The Platform of Surrender [SHOWDOWN]

[Paulo Ortiz]

Despite everything, all the posturing and the obvious cocking of his gun in front of the little boy, Paulo could not shoot straight. His aim was off, his vision was odd, whatever it was, he was no good as cover except in very close quarters.

Also, he didn't give a rats ass about Jesse Adams. The kid had no discipline, and he allowed his drive for revenge to let him be messy.

From the shadows of the hall behind, Jesse, he saw the boy fall. All that blood; there was no way he was going to make it. Then a giant lizard burst through the door to the room with the hostages, and he heard Padmaja scream something.

If they had gotten this far--and they had, there was the blond bastard who had killed the one person Paulo had ever trusted--then it was over. M.S.A.D had lost.

He had to get out.

Paulo had one advantage over the rest of the people in the fray. His mind could not be found by psychics, and so long as he kept a small-area scan going around him, he could avoid running into anyone. So the Cuban man backed up, until he reached a door with a familiar handle (writing his name on the door would have been too obvious, instead, Gabriel had installed a slightly different doorknob on his so head could tell the difference) he quickly went inside and grabbed the backpack he'd had packed for years. All the information, fake ids, money, everything he would need was there. (He left the gun; he couldn't shoot it anyway, and if he was caught, it was better to actually be unarmed.) Now all he had to do was get out of the house.

The tall man didn't know how many of the invaders knew about him. Sean Neville and several of his friends had seen him at the party, like Morgan. But Tonaya hadn't moved in a long time--though there was still a trace on him, so he was alive--and who knew how much they knew about him anyway. He was one of Gabriel's secret weapons, and he had an escape plan of his own.

It was actually fairly simple to sneak to the bedroom where he could hear the dogs whining. Jake had taken some of them with him when he'd left with Levi, but most were still there. He cracked open the door and whistled, then said, "Outside! Dinner!" And he opened the door all the way, letting the animals go racing out, into the hallway and hopefully down the stairs to distract the oncoming force. Frederick was the last one out, and he helped the small, mean dog down the hallway with a less-than-gentle tap of his foot. Hopefully it could prove more useful than Jesse. (He didn't bother scanning for the boy. If he was still there to be traced, it wouldn't be for long.)

Paulo made it to the back staircase and ran down, leaving the house through a side entrance and running straight for the treeline. As he ran, he expanded his scan. No one in 50 meters, 100 meters.... he reached the trees, then slowed down slightly. No one was in his scan range, and they couldn't track him.

Paulo Ortiz was a free man.

[Chase Campbell]

Confronted with his former student, Chase didn’t know what to think. Adams was older, a little taller, a little more filled out. But there was something in his eyes he didn’t recognize. His jaw set when he saw the gun. He wasn’t scared. He had no doubts that, despite whatever training the boy had received here, he could break through his mental shields.

What he hadn’t expected was Anya’s reaction. He was about to hold out his hand and stop her when the double shot when off. First the gunman he hadn’t noticed, and then Anya.

And then he watched in shock as blood seeped through Jesse’s shirt, and the kid collapsed. Since he’d been a father, he’d had a soft spot for most kids. Even… this one. “What?” He asked a little too sharply of Anya. “No. I-I’m fine.” He couldn’t take his eyes off of the boy. “And you? You were shot…”

But apparently there wasn’t much time to converse about it. He followed Anya’s instructions and bolted up the stairs. Kneeling by the boy, he frowned and pressed his fingers into the crook of his neck, looking for a pulse. It was difficult. He wasn’t trained for this kind of thing, and it didn’t help that with the amount of blood it looked like he’d lost, it would be weakened. He frowned, pressing harder. It looked like he was breathing. Barely. “Anya,” he called. “I don’t think he’s dead.”

He belatedly realized that Willow had blown past them on all fours. But what he heard after the commotion made him relieved. He stood up, resting a hand on Jesse’s shoulder for a moment. Maybe they had a chance of bringing him back, too. If they didn’t lose him in the process.

The trainer wanted to help Anya up, but any offers were met with polite resistance. He did, however, pull her into his side when the thunder of paws came down the hall and down the stairs. He had no idea where they’d come from, but he wasn’t about to stop and ask questions.

Though he felt guilty for leaving the bleeding teenager behind, he had to find his family. Tearing down the hall, he followed Willow’s voice into the room. He nearly choked. There they were. James and Niko. It looked like Willow had Nikki covered. His attention turned to his husband. For a moment, he didn’t even want to breathe. He just slowly sank to his knees and gently gathered him into his arms. He was breathing. He could see that. Making a low groan noise, Chase pressed his forehead against James’ and bit his lip. “I’m sorry, Jamie. I’m so, so sorry.” He willed him to wake up, keeping his power in careful check. Who knew what had happened to him? The last thing he wanted to do was hurt him further. “Nikki,” he managed to mutter, his voice cracking slightly. He held out an arm. “Come here, buddy. It’s okay.” Finally, he had his family back.

Now they just had to get out of here.

[Yulia Sokolov]

Yulia lay in the grass outside for a long moment, as she struggled through the haze of pain that was filling her mind right now. She knew better than to move until she had her head about her now, or else that would mean risking shock. She didn’t want that, not when it would be all too easy to get hurt again. She sat up, dizzy and her left arm throbbed. Reese had hit her in the arm, but luckily the killshot that had been aimed at her had missed, well, sort of missed. She put her other hand over her arm, knowing that she had some time before she was in serious trouble when it came to blood loss. That meant it was time to go back in. This was not the worst battle wound that she had gotten, not by far. She’d nearly had a leg taken off before.

Yulia stood then, she could still shoot with one hand and use her ability, though she knew it would tire her out quickly. There were Reese and Vincent, still struggling, but it looked as if he had a handle on it now. She hurried past before things got worse, into the compound where she could hear the echoes of yells and gunshots. There was no good way of going into this. Yulia drew in close to the wall, looking for the best cover that she could get. After all if she didn’t have to kill anyone else today she’d be happy. She’d done enough damage. Then she heard the faint calls from upstairs, faint because of the sound of bullets and general chaos. Then she knew what she could do. She felt something drip down her fingers and looked at it, maybe that wound was worse than she thought. Yulia turned and sprinted out of the compound, retreating back to the alley.

It was a long enough sprint, and between that and the bullet in her arm she was nearly swearing and panting when she did reach the cars. The keys had been left in one, no doubt because it was the least of everyone’s worries. Yulia got in and snatched them off of the passenger seat. It took two attempts to start the car. She put it in drive and stepped on the gas a bit too hard. She wasn’t used to driving vehicles like this but how hard could it be? In a moment Yulia had the car barreling down towards the house. It wasn’t huge but it would do for a getaway. She steered on handedly and forced the other one, slicked with blood up to press loudly against the car horn, signaling that she had one of the cars out there.

[Vincent Romanov]

Vincent had extensive combat training and excelled at all physical aspects of it. He was a brawler by heart and loved a good fight, even before his powers manifested. Boxing was mainly what Vincent was known for at Hammel, and while he was good at it, he had taken it up mainly as a way to discipline himself and improve his agility. Boxing taught him how to maximize his punches and how to read his opponents moves. However, Vincent really excelled at grapples and wrestling, which Reese was about to quickly learn. She had made the mistake of so fiercely attacking him, which only added fuel to the machine about to come to life. Reese's second mistake was being this close to Vincent to begin with. Wrapped together like this, Vincent would destroy Reese with ease. As long as he could keep his hands on her, Vincent would win this fight.

His large hand found Reese's throat and he squeezed tightly, making sure he had a firm grip on this hellcat. As he held Reese though, something about her seemed to change, as if she just stopped living. The fight in Reese seemed to disappear and as he had always been trained, Vincent didn't let this opportunity pass him by. With his other hand, Vincent grabbed Reese by the wrist, hoping to break it as he squeezed tightly and twisted it to the side. Limiting Reese to one limb would decrease her ability to properly launch a counter attack. Killing Reese wasn't Vincent's goal and if at all possible, he would avoid doing so. Putting her out of the fight altogether was the desirable goal, even maybe going as far as being able to drag her back to Hammel to try and put some reason into her and her sibling.

With his hold on Reese assured, Vincent rolled over to the side, pushing Reese with his new found strength in an attempt to get to his feet and into a more able position to properly gage the situation. The gunfire in the house had not escaped his attention and getting inside to defend his friends was a high priority. He would not lose anyone here today.....never again.

[Delilah Pryce]

Delilah smirked as she readied herself to pull the trigger, waiting for Sean to turn around to meet his fate. It was sort of cruel in one way, but to Delilah it was just business as usual. Sean was unarmed and no match for Delilah physically, which in some way made Delilah petty in her choice to kill him, but she didn't care. Fate seemed to have other things in mind for Delilah today though as it wasn't Sean who turned to face her, but the rather attractive woman in front of him. Her wide eyes read the situation perfectly and in predictable manner, the woman shoved past Sean in some vain attempt to protect him. Clarisse didn't stop at just putting herself in front of Sean, no, she bolted straight toward Delilah with a very intent look on her face. Luckily for Clarisse, one of the side effects to Delilah's abilities was her hesitation to make a clear decision. Sometimes, it might take Delilah several minutes to decide her moves and sometimes maybe just seconds and this time, it was just long enough for Clarisse to safely close the gap between them.

Clarisse struck out at Delilah forcefully but with one of her many borrowed skills, Delilah was easily able to sidestep the attack. Delilah spun her body back and to the left, her torso moving first and then her legs following suit, causing her to spin in a gymnastic fashion out of Clarisse's way. The move unfortunately for Delilah meant she dropped her gun, which would leave her relying heavily on her stolen skills to beat Clarisse. Both feet firmly planting themselves again, Delilah locked her eyes on Clarisse, smiling rather devilishly. "I bet your absolutely delicious," she said to Clarisse with a wink and then lick of her lips, "Come on over here and give us kiss princess," she said as she made a beckoning motion with her hand.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean met Clarisse’s eyes and then nodded a single time, acknowledging her instructions. Let me know if you need me he sent to her, before following after Willow. The recruiter was much faster than he was, but he did what he could to keep up.

He heard confused thoughts from the twins, which meant that Anya had succeeded in her mission. For that alone, he would buy her any kitchen implement she wanted. When they got out of this. And just as he was thinking of her, he heard her projected thoughts.

The news that Anya reported was not wholly unexpected, but it was still nauseating. Anya had been shot. Despite not being near her, he could clearly see in his active imagination the gunshot wound. And Jesse...for all his faults, he was still a minor and he didn’t deserve to be riddled with bullets either. The telepath still believed that he could be rehabilitated with enough time and energy, but that would have to wait. They had to get out of this alive first. To Anya, he sent, Hang in there. You’ve done above and beyond, and I’ll get you before we leave. Nobody would be left behind.

And on that note...he reached out to Mason, wishing to check in with him and Morgan, and to prepare for their escape. Did you find the medical supplies? Taped to the inside cover of the med kit is a phone number. Call it and ask for Ethan Wechsler. Tell him you’re a friend of Sean Neville’s and that a group of us will need medical care. Including for gunshot wounds. It nauseated him to think that.

When Willow announced that she’d reached them, he quickened his pace, managing to greet the conscious Niko and unconscious James just after Chase arrived. The other man was calmer than expected, which was to their advantage. Willow appeared to have Niko in hand, and Chase had his arms around his husband which meant that he was needed to clear a path out. “Stay behind me,” he told the three of them. He would do what he could to make those around them fail to remember they were coming, and he could stop off and find Anya on the way back. Speaking of which, “Chase, did you see which way Anya was?”

[Lala & Reese Degreas]

Lala suddenly found for a blessed moment that she was whole again. Everything was clear as crystal, and though a shocking pain in her wrist made her fingers twitch, it was what she heard when she was finally undeafened that made her shriek in rampant terror:

“…he’s dead.”

In the yard, Reese’s wrist cracked under the pressure of Vincent’s grasp, her throat tight in his grip as he sent her careening painfully into the grass. The sudden rushing return of her consciousness dulled the pain as she rolled to all fours, her eyes wide as dinner plates as her head snapped up to look in through the nearly broken door. “JESSE!” She shouted as her sister blew past the threats in the room, tearing down the hallway with inhuman speed.

Ignoring any threat that remained in Vincent, Reese tore away from the grappling and towards the house, tears flying off her cheeks and she nearly stepped on the scrapping women in the main door way. Nothing mattered. She couldn’t live with herself if she failed again. Reese could already feel his heavy, cold body in her sister’s hands, shivering over taking her as she came to a stock still at the place where he’d fallen.

Lala was sobbing, rocking his limp form back and forth and chanting in whining mewls : “ voce matou o meu bebê…voce matou o meu bebê*!” Reese crouched and picked up Jesse’s gun, cradling it in her hands like a precious memoir. She turned to the closest person: a woman with a shotgun. Tears rolled freely out of her eyes, mixing with the blood from the gun to stain her palms. Taking a firm hold on it, she turned it on Anya.

“You shot my baby.” She choked, her voice broken from tears and Vincent’s rough treatment. Her finger squeezed down on the trigger, but didn’t pull enough to fire. Clattering against the floor, the gun skittered away from her. Reese turned her back on Anya, and now the rescuers coming down the stairs. There was no use shooting anyone. No amount of revenge would save Jesse, or replace Gabriel.

The Degreas Sisters had broken.

Drifting slowly, dreamlike back to her keening sister, Reese kneeled next to the carnage. The fight was over, gone out of the Twins. Enough casualties had been suffered that they couldn’t win…Kilbourne even passed right by them, and all will to rip the life from him was gone. There was nothing left to fight for. No one to keep them grounded. Nothing to live for.

Looking over her shoulder and directly at Kilbourne, Reese met his eyes with no fear of his powers. “Murderer and Child Killer…May you never sleep again,Cabrao. She hissed. “Get out.” The Twins ordered in unison, desiring nothing more than the expulsion of their enemies.

Reese reached out, pulling her fingers through Jesse’s hair and looking to her sister, who stood up with him still cradled to her. The priority now was to get Jesse somewhere that he’d be safe. Where he could recover properly. Thank god Paulo had done a trace on Maxwell before the battle.

It was with sudden recognition that the Twins realized Paulo had left the team hanging out to dry, and that he must have released the dogs as a cover. Simmering with quiet, tired anger, the twins bolt out of the back of the house, speeding into Pilot Ridge as discreetly as they could.

The fight was over. And they knew that the war was as well. There was nothing left to do but run, and pray that Maxwell was home.




[Exit Twins]//[*”You killed my baby]

[Anya Vasiliev]

Anya leant heavily against the wall as the happy reunion took place, a smile on her face as the kidnappees were reunited with Chase. It was at that moment she'd walked back outside the room to check on Jesse, even intending on applying first aid to him to try and quell some of the bleeding. She felt an uncomfortable stirring in her stomach at the thought of shooting a teenager - she'd only meant to threaten and maybe disarm, never grievously wound. As the adrenaline began to ebb away from her, the pain in her leg slowly grew, her teeth clashing together as the strip of fabric she'd used to tie the wound filled with red.

Taking slow deep breaths, she noticed the twins arriving, and moved wearily out of their way, her shotgun holstered by her side. Anya knew they were a pair again, and that indeed, they were dangerous. Perhaps some part of her believed she deserved punishment for the accident that had flawed Jesse, perhaps the bloodloss had made her decisions rash. She merely stood there as Lala cradled the boy in her arms, her throat becoming impossibly dry.

Then the gun was pointed at her, and she looked down it. If she was going to die, it was fair enough. At least James and Niko were safe now.

"I didn't want to shoot him." She replied almost roboticly, feeling no desire to explain any further. She heard Reese's finger push up against the trigger, then blinked in surprise as the pair left without any further words. Resting her hand delicately on her heart, Anya took a deep breath and let herself slide down the wall once more, head pounding. She moved her head to loll against the corner of the wall, then silently listened to the reunion.

She just hoped Morgan would be alright.

The images of her comrade falling to his knees, flesh raw, eyes burnt and bleeding seemed to persist in her mind like a bad dream. Glancing to the left, she couldn't help but smile a tiny bit as one of the dogs reappeared and sat, wagging, at the bottom of the stairs.

"Hello boy." She said hoarsely, reaching out to beckon the dog over, running her hands through it's fur. "Fancy getting caught up in this lot." She added, with a humourless chuckle, letting the wrinkly pup lie beside her. At least she had some form of company now, and she let that thought gently drift her off into a semi-unconscious state.

She knew Sean would eventually find her, but right now all she wanted to do was rest.

[Clarisse Prideaux]

Awed that she’d managed to escape without a scratch (yet), Clarisse actually stumbled slightly to face her opponent. She was a little frightened when her blow didn’t connect, the force of the strike nearly wrenching her shoulder out of her socket. She took a deep breath and squared herself against the other woman again, impressed and frankly a little frightened over Delilah’s amazing feet of gymnastics.

This was not going to be easy. Clarisse didn’t have a single second of combat training, or the desire to ever have it. Not only did Delilah seem highly trained, but she seemed to enjoy the carnage. At least the way she was shamelessly (and vulgarly) hitting on her. Clarisse furrowed her brow, a shamed blush creeping across her cheeks.

Tactically speaking, Clarisse was an infant, but if there was one thing she could figure out, it was that Delilah was going to have trouble being gymnastic if she was inside of the other woman’s reach. She rushed her again, aiming a tight blow to the woman’s stomach, anything to knock her down and out if she could. If she could get a good wrap on Delilah, she could easily toss her away like a ragdoll and make an escape. “Kiss this.” She growled, letting her fist swing around, aimed at Delilah’s jaw. If it connected, she’d made sure to hold back enough to keep from quite dislocating it…but she wouldn’t be accountable for any sprain or dislocation.

Just as she had begun to really tangle with Delilah, she heard screaming from upstairs. Bodies rushed past her, but she feared breaking her conversation lest Delilah pull something else out of her sleeve.

[Mason McQueen]

The trek down the compound and into the vans were rather bumpy to say the least, so Mason had to employ a couple more hair strands, both to cushion Morgan more and as an added protection, should wayward bullets suddenly fly in their direction. “Hang on in there Morgan,” he muttered as he tried his best not to let his anxiety overcome him and trip out of the blue. His mouth grinned slightly as the convoy suddenly appeared in his line of sight. “Just a bit more. I’m so sorry for the slowness,” reassured the man as his pace quickened, reaching the van as the first few shots suddenly started firing.

While Mason isn’t really a medical practitioner in any sense of the word, he did have his fair share of laboratory mishaps (both on him and on others) to have at least the basic knowledge on how to administer first aid on someone. (And with Sean’s and Clarisse’s pointers, how could he have gone wrong?). He immediately went in on Sean’s van, laid the man down on the side and employed his hair to help him find that damned medical kit. Ten arms are better than two after all right? It took a while, but he finally got hold of the said bag and began his work in trying to tidy Morgan up as much as he can. “That’s just temporary, don’t worry. You’ll be better.” Please be.


Mason has thought about running back out and catching up with the rest of the group, but frankly, he was scared. Considering the number of shots he’s been hearing within the past half an hour or so, he thinks he’d be more of a liability than help really. And besides, he couldn’t really leave an injured Morgan alone, can he?

He had just began cutting his hair (damn his powers for not letting him reabsorb them) when Sean’s voice suddenly rang in his head. Med kit? Gotcha. He bit his lip slightly. That can’t be good. He then grabbed the kit and started dialing the particular number. You’re still ok back there right Sean? What can I do to help? Do you need me to go in there too? Did you get James and Nikko already? Probably not the best time to ask Sean a barrage of questions considering where he is right now, but Mason just couldn’t help himself. He just can’t not know.

Lord let them be safe.

[Chase Campbell]

The moment Chase’s arms were back around his husband – his living, breathing husband, nothing seemed to matter much anymore. James was safe. Nikki was safe. They were going to get out of here, alive, and things were going to be okay. At least, that was the hope he was going to cling to. They’d gotten this far. They couldn’t fail now.

He spent a few more blissful moments just basking in the fact that his family was alive, before listening to Sean’s instructions. Like he’d done so many times before, he slipped his arms underneath his husband. This time, there was no flailing, no protesting, nothing. It didn’t make him feel any better. It wasn’t a game when James was unconscious instead of just tired, or drunk. Making sure that James was held protectively against him, he got to his feet.

“Anya was right behind me, on the stairs.” Yes, he felt guilty for leaving her behind. “I don’t know if she went back to check Jesse. He was bleeding pretty bad.” The poor kid. As dangerous as he’d been, he was still a kid. A kid Chase had had a hand in training. Just another thing to add to the guilt pile that was steadily growing. His voice remained strong, oddly enough. He had to be calm, at least on the surface. Just like he’d done since he’d been attacked. He didn’t like that mask slipping, and had even found his thoughts to be, at least on the surface, calm. Particularly at Hammel. He didn’t need anyone to know how he really felt about the whole thing.

Not even James.

He followed Sean out, careful with his mental shields as they went. Though he did pause near the stairs at the sight of the Gestalt pair, he realized fairly quickly that they had no intentions to attack. He met their eyes as he navigated the stairs, and their words sent a chill down his spine. Murderer. Child Killer. His jaw set, but he didn’t say anything. He couldn’t.

They were only telling the truth.

Anya was at the bottom of the stairs, bleeding but alive, which was a relief to Chase. Their team had suffered casualties, yes, but no deaths. This would all mean trips back to the hospital, a place Chase hadn’t wanted to return to, but he needed James seen. Cradling his husband closer, the trainer headed outside. He could see the vehicles they’d brought with them near the gates, but something else caught his attention. A familiar black car. James’. He glanced back at Sean. “We’ve got another car, Sean. I can take James’. If you need me to take someone, I can.”

He was still functioning and thinking with a level head because he had to. If he didn’t, there was no telling what he would do. So he did his best to keep calm, found the keys inside the unlocked vehicle, and laid James in the back. They had to go.

What he didn’t notice was the dark Malamute slowly trailing after them, her eyes on Nikki. Slowly, almost shy, the dog approached before nuzzling his hand, licking gently, and looked up at him with a slight head cock.

[Yulia Sokolov]

Yulia turned off the car and slid the keys into her pocket. She shut the front door but left the backseat one open. It was easier to leave it like that for the moment, that way whoever needed to take cover in there could. Her shoulder was uncomfortable but the pain had not really dug in yet, and frankly she needed to do something to stop the bleeding. Still she did not have time to do that at the moment. If they had found them if she had heard right, they all needed to get out of there. Yulia kept her head down as she headed for the compound once again. She no longer heard the sound of any bullets, but she did heard the sounds of some fighting. It was clear that this was almost over now, and that there was no need to push this any further. They got what they came for, this was a rescue mission after all.

She moved through the destruction quietly, staying close to the wall in case an enthusiast with a gun decided to take a few shots off at her. That would be foolish at this point, but crazy people did crazy things. Her eyes never stopped moving and the adrenaline that was keeping her from feeling pain kept going. She wasn’t sure if this was because she was wired and focused right now, or because she was loosing blood. Then she saw her. Anya was on the landing, half laying there. She was worried for a moment, until she saw Anya’s hand moving, petting the little dog there. Yulia hurried over. There could not be any danger there if Anya was on the stairs like a sitting duck. When she got closer she could see that the other woman was wounded.

“Anya, come here,” she said, almost reverting to Russian but stopping herself. She slid her good arm around Anya and hauled her up, trying to support her as much as possible. She could see that Anya was injured, but she was also smart enough to tie it off, something Yulia should have done earlier. She wished that her wound have been lower on her arm. That would be easier since this one was more or less in her shoulder. As she got Anya to her feet she felt a fresh warm trickle run down her arm. “I have the car out there, I will get you to it.” And that is exactly what she did. Once out to the car she helped Anya back down to a sitting position, leaning against the car. Yulia sat down there as well, next to her.

“Are you ok? Do you still know where you are?” She asked the questions she had been taught to ask injured comrades. Yulia then tried to rip a strip off of her shirt to tie off to slow her own bleeding. It seemed to be getting worse, possibly because she had torn something in there because of her activity or because the adrenaline was wearing off and she was starting to notice it now. Yulia gritted her teeth, feeling sick and dizzy. She started to list to the side a little bit. “They found them? Alive?”

[Anya Vasiliev]

Anya became dimly aware of another woman approaching, and lifted her steadily drooping head, the scent of blood in the air. Heaving herself up the wall to greet her fellow Russian, she looked down at the little wrinkly pup and lifted him up into her arms. She couldn't ignore that the blonde woman was injured too, her expression dimmed into a frown, and she aided Yulia in tying her own wound up. "Yulia, you should be more concerned with yourself." She said in a faint voice, shaking her head as the little pup in her arms wiggled a little.

"Thank you." She added, moving with Yulia to the car and tutting quietly as more blood ran down her arm. "I'm alright. Shot from behind in the leg. I'm just feeling a little... tired." She mumbled, settling down in the car seat, and putting the little animal beside her in the footwell. "James Chase and Niko are reunited. The twins left with Jesse." Anya faltered, guilt flickering across her expression. "I was shot just as I was about to disarm Jesse. I shot him in the gut." She chewed her lip, then moved to open the rear door, insistently tugging the blonde woman down.

"Rest, Yulia. Вы должны отдохнуть. Вы ужасно травмированы*." She spoke in her mother tongue, knowing the other woman would understand. Lying back in the front seat, she sounded the horn to let Sean and the others know where they were. "I'll try and get Mason or Sean's attention. Someone can drive us both to the hospital."

Wearily, Anya turned to sound the horn again, resting her head and closing her eyes. It felt like the end of a murderously long day. Morgan, Yulia, Jesse... even Willow had been injured in the scrap. So many reasons why guns in the wrong hands were a terrible threat to any life. She opened one eye to look at the shotgun pressed against her other thigh, and let out a growl of disgust, throwing the offensive weapon out of the car and out to the ground, it clacking loudly as the barrel hit the floor.

Knowing the battle was over, and that everyone... well, almost everyone was safe, she managed to fall into a stupor, moving her hand over the puppy's head, occasionally asking Yulia simple questions to make sure her fellow comrade was safe.

Sean. Yulia is badly wounded, we're in the car, but neither of us can drive. We'll need someone to see to us. Yulia's barely conscious. She thought loudly, moving the tie around her leg slightly, hissing as the sticky blood tinged her fingers.

"Бог, пожалуйста помогите нам заживать. Простите нам за то, что мы напали на наших врагов**." Anya uttered softly, again, not really being religious, but needing a little further strength to help her through this odd finale.

*You should have a rest. You are awfully injured.
**God, please help us to heal. Forgive us for attacking our enemies.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

It was incredible how the situation could be, at once, both better than and worse than expected. The situation was better because they had found James and Nikolai and both of them were unharmed physically, although James was unconscious and the boy was scared out of his wits. Not only that, but they were on their way out of the house without needing to dodge gunfire at every turn. The situation was worse because there had been far too many injuries and far too much death.

While the telepath had planned to pick up Anya on the way out, he received news from her, alerting him that she was still conscious, that she was already at one of the vehicles, and that she was with Yulia, who was also badly injured. They needed a driver, and Sean needed to drive the van. He took quick inventory of their group, and those who had already been injured, and they were running out of possibilities, he already spoken for and Chase among them - ironically, given his previous injuries. Those of them who weren’t injured needed to be on call for those who were. He sent to Anya, Chase will be there to drive you, very soon. We have Nikolai and James; it’s all over.

He heard Mason’s query about what he could do. Bless the other man’s willingness to help and his communal spirit. He responded to him, Yes, we got them safe and sound. Stay with Morgan and the van. We’ll be out shortly, and we’ll need to look over everyone for injuries. I hope you don’t mind being an impromptu medic until we get to the hospital.

They made it past the twins with no further fighting, although he heard the barbs she tossed at Chase. Although he felt no need to defend himself against these people who had kidnapped a child, he wanted to tell them that nobody relished that Jesse had been shot. He also wanted to check Jesse himself, because he wanted the boy to live and to have a chance at a better life, a life not filled with rage and abusive parents. But they ran too fast and had taken Jesse with him; he wasn’t able to say anything beyond, “He’ll make it.” It wasn’t a medical opinion, but he was sure of it; the boy was exceedingly resilient.

“Get James to the car, and we’ll all meet at the hospital. I need you to drive them and Anya and Yulia” he told to Chase. "Willow, try to get to the van; there's room there."

He needed to get a headcount, because not all of their band was present and accounted for. He needed to find Kateri, he needed to make sure that Vincent was all right – since the twins were gone – and he needed to find Clarisse.

Stepping away from Willow, Chase, Nikolai, and James, he went in search for their other comrades.

And he stepped right into a confrontation between Clarisse and one of the remaining M.S.A.D. members. It was problematic since he also had no military training, and additionally was unarmed and had not physical powers. Still, he couldn’t let a friend of his get injured, particularly not when this was essentially over. There was a gun on the floor, and he kicked it behind him, to a corner to prevent it from being used. And then he tried to provide backup to Clarisse, in whatever form he could. “It’s time to go; I can cover you.”

Unfortunately, he got too close to the grappling.

[Willow Kovacs]

Willow wanted desperately for this to be the last of it - finding the two hostages to be the end, the battle ceases, and for all involved to escape with only minor injuries. Her head turned swiftly as Chase stumbled into the room, her guard not yet let down. Releasing the small child from her (hopefully comforting) hold, she watched as he reunited with his father, and adverted her attention to the rather gaping hole where a window once was, as to not be rude and stare intently at the tender moment. Sean was right behind Chase, and the moment cut short. There was still a mission - they had located the hostages, now they needed to get everyone out and to the hospitals before half the group bled to death.

The raven stood, bracing herself against the wall momentarily as Sean used his mental connections to communicate with the group. Nodding curtly, she stepped forward on her right leg gingerly, wincing slightly at the pain that shocked through it in result of the bleeding injuries. Gritting her teeth, she stood her body upright, her shoulders holding a tenseness she rarely allowed herself. Niko was in her arms again, she held the boy against her abdomen, nearly regretting it immediately with the protest of her ribcage. Letting out a short groan, she stumbled on her first step, but caught herself against the slightly crumpled door frame and kept going. The raven limped down the hallway, keeping up with Chase, who held his unconscious husband, and Sean, who lead them with a secure mental shield.

As the twins came into view, Willow's hold on the small blonde boy tightened, and she turned his head toward her shoulder. A low rumbled erupted from her chest, eyes flashing gold momentarily as she passed the Gestalt pair, an uneasiness still residing in the pit of her stomach. She fumbled down the stairs, lacking her usual grace or even the slightest bits of coordination, but none of that particularly mattered, not as long as they just got outside, got to the hospital. Got to safety. Gripping the wall, she knelt down on the slightly damp ground, looking Niko in the eye as she put him down. "Follow your dad, yeah? It's all going to be alright now." She said, another hint of a smile on her lips. As the boy turned, the shimmer of dark liquid reflected against the lights around them. Willow tensed, realising her own blood had gotten on the boy during their trek.

Her hands shook as she supported her weight on the ground, bile suddenly rising in her throat as she leaned forward and emptied her stomach contents on the ground near the compound. She spit, the thick taste of copper coating her mouth unpleasantly. Standing on wobbly feet, she made her way over to the van, clutching at her ribcage, halfway bent over as she walked. Her body's adrenaline had slowed, and the pain racketing through her was tremendous. She needed to go to sleep at some point of the very near future. Black dots spotted her vision as she hoisted herself into the van, groaning at the strain of her leg wounds, remaining tense in her seat with a stubborn expression as she desperately wished they could get medical help, and soon. Her neck stung harshly from the slice across it, the unpleasant feeling of sticky blood had trailed down her shoulder, and was now staining the seat of the van. "Is everyone... here?" She asked in a breathy voice, eyebrows drawn in a disgruntled expression that didn't match her unfocused eyes.