to the senselessness would overwhelm.

Shane pauses as Heather's hand touches her shoulder, but doesn't take her eyes off the rampage. "Can't leave'm like this," she grates, drawing in a shuddery breath. "Said I had 'is back. Fucked it up. Ain't gonna let'm get taken like a dog." Shaking off the hand, she continues forward, the interval between footfalls growing longer as she picks up her pace, from a slow walk, to jog, and then to flat-out sprint, circling around past the worst of the wreckage. As she closes, her boots begin to glow, the complex microcircuitry within them mimicking her body's natural field, fooling her powers into believing that the heavy, stompy things are a part of her body. Dull red at first, then brighter and brighter… And finally, as she comes within jumping distance Shane pushes herself off the ground, feet scant centimeters from Quenton's back as all the built-up energy is released at once.

The resulting energy flare is tightly confined, perhaps singing the boy's shirt, but the pressurized-air blast wave created by the brief, intense burst mimicks a foot-sized pile of explosiive nicely, up to and including the incredibly loud, explosive roar and resulting blast damage to the immediate area.

Well, there's a lot of rubble. And all of that smoke and debris was not what Rogue expected when she convinced SHIELD to ease off and let her handle the situation with Quenton. This was going to cause a lot of issues for the school on Q's behalf. Still, she lands, eventually taking place near Heather. "Hey, hon," she greets, eyes flitting over to the wreckage where Quenton's beginning to climb out of. Her eyes draw behind her, to where the Mikemobile is, while she purses her painted lips and drags her gaze back to the teenage couple. "We need to get 'em out of here 'fore Shield shows up, and has Q on a table served up like flapjacks." To the car, she says, "Let SHIELD have this lot, should hold 'em over while we try to get the blame for… all this off the kid." She saunters over to where Tony still whimpers, knocking him unconscious with the heel of her boot.

Quenton is climbing out of the rubble and debris, panting, before he lets out another roar and turns to face Shane, raising his fist. At the sight of her, however, he pauses, hesitates. He watches her, before his hand begins to tremble and the red leaves his eyes in bloody tears, collapsing down on his knees and then falling limp against her legs, letting out choked sobs.

"I should not have let this happen," is all Heather has to say to Rogue, speaking quickly, but not speaking through her translation system still. She nods once, and then walks to Quenton and Shane, looking between them and speaking softly, "I am sorry." She pauses for a few moments to rub her arms, "We must be going…"

Mike doesn't say anything at all about what SHIELD will do, because he's been aware of the occasional 'WTF' situation in the records, but he also has a complete memory record of what occurred - and it's unlikely that Quenton would be blamed, more than Mike would, anyway.

And with that possibly in mind Mike packages a compressed copy of the same memory-stream he intends to provide SHIELD, and sends it off to the Mansion, with a note indicating that there is a genetic component that may be amenable to tailored suppression treatments; Dr. McCoy would know about those. He doesn't speak though. There is no logical reason to further intrude.

"Fuck sorry," Shane manages to get out, as she crouches down, kneeling in the dust and rubble with the sobbing, blood-splashed mutant. "I shoulda had 'is back. Least y'tried." Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, she closes her eyes, leaning her head against Quenton's shoulder. For a moment, she simply stays that way, before drawing in a long, slow breath. "…'Kay," she says, cracking an eye and looking up to Rogue. "Let's get goin'." Her attention turns to Quenton, forehead bumping against the top of his head. "C'mon…. gotta get up. Time t'get outta here, 'kay…?" Rising to her own feet, she pauses, glancing at the shapeshifting, speech-capable car, then to Heather, raising an eyebrow as if to ask 'What is *that?*'

Quenton doesn't move. He wants to wrap his arms about Shane and keep her there, but everything feels lighter then it did before he went berserk. Like last time, his control will be reset again, which is terrifying. He just stays there, until Rogue hauls him up by the arm. She doesn't answer the unspoken question of Shane's, she just leans over to her. "Mind if I carry you off, sugar? I'd have your boyfriend here do it, but he's a bit of a mess right now." Her eyes trail over to Heather and she purses her lips. "You saved his sister, didn't you, hon? Pretty sure all of you here are gonna be blaming yourselves for what happened, but the truth is, you did the best you could, didn't you?" Helicopters and other aerial vehicles, as well as ground vehicles, can be detected in the immediate vicinity. SHIELD's close.

Heather nods once at Rogue, looking down towards Quenton for a few moments before she resheathes her umbrella, readjusts her headphones and then heads to catch their flight out of there.

Shane looks up as Quenton is hauled to his feet, a pained look crossing her face briefly, but fades with a heavy sigh. "Yeah… jus'… gimme a sec." With that, she picks her way to the strange vehicle, rapping a knuckle against the back bumper. "Hey," she calls, voice still scratchy and hoarse, but with a bit more volume. "Thanks." And then, the slight young teen moves back to Rogue's side, wrapping her hands around Quenton's shoulders. "…Let's go. I got 'im."

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