Operation: Labotamy
Part 1 of the Falcon Saga
"There has been much talk among our leadership regarding this 'mutant' problem. Its what everyone is talking about, weather you're a politician or a home-maker. The truth of the matter is my friends, That is the real problem. All we've recieved is talk, no action. No one seems to be able to do anything. Meanwhile, this epidemic continues to grow. We hear about some new tragedy or desaster every day, last week a teenager blew up a bus. A fifteen year old girl stopped an elderly man's heart with a thought. What has our leadership done to protect us? Elected officals put in office to preserve our best interests pass laws to protect this blight on the human race! Our leadership has failed us, and when the leadership fails, we the people of this city should, no must, take action to protect ourselves. Because tomorrow it might be your dinner table who is missing a son, a daughter, or a spouse, because they had the misfortune to cross paths with a mutant. I'm begging you, join with us in our battle. Because, we're all at a disadvantage in this war and make no mistake, we are at war. Only together can we hope to prevail."
Terry sighed and turned away. It had been almost a half an hour since he followed Hammer through the gateway. The trail was cold and getting colder by the second. He'd stopped absently to search the crowd and ended up listening. Proproganda, mostly. He was about to leave when a man who'd been eying him since he'd arrived, finally reached his side and touched his arm in what was supposed to be a non-threatening manner.
"You're not going to stay and hear the rest? They'll be handing out pins and hats at the end." The mousy looking man, already wearing one of the pins which stated that he was a member of the group, stated.
"No thanks." The black haired man said, brushing his pony tail off of his shoulder. "I've got things to see and people to do."
"You sure? It'll only be a few more minutes."
Terry shook his head and turned to walk away. The man looked like he was about to follow, when they were both distracted by the sounds of an argument behind them. They noticed a tall, slender man, wearing dark glasses despite the fact that it was long past sunset. It appeared that the man was in a heated debate with two smaller but considerably thicker men. Both of which were wearing pins claiming loyalty to the speaker on stage. "Look ya 'ave a right to ya own opinion, but don' try ta shove dat down my t'roat."
The thug puffed out his chest to try and look that much more intimidating. "It's more than just opinions. We're presenting you with hard facts. "
"Uh huh, Taken completely out of contex' or skewed to de poin' where ya might as well ' ave made de whole t'ing up."
One of the two seemed angered by that. "If you had as much brain as you do mouth, you might be able to see the truth."
"And if I t'ought de lot of ya equaled one brain, I migh' try, non."
"You know you're right about one thing. There are a 'lot' of us, and seeing how its just one of you, it wouldnt be wise of you to start an argument here and now."
The red headed Cajun slowly balled his hand into a fist. "If dere's one ting I hate worse den ignorent people on soap boxes, its t'reats."
From across the crowd, Terry rolled his eyes, whispering under his breath. "Dammit LeBeau, Are you an idiot on every world?" By now, Gambit and the two men with the pins were practically nose to nose, or nose to chin as the case may be. Masterson knew a fight when he saw one and right now, he saw one in the making. While the man beside him seemed content to sit and watch the show from the sidelines, Terry felt the need to intervine. The fight about to take place was anything but fair or he might have let it be. A quick examination of the situation had revealed that not only was the tall man outnumbered, giving up the home field advantage, and seemingly exausted, he was more than a little drunk.
Terry stepped up behind the man and spoke over his shoulder. "You might want to back off friend, you're in no condition to fight this fight."
Gambit looked at him, apparently trying to decide weather he was friend or foe, then shrugged his shoulders as though it didnt matter. "I might want to back off, den again, I might not. Is really up to dese gentlemen here." And it was obvious from his tone of voice, he was using the term very loosely.
I will not get angry, I will not get angry, I will not get angry. Terry thought fiercely to himself. There was something about that Cajun that always grated at his last nerve. "Look, I'm only trying to help because I know you didnt start what's about to happen. Lets just walk away now, no harm, no foul."
More than likely, the two men had approached him, just like they had Terry. In fact, the man with the brown hair and leather coat would not be surprised if at least half of the people assembled were arleady card carrying members, placed there to work the rest of the crowd. It was about this point that Terry realized there were more pins in the immediate vicinity than there had been a minute ago. Most of which, had very large men attatched to them. One such man approached the pair. Why dont we all step asside and get out of the way, you're blocking peoples' view of the stage." This was, in fact, a half truth. They were actually sanding at the back of the crowd, but more people were watching them than the speaker who was still ranting and raving.
Gambit allowed a slow, devil-may-care smile to slide across his lips. "Non, Das okay. Ol' Remy, he like it here."
"I insist." The man-mountian said through clenched teeth.
Gambit turned to Terry. "Why don' you do like da man say and step asside. I can handle dis."
Terry rolled his eyes. "Like hell you can. Besides being full of it, you're drunk. Get out of here, Now. I'll hold them off." The Louisiana native just snorted in return. "Fine have it your way you stupid piece of ---" Before he could finish his sentance, however, the large man threw a punch and Gambit's lighening-quick reflexes knocked it away and snuck in one of his own, shattering the man's nose. "...Shit." Terry said under his breath before joining the fray.
It took all of five seconds for Gambit to be certian that this stranger was on his side. It took all of ten for him to decide thats exactly where he wanted him. He was throwing punches and kicks, seamless with raw power and finesse, flying at a speed that even made the X-Man envious. He turned his back on his 'partner' for only a second and then heard the unmistakable wet sound of steel colliding with skull. One of the 'pins' had pulled a baseball bat from somewhere and cracked Terry hard in the head. The taller man fell like a rock. The crowd quickly scattered at the sight of blood spilling on the sidewalk, leaving Remy to cradle the head of his fallen comrade. He tapped lightly on the X badge over his left pectorial. It only took a few seconds for a voice to reply.
"Gambit, Is everything okay?" The male voice asked crisply.
"Dammit Scott, would I be usin dis t'ing if everyt'ing was alright? How fast can ya get here? There's an injured man."
"What happened?" Cyclops asked over the communicator.
"He got hit in da head bad. He loosin' a lot o' blood." The cajun said urgently. "Now hurry da hell up!"
Scott seemed unmiffed, he was already sounding the alarm, but he wouldnt have anyone walk into an unstable situation. "Do you know who he is?"
"Wouldnt ya know it, we forgot to exchange pleasantries."
"Gambit, just look for some sort of identification. Find out who he is."
Gambit sighed and quickly began examining the fallen man's pockets. When his voice came back across the line, it was slightly shaken. "How long till' ya get here?"
"Five minutes, whats wrong?" Now, Cyclops did seem slightly worried. Gambit was always calm and cocky. When he seemed nervous, there was reason to be nervous.
"Jus' get here as fast as ya can. Gambit out." He touched the badge again, closing off the link. Staring down at a styleized badge in the shape of an X, similar to his own communicator, yet completely dissimilar. "Jus' who are ya, Mon ami?" The unconsious man offered no reply.
Part 1 of the Falcon Saga
"There has been much talk among our leadership regarding this 'mutant' problem. Its what everyone is talking about, weather you're a politician or a home-maker. The truth of the matter is my friends, That is the real problem. All we've recieved is talk, no action. No one seems to be able to do anything. Meanwhile, this epidemic continues to grow. We hear about some new tragedy or desaster every day, last week a teenager blew up a bus. A fifteen year old girl stopped an elderly man's heart with a thought. What has our leadership done to protect us? Elected officals put in office to preserve our best interests pass laws to protect this blight on the human race! Our leadership has failed us, and when the leadership fails, we the people of this city should, no must, take action to protect ourselves. Because tomorrow it might be your dinner table who is missing a son, a daughter, or a spouse, because they had the misfortune to cross paths with a mutant. I'm begging you, join with us in our battle. Because, we're all at a disadvantage in this war and make no mistake, we are at war. Only together can we hope to prevail."
Terry sighed and turned away. It had been almost a half an hour since he followed Hammer through the gateway. The trail was cold and getting colder by the second. He'd stopped absently to search the crowd and ended up listening. Proproganda, mostly. He was about to leave when a man who'd been eying him since he'd arrived, finally reached his side and touched his arm in what was supposed to be a non-threatening manner.
"You're not going to stay and hear the rest? They'll be handing out pins and hats at the end." The mousy looking man, already wearing one of the pins which stated that he was a member of the group, stated.
"No thanks." The black haired man said, brushing his pony tail off of his shoulder. "I've got things to see and people to do."
"You sure? It'll only be a few more minutes."
Terry shook his head and turned to walk away. The man looked like he was about to follow, when they were both distracted by the sounds of an argument behind them. They noticed a tall, slender man, wearing dark glasses despite the fact that it was long past sunset. It appeared that the man was in a heated debate with two smaller but considerably thicker men. Both of which were wearing pins claiming loyalty to the speaker on stage. "Look ya 'ave a right to ya own opinion, but don' try ta shove dat down my t'roat."
The thug puffed out his chest to try and look that much more intimidating. "It's more than just opinions. We're presenting you with hard facts. "
"Uh huh, Taken completely out of contex' or skewed to de poin' where ya might as well ' ave made de whole t'ing up."
One of the two seemed angered by that. "If you had as much brain as you do mouth, you might be able to see the truth."
"And if I t'ought de lot of ya equaled one brain, I migh' try, non."
"You know you're right about one thing. There are a 'lot' of us, and seeing how its just one of you, it wouldnt be wise of you to start an argument here and now."
The red headed Cajun slowly balled his hand into a fist. "If dere's one ting I hate worse den ignorent people on soap boxes, its t'reats."
From across the crowd, Terry rolled his eyes, whispering under his breath. "Dammit LeBeau, Are you an idiot on every world?" By now, Gambit and the two men with the pins were practically nose to nose, or nose to chin as the case may be. Masterson knew a fight when he saw one and right now, he saw one in the making. While the man beside him seemed content to sit and watch the show from the sidelines, Terry felt the need to intervine. The fight about to take place was anything but fair or he might have let it be. A quick examination of the situation had revealed that not only was the tall man outnumbered, giving up the home field advantage, and seemingly exausted, he was more than a little drunk.
Terry stepped up behind the man and spoke over his shoulder. "You might want to back off friend, you're in no condition to fight this fight."
Gambit looked at him, apparently trying to decide weather he was friend or foe, then shrugged his shoulders as though it didnt matter. "I might want to back off, den again, I might not. Is really up to dese gentlemen here." And it was obvious from his tone of voice, he was using the term very loosely.
I will not get angry, I will not get angry, I will not get angry. Terry thought fiercely to himself. There was something about that Cajun that always grated at his last nerve. "Look, I'm only trying to help because I know you didnt start what's about to happen. Lets just walk away now, no harm, no foul."
More than likely, the two men had approached him, just like they had Terry. In fact, the man with the brown hair and leather coat would not be surprised if at least half of the people assembled were arleady card carrying members, placed there to work the rest of the crowd. It was about this point that Terry realized there were more pins in the immediate vicinity than there had been a minute ago. Most of which, had very large men attatched to them. One such man approached the pair. Why dont we all step asside and get out of the way, you're blocking peoples' view of the stage." This was, in fact, a half truth. They were actually sanding at the back of the crowd, but more people were watching them than the speaker who was still ranting and raving.
Gambit allowed a slow, devil-may-care smile to slide across his lips. "Non, Das okay. Ol' Remy, he like it here."
"I insist." The man-mountian said through clenched teeth.
Gambit turned to Terry. "Why don' you do like da man say and step asside. I can handle dis."
Terry rolled his eyes. "Like hell you can. Besides being full of it, you're drunk. Get out of here, Now. I'll hold them off." The Louisiana native just snorted in return. "Fine have it your way you stupid piece of ---" Before he could finish his sentance, however, the large man threw a punch and Gambit's lighening-quick reflexes knocked it away and snuck in one of his own, shattering the man's nose. "...Shit." Terry said under his breath before joining the fray.
It took all of five seconds for Gambit to be certian that this stranger was on his side. It took all of ten for him to decide thats exactly where he wanted him. He was throwing punches and kicks, seamless with raw power and finesse, flying at a speed that even made the X-Man envious. He turned his back on his 'partner' for only a second and then heard the unmistakable wet sound of steel colliding with skull. One of the 'pins' had pulled a baseball bat from somewhere and cracked Terry hard in the head. The taller man fell like a rock. The crowd quickly scattered at the sight of blood spilling on the sidewalk, leaving Remy to cradle the head of his fallen comrade. He tapped lightly on the X badge over his left pectorial. It only took a few seconds for a voice to reply.
"Gambit, Is everything okay?" The male voice asked crisply.
"Dammit Scott, would I be usin dis t'ing if everyt'ing was alright? How fast can ya get here? There's an injured man."
"What happened?" Cyclops asked over the communicator.
"He got hit in da head bad. He loosin' a lot o' blood." The cajun said urgently. "Now hurry da hell up!"
Scott seemed unmiffed, he was already sounding the alarm, but he wouldnt have anyone walk into an unstable situation. "Do you know who he is?"
"Wouldnt ya know it, we forgot to exchange pleasantries."
"Gambit, just look for some sort of identification. Find out who he is."
Gambit sighed and quickly began examining the fallen man's pockets. When his voice came back across the line, it was slightly shaken. "How long till' ya get here?"
"Five minutes, whats wrong?" Now, Cyclops did seem slightly worried. Gambit was always calm and cocky. When he seemed nervous, there was reason to be nervous.
"Jus' get here as fast as ya can. Gambit out." He touched the badge again, closing off the link. Staring down at a styleized badge in the shape of an X, similar to his own communicator, yet completely dissimilar. "Jus' who are ya, Mon ami?" The unconsious man offered no reply.