"Timer, not much time," Kitty mutters, "plus he's holding a detonator,
can't see if I can get it clear safely - he said 'all over the building
-'" She's had experience with sabotage. That experience does /not/ involve
training with explosives. Easing away from the stairwell now, out of the
way. For once, nobody's paying attention to the masked woman in black.
They've got other things to be thinking about. Forward, closer to the
family argument. Closer to the walking bomb. Real /smart/, Pryde. Real
survival-prone. Brown eyes gone very, very wide.

Weasel isn't running. She's walking calmly, steadily, towards Kurt, to
stand in front of him. "Yes, it ends tonight," she agrees. "But not this
way." Don't you remember why we're here? Don't you see that killing them
all makes them right? A hand lifts to place on his cheks, fingertips
stroking fondly through fur. I'm your mother, I love you, don't do this.
I'm not leaving you to /die/, stupid. Words that never reach her lips.
Eyes become her true, glowing yellow as she turns her back to the room,
all on him. Don't kill everyone, it's not you. "Undo it. Disarm it," she
bids him softly. She knows he's smart enough to. How much time? "Where is
it?" And for god's sake, put the mask on.

        Behind them, bewildered partygoers grow enough spine to approach
the pair. "Hey, what the fuck's going on? Man, you can't just blow this
place up." One reaches for Weasel's shoulder, to pull her out of the way.
Another turns a frown on Kitty and turns to face her off. "And who the
fuck are you?" And why does everyone but us have masks? Somehow, a closer
look at the detonator and the bomb Kurt carries puts fear in their
expressions that they didn't have before. As if being nearer made them
more real. And fear turns to uncertainty, and confusion, as lungfuls of
air grow tainted, colourless, odourless, but head-fuzzing all the same. In
a way completely unconnected with the way Kurt's head is fuzzy. Likewise,
the bulk of the party pounding towards and down the stairs slow, movements
slurring, and they take on that bewildered look. Those at the top were
stopping anyway, on seeing the obstacle at the bottom, but fear of what
they have seen and set themselves in the past is only slightly more
prominent than fear of the funky-looking muscleguy below. And besides, he
can't stop them /all/, right? One man slips and tumbles down the stairs,
probably quite painfully. Limbs start to grow unsteady and too liquid for
true support. At Colossus' rear, the four guards approach warily with
weapons drawn, no-one quite willing to take the first step and risk really
pissing this person off. Because... wow, big and shiny.

"What the hell is this?" Kurt asks, finally seeing Kitty. "Some sort of
goddamn intervention?" Sure, they're all here for him. He's willing to
believe it. "I'm not disarming anything, and don't you touch me like
that!" Kurt yells, taking a step backwards. "Decide you want to be my mom
again? I'm not your son, okay?" He throws the mask across the room as hard
as he can, and doesn't look to see where it lands. "You're not...fighting
for nothing," Kurt says, starting to feel dizzy. "You're just a criminal."
A step backwards nearly makes him stagger, and he gets a hand on the wall.
"What the hell?"

"Well, for fuck's sake," mutters Pete, reshouldering the rucksack and
pulling his taser from his pocket. He finally steps forward - which would
be coming up behind one of the guards advancing on Piotr - and prods at
the guy's neck. "We don't fucking have time for any of this. Timer, you
said? 'Kinnell's he doing, Kitty? Rasputin, plan 'e'. Not f, not
wholesale, but just - got to get up there, he called me something a while
ago--" Pete gestures impatiently at the mess of slowly-groggying people
between him and the stairs. "Keep him coherent, try," he says into the
hands-free.

Colossus steps into the stairwell entrance and hunches down a bit, still
keeping him taller than most of them, his expansive size closing off the
passage, ignoring the people approaching from behind, as he assumes their
weapons can't hurt him, although he does glance back to them a couple of
times. He picks up the guy that fell first near him, and brandishes his
ever-limpening body as a warning... and then Wisdom changes the plan. New
order of business, GET UP THE STAIRS. Simple enough... He stomps up the
stairs, arms widened from wall to wall and scooping everybody up and
hoisting them, forcing them backwards. His face turns ANGRY - scare scare
scare - "BACK.... UP!!" he bellows, figuring it's safe, what with cover
blown. He plows this mass of schmucks back as best he can, shouldering the
slumping limpening bodies and hauling them up...

"Sedative," Kitty says aloud, listening over the handsfree with half an
ear - but she's got nothing useful to feed WIsdom right now. "Nobody dies
tonight." Somebody's getting in her way? No, she doesn't walk through them
- ducks around, her own reactions not slowed, faster and more adept than
the Fisters in the room. "/Nobody/, you hear me? You don't have to do
this, it's already over. The cops are on their way by now." Because any
mob panic that's caused by saying that is going to be forestalled by the
glazed dissociation that's going to be coming on pretty fast at this rate.
She dodges another body, trying to work her way closer to Kurt. Weasel can
undoubtedly take care of herself.

I'm not your son. Weasel's eyes widen, flare rawly, at that. No, my son
hates me and fights against me; you, *you* are different. "I love you,
Kurt." Firm, controlled, she is not going to break down. Now is not the
time, and her cracks are well-hidden. "We're here to stop /them/." Let's
get this straight. She jerks her shoulder out of the grip of the man
behind her, switching her grip on her tazer to shock him with a backward
jab. Fuck off. Then she watches Kurt stumble, and cups her hands together,
to be filled with another blue-edged rippling. He would have to throw the
damn mask away, so she has to sacrifice the tazer to make another one, and
she steps towards him to try to clap the thing over his nose and mouth.
"Do you want me to die too?" she asks him, half-challenge, half-plea.
"Tell me where." Please.

        Behind her, the Fisters are staggering and clutching at the
furniture for support that will never be enough, as the drug works its way
through their system. And they can't stop breathing it in. Expression
flicker, confused, outraged, denying, afraid. What's happening? There's a
bomb, and bodies don't appear to want to work. Grabs are made at Kitty,
some merely for support, but to slow, so slow. Gazes seeking understanding
follow her, panic increasing. Cops? Did she say *cops*? On the stairs,
there are cries at the slow charge of Colossus; they would run, if they
could. Find a fire escape, and who's bright idea was it to board up all
the windows again? Of course, most of them end up scooped up in that
metallic hug, unable to move in time, or much at all, increasingly. And
they would so like to obey, really they would.

        In front of Pete, there's a convulsion, almost a shimmy, as the
guard makes a choking noise and goes down. And suddenly, weapons are no
longer at Colossus' back, but swung towards the new threat. Whoa, metas
all over! We're surrounded! ...by two! Run! Panic! Fire guns! ...you know,
this whole being gassed thing sucks. A couple of shots are fired, aim wide
of the mark as muscles are unable to deal with the kickback, and the
remaining guards stumble. Uh-oh.

Kurt sags heavily against the wall, eyes half lidded and unfocused, even
the twitching of his tail stopped, drooped. He turns his head away from
Mystique, resisting the mask, taking more lungfuls of tranquilizer. He
looks at her though, eyes widening with sudden emotion. She said it. "Miss
Emotional Control finally cracking?" he says, half mocking, half
wondering. "Mom. Two things," he says, holding up all the fingers on one
hand. "Firs'. Its inna bathroom," he says, voice slurring. "Toilet tank.
Not a lotta time."

"You're all completely mad," explains Pete, stepping toward the men with
the guns, apparently not even reacting to shots fired in the immediate
vicinity, not panicking at the holes in the walls, stepping -toward- them
- reaching out, shoving lightly. "Fall the fuck down and get out of my
way--" Climbing over, if he has to - trying to get the hell up the stairs.
"Well *done*, Colossus." Pause. "I'm never calling you that again. How's
this work if we're *both* the Man in Black?" He's trying not to step *on*
anyone fallen; the rucksack's making things difficult so he's slinging it
off and taking something out and tossing it over the railing, whereupon it
makes a thoroughly satisfying WHUD as it hits the ground floor. Taking
forever to get into the room where the information's flowing. Forever.
"Pryde, status?"

Colossus finishes hauling all of the deadening bodies up the stairs,
carrying them over and depositing them with a bit of care in the main
living room where they all started from, having cleared the way for Wisdom
and actually feeling a little swell of pride as the miserable guy that
hangs out and performs precautionary sniper services whenever Kitty visits
actually approves of him for once, and then for a second he's annoyed at
himself for WANTING approval from that guy... and then he shakes it off
with the Fisters and looks to face everyone else, eyeing the room, looking
for stragglers as instructed, but also wanting to get a look at Kurt, for
one thing... so he heads back to the stairwell to monitor it... somewhat
taken aback by the mass of Jonestown-looking bodies here...

They're not unconscious. Sort of. There's this odd glassy-eyed stare and
grin that's characteristic, and deeply disturbing. But the good thing
about ketamine is, it /doesn't/ depress breathing much, doesn't screw with
the brainstem - it's relatively safe. Only the ones who react badly enough
to spit the evening's intake of alcohol back up are likely to be at risk,
and that only if they try to breathe the results. Kitty relays back to
Pete, voice forcibly unshaken despite the gunfire. "It's where you hid the
books - better move /fast/ -" /She/ doesn't look panicked. She doesn't
even look nervous. Just intent, shrugging off hands, easing one girl who's
about to collapse - it only takes a second to be sure she doesn't hit her
head. Doesn't take long, but it slows her down reaching mother and son a
little. Which is just as well, since she has no idea what to do when she
gets there.

"Of course I do." Love you. Stupid. Weasel steps quickly closer to Kurt,
abandoning the mask idea in favour of listening to him, trying to catch
each soft, slurring word. She'll slip an arm around his waist if he looks
like he's going to fall, to ease him down. A nod follows his words,
still-yellow eyes leaving his face only long enough to look to Kitty. Did
you get that? Go to it, then. "Check the ones up here." Not caring about
the state of anyone else in the room right now. "And the second?" she
prompts Kurt quickly. Tell me, I need to know. We're not dying here. None
of us.

        The guards fall back with a waver, step, THUD, groaning. Thanks
Pete. One even makes a grab for his ankle, weak and unformed, struggling
against unconsciousness. Fingertips barely manage to brush the walking
man's bootheel. All over the place, limp ragdolls with oddly aware eyes
make pathetic bundles wherever they fell or were put.

"Second thing," Kurt says, holding onto his mother with both arms now,
letting the detonator drop to the floor. It's nowhere near sensitive
enough to go off from that. Kurt forces his head upwards, trying to focus
enough to see his mother. "I can't feel my legs," he tells her, dead
serious, voice hitching with a repressed cry. "Only other bomb is right
here," the mutant says proudly, his whole coat wired to blow. Kurt looks
around the room, and his eyes go wide at the sight of Colossus. "Wer sind
Sie?"

"Where I - hah." Pete's, at this point, basically going 'fuck even the
pretense of sentences'; he's got what he rescued from his rucksack in
hand: wirecutters and a little voltmeter. God knows what else was in that
bag. "Er ist ein Freund, Kurt. Haben Sie nicht Angst," calls Pete with a
lopsided smile, practically sprinting across the room toward the closest
bathroom - he has to jump over people, and it looks kind of stupid. This
is going to work. It is. "Fry his, Pryde. Worked with your damnable
strawberry jelly." Gone. Bathroom. It's a potty emergency - no, really, it
is. That was a beeline of Pete across the living room.

Colossus watches the frantic moving about... a little hazy as to what's
going on, since he has no earpiece... but he knows there's a bomb
somewhere... but this whole scene looks pretty horrifying. Focus on
Kurt... the Mad Bomber What Bombs In The Middle of The Well-Laid Plans of
Muties And Men. He repeats Wisdom's assurance that he's a freund... a
little sad that he's not recognized. He briefly states, in German, that
they'll have time to catch up later. Nobody's trying to leave, so he heads
back down the stairs to gather up the guards that were tazered down below
- better to keep them all in once place.

Pete's got that issue in hand. Which is good, because Kitty didn't show
much inclination to turn around. She reaches out for Kurt and Mystique.
"Let me take care of that one, Kurt." She's not sure if frying the
detonator would just plain set it off - C-4 is entirely different from the
bomb she disabled that way, once - but there's a chance she can at least
get the explosives the hell away from the /people/.

Here. His coat. He had no intention of surviving; no intention of dampfing
out before it blew. Yellow eyes widen, and Weasel's gaze drops to look
down over him, as she wraps both arms around him and lets him slide slowly
down to the floor. This form's too small and wiry to be able to hold him
up for long, and she needs her hands and to be able to get at that coat.
"Oh, Kurt...." What have you done? What have I done? Damn are you getting
a scolding when we've all survived this. As soon as she's got him down and
supported by the floor, she'll flip his coat open and start to look for
the detonator. Not die first, talk later. When he's conscious. A glance to
Kitty, wary, and she'll shift to let the girl in. "You think you can
disarm it?" You so much as /look/ at him wrong, and I'll stab you in the
heart. It might not be Mystique's area of particular expertise, but she's
competent enough herself. But two pairs of eyes are better than one.

        Everyone else is apparently nearly comatose, except the odd one of
two who react badly and shake and throw up all over themselves, so the NPC
world is quiet. And slightly twitchy. But mostly quiet.

The whole coat phases right off of Kurt at Kitty's touch, and he's left in
the leather outfit he arrived here in. It seemed appropriate to wear it on
the way out, too. The detonator is already on the floor, near his head,
and he watches with glazed eyes as it's found. "Careful," he murmurs, eyes
starting to drift closed.

There are a couple of muffled curses from the area of the bathroom, but
for the most part, it's very quiet. Very quiet. That's a good thing,
right?

Colossus comes quickly back up the stairs with a few more guard bodies,
dropping them off in the living room as well, and then heading back over
towards Kurt and the others... trying to assess the situation, realizing
that Kurt's strapped himself with them. Bozshe MOI! "If you can get it off
of him, give it to me... I can get out of here quickly and smother it if
need be..." There's a hint of wondering how well he'll whether that much
of a blast, but he's pretty sure he'd survive that...

She's got it off of him, but Kitty's shaking. Pulling the coat away.
Careful. "I've got it." She doesn't touch the detonator as she gathers it
in. "I'm not much with explosives, but disposal I'm good at." That's for
Mystique, as she's straightening up - then glancing back to Colossus. "If
you can open a window for me?" Seeing as they're boarded up pretty
impressively, and all.

As Kurt's eyes close, so do Weasel's for a moment, as she brushes his
cheek again. Silly, silly boy. Don't kill yourself. When they open, and
the furred one has faded under the gas' influence, the yellow glow is
blinked away. Back to looking human, snugly masked, and she looks sideways
at Kitty. The detonator is in her hand, cradled gently, even if the drop
to the floor didn't set it off. A moment of concentration and a hand
cupped around shifting molecules, another flicker of a glow over eyes, and
she starts to take the thing apart, nodding at the girl. "You do that."
Good for you. A slight frown towards the bathroom - not forgetting about
the other bomb. But not moving away from Kurt just yet, or calling out in
case she distracts. Make progress, damn you.

"Heh." Pete appears in the door of the bathroom, holding a dripping
plastic bag in one hand, and the voltmeter and the wire-cutters in the
other. He flashes Weasel a tight smile, then glances at Kitty and
Colossus, leaning against the jamb. "About done yet?" His attention shifts
back to Weasel and Kurt, and his expression is rather odd. There's an
apology in there, a troubled one. "He'll be all right. It looks a lot
worse than it is. Two or three hours, and it'll wear off. Just mind the
hallucinations as he's coming out of it."

Colossus nods to Kitty and immediately strides towards the nearest window,
wrenching off the extensive sealing work with the ease of somebody tearing
a stick of butter in half. "Done." He's a little confused though... surely
just tossing them out the window isn't considered safe disposal? He looks
over to Pete as he emerges from the commode, taking that as a sign that
it's been defused, and if he breathed in this form, he'd let out a sigh of
relief. His eyes return to Katya... and he hasn't caught much of the
interplay between Weasel and Kurt other than SOME sort of strong
relationship.

Lucky Russian. Katya is going to be in for a very /long/ session of
explanations later. "Let me know," Kitty says carefully to Weasel, "when
it's safe to move this." Fretting. Want to check and make sure everyone's
breathing. Can't. "Pete, I'll get yours, too." And there's a quick,
strained smile flashed to Piotr - it's as much as she can manage while
holding something with this much random destructive capability, and with
an unconscious Kurt /right there/. "Spasibo." Thank you.

He won't be all right when she's finished with him. Internal waverings
between anger and hurt don't show on Weasel's tightly controlled face,
which settles into unimpressed, sardonic lines instead. "Thanks for the
warning." Thank you, very much indeed. There's a genuine note underlying
her tone. She, likewise, assumes that Pete has done his thing
successfully, and looks at Kurt for a long moment. So many questions, but
business reasserts itself. And besides, unconscious, so pointless asking
any of those /other/ questions now. "When are the police arriving?" The
little pair of pliers in her hand continues to pry open the detonator, and
she levers the wires out of it carefully. A little snip, and all is safe,
but she doesn't know what failsafes the coat might have. "Detonator's
safe," she tells Kitty. And wariness starts to creep in; with the crisis
over, she's not sure how any of them are going to take her identity.

"Six, eight minutes after I give the word." That's what the other,
non-present member of the group is taking care of, after all. Thank you,
Jack Celliers. Pete holds out the plastic bag for Kitty to collect, then
goes to check that the couple of victims with poor reactions haven't
actually gone into respiratory arrest. "Better get him clear."

Colossus looks around between the three of them, feeling a little lost at
the moment. He supposes they know what they're doing, but he's getting a
little antsy anyway. He glances out the window to look at what's
outside... as if they might have something set up to take care of this..
or look for cops... or feel somewhat useful at the moment...

Kitty draws the coat and its burden clear, careful of them, and picks up
the dripping bag from Pete. She adds over her shoulder to Weasel, "Mind if
I call and check up on him later? I've still got your number." Tone's
carefully clear of any emotional load at all, as she threads past
Colossus, adding to him, "And - wanna meet me downstairs? I might need a
hand up." Through the window he so neatly reopened she goes - being /very/
careful of the explosives. Yes, she's standing on air outside - but she's
got the detonator and as much of the wiring as possible bundled on /top/
of her burden, and she lets none of it overlap the windowframe. Straight
through clear air. As an afterthought, she nudges the cellphone with her
elbow till it hangs up - then starts walking down. Fifteen feet above
ground level, ten - at eight she simply lets herself drop. Straight down.
Into the pavement and through it, phased, still carrying the
hopefully-defunct bombs. Since the street doesn't explode in the next
second, presumably they actually /were/ defunct, or at least mostly.

Weasel frowns at the detonator in her hand, then tucks it in her pocket.
No point leaving it here. Another sharp, sideways glance to Pete, and her
lips press together as she nods agreement. I know, I know. Fingers search
the unconscious boy's wrist for bracelets she hopes are there, and she
gives a sigh of relief as she flicks the hologram on. Then it's a subtle
alteration to her shape, a strengthening and filling out under the jacket,
and she's moving to pick her son up. No-one else is doing this; he's mine.
"I'll leave it in your hands, then," she says, before she grits her teeth
and tries to stand. Ugh, other person, heavy. She makes it, though, and
settles him over her shoulders, fireman-style. "Try not to get arrested."
That really would be a shame. And also counter-productive. And she's
missing a pet lawyer to send out for people, so it'd also be a huge pain
in the ass. She gives Kitty a tight nod. "He might appreciate it." Then
she's turning and heading for the door, to take her son home. And yes, it
does look like the bombs are all good. Poor Kurt's never going to get his
coat back.

Pete gives a tight smile of his own at Weasel's admonition, but it's still
got that troubled note lingering somewhere. Maybe more than one, after
Kitty's invitation to Piotr. No comments from him. He's busy. Or at least
he's looking busy. And wanting a cigarette, dammit, but not till they're
all clear.

Colossus nods to Kitty and heads down the stairs, pausing to watch her
head out the window - he completely forgot she could do that... and as she
drops, he realizes what she's doing, and glances back to the others
briefly... catching sight of a.. weirdness in Weasel.. some sort of weird
shift, but he has no time to observe more as he heads down to meet Kitty
as soon as he can, heading out the door back into the winter snow...

It probably takes less time to get down the stairs than it does for Kitty
to pull herself back out of the pavement. And promptly collapse on hands
and knees in the slush, gasping for breath. Here's hoping there's no
traffic coming. On the other hand, any traffic that saw Colossus would
probably be inclined to take a sudden detour.

At this hour in the Badlands, there are few cars around. Weasel takes her
time descending, but her steps are steady as she makes her way out of the
building. Firmly placed so they don't slip in the slush. She isn't going
far; there's a van parked down the block a way, incongruous with dents and
rust. But it starts, even in the freezing conditions. She'll let the cops
decifer tonight's gift, and see how Kitty and her friends handle the cops.
If they stick around at all. Spin-doctoring can wait until the morning.