If Mittens Claps We All Die...(Open)

The police called on a Saturday. That meant on duty X-men from teh mansion got sent to handle whatever situation had cropped up: in this instance a hostage situation. Sam could think of no better team than Trainer Kealey and her Ghostly.

They had to blend in so uniforms were out. Street clothes to Kealey meant jeans and a green 7-up tee shirt. Ghost hated soda. The bubbles always tasted stale and gross. But normal people liked it. And if they were being normal people... it seemed to make sense on some level.

"I told you that you wouldn't like it." The whisper didn't travel far from the trickling puddle of smoke that was easing up the side of the building. Once at the scene, they had assessed the situation and decided to go in. They weren't helping anything. Ghost had gone incorporeal and taken Kealey Quinn with her. Then she directed their insubstantial bodies up, up, through a window, down some stairs...

"I'm going to drop you off here."

Things were tense among the captives. Ghost had heard a woman shriek and some shouted demands, but the details were lost to her in this form especially since that was outside of Ghost's visual range. Near what Ghost imagined to be a nice, young man she let go of Kealey. As soon as contact was severed the girl would simply appear. One more hostage than there was before. Would the bad guys notice? The hostages probably would.

Ghost kept her incorporeal state, but swirled herself down behind Kealey for now. It was best to lay low. Have Kealey's eyes take in the details and she could help direct Ghost on where she would best be used.

Mittens, the large handed mutant growled as he glared out the window and saw that none of his demands were ready. In anger he tossed the woman aside he had just shown all the cops outside. He was indeed a sight to behind. Tall at 5’11, he seemed more of the scrawny individual, with pale skin and a shaved head. But both his arms were muscular but having to lift up his overly large and strong hands. Though he did look comical, when he was angry, he was no one you really wanted to mess with. Time was ticking down and he needed to get out of there with his boys before the SWAT team showed up. He was strong, but he was not sure he was strong enough to take that many of them out. Besides, he could see that the MRC was there and that was going to cause problems. He has had run ins with those types before and this was a time he did not want to risk a tangle with them. Still they were quickly running out of options. So far they had hostages and the building secure but that was the most of their good fortune. There was no way out of the building, at least not yet.

“Boss?” one of the goons muttered as he glanced out from his spot near one of the windows. “What if they don’t pay up?”

“They will,” Mittens said confidently as he turned to glance at all the hostages. “Otherwise I start peeling the skin off them like grapes.”

As Mitten’s said this, a pigeon landed on the window sill and cooed thoughtfully as she strutted back and forth. The mutant eyed the bird with anger before he suddenly snatched it up in his massive hand. Nobody could see the bird, but they knew it was there by the panicked calls it made. Then, before anyone knew it, Mitten’s closed his hand and crushed the bird completely. When he opened his hand again, all that was left was a congealed mass of blood, feathers and jellied bones. He let the heap drop to the ground and pointed his bloodied hand at every one of the hostages.

“Anyone tries anything funny, I’m doing the same to your heads!!”

***

“X-Men have been called and responded? Good, what is their eta?” Jorge asked into the radio as he glanced once more over the top of the squad car and noted that the guards were all still at their posts. “What do you mean you don’t know?”

Jorge shook his head and tossed his radio into the back seat of the car in frustration. He knew that somehow they were going to have to make a move but they were too well pinned down. Mittens knew what he was doing. He was trying to force their hand. He held all the cards here. He had hostages and Jorge knew that the second the mutant felt pushed into a corner, he would start killing them. It was obvious from past reports and photos that he had no problem with taking a life.

“What the hell am I supposed to do?” He said to himself as he kept his gun at the ready.

The second Mittens saw any sign of SWAT he would panic, and a panicked criminal is never good news for the hostages.

It was then that another barrage of gunfire assaulted the officers down before, pelted the concrete and smashed up car windows. Too many officers must have stuck their heads up at the same time. Their presence here was making the all the hostage takers nervous. They had the firepower to decimate them, but they obviously had jumpy dispositions. Mittens must have been snatching up new members for his crew from everywhere, but it was obvious that they were one hundred percent knowledgeable with what they were doing.

Jorge knelt there, completely at a lose as to what to do.

"I could," Ghost conceded with a quiet little whisper, "but I think that would be too obvious. I would have to go solid first in order to spirit someone else away. I think that would attract..." Ghost shut up when she noticed a man stop shooting and glanced over. She pulled the smokey coils of cool air that made up her body closer behind Kealey.

If they found her... if they suspected Kealey... but he went back to aiming and shooting from what Ghost could gather.

"If you can keep the hostages sitting, I could try to siphon the useable air from standing height. That could take out several of them at once. It'll only work for this confined space, though. Those outside or too close to windows won't be affected." If the soft, disembodied voice bothered any of the other hostages, Ghost couldn't tell. Kealey was good at what she did.

These people were organized, trigger happy and dangerous. But Kealey and Ghost were dangerous in their own right too.

“Give ‘em hell!!” Mittens screamed as another volley of gunshots erupted from the windows that faced down into the street.

The flash of light, the smell of gun powder, the thundering sounds of bits of metal tearing through the air, all of these filled the small confined space with an effect that made each of the hostages think that it was the end of the world. The sights, sounds and smells assaulted all their senses especially since they were so close to the sources of these. Many of the hostages, though felt oddly calm, still that that creeping surge of fear and panic welling up inside the base of their spines. They needed and wanted to be released but it was obvious that the crazed gunmen were not going to be letting that happen any time soon.

Mittens snarled as he peeked outside the window again and saw that all of the officers had retreated to kneeling behind their squad cars again. Of all the times he wished he wished he had a bazooka.

“Boss?” One of the goons asked.

“What?!” Mittens yelled as he turned and snapped at the man. But before he could hear the man’s question, a sound tore through the air that he did not like. He peeked once more out the window and saw that flash of red and blue in the distance. Back up was coming. “Damn, here’s come the back-up!”

The large handed mutant growled as he stepped away from the window and began to pace. They were going to run out of ammo soon and the back-up, whether they were SWAT team or not, was coming faster than he had anticipated. He needed more time, he needed the hostages to last longer. Those cops out there needed to know he was serious. He then quickly turned to his goons.

“Stay near the hostages and put a gun on each of them!” he yelled. “Everyone…I suggest you hold your breath.”

With that, Mitten’s leaned out the window and reached out with his two massive hands. Aimed down towards them he extended his hands out and screamed out. His muscles tensed as the veins popped out of his arms as he suddenly slammed both his hands together in such a powerful clap that everyone was affected by the shockwave. The whole building shook through its foundations, the sound echoed like the crash of thunder occurring two feet away, and dust rose up and rained down from everywhere in the apartment. Inside every hostage and gunman was nearly blown away by the massive gust of wind his clapping hands stirred up.

Though he looked comical, he meant business.

***

“Now what?” was the last thing Jorge uttered before he saw those two massive hands clap together.

Before he knew it, Jorge felt as if a jet engine exploded right in front of his ears. Jorge screamed loud but he could not hear anything after that initial clap. The shockwave that followed the sound was extremely powerful as it reached down to the cops below. The face of the building began to rip and crack as signs, trash cans , even a cop car or two were pushed back and tumbled over due to the massive thunderclap. Windows shattered, people were thrown off their feet and general chaos ensued as everyone clamored to try and figure out what had happened.

Jorge groaned as he slowly came to his senses and sat up from the hard concrete. His head still swam and he had to open and close his mouth several times before he could pop his ears and begin hearing again. He moaned as he sat up and then noticed a peculiar thing. In front of him was the squad car he had been ducked behind but it looked odd. Instead of on its wheels it was balanced precariously on its side. So precarious that it looked as if it were slowly teetering back and forth.

“Not good,” Jorge growled as he moved to his feet as fast as he could. He ran and leapt out just in time as the car finally toppled over and smashed into the spot where he had just been laying. He then snapped his fingers near his ears a couple times before he finally could hear again.

As he stood, the detective breathed exhaustedly and noted the mass chaos and carnage that occurred before him. Several of the police cars had been overturned just as badly as his and he was sure he could see an officer struggling as the car seemed to be resting on his foot. Around the scene, he noted all the shattered glasses, the bits of debris and the uplifted dirt that hung in the air. Several of the officers seemed to be just as shaken up a he was, but the worst of it happened to those cops who were too close to the clap. Several of those who were not unconscious seemed to be wandering around as blood seeped out of their ears, deafened now for laugh.

A geyser of rage built up in his throat as he watched this unfold. Again he failed to protect everyone as was his job to do. This needed to stop. As he looked up at the windows, he nodded that there was still a mass of dust that clouded up them out. Obvious Mittens had not thought his move would distract more than just the cops below. With their eyes temporarily blinded, Jorge steeled himself up and bolted forward, with no word to the scattered cops.

He slipped across to the building unnoticed and rushed into the convenience store. He walked stealthy through the fallen merchandise and stepped over breakable items. Gun held high, Jorge spied one of Mitten’s goons as he stood guard at the stairwell that went up to the apartment. The man was obviously shaken from Mitten’s move as well so Jorge was quick to take advantage of that. He quickly holstered his gun before he leapt forward, disarmed the man and put him into a quick sleeper hold. After only a couple of seconds of him struggling and the detective applying pressure to the man’s windpipe, the goon collapsed into a heap.

Jorge slowly lowered him as he pulled out his gun once more and made his way towards the staircase.

“Just you and me, Mittens,” Jorge whispered as he began to very slowly and quietly climb.

In a perfect world, Ghost would be sifting the breathable air out of an air-tight room. As it was this was going to be a haphazard thing. Every time someone breathed, Ghost pulled the most useless molecules upward. Everything else she tried to push downward. It was a molecular dance act that took intense concentration. She was so incredibly focused on her task, that she had no inkling that any shockwave was coming.

Suddenly the room went grey. She felt it resonate in every atom of her insubstantial body. Sound was nothing more than vibrations traveling through the air and, ghosted as she was, she perceived the world through that air. Up was down. Left was right. Any attempt at siphoning out the useable air was lost to a sudden cacophony that was like driving west at sunset. The outlines of shapes still existed, but with severe glare. When she became solid again, she was going to have a serious headache.

Had she shouted? Hadn't everyone except those thugs pre-prepared with ear plugs in?

It took her some time to reorient herself. Her visual perceptions just weren't that great in this form to begin with... but they shouldn't have been so bad that she should have ended up as a roiling pool of smoke in the middle of the ring of hostages and gun men.

A gun man turned at the feeling of her cool body overlapping part of his. His lips moved but in all the chaos and aftershock Ghost couldn't tell what he'd said. Not until more of them were turning inward —away from the hostages— toward her.

If ever there was a time to suck all useable air out of someone it was now. Ghost formed a bubble-like structure of air, invisible to the naked eye, to help seal in the area. It was like the vacuum trick Zephyr had taught her, sans sound proofing and equally fragile. It provided zero protection but it did temporarily separate the immediate area of air from all the rest of the room. No need for a perfect world. She would create her own.

Ghost never tried so hard to pull the oxygen out of a space before. Never been so determined to effectively suffocate more than one person at a time. She wasn't paying a lick of attention to herself and the fact that her body was forming into a humanoid shape. She was entirely focused on the four guards around her that were now all equally gagging. It would take some time. It would be messy. But with her determination, (and provided that no one burst her bubble) in the end they would fall and her ghostly figure would be left drifting between them.

The oxygen she sucked toward herself in true Kirby fashion. Her body naturally desired the purer substance over the rest of the mixture of air anyway.

Mitten’s could already feel the lack of control of the situation. His move had caught everyone off guard but this included more than the cops. Instead it caused the cops, and the hostages, and his lackies behind him to all be thrown off their guard. He did not like the fact that he did not think that part through. Instead all he could think about now was an exit strategy. That thunderclap was only going to disorient them down below for so long. If he and a couple of his boys could get up to the roof with a hostage or two, they could still make a clean getaway. Forget the car and the money for now. They needed out of this tight, confined space.

“Guys! We’re going on the move!” he shouted and spun around to his crew.

It was there that he met complete anarchy.

Mittens could not understand what was going on here. It seemed as if all the hostages had suddenly woken up in a complete state of panic. They were obviously terrified when they were first taken hostage but then, a few minutes ago, they had calmed a considerable amount. They had said and done nothing the whole time the cops down below were being fired at. Now though, everyone seemed to be in utter panic, crying and looking around like cornered, scared animals. But worst of all was his crew. Practically all the members seemed to be going through something strange. At least four of his men had collapsed to the ground and were struggling to catch their breath, hyperventilating or something, and the rest of the men in front of him seemed to be so completely disoriented that they could not keep their own feet. It was as if they had absolutely no idea about anything.

“What’s wrong with you all!?!” Mitten bellowed as he charged forward and grabbed the nearest one. He shook him hard but as he looked over his shoulder, against the wall near a blonde and a dark headed boy, he saw something that made him blink twice. “I-Is that a ghost? W-What the hell’s going on here?!”

He was panicking now and a panicked mutant criminal was a bad thing. The second he saw the ‘ghost’, he did not know what to think or how to react. The closest thing he could think of was that there was a some mutant from the MRC that had done it. Maybe some mind mutant got into his head and made him see strange things. As the thought of that rose in his mind, complete anger filled the whites around his eyes. Suddenly he slammed his oversized fist into a wall, completely punching a hole in it and screamed.

“Get outta my head you freaks!!” he screamed as he tried to blink away the ghostly humanoid image. It was then that he locked eyes with his hostages. “Hell with the crew, I’m getting out of here and one of you is coming with me!”

***

General chaos was all Jorge could hear as he continued to climb up the stairway that seemed to take forever. He needed to get up there but he did not want to make too much noise to alert his presence but with the sounds of panicking and all around confusion, Jorge figured that now was good a time as any. He hurled himself up step after step before he finally turned a corner and saw the entrance way. Standing there was another goon armed with a machine gun. His back was to the entrance and he seemed to looking back and forth in a complete and utter panic, unable to make heads or tails about whatever the commotion was inside of the apartment.

Jorge did not even think out the next move, he only reacted, taking things second by second. As he snuck up the stairs, he held his gun tight before he finally brought the butt of his pistol down HARD on the back of the man’s skull.

“Gah!” The effect was almost immediate as the man suddenly went limp in the stairway. Jorge caught him and set him aside and proceeded into the apartment.

At first he could see nothing but the cloud of dust and cracked walls that were the after effects of Mitten’s sudden clapping. He wandered inside, gun held up and pointed ahead of him as he checked his corners and kept his eyes peels for sudden movements. Most of the noise seemed to be coming from inside the living room, the one place that faced out towards the street where they had been assaulting the officers down below for a good twenty minutes already.

It was then he heard the thundering punch into one of the walls and Jorge charged forward, gun raised to eye level and he stepped closed to the living room.

“Hell with the crew, I’m getting out of here and one of you is coming with me!”

“That cannot be good,” Jorge growled as he ran to the edge of the living room and peeked around the corner.

He was shocked by what he saw. Several of the gunmen seemed on the verge of collapsing as they struggled for air, and the rest seemed to be completely discombobulated. As if someone switched off their motor skills leaving him confused as to what they were doing or what they were supposed to feel like. He noted that that seemed to be all of the gunmen, and the only threat left was the big handed Mittens who seemed to be making a bee line straight for a couple of the hostages.

Unsure of what to do, Jorge then felt that familiar pull in his stomach. The pull of something that told him his ally and secret weapon water was nearby. He glanced over to where he felt the pull and saw the vase of water. It was a big one and luckily one that had not toppled over from the mini earthquake Mittens had caused in the building.

He glanced up to see that Mittens was close to the hostages and quickly waved his hand and summoned the water out from the vase and hurled as powerful a jet he could muster from the water directly at Mittens, striking him hard across the eyes.

“ARRGH!” Mittens roared as he felt the pressured water strike him in his sensitive eyes. He flailed uselessly as he turned away from the source.

“Freeze! NYPD!” Jorge yelled as he walked into the room, gun pointed directly at Mitten’s chest. “Put those Lard Lad doughnut sized hands UP! I won’t warn you again Mittens!”

“What?” Mittens growled as he glanced at the cop through his reddened eyes.”What did you call me?”

“I said, put your hands up! This is your last warning!” Jorge snarled. Some of the water still swirled around his arm as he kept his gun trained on the criminal.

It was then that the next motions were so quick they could scarcely be comprehended of. Mittens swung his hand faster than anyone could expect. One hand reached up and covered his chest and face, just as Jorge released a gunshot. KA-BLAM! But instead of making a kill or disabling the shot, the bullet merely smack and collapsed into the mutant’s large hand. He had protected himself from the bullet and with his free hand, at the same time, had grabbed the nearest hostage he could.

Mittens snarled as he backed up towards the window, and held the dark-haired college kid’s head completely in one hand. The boy’s head disappeared into the shadows of the man’s, threatening to close hand. He held him dangerous as he kept his other hand up to protect him from another gunshot. “Back off now! Or I swear I’ll squeeze his head until it is nothing but gore and dust!!!!”