Invasion! -- Music Room (Artie & Laurie)

[Matthew Craft]

Matthew chews on his tongue as he runs through a series of different musical possibilities, each one conjured in his head, then translated into music as his fingers hit the keys. He was trying out another piece, something that had come to him in a moment of distraction the night before.

Normally, during this time of morning, Matthew would be sounds asleep, ready to swat away the alarm clock the moment it tried to wake him up. But he was restless. Probably worried about the upcoming math test. As he had learned through the years, the best way to calm his nerves was to sit at the piano and just let his anxiety flow out in the form of music.

Matthew wasn’t the only musician in the Institute though; Arthur Coleman was there too. As his finger drummed out a few more stings of notes and harmonies, the teen eventually let the music die out in a graceful ending.

“What do you think, Mr. Coleman?” He asked, turning to the teacher. He had been quite relieved with the blind man had returned to the school. There hadn’t been anyone he could talk music with, and when he tried, most would just look at him, pretending to pay attention, but the distant look in their eyes had been enough to dissuade him from continuing. Even Toni, as supportive of him as she was, would immediately tune out and begin to ramble on about some recent chemical discovery while doing something for Mr. McCoy. Naturally, Matthew would do his part and stare at a space on the wall, trying to ignore his sister’s overly animated voice. “I’m not sure if things are going as well as I’d like them in the twelfth…uh…is it a bar?” Matthew may be an genius level musician, but reading and understanding sheet music and the associated terminology was way beyond him. But he had been trying to learn (and so far he had pretty much mastered the idea of forte, fortissimo, piano, and all other named levels of volume).

He hardly even notices the strange, heavy, ominous footsteps outside the door. He should have noted that the Institute was practically empty this time of the morning, and that no one else would be up. But the thought never crosses his mind, even when the muzzle of a high-powered automatic rifle nudges the door open just far enough for a black clad soldier to peek in.

As he swings the door wider, the leading soldier is intensely aware that the mutants occupying the music room pose and incredible threat. Okay, maybe not the older one, but the big one is definitely an issue, even if his powers involve chucking flowers at him.

Matthew looks over to the door as a slice of light crosses his vision. What he sees makes his throat hitch and his breathing stop.

Three soldiers.

Three very well armed soldiers.

And for several seemingly long moments, Matthew can only stare from overtop the piano. And then one levels the rifle at his head from fifteen away, and the world suddenly zooms back into focus.

“Sir, you’re gonna wanna get down.” As his voice comes out firm and calm, he has to marvel at himself. He had expected his voice to rise several octaves (another musical term he'd taught himself) and to cower at the sight of a weapon, but he didn't. Maybe it was the Stryker event so many months before, or maybe it was the Jean Grey incident just recently, but most likely it was the unconscious state of alert his body had started ever since knowingly becoming a mutant. In any case, Matthew wasn't entirely alarmed, but that didn't mean he was unprepared. He grabs his teacher, throwing his arm around his shoulder and pulls him down.

The rifle fires, but just after he ducks beneath the cover of the piano. Splinters fly up all around him and Matthew closes his eyes reflexively, his larger body moving to divert any free roaming bullets away from Mr. Coleman. He hisses and cringes at the sound of piano strings crying as they snap.

[Arthur Coleman]

Arthur stands aside, his hands in his pockets, one foot unconcsiously tapping in time with Matthew's venture into the piece. He listens with rapt attention as Matthew produces the music, showing no expression save for a meek smile. The boy did very well in music and it had always been a joy to teach him, especially considering that he seemed to pick up on the music with incredible ease. Often Arthur would have to devote hours to painstakingly showing a few students or so how to do something. It was impossible for him to teach the students how to read the music, as he had never learned to read it himself, but he did the best way he knew how. Matthew, however, brought relief to all his hard work as though he were making a dent in an otherwise not so musically inclined bunch. What do you think, Mr. Coleman? His eyebrows arch, as Arthur had become lost in thought that he had barely heard the last few notes. "Good. Very good. I advise that you watch your tempo more carefully, Matthew, but your timing is excellent." It is obvious that the blind man very well approved of what he was doing, but it wasn't so often that he had someone who could perform as well as this student could.

He is about to say something else when an almost flash of warning darts across his psyche. The fresh feeling of distress and panic makes a shiver roll down his spine. Something was wrong. ..very.. very wrong. ...uh..is it a bar? And then the feeling is gone. Surely.. it wasn't his imagination. Arthur snaps back to attention after a moment,"Pardon me.. I.. I lost my train of thought. Yes.. it is a bar or often called a measure. What exactly quarrel did you have with the..." The man suddenly trails as heavy footsteps become obvious to him and the sound of a door opening slowly.

Silence. Heavy.. thick..

Sir, you're gonna wanna get down. No.. it.. couldn't be. Not again! Arthur's body stiffens in shock and it was not until his mind screamed at him to move did he almost throw himself behind the safety of the piano. And when the crunching sounds of splinters flying begin, Arthur cries out as if a wounded animal, as though feeling the instrument's pain.

One of the legs of the piano is the first to go beneath the array of ammunition, and it collapses with a loud clang, further shielding the two males, but rattling the keys horribly like bones and forcing out one long, painful note until it goes quiet completely. Beside Matthew, Arthur is shaking--ashamed of himself, but shaking all the same. He'd seen too many memories with Stryker's raid.. the horror.. the panic.. and this reinactment wasn't helping him at all. Even if he had the wits to move what could he do? Force the men to pity that they would attack an old blind man? In front of his student? The motion of the bullets are making him dizzy, and he shakes his head a little to clear it. He grips the side of Matthew's shoulder and pulls it firmly, wholly making a feeble attempt to put himself to use. <Don't. Move.> Even his mental voice is shaking, and it's obvious that Arthur's more than a little bit frightened. His powers were good for something at least, able to tell him relatively in which places they would go.. but certainly not how fast or exactly where they'd end up.

[Matthew Craft]

Matthew grinds his teeth as the bullets continue to fly around him. Most though, he notices, lodge themselves in the thick dark wood of the grande piano. He frowns and can't help the pang of sadness.

"I liked that piano." He manages to steal a quick look around the room and finds that most of the other instruments were still unscathed. It was bad enough that his favourite piano had been destroyed, but if anything happened to his flute and saxophone, he'd probably curl up into a ball and cry.

....Not that there was anything wrong with a seven foot tall teenager crying....

You've got more important things to worry about.

Then the piano nearly falls on him, which certainly wouldn't have turned out nicely. Matthew spins around and takes the moment to peek up at the assailants. Whoops...a bullet zings by his ear and he ducks back down, his fingers gripping the black-painted wood firmly.

Matthew could hear his pulse beating in his ears, the thrumming screaming at him to fight back. He could take those bullets, sure, but Mr. Coleman certainly couldn't.

That's when he stares down at the remnants of the grande piano and comes up with an idea. Just as he's about to act, a hand on his shoulder stops him. Matthew can't help but pause at his normally passive teacher's strong hand.

<Don't. Move.>

<Sir,> Matthew thinks loudly, hoping that his teacher will pick it up amongst the bullet filled insanity, <How many of them do you think I could take out with the piano?> Despite the constant streaming lead, he can't help the amused smirk (I've been spending waaaaay too much time around Toni) as he grips the frame of the piano a little tighter, ready to heave at a moments notice.

[Arthur Coleman]

I liked that piano. Arthur feels an inward twang of defeat and loss. He had nearly broken down completely when his first piano was destroyed. It wasn't so much the instrument as it was the memories attached to it, he had always felt happy things eminating from his piano and it was how he kept himself sane with all the depressing memories weighing down his mind. And what about this one? What would he do without remembering those carefree moments of fingers across keys? The man shivers a little from the persisting gunfire, quite certain that the piano would not be able to shield them forever. And some tiny part of him is screaming to do something, to save whatever shreds of his dignity were left after ducking behind a piano if only to save his skin.

Sir, how many of them do you think I could take out with the piano? <..I.. p-pardon me...?> Arthur nearly chokes on air at the thought. A piano as a weapon? A counterweight. The same tiny part of him again started shrieking that it was ludicrous, absolutely ludicrous. And yet, his mind was already working out the formula in his head.. distance.. speed.. weight. The piano weighed close to six hundred thirty pounds and if Matthew could throw it hard and fast enough.. then they could... In reality, this is about a heartbeat's pause before Arthur suddenly withdraws his hand from Matthew's shoulder, hoping his student doesn't know the tremor that is currently running through it. <If they're standing close enough.. it.. it should serve it's purpose. ...do it if you can.> He wants to say 'be gentle' or 'be careful' but in his heart he knows that the grand piano is all beyond help now.

[Matthew Craft]

The bullets were still flying, and Matthew and Mr. Coleman were still hiding.

The poor blind teacher had seemed alarmed at his suggestion of using the piano as a rather oversized melee weapon, but what choice did they have? Matthew could try and take them out one by one, but that would leave Mr. Coleman open as a target if he got distracted. And he could always try to make a precision radiation shot, but again, that probably wouldn't go over well with regards to his teacher's health.

He had enjoyed the piano more than anyone in the Institute and it hurt to see it crumpled and destroyed in front of him, but why let the crippled instrument go to waste?

<If they're standing close enough.. it.. it should serve it's purpose. ...do it if you can.>

Matthew adjusts himself up into a crouch and peers over the top of their black, wooden shield.

Come on. A little to the left... If he could get the three together, it would make his attack a whole lot more effective.

His feet dig into the hardwood floor and his hands grip the piano. 600 pounds...should be easy. Easy was an understatement to someone who could heft 1500 pounds without breaking a sweat.

With one last glance, Matthew tenses and heaves the piano up onto what had been it's back end, then grabbing a hold of it's underside, he braces his shoulder against it and shoves. Hard.

There's a yell, and a loud musical crump as the disheveled piano collides with the soldiers and slams them into the wall. The gunfire abruptly stops and only gurgled moans can be heard.

The piano lets out its own grunt before falling back to the floor, two incapacitated soldiers glued to it. The third wobbles on his feet, tries to raise his weapon again, then collapses in a heap on top of his partners.

"Wow...that worked better than I thought..." Matthew scratches his head and grins, grasping Mr. Coleman's shoulder in an offer to help the man to his feet. "Are you okay?" More gunfire, this time from the floor above them, makes him flinch and scowl. "This is not good. We gotta go."

[Arthur Coleman]

The sickening crunch is enough to make Arthur blanche at the thought of the men being crushed beneath the weight. Feelings of hopeless agony start sparking into his psyche and he quickly closes his mind completely, shivering at the feeling of helplessness that overcomes him. He's only completely shut his mind a few times, and he's never liked it, but in this case it's a welcome change to feeling the soldiers' pain. An ill look has already befallen him, and he seems shaky.

Wow...that worked better than I thought... "..Indeed..," Arthur murmurs in a trembling tone, feeling a weight press onto his shoulder. Are you okay? Arthur nods meekly,"Yes.. yes I'm alright." He wants to scream that no he isn't, that the suffering of these men was not reasonable that none of this was logical and it didn't make any sense at all.. but that would make him sound like he's panicking--which he's not. At least not on the outside. With the boy's aid, he rises--his weight perhaps little more than a feather to Matthew--feeling dwarfed by his student's height, so used to being the taller one. He jumps at the sound of gunfire beneath him, reluctantly letting his mind open again, unable to handle the boxed-in feeling. This is not good. We gotta go.

"We must make haste..," Arthur murmurs, hesitantly moving forward and desparately ignoring the feelings eminating from the three incapacitated soldiers. Presences are nearing--and quickly. "They're everywhere..," he says to himself, luckily able to tell which way they're coming. "This way," Arthur says, pausing and using great effort to sidestep the damage of the piano and battered persons, splinters crunching beneath his feet. It is as though a new strength is sparking within this shell of a man.. although it is probably the adrenaline of fear coursing through him, feeding off of the panic around them.

[Matthew Craft]

"Yes.. yes I'm alright."

Well, he certainly didn't look it. Matthew feels a pang of guilt, knowing that the frail, peaceful teacher was ill-suited for this type of situation. The taller boy, however, had a build and power that was a perfect fit for combat, no matter how much it bothers him.

He pulls his teacher to his feet and glances back at the crippled soldiers as one groans. Matthew hopes that he hadn't mortally any of them. As much as he detests the thought of anyone invading his home like this, killing wasn't his thing.

"We must make haste..,"

"You got it, sir." Matthew turns around and softly steps toward the open door. For his size, he's much quieter than the commotion that continues on around them.

"They're everywhere..," He turns his attention back to Mr. Coleman and pauses.

Matthew had no way to tell what was going on outside of the sound-dampened room, but the telepath's ability to detect presences and auras would certainly prove to be a vital asset.

"This way," Matthew nods, then nearly scuffs himself in the side of his head for it after momentarily forgetting that his teacher cannot see.

Matthew hesitantly nears the door and peeks out. He would rather know about the invading soldiers before one of them tried to shoot him. As tough as he was, getting shot still hurt.

Matthew grimaces as his adrenaline level spikes as he hears the gunfire from another area of the mansion. Deep in his chest, he can feel the adrenaline send his nuclear core into overdrive; the radiation just begging to be spent. A few sparks illuminate his fingertips before he clenches a fist and forces the harmful energy back under control. He still hadn't mastered his power and the fear of irradiating anyone tugs at him. Matthew closes his eyes and takes several deep breaths and forces the rising panic back down.

"Alright, just tell me when, sir." He strains to hear if there is anyone outside the door, but ultimately waits for the word from Mr. Coleman.

[Arthur Coleman]

You got it, sir. Arthur approaches the expanse of wall next to the door and lets his hand smooth up it, flashes of feeling and memories itching beneath his fingertips and battering at his mental barrier to get in. "Stay very still," he murmurs, not wanting his mind to be lulled into a false sense of surrounding presences. His mind opens further and allows the rising sense of panic and anger and.. other feelings rush into his psyche. Mentally, he picks out soldiers among students and his fellow staff, swallowing hard as he realizes that the building is swarming.

He can feel a pang of worry radiating from Matthew and Arthur jerks his hand back from the wall suddenly. Alright, just tell me when, sir. He nods hesitantly,"I.. I believe it's safe." His body tenses in warning as more gunfire echoes below them. "But it will not be for long." For a moment, Arthur wants to say something, say that he's sorry he can't really do anything to protect his student. Wasn't that part of his job? Teaching the students but at the same time protecting them in more ways that one? Get a hold of yourself! Now is not the time. he scolds himself firmly, pausing to shakily run his fingers through his hair before fussily flattening it out again.

There was still just as much grey as ever.

[Matthew Craft]

"I… I believe it's safe. But it will not be for long." Matthew tenses and despite the a-okay from his teacher, he still takes the time to be careful. Not that he doesn’t trust the older man—he does—but it’s himself he doesn’t trust. If he were to get caught off-guard by anything, good or bad, he doesn’t know what might happen.

But for the moment the hall is empty.

“We should help the others,” There’s another burst of gunfire to enunciate his point. But Mr. Coleman couldn’t handle another combat situation. Maybe it would be best if he got his teacher to safety first. But as heavy footsteps echo overhead, Matthew has to wonder where, exactly, it would be safe. Outside…that would probably be their best bet. And as a bonus, the exit out into the garden was just one hall and one set of stairs away.

The same set of stairs that was now rumbling as booted feet thump up them.

“Oh no…” Matthew breathes. “Okay, you go first, sir. I’ll be right behind you.” He gives the blind man a little nudge off in the right direction, away from the stairs and their exit. He had to make sure Mr. Coleman went first, that way Matthew could act like the impromptu shield, just incase bullets started flying.

He grinds his teeth as he starts backing away from the disheveled music room. There’s a little voice in the back of his mind, nagging and telling him to stay back and fight. Matthew can even feel the radiation flowing down his arms and into his fingertips as his body readies itself for what he sees as an inevitable fight.

[Toni Craft]

[[Okay folks, this is continuing from 100mtoanchorage.proboards98.com/index.cgi?board=dorm&action=display&thread=1168285829. Toni and Laurie are poppin' by!

Due to laziness, and because Toni and Matty are both my characters, I've taken the liberty of running them both in the same post, Toni moreso than Matty though.

Also, there be minimal god-modding in these here parts. I apologize if you don't like it. I'll change it if you wanna.]]



Normally, someone of Laurie's size and weight (which Toni still insisted was far less than it should be) would be barely a feather to the iron mutant. But as she walks on, Toni feels the young girl get heavier and heavier.

Blood continued to run down her arm and side--a bread crumb-like trail of reddish orange droplets followed her every step. Off in the distance, more gunfire and the occasional scream was heard. She would have done something if those screams had belonged to any of the students or faculty, but they were screams from the soldiers as they were battled off by her fellow Xavier-goers.

Toni had been able to carry Laurie down the hall and towards the set of stairs that led to their exit. She squeezes her eyes shut and opens them again, hoping to clear the insistent fog that clouded her vision. She had no such luck unfortunately, everything continued to blur and hide behind a thick white haze.

Toni pauses at the top of the stairs and listens for the sound of the enemy. Reasonable silence echoes up and down the hall, with no noticeable sound of any familiar or foreign beings.

Cursing her excessive weight, Toni steps down the stairs with heavy thumps. She would have been quieter, but she finds that the stregnth to do so escapes her. It's not until she reaches the bottom that she recognizes the sound of feet heading her direction.

"Shit." She mutters, not entirely aware that her voice has nearly faded. Setting Laurie down against the wall and immersed in the shadows, Toni readies herself for a fight. She tries deploying her armour, but receives no response from her body. Her good hand presses against her forehead as the world spins around her.

Through dimming eyes, Toni tries to see the figures emerging ahead of her, and has a brief moment of disbelief.

"Matty?" She asks as her younger, but larger, brother appears close behind Arthur Coleman.

"Toni? You alright?" Matthew asks, reasonably frantic. His sister had looked far better in far worse situations before. Her pale complexion and the way she seems to sway slightly on her feet. "I was worried about you!"

"Oh yeah?" Toni shoots him a dopey, but characteristic grin. "You might wanna keep worrying then." Matthew's face twists into confusion just before his sister's eyes roll back in her head and she collapses to the ground.

"Toni!" He's at his sibling's side in an instant and notices the bleeding laceration on her shoulder. "Aww jeez...We gotta get out of--Laurie?" Matthew notices the other girl against the wall and freezes for a moment.

The situation was getting continuously worse.

[Laurie Collins]

Laurie’s vaguely aware that Toni’s saying something about her being too skinny and Matthew cooking spaghetti that will blow her mind but for now she just lets the chatter wash over her, closing her eyes and concentrating on not vomiting as she hangs over Toni’s shoulder not even having the presence to be embarrassed by the position. Recharging, she thinks with a distant wryness, beep, beep, beep, beep. She can feel the teacher’s steps faltering, knows she should get down and walk under her own speed, but thought and action seem to have found themselves on opposite banks of a wide river of cold numbness.

"Shit."

Laurie blinks and starts slightly as she realizes she’s sitting on the ground, pushed back into a darkened corner with Toni standing in front of her. I must have blacked out for a second… she raises a hand slowly and touches her forehead lightly, her head is still throbbing, feeling like it’s swollen to about a thousand time’s its normal size and grown immeasurably heavier. She squints at Toni and opens her mouth, about to ask why on earth she’s just standing there having a staring contest with them empty hallway when she hears them- footfalls growing steadily closer. Oh no, not again, we can’t pull off anything else.... She bites her lip and tries to prod her sluggish mind into action, to think, to feel something, anything, strong enough to emit through the haze that seems to have wormed its way between her synapses so that impulses get lost mid-leap, fall away into nothing.

“Matty?"
"Toni? You alright?"

Okay, good… the not-bleeding people can handle things for awhile. Laurie decides, closing her eyes again for another indeterminate length of time before a heavy thud startles her back to wakefulness. She barely has time to realize that Toni’s collapsed before she sees Matthew turn towards her, hears him speaking-

"Aww jeez...We gotta get out of--Laurie?"

“Hi.” she whispers, picking up one of her hands and letting it flop back down, seeming to forget she was attempting to wave halfway through the gesture as her eyes fall on Toni again. “She lost too much blood.” she says, voice flat and far-away, “He… they…oh!” she starts slightly and struggles to her feet as she remembers what they should know, pressing her back against the wall and half-crawling upwards like a rock-climber ascending a chimney of some mountain formation. “They knew about her… what she could do.” she resumes once she’s stood up, still leaning against the wall for support, “Not just that. They’re…they’re… I think they’re mutants. At least one is. He lifted her right off her feet and shot these…barbs, hooked barbs, out of his fingers into her shoulder. I don’t think she could get them out, I think they’re still in there still tearing—“ she cuts off and claps a hand over her mouth and turns her head away, looking like she’s considering being sick at the memory. “I scared him, but he didn’t get hurt, just ran away. He’s still here somewhere…” she adds softly.

The change of view is the first time she notices Mr. Coleman and her first thought is, he’ll know what to do faith in authority surging up instinctively but a moment later she covers her face entirely with her hands as another thought follows close on the heels of the first- he’ll see what I’ve done. The dead soldier’s body hasn’t yet left her memories.

[Arthur Coleman]

Okay, you go first, sir. I’ll be right behind you.

Arthur swallows hard and nods, tentatively edging forward, his narrow fingertips reaching out towards the wall as he barely makes any sound crossing across the floor, his heart racing so loud in his ears that he is certain he will go deaf from the thundering echoes it makes over the screams and gunfire. Two presences enter his psyche and he almost stumbles backwards in shock as though out of a feeble method of defense. For a moment he is relieved to come to find that it is only Toni and Laurie, that is until the sharp, copper smell of blood rushes into his senses, pain and fatigue hitting him on every side. Matty? Arthur makes a startled noise in his throat as he listens to Toni crumbled to the floor with a 'thud'.

For several moments he freezes, his mind screaming at him to think to move to act, to do anything. Danger was creeping upon him, and he felt like running, adrenaline coursing through him. Not just that. They’re…they’re… I think they’re mutants. At least one is. He lifted her right off her feet and shot these…barbs, hooked barbs, out of his fingers into her shoulder. I don’t think she could get them out, I think they’re still in there still tearing—I scared him, but he didn’t get hurt, just ran away. He’s still here somewhere… Arthur's hands tremble a little at the description, feeling dizzy from Laurie's own moment of nausea. In his panic he realizes with horror that he is the teacher now.. Toni unable to spring to action.

"We can't stay here," Arthur suddenly says as he releases a breath he had been holding in his chest, a shaky firmness to his tone, as though he's even unsure of taking charge. He starts forward, moving surprisingly quickly despite himself, apprehensively reaching out to touch Laurie's shoulder. "Are you able to travel?" he asks gently, his narrow chest shuddering with each breath as he forces calm over himself, unsure of the origin of Laurie's mixed emotions radiating from her. The lines in his face are making it clear that the professor is desparate to escape the war-like horrors of the situation and to bring his students and fellow faculty to safety without having to bring up anymore questions than absolutely necessary. A feeling of foreboding is lingering around Laurie and it makes him feel ill, and he wants to back away from it so he wouldn't even have to think about death or dying or blood or war. But he can't stop to concentrate and he can't slow down and his heart is racing so fast and so fierce that he felt as though it were going to rip itself from his chest.

The thumping of boots below makes Arthur sharply stiffen and he turns his head towards Matty. "Matthew, can you carry your sister?" The musical professor looked smaller and more helpless than ever, undoubtedly frightened more than any of them due to his abilities that were at the moment beyond his control, because if he closed his mind then there was no less than a one hundred percent possibility they would all be killed, and yet..

[Matthew Craft]

Toni was bleeding everywhere. It was so unnerving to look at, his sister, the invincible and unbeatable Toni, so near death. For several long moments, Matthew doesn't hear anything, the world is shut out to him. He can feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins and the torrent of emotions rising in his chest...or is that the radiation? He can't really tell at this point. He can't help but sit back and stare at the wall numbly.

Somewhere, he remembers Laurie getting up and talking, parts of what she said filtering in to reach him.

“She lost too much blood.” He has to choke back the urge to make a sharp response that would betray his normal behaviour. Matthew had no reason to be angry with Laurie; what happened to his sister had obviously been out of her control. "I think they’re mutants. At least one is. He lifted her right off her feet and shot these…barbs, hooked barbs, out of his fingers into her shoulder.“

He stops listening shortly after, and for what feels like an eternity, all Matthew can feel is a swell of anger. Anger at the enemy for hurting his sister and (as he finally noticed) Laurie as well.

“I scared him, but he didn’t get hurt, just ran away. He’s still here somewhere…" That same line echoes in his ears...'He didn't get hurt...' That one simple phrase was enough to set him deep into a pit of rage, and nearly looses himself to it. The desperate and panic-worthy situation however, holds him back long enough to hear his music teacher pipe up behind him.

"Matthew, can you carry your sister?" He closes his eyes, still furious, but nods.

"Yeah. I got her. You okay, Laurie?" Matthew knows he probably looks frightening to her, his expression dark and his voice deep and thick with pent-up wrath. He wishes he could calm himself, but as the sound of more running soldiers reaches his ears, Matthew realizes that it's impossible. "Let's go."

Pushing himself to his feet, Matthew reaches down and hooks his arms under his sister's shoulders and knees. With minimal effort, he stands straight and towers above his fellow mutants, Toni's blood dripping and soaking into his clothes.

"The sooner we get out of here," Matthew manages, slow and dark, "The sooner I won't try to rip some arms off."

[Laurie Collins]

Laurie jerks back violently when Mr. Coleman touches her shoulder, stumbling back a step and barely stopping herself from shaking her head as if to deny some unspoken accusation. “Sorry.” she says softly, “I’m sorry.” the words are muffled, her hands are still covering her face, and it doesn’t seem as if even she knows who she’s apologizing to. She’s starting to come out of the near catatonia that she’d sunk briefly into after ratcheting her fear up high enough to scare the soldiers for her initial escape with Toni and she can feel fear and guilt clawing at the edges of her numbness like hungry wolves, not here quite yet but coming, coming.

"Are you able to travel?"

“Yes.” she whispers, lowering her hands away from her face to hang like dead weights at her side. “Yes.” she repeats dully. Mr. Coleman will get us to the infirmary or somewhere else safe and they’ll treat Miss. Craft and tell us why this is happening and then they’ll stop it. That’s what’s going to happen, she tells herself firmly.He’ll get us there and everything will be okay. She straightens and finally looks over at Matthew and Toni as the former speaks to her,

"Yeah. I got her. You okay, Laurie?"

“Yes.” she says for the third time the dull repetition of the word making the claim rather dubious as to her mental fitness. Physically, however, she knows she’s just concussed and sore, not ready for marathons but up to a walk through the institute, even filled as it is with soldiers so long as she’s not expected to sprint anywhere. She’s looking straight at Matthew but doesn’t seem to have registered the dark rage on his face yet despite how incongruously it sits on his usually calm or smiling features, might as well be staring through him.

"Let’s go.”

With that he lifts Toni and as he stands easily, like his sister weighs no more than a doll, Laurie’s face breaks from its blank detachment. She doesn’t know the science teacher well but even she can tell how wrong it is to see her so silent and still, actually looking weak in her brother’s arms. She reaches out a hand slowly, somehow managing to keep it from shaking, and places it on Matthew’s arm, looking up into his face for a moment. She’ll be okay. We’ll help her. She wants him to believe it enough that for a moment she believes it unquestioningly herself.

"The sooner we get out of here. The sooner I won't try to rip some arms off."

Her hand drops back down to her side and she turns, walking towards Mr. Coleman, eyes fixed on the floor a few feet in front of her, watching her feet take one step then another, counting them off silently in her mind like a mantra. I have to stay calm. They aren’t immune. Just stay calm and quiet.

[Arthur Coleman]

Sorry. I'm sorry. Arthur jerks his own hand back in surprise as Laurie's body flinches away from his touch. He is shivering from anticipation and fear, and it is startlingly clear that he is more than ill-suited for this position, but is trying his very best not to panic. There is no time to lose his head and no time for anyone else to loose their's either. Yes. Yes. He swallows and nods, drawing back, resisting the strong urge to stand still and wring his hands in a distraught manner.

Let’s go. Arthur can tell Matthew is carrying his sister now, and judging by the shift of weight, it seems to be no trouble at all for him, as though his sibling is weightless. The not-so subtle waves of surpressed fury are wavering from Matthew strongly, and Arthur feels his heart skip and race, feeding on the anxiety that was slowly rising between the three of them.

The sooner we get out of here, the sooner I won't try to rip some arms off.

"Quickly," Arthur murmurs hoarsely, drawing ahead of them letting his powers guide the way. His long, slender fingers are a hairsbreath from the wall, the angled joints evident even in the poor lighting. The muscles in his back are drawn tight and tense, and he could feel the beginnings of a cold sweat at the mixed emotions, his mind confused from all the panic. It did not mix well from the feelings of pain and anger and fright.. This was not in his job description.. and yet.. yet he had known there would be dangers, that there were other mutants and people who did not fight for just reasons, although he never found a just reason for quarrel as it was. All of these things would be the death of him one day.. that much he was sure of at least.

He stops dead in his tracks as his hand passes through a splattered pattern of warm blood on the wall, a shiver rolling down his spine. For a moment Arthur just stands there, breathing shallowly, shakily drawing his hand back from the wall and hurriedly continuing on as if nothing had happened at all. There is no time. No time to stop. His mind is racing on where they would be able to go, a safe place to recover.. or at least keep them out of danger. Nothing on the first level feels as though it would be safe. <The lower level... it should be safe.> His telepathic message to the two almost comes in a frightened, forced whisper, even though there is no use for him to be whispering at all, lest someone nearby can hear their thoughts.

Arthur hesitantly increases his mental range, letting out a shivering breath as he realizes that the elevator shaft to the infirmary is not far, they only had to go a little further. <It isn't far.. but be on your guard.> The man telepathically murmurs, momentarily distracted in his concentration so that he doesn't catch on quickly enough to the soldier barreling down the hallway adjacent to them. A strangled noise gets caught in his throat as he suddenly lashes backwards, hoping to catch the nearest of the two walking behind them and pin them back to the wall, his own back already pressed almost painfully into the plaster.

He could only hope that they hadn't been seen.