Howdy, howdy, y'all! I'm SO sorry it took me so long to update. Between searching for a job and housework, coupled with the onset of the great pine-pollen wave hitting my portion of the South, I've been having a hard time focusing enough to write. That, and my "W" key decided now was a great time to get sticky. Ah, well. Thanks to Coriander Tea for a great first review! Love ya Cory babe!
Disclaimer: It's not mine, much as I wish it were so.
Warning: Rated T for language; rating subject to change later on (This is a LoganxO.C. after all!)
Chapter One: Two-for-One
It was your basic textbook mission: put yourself in the general vicinity of the mark, watch him/her like a hawk, radio to the team down the road when the mark left, tail from a safe distance. Seems easy, right?
Nah…hell nah, not even close.
First of all, usually I was part of the team parked down the road, and I was perfectly content with that fact. I could slouch in my pilot's chair with my feet up, nodding my head to the satellite radio, and only had to do anything when the mark shifted position, and that could take a while. But, no, this time I was the one keeping tabs on the mark, in the freezing cold, on a motorcycle, in the ass-crack of night.
Damn, I'd never missed the desert so hard.
"If you're listening, 'Cyke, you fuckin' suck," I grumbled not giving a shit that the asshole could hear me, as well as Storm and perhaps the Professor.
"Love you, too, Valkyrie. What's your 20?"
"Mark's in a bar, was hitch-hiking with a trucker…what the hell's the name of this place again?"
"Laughlin City."
"Right…goin' in." With that final notification I finally got my Lakota ass inside, pulling off my hat and scratching my hair back into place as I looked around.
Not too bad…I could definitely have some fun in here, and that cage looked interesting.
"Could I get a Molson's, honey?" I requested the man behind the bar as I sat down, pulling my gloves from my hands a finger at a time.
"I'll need some I.D., sweetheart," he grumbled obviously not happy about being there. I felt his pain. I didn't wanna be there, and I wasn't even a local.
Nodding I reached into my back pocket and removed my military I.D. from my wallet, slapping it down on the bar before reaching back down into my coat pocket and pulling out my pack of cigarettes.
"Need a light?" the bartender asked shoving my I.D. back across the bar after observing it under a light. I guess they had problems with fakes, either that or it was just habit.
"Yeah."
Igniting a lighter, he allowed me to start up the Marlboro between my lips, adding an empty ashtray to the bar along with my beer. "Thank you for your service, Sergeant."
Nodding in appreciation, I instead swiveled around on my stool and sat facing the cage, catching sight of my mark as she entered, taking in the fact that she was wearing a shitload of layers. Whether for the cold or to control her powers, I wasn't sure, but I was leaning toward powers.
Poor kid…she looked way outta her element.
"Mark in sight," I whispered having no prayer of being overheard in the din.
"Copy."
Exhaling a lungful of smoke, I quirked an impressed eyebrow as one of the boys in the cage was thrown into the chain-link wall by the other as if with no effort. Damn.
"In all my years, I've never seen anything like it!" the emcee said into the microphone stepping into the cage as two men dragged the unconscious one out, the victor backtracking into his corner, chewing on the end of a lit cigar. "Are you gonna let this man," he paused gesturing to the winner, "walk away with your money?"
"I'LL FIGHT HIM!"
Good luck…poor bastard. I couldn't help but shake my head. My bet was on the guy who'd won. This new guy was too cocky.
That…and the other guy was a mutant.
It wasn't obvious, but I could smell it.
"Ladies and gentlemen: our savior!" the emcee crowed before covering the microphone and leaning toward the new competitor.
"The one who won…what's his name?" I asked the bartender as he passed, waiting as he glanced up to the ring.
"Dunno…fight-name's Wolverine."
Nodding I turned back around to watch the match, wincing as "Wolverine" was thrown into the wall and kicked in the stomach before receiving an even harder hit to the balls. Oh, shit…
'Oh, shit,' was right, because suddenly Wolverine was up on a knee, arm extended and meeting the punch being thrown. No one else could, but I heard a metallic "clang" like steel bars knocking together as the fists met, smirking when the cocky one suddenly yelled and clutched his hand as Wolverine got to his feet. A punch to the gut doubled him over, and a fierce head-butt brought the "savior" to the mat.
"Ladies and gentlemen, tonight's winner, and still 'King of the Cage'…the Wolverine."
The emcee was drowned out by a sea of 'boos' and catcalls as Wolverine made his way back to the corner, downing a shot of whiskey before inhaling through his cigar that hadn't been allowed enough time to go out.
"Give him a beer when he gets to the bar, on me, would ya, honey?" I ordered the bartender raising my own to Wolverine in a silent toast when I caught his eye, having been the only one who'd applauded his victory.
I like him…he reminds me of someone…
The night moved along pretty quickly after that. This "Wolverine"…damn if he didn't get me the least bit hot and bothered…scrapped his way through a few more fights before finally leaving the cage, the bar emptying surprisingly fast when no one else got into the cage. But, then again, he did pound practically everyone who'd had a prayer of stepping in. Poor bastards.
The mark still sat petrified at the bar, glancing way too conspicuously at the tip jar. I winced in sympathy when the bartender caught her, and almost passed a few twenties into her hand, but the quiet rustle of static in my ear reminded me of why I was there in the first place. Hopefully, after today, she'd never have to steal again.
"I'll have a beer."
I glanced up, having been so lost in my thoughts about the mark that I missed Wolverine coming up to the bar and sitting down on a stool a couple away from my own, and mentally cussed myself out. Bitch, no wonder you got shot in your trigger hand! Fuckin' pay attention or you might as well pull the trigger yourself…not that it would do any good.
"Compliments of the lady there. She enjoyed your fight," the bartender told him turning his cash away and gesturing towards me.
"…Thanks," he muttered bringing my "thinking" smile to my face, a tiny quirk of the corner of my mouth as if I were "thinking about smiling". Kitty had named it.
"Well, from one fighter to another," I paused moving my hair aside so he could see what was left of my right ear. "I give it as a sign of respect. Maybe one day you'll return the favor."
He snorted. "Doubt it."
"Whatever you say, Wolf Man," I murmured smirking in earnest this time when the "savior" came walking up behind him. My lucky day…drinks and a show.
"You owe me some money," he ordered sporting a wicked black eye and still holding his hand close to himself. At least one or two knuckles were fractured; I could hear the bones shifting as he moved.
"C'mon, Stu," "savior's" friend muttered obviously trying to keep his friend from getting hurt even worse. I had to admire him for that. I may enjoy a good fight from time-to-time, but I'm a peacekeeper at heart.
"No man takes a beating like that without a mark to show for it," Stu continued. This guy was either brave, stupid, drunk, or a combination of the three.
"Stu, come on, it's not worth it," the friend added succeeding in pulling him a couple inches away before he leaned forward, situating his mouth about an inch from Wolverine's ear.
"I know what you are."
"Oh, boy, here we go," I groaned aloud to myself ignoring Cyclops asking in my ear what was going on. This is gonna get uglier really fuckin' fast.
"You've lost your money; keep this up, you'll lose something else," Wolverine grit out sounding a millimeter from an all out growl.
As the two men turned away I started to relax hoping and slightly praying that they would just continue walking, but it seemed that God and the Great Spirits were putting me on hold as Stu suddenly turned around with an ominous and all-too-familiar click of a switch-blade engaging with its handle.
"LOOK OUT!" the mark shrieked.
I still can't believe what happened next.
In a span of two, maybe three seconds, Wolverine had launched himself from his stool, knocked Stu's switch-blade from his hand, and deployed two claws of some gleaming metal, pinning Stu's neck between them as well as trapping him against the wall, extending a third claw down the middle until the sharpened tip met the skin of his Adam's apple. I watched this all from where I'd thrown myself in front of the mark, hand beneath my jacket where it was wrapped around the grip of my 9mm.
Y'know…just in case.
My gaze shifted from Wolverine and his prisoner to the bartender as the old man unearthed a shotgun from beneath the bar, cocking it as he held it just behind Wolverine's ear. "Get out of my bar, freak."
Okay…that one hurts.
What did Wolf Man do? He extended his other handful of claws and turned the shotgun into a sawed off!
"So not helping your case here, jackass," I growled beneath my breath meeting his glare with one of my own when our eyes met. "Yeah. I meant for you to hear that."
With a glance between his prisoner and the former owner of a previously functional weapon, he withdrew his claws, straightened his jacket (causing the bartender to flinch backward) and stalked toward the door.
Withdrawing my hand from my piece, I turned to the mark and murmured, "The camper with the trailer. Hide under the tarp." Not bothering to see if she listened (thanks to the tracker under the lapel of her coat), I slapped enough cash to cover my tab onto the bar and headed out, glaring at the accumulated snow on the seat of my motorcycle before sweeping it off and straddling my favorite toy, second only to my Blackbird. Glancing up, I saw the mark cover herself with the tarp mere seconds before Wolf Man came into view. Good girl. "On the move. Heading your way."
"Copy that."
Bundling myself up tighter, I started the bike up and pulled out onto the road, heading west toward the rest of the team.
Forty minutes later…
BAM, BAM, BAM!
"Yo, 'Cyke, open up!" I roared beating my fist against the hatch. " 'Roro, c'mon, I'm freezin' my ass off!"
Jogging back a few steps I barely avoided getting beaned in the noggin as the ramp lowered, the bottom step disappearing into the snow at my feet.
"Get that bike in here before it starts to rust!" Scott called down not even bothering to come down and help with that task. Have you ever pushed a motorcycle through almost calf-deep snow? If you haven't, it sucks trying to do it by yourself. Not that I couldn't, of course, but it sucked having to.
"Gee, thanks for the help, oh Wise and Fearless Leader. What would a lowly X-Man such as myself do without your unwavering guidance?" I grunted digging a trench wider than the Professor's chair as I heaved the machine closer to the one we'd be using to get home.
"I dunno, wreck another one of the Professor's cars?"
"Hey, Santa called. Rudolph's got the flu, he needs you to fill in."
"Don't you have a fire to dance around or a pipe to smoke?"
"I know what you fuckin' have! A long-ass walk home!"
"You know what…dammit! I got nothin'," Scott sighed in defeat as I secured the final tether around the bike.
"HA!"
"All right, you two, that's enough. Kaela, on the comm. Radio the position to us when she's close," Storm ordered ever the mediator between me and Scott. For some weird reason, we just couldn't stand being in the same room together.
"Copy tha-," I broke off my head jacking toward the still open ramp as a scent I hadn't detected in months wafted its rancid way in. "Shit. Guys, get out there. We're about to have company," I ordered shedding my layers, coming up for air in my flight suit.
"What do you..?"
BOOM!
"Sabretooth. Move!"
That order was laced with what the kids have dubbed my "inner drill-sergeant", the slight inflection in my voice promising pain and suffering if I was ignored. Sensing this (at least I hope so), my former teachers made tracks down the ramp and started bookin' it toward the unexplained sound. "Valkyrie to Cyclops, whatcha got?"
"Sabretooth found a way to stop traffic. Big ass pine across the road."
Uh-oh. "Did he stop a camper hauling a trailer?" Please say no, please say no…
"Affirmative."
Shit! "Heads up, you two. That's her. Guy she's with is feral."
"Two-for-one…great. Moving in."
"Copy that." Now there was nothing for me to do except sit on my still-thawing ass and wait. That was one thing I hated about being home. Because of my commitment to the Marines, I couldn't be a full X-Man. They needed someone who could be ready to go within seconds of being alerted, but with the chance of being called lingering over my head, that couldn't be me until my enlistment ran out. Two more weeks, and I'd be free.
"Cyclops to Valkyrie, get that bird off the ground!"
"Copy that. Hang tight, guys, I'm comin'." Firing up the engines, I lifted off and hovered to their location…just as the camper's propane tank went up. I winced in sympathy when the explosion threw them to the ground, touching down within easy walking distance and lowering the ramp, beckoning the mark to me once she boarded as Ororo and Scott hauled an unconscious Wolverine onto the medical bench laid out for that very purpose. "What's your name, string-bean?" I asked gently.
"R-rogue," she stammered staring at me for a moment or two until recognition went off in her eyes. "You were in the bar! You helped us!"
"It's what we do. Take a seat," I instructed nodding my head toward the co-pilot's seat hoping Scott wouldn't be offended. Keying into the comm. and dialing home as I lifted off, I said, "Valkyrie to Professor X, roll out the welcome mat. We're gonna have some company."
"Message received. Hurry home, dinner is waiting."
Chuckling pleasantly, I replied, "You don't have to tell us twice. Valkyrie, out."
"Umm…V-valkyrie?"
"Call me 'Kaela', string-bean. Only the team calls me 'Valkyrie'."
"Kaela…where are you taking us?"
I couldn't help it. I smiled. "A safe place for people like us. We all grew up there. Don't worry, you're gonna love it."
God bless you, Professor Xavier.
How was it? Good? Bad? In-between? Thanks again to Coriander Tea for a review to put me back on the map. Eternal gratefulness is yours.
Little contest up for grabs: Who used the Chapter title in their dialogue, what section, what paragraph, and what sentence? Prize is a Chapter dedication. Don't worry, if you don't get it the first time, I'll be doing this every chapter.
R&R, s'il vous plait? Merci!
-Anni.