"I don't care. I don't want him living here." From the living room, Remy could identify every voice going off in the kitchen. There was Pietro's self-assured cadence. Remy pulled a cigarette out from his pack and lit it while considering if they smoked in the house or not. He glanced toward the paint peeling away from the molding, then the broken window panes covered with cardboard and decided it didn't matter.
"He could bring in money. There ain't a whole lot of that around right now." Oh good, I'm useful, Remy thought. He glanced around the unkempt living room for an ashtray, over a pile of Chinese take-out and pizza boxes, and half-full beer bottles above the television, finally grabbing an empty beer can from under the coffee table. He glanced around the living room again, This what you been reduced to, Remy. Fair t'say this is bottom.
"Well, maybe if some people around here would actually get out and get a job money wouldn't be so tight." Pietro again, his voice was getting higher as the argument wore on.
"I told you both, I've tried, it's just people don't take too kindly to my pheromones."
"Todd, they're not 'pheromones,' you just don't shower. People don't like-" Remy tuned out as the argument between Pietro and Todd devolved into a shouting match. Remy glanced over at the TV playing nothing but fuzz, then at the stained floor, walls, and ceiling. I didn't even know it was possible for a house to be this dirty, he thought as he swept a clutter of fast food take-out bags onto the floor with his leg, exposing a table lousy with water marks and burns. What this place needs is a woman's touch-
"What are you doing here?" Wanda Maximoff glared down at Remy, who briefly saw the definitions of serendipity and irony float through his head.
"Well, hello to you too. I'm looking to crash for a couple nights. Your roommates been arguing about that ever since I showed up. You got any thoughts?" He slouched a little bit in the chair and flashed his best grin. Wanda grunted an understanding then turned out of the living room. The next thing he heard was a loud crash in the kitchen.
"Babycakes!"
"Shut up. Aren't all of you going on a camping trip this weekend? As in tomorrow? Been planning it for months, Lance worked doubles all week to cover this weekend," Several low grumbles followed this. "So go on your camping trip, and deal with him on Monday. I'll be in the house keeping an eye on him. End of discussion."
"But he beat us up once."
"Oh my god! Go on your camping trip or I will beat you until I see blood," Wanda stormed back into the living room. "You owe me one." And her bootsteps led upstairs without another exchange.
"Mes amis! Y'all good if I smoke in here?"
Much later, after most had retired to their beds and the argument had long faded from the air, Remy sat out in the warm summer air, inhaling deeply from a glass pipe. The front yard of the Brotherhood house looked over nothing, just weeds choking out a yard. One by one he watched the lights in the house flick off as he touched lighter to grass again and again. He had just patted out the remaining ash when Lance Alvers came walking up the step
"Lance? You still running around this place?"
"Gambit? What the hell are you doing here?"
"He's my guest for the weekend, "Wanda appeared at the door. Lance attempted to give the two of them an odd look, but he was too tired for such a feat and simply waved a hand.
"Well, have fun. I'm going upstairs and try to get some sleep. Thank god Pietro is driving tomorrow." He stepped past the both of them and trudged up the stairs.
"Mon ami, you want to hit this," but Lance had already shut the door behind him. "How about you?"
"Of course." Wanda grabbed the bowl and lighter from him and held it in her lap momentarily. "So, you're welcome for earlier." She didn't look at him, instead she looked across the weed choked lawn. Whenever the wind blew, bits of brown grass would be lifted into the air. There were no neighbors to speak of so they both settled into unmatching chairs that overlooked the lawn and the barren street beyond.
"Got to be honest, I wasn't expectin' you to help me out the way you did."
"Well, I'm a little smarter than the guys around here." Wanda took a small hit from the glass pipe, then continued, letting the smoke creep out as she spoke. "I know you worked for my father for years, collecting a steady pay for your services while being provided food, shelter and just about anything else you needed. Not only that, but you rent out your services as a thief, and not for cheap. Now, you're crashing on that sofa? You're either up to something, or you're hiding." Remy's grin disappeared and he stared at the lawn.
"Well, since you so curious to know, my father was killed four days ago, got no idea who did it. Two days ago, I was at the ATM. My account is frozen, nothing in or out. If that ain't bad enough, just as I'm finding that out, bullet misses my head by less than an inch. Lucky for me, they sent a beginner to take out an ace. He's no more then ten feet, so I take him out, no big deal. I ran a few blocks to a friends place here I find out I'm wanted by every assassin in Louisiana. Got a price on my head like you wouldn't believe. Wasn't til I made a few calls that I figured out how bad it was. Whoever ordered the hits, they got everything. Every account I got in the U.S., every safe house my father ever set up, coast to coast is gone. Thank god for Bishop, he helped me get to a train station. Slipped onto one headin' this way, and here I am."
"Wow. I'm, um, I'm sorry about that. I mean, your father-"
"My father got what he had coming to him. As for me, there ain't a force in heaven or hell gonna stop me from puttin' every single person behind this in a pine box right next to that worthless father of mine."
"So, what are you doing up here?" Wanda asked after several minutes.
"Money. You a smart cookie, chere, I didn't need the money your dad paid me. So I stashed it somewhere safe."
"Oh yea? I thought you said all your bank accounts were frozen."
"I didn't hide it in a bank; I hid it in the one place I knew it'd be safe- Professor Xavier's."
"Professor Xavier? The most powerful telepath on the planet, runs the X-men, giant impenetrable mansion, that Professor Xavier?"
"The one and only. And that's where you come in."
"Me? What the fuck me?"
"Whoa, I ain't asking you to do anything you don't want to, just asking you to help me get my money and get outta town," He held his hands up, as though to show there was nothing up his sleeve. When he saw a flash of curiosity in Wanda's eyes, he continued. "See, I can get in and out just fine, but I need a distraction to keep the Professor's brain and Wolverine's snout occupied. I figure I can get in and out under fifteen minutes." Wanda couldn't explain it; maybe it was the weed or maybe it was the fact that the most exciting thing she had done in the past six months was breaking the speed limit, but she could hardly contain a queer sort of excitement when she said,
"If you really think you can pull something like that off, I want to see it."
"Now that's the spirit I like to see, Chere," Remy shouted, his red eyes flashing with excitement. "Now, I been running this through my head for a while, just never had the right person to pull it off."
The next morning, the boys were off early, three A.M. early. At eleven, Wanda finally rose out of bed. She stretched, yawned, and then stopped, her mind snapped out its post-sleep fog. There was the unmistakable smell of breakfast cooking, pancakes and bacon. She hastily threw a bathrobe on and allowed her nose to lead her.
"You cooked breakfast?"
"Course I did. Never pull a job on an empty stomach." Grinning, he set a plate in front of her. She eyed it suspiciously, gently poking the pancakes with a fork.
"Where did this food come from?"
"Found the pancake mix in the closet; stole the bacon from a store 'bout three blocks from here." He filled another plate then sat at the opposite end of the table. He made no effort to talk further until Wanda asked,
"How sure are you about breaking into Xavier's?" His fork clattered loudly on the plate.
"Well, disregarding the fact that Charles Xavier and Wolverine both live there, it's got a state of the art security system, not to mention an entire squadron of kids trained to be the best fighters, strategists, whatever you want to call it. Getting past all that, I hid the money in the subbasement of the mansion-where all the X-men activity takes place. So you bet your ass I'm sure about this."
"Well, just so you know, " said Wanda after shoveling a forkful of pancake into her mouth. "If this goes bad, at any time, I will sell you down the river."
"Wouldn't have it any other way, chere."
[A/N: Please leave a review.]