Retreat

[Pyro]

After a hasty check proved that the Juggernaut was in fact fine, with nothing more substantial than his pride slightly marred, the unlikely bank robbers got down to the serious business of getting to Manchester Airport, from Liverpool, without a direct route to their vehicle.

They had two things on their side. Three if you counted the fact that they were all pretty powerful mutants. But they had someone who knew the local area - and they had the advantage of night time.

Sneaking around for someone of Juggernaut's size and bulk wasn't exactly a task made in Heaven, and John, who was still barely able to stay upright without assistance cut a fairly suspicious figure himself. However, traversing the back streets of Liverpool, the only people they came across were drunks and/or junkies who merely assumed John was One Of Them.

It was one of the hobble-di-hoi in fact who got them out of the back street and onto the main road leading into the city centre where Python had parked the van in the multi story car park.

It turned out that the car park was gloriously twenty four hour and it was disturbingly simple to get in and retrieve the vehicle. It was a lot less simple, however, to get the pay machine to accept any of the bank notes that they had just stolen.

John was irritable.

He had a headache, his shoulder hurt like hell, they had to get back to Genosha.

The machine wouldn't accept cash.

The car park was deserted.

He looked at the barrier with intense hatred.

"Juggernaut," he said, wearily, "go do the voodoo that you do so well, would you?"

[Juggers]

The Juggernaut, more than slightly irritable himself after the collapsing-fire-escape incident shouldered his way out of the rear of the vehicle. He stared at the pay machine. The pay machine beeped its insistent little beep of demand.

"Bloody machines ... " Cain muttered and with a casual twist snapped the barrier off that blocked their exit.

As an after-thought he swatted the machine, crushing it flat into a mangled metal pancake. It beeped again, just out of spite and he could just about make out a blinking LED. So he kicked it for good measure.

The solitary night-time security guard chose exactly that moment to make his presence known. A beam of torch-light hit the Juggernaut in the face, momentarily blinding him.

"Hey! You there!" The guard exclaimed; he'd dealt with vandals before.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" The man asked as he approached, night-stick in hand.

Ever so slowly Cain turned and stood from where he had been stooped over the crushed machine.

"We're leavin'" he rumbled and swung the broken barrier in a wide arc.

The guard had a split second to register the fact that he was not attempting to apprehend some run-of-the-mill delinquents before the reinforced beam crashed into him with a meaty thwack.

He landed several yards away in an unconscious and painful looking heap.

The Juggernaut dropped his make-shift bat and crammed himself back into the van.

"Let's get the hell out of 'ere"

[Jane]

The fire escape had been, in fact, where Jane's deposit was covering, but if the pile didn't cover it (as it probably wouldn't, after the other residents went through what remained of her stuff), Jane didn't much care. She doubted very much debt could chase her to wherever it was the Brotherhood made their happy home, despite the tenacity of certain auditors of her past.

Thankfully, night had good and fallen, making her look like everyone else until she got under a streetlight and making John look like just another drunk wandering the back roads with a couple friends.

They eventually ended up at a parking garage (Jane had never gotten used to certain Britishisms, like 'car park' or 'bobby,' and stubbornly stood by things like 'parking garage'), got in all right, and found a van which appeared to be theirs. Jane climbed inside, taking one of the bucket seats behind the two fronts, figuring John would probably want to sprawl in the very-back.

They got about forty yards before they were stuck again.

Jane sighed and wriggled around in the seat, getting comfortable and curling up sideways, the way she sat in all chairs in spite of threats of becoming a hunchback. It was her posture and she'd do with it what she liked.

"Juggernaut, go do the voodoo that you do so well, would you?"

"You did not seriously just say that," Jane said from the backseat, closing her eyes and trying to catch some sleep before they got to the Manchester airport. Large crunching noises sounded from outside the van, and Jane took comfort in the knowledge that this, at least, was not her fault.

Light flashed from outside the tinted windows against Jane's closed eyes and she blinked them open, looking out as a pitifully small night guard attempted to accost the Juggernaut, but he was swatted back against the wall (to which Jane gave only a small wince, since after all, he was human, and her new compatriots might not take her general bleeding heart for the wounded status all too well, despite recent events).

"Let's get the hell out of 'ere."

"Hi ho Silver," Jane said vaguely before the exertions of hours past claimed her and she finally fell into a light doze.

[Juggers]

The night-time return trip to Manchester passed in cramped discomfort for Cain. Python was fine in the driving seat but with Pyro in the passenger seat, which was pushed fully back and lay almost flat for his comfort and Jane in the seat behind Python, the Juggernaut was somewhat crammed into the rear of the vehicle.

"If you 'ave to puke again you can do it out the bloody window," Cain rumbled in irritation to the dozing John.

Pyro muttered something in his semi-conscious state and mostly ignored him. Jane similarly dozed. Python stared happily into the night, the sports-bag stuffed with cash sat at his feet. Cain huffed and went back to staring out the rear window in case any curious police-cars decided to pursue them. That, at least, would have livened up the trip. It didn't happen.

Fortunately the roads to the airport were gloriously free of traffic at night and in little under an hour they were rolling into Manchester International car-park.

Python parked up, switched off the engine and peered over at his passengers with a cheerful smile.

"Well boys and girl, we're here!"

Cain glowered back at him, "great, now, how the bloody hell do you suggest we get from 'ere to the plane carrying a stack of cash without getting noticed?"

He kicked the rear door open.

"If you hadn't noticed, we're pretty damn recognisable!"

He jumped out into the cold night air and stretched. There was an audible cracking as massive joints uncramped, finally free of their confinement.

"I really don't wanna get shot down at the end of the runway y'know?!"

[Pyro]

"I really don't wanna get shot down at the end of the runway y'know?!"

Clearly John was more alert than the Juggernaut had thought, because he responded in an almost stern tone, "We're gonna get out of here fine. I just know it. Python, you remember 'plan B' we discussed before we left Genosha?"

"Sure I do, Boss."

"Good. Well, we're not going to run with it." John took a deep breath. "We're going with..." He paused, mostly for effect, "Plan F."

The pause dragged out rather a long time as Python and the Juggernaut stared at one another in confusion. What the hell was 'Plan F'? The Python broke the silence first by actually voicing the question.

"The one where we get ourselves into the cargo hold and use the hiding places. The one where Python just flies us the hell out of this godforsaken WET country. The one where we go home and I get this FUCKING shoulder stitched up before I bleed to death...no offence, Jane..."

Now their attention was drawn to it, they all noticed that he was, indeed, bleeding again, even if only a little.

"The one where we contact Genosha, tell them that we'll swing by New York to pick up Sekhmet, which is where I sent her. The one where she tells me the good news that she's done all the jobs I asked her, because believe you me, if she hasn't, I'm in just the mood for Sekhmet BBQ."

"Calm down, John, you'll bust something." The Python, ever the voice of reason. "But good idea about using the smuggling holds. Juggs, it'll be a bit uncomfortable, but it's only to the end of the runway, I'm sure you can manage it."

"I," said John, somewhat bad-temperedly, "want to go home now, please."

[Juggers]

"Juggs, it'll be a bit uncomfortable, but it's only to the end of the runway, I'm sure you can manage it."

The Juggernaut scowled archly. Having just spent nearly an hour squashed into the equivalent of a sardine can he had no enthusiasm at all for this particular plan. Those compartments were small.

"An how exactly do we GET to the plane without gettin' noticed?" He grumbled. "'Cos in case you 'adn't noticed I ain't exactly a packet of fuckin' peanuts." He folded his arms across his chest.

There was a pause.

"With stealth and subterfuge good Juggernaut, stealth and subterfuge." Python spoke up cutting off another Juggernaut protest-in-the-making.

"Our plane is in that hangar there," he gestured to a wide, squat building on the other side of the compound. "We can make our way around the perimeter easily enough, it's only fencing after all and then ah 'slip' through to our transport. You can all hide away in the compartments while I get those troublesome pre-flight checks out of the way," he winked, Python had a knack for 'avoiding' certain legal entanglements.

He still needed to abide by air traffic control however, though talking over a radio using nothing but an ident-code would give nothing away.

"And awhile later, what do you know, we're in the air and home free. Once we're out of British airspace it will be far too late for anybody to do anything should they I.D. the van."

Python gave everybody a satisfied smile.

"Perfect huh? See John-boy I can plan too. What could go wrong?"

There was another pause.

"Wanna list?" Cain said.

[Jane]

Jane woke up with a start as the van pulled to a stop and the soothing thrum of the engine abruptly shut off, blinking hard to get her eyes to open. She hated waking up before she was slept out - it always just made her groggier. Why had she thought taking a nap would be a good idea?

"Well boys and girl, we're here!"

"Mmf," Jane said, slowly disentangling herself from the seatbelt and seat itself, popping her neck and stretching.

Juggernaut made much bigger pops than she did, Jane noted with vague interest. She wondered if that made her dainty or him just... the direct opposite.

She followed the others out of the van, folding her arms behind her back and working the last kinks out of her spine quietly while they discussed a list of evidently pre-thought-out plans, culminating in something called "Plan F." Jane didn't really want to know how much had gone wrong in order for them to be that far into the alphabet.

"The one where we get ourselves into the cargo hold and use the hiding places. The one where Python just flies us the hell out of this godforsaken WET country. The one where we go home and I get this FUCKING shoulder stitched up before I bleed to death...no offence, Jane..."

"None taken," Jane said, glancing at his bandage - he was, in fact, bleeding again. Crud. "Wait, let me see that thing."

Jane took up residence behind him while he talked, unfolding the uppermost layers of the lopsided and now distinctly screwy faux-tourniquet, biting her lip as she found more blood the further in she got. Careful not to jostle his shoulder, she re-wrapped it more carefully and pinning it this time with a safety pin she found in her jacket's pocket, deciding she could take a closer look at it and maybe figure out some sort of local anaesthetic this time, rather than just doping him up again.

"The one where we contact Genosha, tell them that we'll swing by New York to pick up Sekhmet, which is where I sent her. The one where she tells me the good news that she's done all the jobs I asked her, because believe you me, if she hasn't, I'm in just the mood for Sekhmet BBQ."

"Calm down, John, you'll bust something. But good idea about using the smuggling holds. Juggs, it'll be a bit uncomfortable, but it's only to the end of the runway, I'm sure you can manage it."

"Who's Sekhmet?" Jane asked, noticing the her. "And if you think you're going to New York on this shoulder, you're wrong. New York's, like, ten hours away from here, even by plane, and then God knows how long back to wherever you came from. You're going home and getting sewn up for real this time, unless you really do want to bleed to death. Or at least get an infection."

Christ, she sounded like his mother.

"Our plane is in that hangar there. We can make our way around the perimeter easily enough, it's only fencing after all and then ah 'slip' through to our transport. You can all hide away in the compartments while I get those troublesome pre-flight checks out of the way. And awhile later, what do you know, we're in the air and home free. Once we're out of British airspace it will be far too late for anybody to do anything should they I.D. the van."

It could not possibly be that easy to get out of an airport. Not that Jane had ever tried to get through one (mostly) illegally, but seriously. But if he said so...

"Perfect huh? See John-boy I can plan too. What could go wrong?"

"Wanna list?"

Jane giggled. Surely, she thought, bank robbers were not supposed to giggle. Or even those harboring/abetting bank robbers.

[Pyro]

"You're going home and getting sewn up for real this time, unless you really do want to bleed to death. Or at least get an infection."

"It's not exactly a short hop to Genosha, either," he said, perhaps a little more harshly than he meant, because he immediately followed it up with, "but I see your point. Maybe Python could drop us off at his contacts in Italy, and we can get this damn shoulder fixed there?" He looked over at Python as he spoke, the tall, thin man nodding in agreement.

"Giacomo has many contacts," said Python. This didn't come as a surprise. John continued to believe that Python knew everyone in the world. "I'm sure there will be a doctor among them. We get you patched up, fly you home to Genosha, then I'll sort out Sekhmet."

"Result," said John, with a sort of half-smile. "Thank you, Jane. Sometimes I need to be told what to do."

He could feel the blush threaten again and switched the half-smile to a sort of half-scowl, which merely succeeded in making him look like he had a stuck sneeze.

"It's what - four hours to Giacomo's base?" Again, the nod. "Reckon my shoulder will stand that, Tendril?" That was one of John's characteristics. He always felt more comfortable referring to people by names other than their given ones. Just a quirk.

Probably.

[Jane]

"It's not exactly a short hop to Genosha, either."

"It's shorter than to New York and then Genowhatever," Jane said on the off chance that New York wasn't on the way, which only occured to her after she actually said something.

"But I see your point. Maybe Python could drop us off at his contacts in Italy, and we can get this damn shoulder fixed there?"

"Giacomo has many contacts. I'm sure there will be a doctor among them. We get you patched up, fly you home to Genosha, then I'll sort out Sekhmet."

"Result. Thank you, Jane. Sometimes I need to be told what to do."

Jane smiled, for once without a trace of her usual acidity, and John's face contorted.

"You okay?" she asked carefully.

"It's what - four hours to Giacomo's base? Reckon my shoulder will stand that, Tendril?"

"As long as you don't move it or hit it on anything, Pyro," Jane said, emphasizing the word with a (slightly lame) return to sarcasm while her inner child rejoiced over the fact that now she, too, had a cool code name.

Well. Semi-cool. Maybe not actually cool at all. But she could always dangle people over ten-foot venus fly traps until they thought it was so cool they tattooed it on their foreheads.

[Juggers]

The Juggernaut listened to the exchange with slowly evaporating patience.

"As long as you don't move it or hit it on anything, Pyro,"

"I'll 'it it against somethin' in a minute if we don't get a bloody move on," he glared at the pair to make his point before stomping off toward the car-park exit.

Python shrugged apologetically before slinking away after the retreating form of Cain. It was a well documented fact that the Juggernaut had a very low boredom threshold and a bored, unsupervised Juggernaut was a disaster waiting to happen.

"You sure there 'ain't like ... cameras around this perimeter?" Cain asked as they walked. He glanced at the bulky, grey edifice of the departures building noting no less than three winking lights trained on the entrance doors.

"Not likely," Python replied, "check out the fencing." He pointed to the expanse of chain-link that stretched the perimeter of the airport. Seven feet high, topped with a threatening roll of razor-wire and festooned in warning signs that clearly told any would-be trespassers that not only would they be prosecuted, they would also most likely be shot as possible terrorists. Airport security were absolutely nothing like the Police. Not these days.

The fact that in this case the offenders would be trespassing and were possible terrorists did not make the threat any less imposing.

The last thing they wanted was for John to get shot again.

That would really put a crimp in the day.

[Pyro]

"I'll 'it it against somethin' in a minute if we don't get a bloody move on."

Just you try it, John thought, in increasing irritation. You might be the Unstoppable Juggernaut, but I bet you'd burn quite merrily. We could toast marshmallows on you.

He was walking behind Python and the Juggernaut, almost unconsciously leaning on Jane - or Tendril as he'd absently nicknamed her - as they moved at a much slower pace. Her very dogmatic pronouncement about the state of his shoulder had shaken him a little. In fact, the whole experience had shaken John to his core. He'd discovered things about himself.

He performed a customary mental check.

He'd discovered that he should learn to control his temper.

He'd discovered that creating more than 'Plan A' was a Good Thing [tm].

He'd discovered that he was still crap around women.

He'd discovered that being shot really, really hurt.

He'd discovered that he had a remarkably good ally in Python and possibly even the Juggernaut (although thoughts of delicious, toasted marshmallows continued to run through his mind), but he'd also discovered that he still had a lot to learn about leadership and planning.

He'd discovered that opium was a bad, bad thing.

And ten minutes later, when they had actually boarded the cargo plane without any incident whatsoever, he discovered that sometimes, just sometimes, you didn't have to overcome massive hurdles to get to your goal.

He mused on this as Python proceeded to seal the three of them up in the smuggling compartments prior to his necessary reporting to Customs. Pyro wasn't worried about the man being recognised. His almost flat, reptilian face had the ability to take on a different look if Python so desired.

The compartment that he was in was just about large enough to take him and Python took a great deal of care not to jar his shoulder, even going to the length of putting a wadded towel between his shoulder and the metal. It still hurt like hell, though.


OK, John, the young man said to himself in an almost self-consciously calming way. Let's look at the facts. Fact. You've been shot in the shoulder. Fact. There's every chance that customs are going to find us and they'll go and make us work the treacle mines, or whatever they do in England. Fact. This all went to ratshit, didn't it? Fact. You're a complete idiot. F...

He was broken from his personal scolding by the sound of booted feet above his head and fell into a sort of crazed, terror-induced silence.

Remember. Stay calm, stay quiet. Think of the treacle mines.

[Jane]

"I'll 'it it against somethin' in a minute if we don't get a bloody move on."

The Juggernaut stomped away, and Jane had a hard time not seeing him as a gigantic four-year-old before she slipped an arm around John and got them on their merry way towards the hangar.

Much to Jane's surprise, there was actually nothing that difficult about breaking into an airport. No one accosted them on the runway; no klaxons blared at their intrusion onto what had to be restricted grounds; no nothing. Weird.

Python got John carefully settled in one of the illicit-looking compartments and Jane's worry eased a bit - the kid obviously had people looking out for him, even if it was supposed to be the other way around.

Python had just shut them in and Jane's mind had started to officially wander (was Eastenders on tonight?) when boots pounded above them and Jane's breath caught in her chest and she cursed mentally for making even that tiny noise.

What happened when you were caught in the smuggling hold of aircraft owned by international terrorists?

Surely it wasn't pretty.

Maybe that was how they kept people working at the little stands in train stations. The dead-eyed, usually-foreign zombies in ugly uniforms were actually political prisoners.

Jane held her breath and tried not to move at all, blood pounding in her ears. It wasn't so much the fear of being caught, even - it was the idea that the plane was clean of any significant soil and seed. She was completely vulnerable.

Muted voices sounded from above and Jane had to breathe at last, getting lightheaded from the lack of air - she'd never been able to hold it for too long. A gruff order was called and there was more stomping and the opening of a door before...

Silence.

It was over.

Her hands felt slowly along the inner edge of the compartment, looking for a handle, but evidently you weren't supposed to be able to get out of smuggling holds from the inside. She pushed tentatively, but nothing happened.

Well, if worse came to worst, the Juggernaut probably wouldn't have a problem smashing yet another wall, would he?

[Pyro]

"Out you come, Miss."

Python's voice came before the opening of the compartment and the thin man was standing there with a huge grin on his face holding a helping hand out to her. It was evident that he had opened her compartment first.

That was Python, ever the gentleman.

He opened John's compartment next and repressed a faint snigger at the look of anxiety on the kid's face. "All clear, Boss, we can go straight to Potenza without any problems. I'll radio to Giacomo on the secure channel."

"OK." John sounded tired, unsurprisingly and Python helped him out of the compartment and got him strapped in. He headed over to let the Juggernaut out leaving John alone - yet again - with Jane.

John was starting to suspect he was doing it on purpose for some sort of sick kick.

"Sorry about today," said John with that same half-smile he'd given her earlier. "Just when you think things are going right, you get stuffed in a metal compartment."

Better than the treacle mines, he thought. Or did he say it out loud? He wasn't too sure any more.

[Juggers]

As he had predicted; being stuffed into a smuggling compartment, even a large one, was not fun. It was in fact the opposite of fun. It came as no surprise then that when Python finally released the Juggernaut from his confinement he was slightly less than amused.

"What the hell have you been smugglin' in there?" Cain rumbled as he extracted himself from the little space.

"I stinks like ... like ... " Cain struggled to express exactly what it smelled like, but the overall impression was not good.

Python simply shrugged apologetically and headed for the cockpit.

Cain glared after for a long moment before settling himself heavily into one of the seats. Rooting around in a box beneath the seat produced a bottle of water, half of which he immediately gulped down.

"Italy huh," he considered the turn of events, "foods not bad I 'spose. Could murder a bloody pizza!"

He glanced over at his fellow mutants and waved the bottle at them absently, "you want some of this?" He asked, and then tossed the bottle in their direction anyway.

[Jane]

"Out you come, Miss."

It was like the voice of God, except probably higher-pitched, less impressive, and not belonging to God. And she doubted God would be smiling quite that widely. God might also have more of a nose.

But God WOULD also be holding out the Hand of Salvation, so Jane smiled back gratefully and took Python's hand, bracing the other on the edge of the compartment and shoving herself out, releasing the hand as soon as she could sit on the edge and get the rest of the way up under her own power. "Thanks," she said, glancing at the other two closed compartments.

Maybe it was one of the perks of being the new kid? After all, it wasn't as if she was the only estrogen on the island - there had been positive mention of another her earlier, and Jane was... green. It was a new kid thing. New kid thing.

Jane took a seat and plopped her bag down on her lap, fishing through the cash layer for a book. Italy was a long way away, after all. Like... many hours. Well, maybe. And she WASN'T going to sleep again, not until she had fourteen hours straight to burn.

Python strapped John in next to her and she opened the index of the Gentleman's Guide, looking for "anaesthesia, local."

"Sorry about today. Just when you think things are going right, you get stuffed in a metal compartment."

Jane looked up and put a finger in her book, closing it around her index. "It's okay," she said. "It wasn't that bad. Maybe it's more like you get stuffed into a metal compartment, and then everything goes right... and you get to go to Italy?"

Overextended metaphor.

"Italy huh, foods not bad I 'spose. Could murder a bloody pizza!"

Jane decided not to mention that, at least from what she'd heard from one of the snobbier queens at a club in New York, the pizza in Italy was actually more like tomato sauce with a sprinkling of cheese on a thin crackerlike flatbread rather than a slightly squished entire loaf of bread covered in twice its weight in cheese, which sounded more like something able to sustain someone larger than about 90 pounds.

"You want some of this?"

Jane actually managed to catch the bottle when she threw up a hand to protect her face and passed it over to John, who was, after all, the invalid.

[Pyro]

John shook his head at the bottle of water, murmuring something about not being thirsty. There was the danger of that 'mother' look in her eyes again, however, so he changed his viewpoint and took a sip of what was slightly stale water.

Python had already obtained ground clearance from ATC and was taxi-ing the plane out to the far end of the runway. The cargo plane was big, not to mention carrying the Juggernaut, and needed a damn good run-up.

John hated many, many things. He hated Bobby Drake and he hated peas and he hated sweetcorn and for some inexplicable reason, he REALLY hated Kirsten Dunst, but he despised takeoff. He always had this picture in the back of his mind that the Juggernaut's never-ending battle against gravity would spiral out of control and the plane would scrape along the runway. He closed his eyes and murmured a silent prayer to a God he didn't believe in for a miracle that surely couldn't possibly ever happen.

"We're up, up and away," Python's voice sang over the intercom. "Shazam! Go, plane! Flame on, and other cliches!"

Python went through life totally convinced that their exploits would make great comic book fodder.

John didn't find it amusing.

His shoulder was stinging again and he turned his head briefly to look at it. How much blood had he lost, and how much more could he lose before it became a real problem? Magneto had always said that it seemed the mutant gene gave most mutants enhanced strength, stamina and endurance and that helped in a situation like this. Didn't stop it from hurting, though, and John was hurting.

He found that he rather wished he hadn't started thinking about Magneto. Every time he did that, he felt the sharp sting of grief and loss that he'd experienced at the loss of the man he'd come to look on as his mentor. He tried to find another person to think about, but put her out of his mind as well.

Eventually he settled for thinking about how he would take his revenge on Bobby Drake, his present Favourite Way To Relax.

He was exceptionally quiet.

[Jane]

John almost started grumbling but took the water, so Jane decided to let him live. If she had to sit next to him until Italy, he was not getting away with dehydrating, no matter how cool he looked doing it.

"We're up, up and away! Shazam! Go, plane! Flame on, and other cliches!"

"Um," Jane said. "Is he always like this?"

Maybe it wasn't so much a "new kid" thing as a "we've got a crazy person on board" thing. That was... well, not comforting, really.

John had quieted down, which probably meant he was finally running out of steam, and Jane let him be, reading her book in companionable silence and looking for something she could use for future shoulder wounds. Unfortunately, "local anaesthetic" in the Gentleman's Guide seemed to lead to recipes for a topical cream for premature ejaculation (??), which was not (not not not) what she was looking for at all. There was always coca, but that had a happy habit of finding its way into bloodstreams, at which point it became just slightly less strong than and just slightly more deadly than actual cocaine. And considering the way John had reacted to the opium, she didn't really want to give him that. Or there was mandrake, which would knock him out again, or henbane or jimson weed, which would make him hallucinate, or...

Jane felt her eyes closing over the moulderingly dusty book and finally gave in. She had a few hours to kill, anyway, even if she couldn't completely sleep herself out, and it wasn't like she had to do anything that important when they got wherever they were going anyway.

[Pyro]

[ Continues in thread Italy ]