Don't shoot the messenger

Posted on Fri Mar 21st, 2025 @ 16:47 by Rebecca McMillen & Alastair Temple & Mhairi McIntyre

Chapter: Besieged
Location: Graeme's Garage, New Cresthill
Timeline: Morning, Monday, February 8th, 1993
1729 words - 3.5 OF Standard Post Measure

Drizzle on the pavement, the dull hum of the flickering fluorescent lights overhead, the distant whine of an engine struggling somewhere down the road. Mhairi sat in the office, cupping her tea between hands that barely got clean for the amount of oil that seeped into her skin. The warmth barely noticeable. It had gone bitter from sitting too long, but she sipped it anyway, more out of habit than anything else. The garage smelled of petrol and damp wool, the scent of long hours and hard work.

Outside, the world moved at its usual slow pace—old man Sinclair shuffled past, his dog trailing behind like it couldn’t be bothered with the day either. The radio muttered in the background, the DJ’s voice flat and unbothered between tracks no one had requested.

Mhairi let out a breath, rubbing her forehead with fingers calloused from years of fixing things other folk had broken. Monday. Just another Monday.

Nothing surprising ever happened on a Monday.

Al knew the way to the garage by heart, by now. Of course, flying it was different from driving it, but as long as he followed the main roads it was easy enough to figure out the way. A small Rebecca on his back dressed warm for the flight, the goggles really did help. And before long a soft thud as the large raven landed outside the garage, bending down to allow Rebecca an easy egress.

With every flight, Rebecca was more and more confident she'd survive. Her grip was less "Death Grip" and more of a confident hold. Dressing warm helped, the goggles were a godsend. She was really enjoying the thrill of flight to the point where when they landed it took a moment for her to begin to de-bird. Well, it was either hesitation or the ever infamous 'oh look, I DO have legs' sensation one gets from a carnival ride. Once she was back on terra firma, she returned to the normal sized world of ordinary people and waited for Al to DeBird. "Ready?" she inquired before she approached the garage proper and gave a knock at the door.

A poof, some light static electricity and a few feathers sent this and that way, a moment of slight desorientation as Alastare de-birded and regained his bearings. The man was dressed in his standard dramatic black longcoat with black gloves, now even more befitting the situation and their purpose for coming here. A silent nod at Rebecca as he reached for the door, pulling it open to let her go inside first.

Mhairi pulled her feet off the table and immediately got up to greet the people coming in to the garage area. The office was a separate room tucked away in the corner. She only recognised the metal music teacher, the woman that accompanied him had never visited before. Perhaps they were looking for a car for the blond. Then she realised that the Institute was still under siege, at least last she heard. "Good morning, didn't realise they allowed you free passage again." She knew Alastair had made some trips into the town, but other than a passing greeting there hadn't been much reason for him to visit a garage. "Looking for a car for the young lady?" She held out her hand to greet Al's companion.

Rebecca took the offered hand, "It's something of a story, but, hello. My name's Rebecca." she offered, as friendly a greeting as she could muster given the circumstances. "And, we're not here for a car. Although that one does look ... no, no later maybe. We have some very important news. Not at all good." she paused. This speech was going oh so well during her practice run, but Fourteen was SUCH a good listener.

"You should sit down." the most relaxing and calming phrase ever used in all of recorded history.

"Hello Mhairi," Alastair said softly, with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. He didn't quite know what to say, so he said nothing and let Rebecca lead the way.

"I think I'll stand" Mhairi crossed her arms, it was immediately clear this wasn't a lighthearted social visit. "Did something happen?"

A nod from the music teacher, as he sat down on the edge of the counter, speaking softly and - he hoped - with a kind tone. "Someone infiltrated the school. A fight broke out, and Cameron was very badly wounded. And - " How does one say he up and disappeared into thin air? Well, now was not the time to beat around the bush. " - we don't know where he is now."

"As soon as we get any updates, we'll keep you in the loop. I ... I saw you and Cameron walking around the grounds so, I figured you and him were..." she paused for a moment, "That you would probably want to be kept up to date."

"What? Wounded? How?" Mhairi felt fear and anger rise up, "What did that fecking eedjit do now?" She felt her fingers dig into her upper arms and her eyes bore into the music and art teachers in turn. "What do you mean badly wounded? How badly? Is he still alive?"

Al hesitated a moment. This wasn't a time to sugarcoat things, and Mhairi deserved to know the truth - as much as him and Rebecca were allowed to say. "He jumped in to protect students. He - ... was cut with a sword," Cut? More like run through, but that just sounded too harsh, so Al chose to say cut. "Cut badly. We don't know if he's alive. We don't know where he is."

"How the fuck d'ye no ken where he is? Whit kinda shite is that?!" Mhairi burst out, her more modest Scottish accent getting away from her. Her ire was aimed at Al, he wasn't to blame of course, and somewhere deep down she might have known that, but right now the mechanic wasn't working on 'deep down' and 'rational', right now she was acting on surface level emotions and fear. She had been in plenty of hazardous situations, but never to the point where she had feared for her life, or that of those close to her. She had never thought that the situation over at Avalon would come to an all out assault. It barely registered that the attack had involved a sword.

Rebecca knew that Mhairi was upset. Her tone said it all and the screaming accent helped solidify the notion. Her emotions were running, and running hot. Doubtless, and faultless.

Don't run.

The mousey blonde hesitated as Mhairi's outburst concluded, her thin tail whipping back and forth as the tension of the moment started to build. She found her voice after a moment longer, "It's the truth." Rebecca started. "It hurts and it's hardly a comfort, but it's the truth. I have every pair of eyes and ears I have looking for anything resembling a clue, but right now we have no leads. No trail. It isn't what you want to hear, because it isn't the kind of thing anyone wants to say: We don't know."

"As soon as I hear anything, as soon as anyone hears anything, we'll make sure you know. If we have to break the blockade again..." she paused, as though to let that point linger. Whether she intended for it to be a jab or not was something that maybe even she didn't know. "... we will." she paused, and took a breath. Calm down, calm, calm. No need to get anxious. Just a civil chat. About the most uncivil of topics. "I wish I had more."

"So you're sayin you dinnae kin." Mhairi felt her heart drum against her chest, her eyes were straining to prevent the tears from streaming down her face. "You come here to tell me Cam may or may not be dead?" She huffed and stomped past them into the main garage, "Fecking useless lot you are."

Alastair knew that she wasn't wrong. "There is no good answer here," he ventured, trying to give his voice as calming an inflection as he could. For all the good that would do. Which wasn't a lot, he figured. "No answer that takes away the pain and the shock, the worry and the concern," he knew the pain of losing a loved one. Knew it all too well. Although the circumstances had been very different, of course. He could only hope that she wouldn't take it as hard as he had. "But we figured that being open, truthful and honest was the best thing to do. We'll - keep you updated as soon as we find out more."

Rebecca had nothing to add, no fuel for the fire but no way to stifle it either. In the end, Mhairi was right. They didn't know, and they came all this way to tell her exactly that. Though Al said it better, better to cling to uncertainty then be told the worst directly. Rebecca was never one for false hope. Before she heard about Avalon, she had just about given up. She gave Al's sleeve a tug, "Maybe we should go." she offered. Lingering didn't seem to sit well with the mousey blonde.

"Maybe you should." Mhairi's head was swimming with emotions. None of them very positive. She needed to be alone, or perhaps she should call her dad. She turned her back on the bearers of bad news. "Let me know once you actually know something." She spoke through clenched teeth.

A number of bitebacks swam around Al's had, but he composed himself. Mhairi didn't deserve any of them. Any of this. Wasn't it normally that the bad guys went through the normies to get to the mutants, in all the stories and the movies? With a sigh, shoulders slumping, he stood up from the edge of the counter and simply gave the firecracker mechanic a nod. No words needed adding, so none were. He simply turned around and opened the door for Rebecca, to follow behind.

Rebecca didn't want to linger too long. For all she knew, Mhairi was waiting for solitude to let her walls down and actually react to the news. To that effect, the mousey blonde exited as soon as the option presented itself. It was time to get back to Avalon.