Pinned Down // St John & Remy
For once, couldn’t things just go according to plan? Could there be no explosions, no surprise ambushes, no indistinct screaming? Apparently not. And, like always, St John found out the hard way. He knew he shouldn’t have attended this stupid rally-like thing—this stupid meeting. But, for some reason, it seemed necessary. Like it was a major turning point in history, and if he missed it, nothing would ever be the same again. That’s how he felt about the first protest he went to—you know—the one against the cure. Except, all that happened was him burning a building down. Nothing too extraordinary.
The people in attendance seemed to be getting louder and angrier by the second, each spewing creatively offensive insults at one another—and, as much as St John loved to rile up a crowd and get them to their breaking point, this just seemed a little too... dangerous. So, like any normal, logical person, he began to make a break for it, shoving every person that got in his way, or tried to block him. He was on the opposing side, apparently. The “bad guys.” So, of course some kind of resentment was going to occur, but this time it was just a lot to handle all at once. And, in all honesty, the most St John can handle at once is about seven people—only if they’re unarmed.
Yet, despite his humble compliance, St John was struck down and pinned by an unnamed officer, who continuously rambled on and on about something. Jokes on him, though, the fall rendered St John somewhat dazed for the lecture, and all he was concerned about was the other man next to him. They must have both been mutants, right? Or why would the officers—officers? These didn’t look like any of the officers St John was used to. Like an evil S.H.I.E.L.D, or something. From his short time with Magneto, he could remember them talking about a secret organization that harbored some crazy stuff. And they were a little, you know, bad. Damn, if only he had paid attention.
Most of the crowd seemed to be moving forward, or, in other words, towards St John. His first instinct was to move—was to get up and make a run for it. But the people on top of him were carrying guns, big guns, and as much as St John wanted to think it, he wasn’t invincible. Hell, he wasn’t even wearing a bulletproof vest. But, you win some, you lose some, right? And getting shot seemed better than being crushed to death. Ouch. Quietly, St John pushed his lighter out of his pocket, listening to its soft thud as it hit the ground, cap flicking open just slightly. With an aggravated grunt, he attempted to get the flame going, only tapping the button ever-so-slightly. But luck must have been on St John’s side that day, and a miniscule flame appeared out of almost nothing.
The next motions were easy. Freeing. Fun. The small, useless flame erupted into a gigantic ball of fire, easily turning the two HYDRA agents on top of the mutants into a crisp. St John stood up, ignoring some of the people’s terrified screams. Oops. Maybe it was a little too aggressive. He didn’t mean for it to hit any of the people who were just standing there, but man, he was a little ticked off. No time for apologies, though. He pulled the other man up by the arm, awaiting a response. What was the point in dragging along someone who wanted to kill him? Better to just see what he responds with.
“I don’t mean to be pushy, but it looks like we’ve gotta go.”
