Civil Disobedience
Posted on Wed Oct 18th, 2023 @ 9:17pm by Scott Summers & Iris Walker & Cameron Hood & Elias Buckley & Tammy Thompson & Ethan Hale & Aurora Summers & Armando Muñoz & Pietro Maximoff
Mission:
Episode 3: X-Tra Ecclesiam
Location: South Baltimore, Maryland
Timeline: August 13th, 1990
The Blackbird ghosted into the marina under the cover of darkness, relying on cutting-edge stealth systems and boldness to mask their approach. Setting down on an empty pier between two empty barges, the stealth craft would hopefully appear as another ship to all but the closest inspection.
While flying south over the ocean, the city lights lit up the skyline as the sun's twilight slowly ebbed away. The volatile protest at the police department was easy to spot even from a distance. Individual people and their posters and pickets were indistinguishable. Only an angry amorphous blob of humanity was visible from such a distance, but their intent was clear. If they didn't disperse soon, then things could get out of hand in a hurry
Tammy took it all in. This could get bad. Hopefully not. She would keep watch over the airwaves and relay anything bad happening. This poor person. All they did was be born a mutant. They didn't hurt anybody. Why couldn't people leave well enough alone? Why did they have to hate?
Ethan was relaxed, or as relaxed as one could be under the circumstances. He'd been in a score of simulations and exercise when he was on the other side back in Los Angeles. About half on the offensive as he was now, and half on the defensive.
In his mind(at least until the action started)this was nothing more than just another exercise. It was just an exercise he couldn't afford to lose. He was strapped into his chair, something he found quite uncomfortable, ready for the opportunity to be free of his restraints.
This was definitely the coolest part of working for Xavier. Iris loved flying. It was even better than driving. Granted, being as small as she was, driving was tricky. She had to have a booster seat. A booster seat! At her age! But here, the seat adjusted! She supposed it amounted to the same thing, but it felt different and that was, ultimately, what mattered.
As Hoodwink set the flight systems to idle and let the engines power the stealth countermeasures, the onboard monitor flashed with Cyclops' face. He had changed from loungewear into his X-Men uniform, complete with ruby-quartz visor in place of his red-tinted sunglasses. This was an X-Men mission and he would fill the part.
"One last rundown: Armoury, Fable, and Hoodwink are on retrieval. Flux is on recon to scout infil and exfil. Gryphon and Surge are on overwatch to watch for trouble and perform interdiction. I will remotely monitor the Blackbird from here and Enigma will passively monitor through Cerebro when and where possible. Armoury is in charge." Though his gaze was hard to track due to his visor, the pivot of his head indicated Cyclops had turned the mission over to Cam.
"You heard the red eyed wonder." Cameron said, grinning. "Gryphon, you're keeping an eye on the entry team while we're moving, and the police station when we're in. Surge watches over Flux." He looked at Jason and Tammy both, "Don't get into trouble, but if you do try and do it quietly?"
"As for my merry band of misfits, we're going in nice and professional. Fable and I will be talking." Cameron's eyes drifted to the cockpit where he suspected Iris to be, "I want Hoodwink to try and get a look at any paperwork she might she laying around on any desks that pertain to our friend in lock up." He then turned back to address the larger group. "If shit hits the fan, we grab the prisoner and run. We're not here for a fight. It won't help our cause if we're seen smashing Baltimore. Questions?"
Jace shook his head and spoke for everyone. "Not from me. Let's do this."
Meanwhile, back at the Mansion, Aurora was mentally preparing herself to use Cerebro. She’d never seen Cerebro let alone used it, and she wasn’t sure whether Professor Xavier would be very happy about it. “Are you sure I’ll be able to do this, Scott?” She looked towards him for some reassurance.
"Honestly? No." Cyclops stepped away from the War Room computer he'd used to address the team in the Blackbird and walked over to the Cerebro interface nearby. Cerebro itself was a massive mainframe that only the Professor could access, but the headset in the War Room could theoretically be used by anyone. A non-telepath wouldn't be able to make much use of it, but on her best days, Jean could project her consciousness across distances and seek people out.
"That's why we're going to take it slow. Take the helmet there." He indicated the headset which hung from the ceiling like a curling helmet in a hair salon. "Put it on and tighten the chin straps. From what I understand, you don't want it sliding around."
Aurora nodded and did as Scott had instructed. Sitting down she made herself comfortable before strapping the helmet firmly on. “Okay, So what do I do now?”
"Try to relax," Scott said, remembering the Professor's instructions to Jean. "Don't focus on anything yet. Just let your awareness expand without concentrating. Maybe think about a happy memory or something in the room while you gently let Cerebro stretch your thoughts?"
Aurora nodded, her happiest memories were of her time here at the mansion so she concentrated on those. On her walk with Scott, and the freedom she felt now she was part of the team and being one of Professor Xavier’s students. “It’s an...odd sensation.” she closed her eyes while focusing on Scott, she trusted him to guide her.
The hair on the back of his neck prickled with an all too familiar feeling. Memories of strolling around the campus came to him. Standing on the overlook near Breakstone Lake. Under the big willow tree with a wispy canopy of leaves. But, instead of Jean, it was Aurora in the eye of Scott's mind.
She was thinking of him. Had to be. Scott buried that thought in the back of his mind and focused on the matter at hand.
"You're doing well," Cyclops said. At least she hadn't had a seizure or something. "I'm going to slowly amplify the power level now. Let me know as soon as you feel any discomfort." He began slowly dialing the knob on the side of the helmet she wore.
“Okay, Scott.” Aurora felt the difference slowly start to kick in as Scott turned up the power, she held on for as long as she could before finally finding her limit. “Stop...that’s all I can...handle.” She focussed on finding the minds of the team amongst the sea of voices that now filled her head. “I can...hear our team, I just...need to find them.” She took a deep breath, closed her eyes and focused hard, a jubilant smile appearing on her face as she focused in. “I’ve got them!”
"Good..." Better than good. It was outstanding. It took Jean several sessions in Cerebro before she could focus on specific people from a distance. Scott stopped the dial at the current power level, noting it was above halfway. It was enough for him to hope the Professor's lecture wouldn't be too bad when he returned. "Tell me what you see."
“I see...” Aurora paused trying to get a clearer picture, she could hear angry voices and sense the fears of the mutant they were there to save. “It’s...difficult, I can hear angry voices, sense...fear.” She took a deep breath trying not to let it overwhelm her. “I think I can...Yes! I can see where they are.”
"Don't overdo it," Scott said. "Just watch for now and describe anything that can't be reported by the Blackbird's onboard computer. Only make contact if you sense someone needs warning of imminent danger."
Gryphon wasn't sure how he felt about overwatch duties. He knew that he was a vital part of the mission. It just didn't seem that way, because, more than likely not going to be involved in any major action. He was half a mile up in the air, but he could the ground and the rest of the surrounding area with ease. His wings beat silently as he turned in a wide circle.
Surge continued to monitor the radio waves for any transmission that might be threatening to the mutant in the jail.
Instead of X-Men uniforms, or military fatigues, Cameron was wearing a nice office casual outfit. He was here to make a good impression, not to look like a jackbooted thug. So here he was, in black dress pants, a white button-up dress shirt with the top two buttons open. He was wearing a light dark blue sports jacket. His boots had a good black polish, but they were a lot more functional than what one would normally wear with the outfit. He worked his way through the crowd around the police station, making sure he had just a bit more space than he might have needed to as if he was escorting someone who wasn't there.
A few wild elbows swung his way, but none of the protesters paid Cameron any particular attention despite his odd attire. All eyes were on the man wearing camouflage fatigues and a black beret shouting through a bullhorn. The bold, offensive slurs he threw out were repeated back to him by angry chants from the crowd.
Crowds didn't really cause Elias a problem at the best of times, and this was no different. He chose his entry point carefully and discreetly entered the scene as close to the police station as relative anonymity allowed. His clothing was casual, non-descript, and simple, dark blue hoody, olive drab cargo trousers, hi-tops. A baseball hat was shoved into his left trouser leg pocket, but for now, he walked slowly and aimed to meet up with Cameron before they both entered the police station. If he needed to jink through the crowd using his powers to avoid open conflict, he'd do so, but sparingly.
Iris also did not have trouble with crowds, but for a much different reason. Because her powers were automatic, the crowd parted in front of her, being repelled by her very presence. Nobody saw her, heard her, touched her, or even smelled her. She was as good as a ghost.
Flux had already gone on ahead of them all, having run through the entire crowd like a ghost. He ran through the far end of the police department and jumped through the floor down into the detention area. Jail cells ran along the basement, at least six on each side. Maybe more but the dim lighting kept them from view.
"I don't know if you all can hear my thoughts or whatever," Jace whispered under his breath, "but I'm in. No sight of the mutant yet. Minimal guards down by the jail cells, though. Looks like all the cops are upstairs. From the sound of it, they got their hands full."
Aurora could hear everyone’s thoughts via Cerebro, knowing the others weren’t able to do the same she tried linking them to one another allowing them to hear one another as she could hear them. Concentrating hard on keeping the team members linked, she hadn’t yet picked up on another mind that was trying to contact hers.
"I dun care if you have ah order from the governor his self!" exclaimed a portly old man with a briefcase in one hand and a sheaf of papers in the other. His lazy Georgia drawl dripped like molasses. "That young man down there has rights, and I am here to see they are represented. Now kindly step aside and let me convene with my client."
The desk sergeant sighed at the old attorney. "Like I already said, Mr. Ramsay, the citizen is not under arrest but is in protective custody as a person of interest in an ongoing investigation. He would be free to go if we thought..."
"It ain't up to you then, sir," Phillip Ramsay interjected, "but up to my client. Now are you going to allow me to see the boy or do I need to make some phone calls of my own?"
Sneaking into the police station had been easy- she just had to wait for someone to open the door and then sneak in behind them. But now, Iris only listened, not really knowing how to help, and opting to gain more information first.
The logbook used by the booking officer sat open to the most recent processing. Among the names which were listed by criminal offense, there was one which stood out as being held in protective custody in a private wing of the basement beyond the regular jail cells. Scrawled in hasty handwritten letters: Muñoz, Armando G., Age 17, Bunk D-2.
Now all she had to do was wait for someone to take a prisoner down to the cell blocks. She didn’t have to wait long as only a moment later, a cop leading a drunk in cuffs passed them. She followed quickly and easily slipped into the block behind them.
If she didn’t have a mission to complete, she’d have loved to sit and listen to all the grit happening in here. There were all manner of people in holding, though she wouldn’t have had any idea what they were in for. But, as it was, she didn’t have much time, so she simply kept walking. And walking.
And walking.
Soon she came to an area that was almost deserted. And there was her mark, sitting alone. Poor guy. Well, hopefully he wouldn’t be there for much longer. “Armando?” she said quietly, thereby calling attention to herself and breaking the spell.
Armando didn't understand why he wasn't allowed to leave. Don't get it wrong, he appreciated that he was grabbed out of the crowd by the police, but he'd like to go home. The lynching didn't even work! Then he heard a voice. His eyes darted across the hall, seeing nothing, right up until his mutation kicked in. His mind suddenly perceived a presence near him, a small black girl. He couldn't see her per se, but he could conceive her.
Fable had been up for teamwork. Genuinely, he'd been trying to wrap his head around the concept with an aim to working together to complete a mission. But, well, here they were with a perfect exfil opportunity and a vast, angry mob. And - as he blinked from one scene to another to suss out current events - bringing things right up to date, a major world-changing, shit-ton sized mass of trouble about to rain down. There was, as usual from his limited life experience, no time to play nice. "Making our move. Exfilling now," he said, with the intent of at least warning Cameron as he brushed close to their team leader before 'porting them both into the cells. "In or out?"
Trial and error and an ability to move from place to place in seconds gained Fable all the information he needed to make the personal call in the situation. "We're getting outta here," was his opening statement to Iris, Jace and Armando, and then he grabbed the teen they'd come for by the hand. "Right now. Coming?"
Cameron grabbed both Fable's shoulder, as well as he reached through the bars that were suddenly near. He grabbed Armando by the front of his shirt, perhaps a bit violently.
Knowing what was about to happen, Iris grabbed hold of Fable’s arm at the last possible second.
As they blinked out of the police station and emerged on a warm, sunny beachfront full of parasols and sunbathing souls watching a big wave surf competition, Fable and whoever had chosen to tag along with him instantly got a free (if likely very temporary) Hawaiian vacation.
With more vehemence than Armando would've expected, he yanked himself loose. The momentum stumbled him away from Cameron. Stumbling three steps back and landing on the sand, right as a wave sloshed up and turned most of his jeans soggy. "What the hell just happened?!" Armando shouted as he back away further from the extraction team. "Who the hell are you?!" He then looked left and right, "WHERE THE HELL AM I?!"
"My name is Cameron." Cameron said, before gesturing around. "This is Elias." He gestured to Elias, and then with a more expansive gesture. "Not sure if she's here, but the creepy girl is Iris. We're X-Men sent to get you out of prison." All things considered, Cameron's voice sounded rather reasonable.
"What the fuck are the X-men?!" Armando shouted. He wanted to go home. He also wanted to get away from the weird people. So he decided to run, straight away from the X-traction team.
“Hey, wait!” called Iris. “Come on, guys, we gotta catch up with him!” she told Cameron and Elias as she took off after Armando.
"Dude," said Elias, infinite calm in his voice and open-armed gesture as he blinked from current stance to literally right in front of Armando. "If we're gonna race, I'll win. Just chillax and listen k. Right now, we're on your side. You're outta prison. And, y'know getting some beach time. All's good. What do YOU actually want?"
"Look man, I just want to go back to home." Armando said, all strength leaving him as he slumped into the sand of the beach. "I just want to back home." He said again, exhausted from all that happened to him. And then he simply popped out of existence. The teleportation was not spectacular, one moment Armando was there, the next him was gone.
Cameron came running up, seeing Armando disappear. Confusion turned to annoyance as Cameron made the wrong connection. "Elias, where did you teleport him to?"
But Elias hadn't teleported the other mutant anywhere. It would be a fact that led to no small amount of heads-scratching.
Back in Baltimore, in the distant horizon, unnoticed due to the tumultuous shouts of the protesting mob on the ground, a shimmering glint caught the setting sun and reflected it back at Gryphon and Surge, and perhaps anyone else whose eyes were looking eastward toward the ocean.
Gryphon with arguably the best vision saw the glow coming toward them. "Possible bogies coming in at six o'clock. Everyone keep an eye out."
“I see them,” Aurora’s voice came via Cerebro. “You need to hurry!”
From back in the War Room standing over Aurora, there was a sinking feeling in Cyclops' gut. "It can't be..." He stifled the growing sense of terror and sprang to action. "The retrieval team needs to double-time it. Everyone else needs to disperse that crowd by any means necessary!"
"I hear you, Scott! I might be able to help with that! OK everyone in the retrieval team shield your eyes, it's going to get real bright real fast! Gonna turn up the lights." With that, she dropped down and let loose a flash of intensely bright light aimed at the crowd and the intruders.
Gryphon flew up a little keeping his eyes turned away from the flash attack. This had the additional benefit of allowing him to see the forces advancing against them. What he saw made him curse under his breath. Then into the comms. he said, "We've got a battleship coming toward us and I think I see Magneto there."
Aurora nodded even though Gryphon couldn’t see her. “Yes, I see him too. He’s not alone, there’s a whole army of mutants with him!”
Despite everyone's best efforts, the U.S.S Missouri hovered across the beach toward the protesting crowd. Shouts and jeers fell to a dull rumble as all heads turned upward in awe of the 270m war machine that suspended overhead. The orange glow reflected from the setting sun cast an otherworldly hue to it, perhaps even an infernal one as if the fires of hell had forged it.
That was an altogether fitting view. For, hovering above the bow of the ship as a living figurehead was a man clad in crimson armor and a mauve cape and helm. Hands upraised like the coming of the messiah or the herald of doom, he shouted, "Form ranks!"
At his command, a multitude of every shape and size fled the floating battleship. Some of them alighted as if carried by the wind, others flipped and dove, while a few soared straight as an arrow, with the aerially mobile among them carrying those who were not to the nearby rooftops. All of them, like rats, scurried to the shadows and other hidden locations but were nonetheless primed for action.
By now, several rabble-rousers had figured out this was a mutant response to their protest. Slurs and slogans began flying as did a few weapons. Multiple rounds of gunfire drowned out anything else uttered by the man that could only be Magneto.
There was nothing more to do or to be said. Magneto took a heavy sigh as one might when faced by an infestation of insects. What high-caliber bullets were able to reach him were easily deflected by his EM-generated force field. In response, he offered a regal wave as one might expect from an imperial head of state.
And then he released the battleship.
The protesters directly below had only three seconds to scream their last before they were smashed into jam. Water mains in the street were crushed as the ship gouged the substrate into a muddy quagmire of twisted metal and pulverized concrete.
A few outliers among the crowd of protesters took flight from the swift and sudden attack, but the vast majority of protesters who had been knocked off their feet regained their senses, their weapons, and their rage.
"KILL THE MUTANTS!"
Such shouts filled the air, though Magneto hovered above them all, completely unimpressed. He said one word. "Charge!"
The Brotherhood of Evil Mutants answered the call and flooded the devastation to pick off the protesters who never stood a chance.
Aurora could only watch via Cerebro in horror as the protestors were picked off one by one. She didn’t like what the protestors were doing, but she didn’t agree with that either. She was about to take off the helmet when a voice called to her. At first it was quiet but it got louder as she focused on it until the voice filled her mind. When she spoke it wasn’t Aurora’s voice that filled the control room, it was Jean!
“Scott! Scott...help me!!”
"Jean? JEAN!!!" Scott dropped his Cyclopean stoicism for just an instant as he heard the voice that had haunted his dreams for the past 6 weeks. Before he knew it, his hands were holding Aurora by the shoulders. "Jean, tell me where you are!"
The momentary touch boosted the connection between Scott and his love, but it wasn’t going to last long. “Scott...I can’t...I don’t...know...” A slow trickle of blood began running from Aurora’s nose before a sudden ear piercing scream echoed through the room. Moments later Aurora was flat out unconscious face down on the console in-front of her.
"Jean... Aurora!" Scott snapped out of his waking nightmare and took straight to action. The disconnection protocol was simple but imperative. He dialed down the power level on Cerebro until it was safe to remove the helmet. But, for good measure, he deactivated the interface first which connected the data cable to the helmet. Only then did he began loosening the chinstraps. "Aurora, can you hear me?"
No response.
Cyclops activated the War Room communicator that was linked directly to the Blackbird. It might be able to sync with any personal radios the X-Men may have on them, but radio was often unreliable where mutant powers were on full display. "X-Men! Retreat! Mission is scrubbed! I repeat, mission is scrubbed! Fall back to Blackbird and get out of there!"
From there, with nothing else to be done from the War Room, Scott carefully lifted Aurora out of the seat and carried her as swiftly as he dared to the infirmary. This was not the first time he had carried a young telepath away from Cerebro. Muscle memory took over, which was just as well because Scott's mind was having a hard time distinguishing the present crisis from previous memories. Aurora and Jean, Jean and Aurora. Either way the world was beginning to feel dreamlike. His training told him that was dissociation setting in. He needed to get a grip.
While they had been prepared to stand siege against the protest outside, Baltimore's finest had been unprepared for all hell to break loose on the streets outside. It was all they could do to keep order inside the precinct. Orders were shouting between officers who were unsure of who was even in command at that moment.
Tammy was horrified at what she saw! All those people crushed just like that! They didn't deserve that! Then Scott's voice came over the radio telling them to abort. Retrieval team get him out of there now! Cyclops says abort! Everybody back to the blackbird asap!" Tammy said as she relayed Scott's transmission to them.
Having received the recall order from the War Room and detecting that the X-Men team was no longer in the vicinity--the fliers having taken to the skies and everyone else being teleported away with Fable--the Blackbird's return-to-base protocol became activated. The stealth systems activated along with the VTOL capability which began the empty aircraft's automated extraction.
The pounding of helicopter blades filled the air as a squadron of Apache gunships came on approach. Magneto would almost definitely make short work of them, but the ground fighting that would result between the National Guard and the Brotherhood of Evil Mutants would quickly erupt into something far worse.
"Our quarry has departed!" Magneto shouted above the din as he took to the skies. "Retreat!" He ripped the rotors off of one Apache and slammed them into another just for fair measure on his egress.
Some mutants heard the call and obeyed the order to scatter, though many more either didn't hear or didn't care. Either way, the streets of Baltimore would be a warzone this night.
Ethan debated what he should do. Stay where he was, follow Magneto back to his lair, assuming he could stay up with him, or go down and try to render aid. There was no way he was just going to sit there on overwatch. It really wasn't a decision at all.
He flew toward the ground seeing who needed help the most.
"Look at the winged mutie!" shouted one of the protesters. "Shoot him!"
Bullets flew from automatic weapons, filling the air all around Ethan.
"Fuck," Ethan muttered under his breath. He could take some small arms fire, he did after all have some natural body armor But, he wasn't bulletproof. He pulled out of his dive and started to climb as fast as he could beat his feathered wings.
Just as he thought he had gotten away he felt a sharp pain as a high-caliber bullet cut through his wing and pierced into his back. It spun him around 90 degrees and he started to plummet towards the ground.
A silver streak cut through the air and intercepted Ethan's fall. In the blink of an eye, Ethan found himself atop a distant building a fair step away from the fighting. Before him was a tall and lithe young man with swept silver hair wearing a turquoise suit and a lightning bolt down the front.
"Magneto called for a retreat. Get to the fallback point where someone can patch you up." He gave Ethan a wink. "Don't make me catch you twice." And then he was gone in a flash.
It was a case of mistaken identity, which Ethan was grateful for. It had certainly saved his life and he was tempted to push his luck and see if he could fool any more of Magneto's people but almost immediately gave up on that idea as being immensely foolish, he would never be able to fool Magneto, not without a good cover story. He flew back to his own home base, taking evasive actions to ensure he wasn't followed.
