To the barricades!

Posted on Tue Oct 21st, 2025 @ 12:44 by Liana Zhao & Alastair Temple & Valjean Beaumont

Chapter: Besieged
Location: Castle gardens, Avalon Institute
Timeline: 03:05 hours (immediately following A Bridge Too Far)
4421 words - 8.8 OF Standard Post Measure

When the sounds of the invasion had come all of the Valjeans had made their way back to the gym. He had merged back into one and now stood ready to do what was needed to protect the people that had taken him in when nobody else would. He would stand here between the fascists and the dream Claire had built, even if it would mean he'd have to go back. "They're coming in from multiple angles." Ever since Halloween it had been easier to recall some things his non-primary versions witnessed. It wasn't perfect, and the memories still faded fast, but it was a lot better than having to interview himself before merging.

"And they've breached the front doors," a voice from behind confirmed. Emerging from the darkness, Liana's features were pinched with worry but her eyes had taken on a stubborn fortitude. Diplomacy might have failed but that didn't mean any of them had to roll over. "We need to speed up the evacuation, they're going to have to move as a large group and that's going to be difficult to manage with any stealth."

Her eyes sought out Alastair's and drew him over into the lowered tones of private confidence.

"We need to stay ahead of the group and relay any obstacles so that they have time to change routes. We can't risk walking the students into an ambush."

"I'm faster as a bird, but I'm not sure these corridors are wide enough for me to comfortably fly. I can run ahead though," Al suggested. He was scared. He felt out of his depth. But he wasn't going to let those things stop him - not when there was work to do. Not when the students were in danger.

There was palpable hesitation in Liana's response, the weighing up of necessity alongside the pure gut-wrench of a protest against the inherent risk. She held Alastair's gaze, plunging herself well past a depth of courage she'd ever been asked to cultivate in the past, and blinked rapidly as she nodded. Acceptance. The children mattered the most.

Still, he was uncertain. He hoped that what he was about to do was the right thing. So he jogged ahead, trying to find his way through the winding tunnels and passaged of the castle's undercroft. Not too far ahead, not so fast that he'd outrun them, just far enough to be able to see obstacles and opportunities before the group reached them so he could inform them in time of where to go.

With the help of a particular English teacher as well as earlier infiltration efforts the different GOU squads were able to find their way around the Institute much more effectively than was to be expected from an invading army. It was clear this particular action had been planned for quite some time. It didn't take long for the vanguard group of Alastair, Valjean and Liana to run into their first barrier.

"Halt! Under the authority of the Genetic Oversight Unit and Section 7 of the Mutant Registration Act, we are executing a lawful search and seizure. We are in possession of a High-Risk Custody Warrant." The call wasn't amplified but echoed all the same. "You are ordered to surrender peacefully and submit to identity verification and biometric registration. Noncompliance will be considered obstruction."

It had been churning away in Liana's mind since the first indication of trouble that they might well be dealing with people who currently knew the layout of the grounds better than she did. It had very much played into the decision to leave Rebecca in charge of the student evacuation but also left a gaping hole in any forward planning contingencies that might be required to keep the roving groups clear of the best path towards the undercroft.

There was no hope the underground network remained entirely a secret, not after the direct attack that had cost them two lives, but by all accounts there had been less opportunity for full infiltration and it remained their best hope for moving the children to safety rather than leaving them exposed. The far access point into the forest had never been breached, as far as they knew. With any luck...

...she wasn't about to cram a heap of children into a cage they couldn't escape from.

"Send a runner back to the group," she directed at Valjean as they slunk quickly back into the looming shadow of a hedge to delay a response, her tone little more than a murmur to avoid being overheard. "I'll stall here but they'll have to skirt around."

Glancing up at Alastair, Liana's gaze held his for a moment, a thousand fragmented thoughts and feelings screaming for validation but ultimately ignored because there just wasn't time. She would grieve the moment later on, the sheer unfairness of it all not to mention the horrendous reminder that nothing in life was ever guaranteed, but for now, she found the strength to say, "Do you think you can get high enough to tell us how many more groups there are?"

"I can do that," Al replied. He considered for a fleeting moment as he glanced around, before closing his eyes in concentration. Almost immediately - with a sonorous poof and an explosion of black, somewhat iridescent feathers the music teacher had shifted into his large corvid form. Massive wings beat, almost pushing him off the ground, and with the sound of mighty flapping and some errant pennaceous quills whirling through the air he took to the skies.

There was little to celebrate in the plummet of her heart towards her stomach but Liana spared only a few seconds to make sure Alastair was airborne before turning her gaze back in the direction of their pursuers. A jumble of thoughts, previously second-guesses, coalesced into a single point of determination and there was deliberation to her careful removal of her jacket, which was then folded loosely and tucked under the bushes whilst the prickle of night air brought goosebumps to exposed skin. There were already far too many compromises tonight, destroying an expensive garment was an unnecessary addition.

"How very noble of you," she declared, stepping out into full view and squinting as the full barrage of several torchlights swung around to greet her. "I'm sure waiting until the middle of the night to converge on a group of children is an entirely reasonable precaution with very little risk to your reputation or future career prospects."

"We're just following orders, ma'am. There's no need to make this more difficult than it already is."

"So you at least admit that this is difficult?"

Even in the gloom, exacerbated by the ongoing attempt to blind her, Liana took a moment to run a quick summary of the group and realised that it was, firstly, not very large. There were three decked out in black, and as a second point of interest, their spokesperson seemed potentially a little lacking in seniority. It sparked a small glimmer of hope that the element of surprise was on her side, and that the smaller teams conducting their sweeps had perhaps not anticipated interruptions to their formation's intent on surrounding from all angles. It also meant that delaying them might buy the others some time.

"It can't be easy, to have a conscience in the midst of all this." As she spoke, Liana moved slowly to roll up her sleeves, a meticulous folding over of material until the gathered material sat just beneath the elbow.

"Hands where we can see them! I will repeat, you are ordered to surrender peacefully! If you refuse, we are authorized to..."

"What, shoot me?"

Liana paused, taking care, despite the urge to squint, to make eye contact.

"Is this not the peacefulness you were hoping for? Perhaps it would be easier if I assured you that you're probably not to be blamed for persecuting minors and threatening civilians. History has a tendency to view war criminals kindly, after all. Well," she continued after the second sleeve was in place, "are you going to take me with you or not?"

This time, the group's hesitation was palpable. As much as her heart had risen all the way to hammer against her throat, Liana forced herself to exude a calmness she would suffer for later on. Emotional manipulation was not easy to palate, certainly not when she was the instigator, and though the cause had to justify whatever means she could muster to stall and redirect, that didn't mean she had to enjoy it. Were it likely to be the only arrow drawn from her quiver, that might have been at least some comfort, but the moment held a certain inevitability she'd already resigned herself to the minute she'd stepped out from behind the bush.

"Cuff her."

She even stretched her arms out to comply, careful to keep looking at the young soldier as he did his best not to fumble. When the butt of an assault rifle ushered her forward, Liana lingered just long enough to add to the tension and then obliged. As the three moved behind to guard her passage, their vantage was obscured just enough that the clench of her fists went unnoticed.

What happened next happened in a flash, though for those involved it felt like a lot longer. Feeling concerned about Liana, Alastair wheeled around and circled back to - well, make sure she was alright - though what he was going to do in bird form if she weren't, he wouldn't know. He was not a fighter. His power made him weaker, not stronger, his bird form weighing only five percent of his normal, human form and with hollow bones he was rather fragile, even if airborne and very agile.

What he also was, was a large, ominous, shadowy form flying overhead over a trio of high-strung, stressed out, insecure young men armed with military grade weapons. And perhaps in his concern about his girlfriend - and limited by the size of the hallway - he flew too low, startling the men. One of which - it didn't matter who raised his weapon and - on impulse - fired. The bolt of light erupted from the energy rifle with a loud crack and the smell of ozone. It slammed into a wing, tearing out a few long, pennaceous feathers, and as Alastair registered that he'd been shot he was already tumbling out of the air to slam into the ground with a thud and a squawk of pain and fear.

It took the span of a single breath for the entire world to contract. Had it been a priority, Liana might have noticed that the sudden gunshot had caused her captors to turn in unison, gunpoints roaming in frantic precision to determine if there was an incoming threat. It was an unwise instinct, as the gutwrench of that distinctive cry of distress froze Liana all the way to her core and set an impulse churning towards the inevitability of surrendered control.

It certainly wasn't a temperature she entertained for long.

In the split second of diverted attention, the world erupted. Searing heat was heralded by the bloom of a fiery glow and, before the trio could react to the target they'd taken their eyes off, the cuffs holding her clattered uselessly to the ground and a shriek ripped through the nightsky. Wings, vast and incandescent, tore outwards and drenched the surroundings in a furious wash of light as the firebird launched, and the volley of bullets that followed an arc upwards found no solid target and disappeared, instead, into the gloom.

"“Target has transitioned; repeat, target has altered form! We have a single airborne mutant asset breaking containment!”

The inferno scultped into flight rose skyward. Instinct screamed to dive, to immolate the ring of soldiers below until nothing but ash remained. Every pulse of her heart urged destruction, every breath a furnace begging to be unleashed. It was the ferocity Liana had sworn to contain, every ounce of her training bent to the sole purpose of never utilising her powers outside the necessity of occasional release. It was far too easy to submit to anger in this form, a primal swell now fueled by the genuine provocation of desperate fear.

But through the roar of flame, one thread of clarity held: the memory of a crow’s cry, cut short by gunfire. Her talons flexed against the urge to rend, her eyes seared across the night, searching; not for prey, nor for enemies, but for him. Even as the heat raged inside her, Liana bent its fury toward a single purpose: finding where Alastair had fallen.

The way of nature was that a sufficient knock to the head would reset short term memory, meaning that recollection of the most recent few moments would be irrevocably lost. Fortunately for Bird Alastair, he remembered exactly what had caused him to faceplant onto solid ground in vivid detail, meaning that the impact wasn't as hard as it could've been. Plus, the ability to recall said events as well as whimper and groan from getting the absolute breath knocked mercilessly out of him meant that he hadn't lost consciousness either - not even for a moment.

Why then, did he see a bright light? And why then did he feel like he was going towards it? It wasn't supposed to end like this, this thing called life - except Alastair wasn't heading towards the light, the light was circling around and getting closer to him, instead. As grogginess faded and vision cleared he recognized the shape of the light - a bird-like form, a phoenix - and it seemed to be looking for something. Or, it struck Al, someone. And that someone was probably him.

With a sting of pain from his right wing he staggered to birdy feet. The left wing folded up neatly on his back in its normal way, the right one less so - though it seemed structurally fine (as in unbroken) it did get knocked hard, some pennaceous feathers necessary for flight got torn out and a scent of singed hair rose from the injury. So right wing held at an awkward angle, Bird Alastair managed to stand, vision and balance slowly settling, the ringing in his head clearing up and the dull sounds from afar becoming clearer as well.

"Lorentz! You moron! You shot a bird! Why'd you do that?!"

The voice came from the distance. One of the young, twitchy, overstressed men in the small group he'd overflown when he'd gotten shot.

"Look out! There's a - .... thing! Fire thing!" another voice shouted.

Instinctively Al turned towards the group and hopped closer, cawing "Peace!" as loudly as his birdy voice could - which wasn't particularly booming. His wing stung, his head was pounding. "Calm!" he rasped again, trying to get the men's attention.

Amidst the panic of attempted blame, and the confusion of denial's best attempt to refuse the blatant evidence that a bird had just spoken to them, the already-disoriented group had flung their rifle-sights every which-way in a desperate attempt to locate a target only to turn, in unison, as the sudden elevation in temperature brought with it a localised ambient heat that set instinct into overdrive. Whirling, they were immediately confronted by the uncomfortable scrutiny of a burning stare as measured wing-flaps sent buffets of hot air into their faces. The phoenix had pulled upwards into a full-length hover, far enough away that nothing had burst into flames but close enough that its potential to incinerate was an undeniable threat.

"Do we shoot it?!"

The returned shriek was oddly lyrical, mournful in a way that didn't entirely mask the creature's irritation and yet the lack of immediate retaliation seemed to invite a moment's pause to reconsider that particular option. Through the flickering haze, at a squint, it was just about possible to view the stars through the fire beast's outstretched wings, which begged the question of what exactly they'd be shooting at even if they tried.

Hardened veterans they were not. They were just young men on a power trip, given a uniform and a military grade firearm to go live out their power trip. But this was not a small group of frightened children to terrorize, this was a blazing bright mythical being made of fire, screeching in rage, and they could feel the searing heat from that range. A few ineffectual shots loosed in Liana's general direction before they broke into a run.

Back at HQ they would tell of how they were attacked and had to run, about how mutants were dangerous and needed to be stopped - they would lie to make themselves look braver and mutants more dangerous, but - for now - the danger of their presence and weapons was no longer a direct threat.

That left Liana herself in all her fiery glory, and the stricken, large raven form of Alastair. The bird now turned his attention to his ladyfriend and, flinching a bit from the heat, once again called out for "calm" and "peace" - left wing neatly packed away, right wing kinda awkwardly and gingerly held to the side, looking haggard and damaged. At least it didn't seem broken.

Control. In the years since her powers had first manifested, Liana's only focus had been to quell the urge to unleash chaos; to spread, expand, consume as was the nature of untamed fire. Harnessing it has been the work of countless eons of progress; mankind had found a way to contain the potency without the unbridled destruction, and yet even then the risk remained. Capricious, insatiable, merciless; everything she had dedicated her life to overcome. It had mattered, it had always mattered, that people came to know her not as a source of devastation but of comfort; warmth without the scorch marks.

All she'd ever wanted was to help people.

The shots that singed her vapors provoked another shriek, though the pain came not from the impact of weapon's fire but the torment of competing wills. As they had marched ever-more certainly towards this night, there had been ample opportunity for Liana to reflect on the circumstances that would follow any decision to transform. If she'd had her way, it would have been avoided at all cost but, in the advent of that not being a choice, the only acceptable alterative was to act as a distraction. Combat was out of the question; not only would it play right into the narrative being created on their behalf but Avalon itself wasn't likely to withstand prolonged exposure to a phoenix's wrath. She had tried to prepare, tried to make time for her meditations, tried to formulate plans based around the most likely scenarios...

She hadn't counted on Alastair getting hurt.

Fury burned but love had forged an unlikely tether. Writhing in the struggle, unable to give chase but just as burdened by an inability to stay, she lost altitude. Off-kilter, the golden wings beat frantically to find a point of balance, desperate to remain airborne. This time, her cry was a warning, before she plummeted, no longer in control of the thermal currents as a ravenous thirst for retaliation met an even stronger compulsion to protect. The descent was far from majestic, inelegance born of an internal turbulence that saw benevolence wrench back the inferno's ire. Somewhere in the tussle, timing played its part, as did the recent rain and a partial success in slowing down the freefall. Impact left a circle of black, scorched grass still smoking but it permitted proximity enough that the resulting fall wasn't from such a catastrophic height as to prove fatal. The sodden earth squelched as she hit, and for once, being saturated by mud was not immediately the worst thing Liana could imagine.

It was not, as it happened, exactly how she had intended to appear sans clothing in front of Alastair Temple for the first time.

Pushed onto all fours, it took a moment to catch her breath and even longer for the disorientation to gift her back focused eyesight. "Alastair." Her first attempt was hoarse but it went some way to aiding the return of her wits.

Time stood still for a fleeting moment the large raven, as he beheld a sight normally reserved only for a very select few people as Liana emerged naked from the mud and spoke a name. It took him just a little bit too much time to register that it had been his name she called out, and that he - as her boyfriend - was in that very selective group of people - namely the only one who had any chance in hell of being allowed to see her like this. Turns out that, yes, a raven can go slackjawed. Though the distance and situation might mask the fact that he had.

Then came the next problem. He could imagine she did not appreciate the situation she had found herself in and that she was uncomfortable. He would be, so it stood to reason that she would be too. He had a great big coat she could use to cover herself with, but that existed as a physical object rather than a metaphorical one only in his other form - a form that he considered secondary. That of a tall, adult metal musician. But he was injured - not gravely, his wing seemed unbroken, but it still hurt like hell and he could tell some feathers had been torn out. He had no idea what would happen if he shifted torms while injured. He'd never tried. Never had to.

Still, a raven must do what a raven must do, and so - eyes closed and a deep birdy breath, with a poof of feathers and a wince of pain he shifted forms. It hurt quite badly to do so and for a moment he cradled his injured arm, wincing, breathing through gritted teeth to find a balance where he could at least rmeove his dramatic longcoat, walk forward towards Li and placed it around her shoulders. The right sleeve was damaged - singed and torn, as was the matching sleeve of his shirt.That was something to contemplate later. For now, he had other concerns.

"Are you ok?" he asked, his voice quiet.

The disorientation was more severe than it had been in a good while. There would be time later to reflect on what that meant for how close she had come to complete loss of control. For now, Liana winced in an attempt to focus and was temporarily thwarted by the shifting reality that deposited a much larger bulk in front of her when she'd been floundering for the impossibility of a black raven lost in the gloom. The scrabble of dirty hands, yet another concern for much later, found the reassurance of a wiry-haired jawline and though she registered the warmth of the weight suddenly set about her shoulders, Liana's only intent was on the man in front of her.

"You're injured. How bad is it?"

"Yeah. I'm - ... I'm ok, I think. Just got winged - " Beat, then a smirk at his own accidental pun. "Just got dinged. It's not broken. Hurts like hell to move," as if to demonstrate he rolled his shoulder and flexed his elbow though winced when a shot of pain arced up through his arm. "We should - " Should what? He didn't know. He just felt like there were things they should be doing, important things, rather than stand here and enquire about each other's condition.

"I could be crass and suggest getting a room but it's probably a better idea to head for the boundary and join the others."

It wasn't just the intrusion of a voice that broke Liana's fretful gaze and diverted her fussing over Alastair into the hasty scramble to secure buttons into buttonholes. Once the initial burst of adrenaline subsided enough to permit some certainty regarding the lack of immediate threat, it was the specifics of identity that froze her furtive glance in its tracks. She was hardly in a position to be too critical given her current state but the new arrival, slouched somewhat forward as if to catch his breath, looked about as close to an accurate representation of something the cat might drag in as she'd ever seen.

Through the grimace of over-exertion, Cameron waved off the stunned silence.

"Long story, really drags in the middle. I'll tell you later. Right now, I've got a message from Claire."

The man's eyes angled upwards as the bounce of his head tried to recount the important missive word-for-word. A twitch of uncertainty saw him land at a recollection that wasn't quite accurate.

"There was something about the short-and-curlies, pretty sure that wasn't it. Actually almost certain that wasn't even Claire." Mhairi, if nothing else, could be counted upon to render a conversation all sorts of different shades of vulgar when she was frustrated enough. Straightening up, the speedster spread his hands in defeat and opted for paraphrasing. "There's a muster point in the woods, Ji-an and Mhairi are waiting. Claire's gone to find Phoebe and I got sent to make sure nobody burns the school down before we have a chance to save it."

"Claire's here?" Of all the questions she wanted to ask, Liana only found the sanity for that one.

"A really, really long story," was all Cam said. "For now, best bet is to join the others outside the perimeter and wait. I've got very clear instructions that this is the best case scenario and that your presence there will be necessary."

Already breaking into a jog, the not-so-dead man turned to move backwards for several steps to add, "Just ask the pipsqueak for more details when you get there, she's got something worked out. It'll sound bonkers but, trust me, just hear her out, " became his last request before a deep inhalation heralded a sudden streak of acceleration.

Liana blinked at where the man had stood, resisting the urge to ask questions neither she nor Alastair had any answers to, and instead slowly drew her gaze back to meet the musician's.

"I guess," she hazarded, worried eyes dropping only briefly to his injured arm before she reached out to squeeze his good hand. "We're going to the forest."