Disclaimer: I don't own a thing
Title: Born for Bad Luck
By: Peanutbutter
"Boys I'm most done travellin', Lord I'm at my journey's end
B'lieve I'm most done travellin', Lord at my journey's end
Well I been lookin' for me a good partner, bad luck is my best friend..."
(Born for Bad Luck song by Brownie McGhee)
Chapter 9: Life, Love, and Money
"Life has made me
Pay an awful price
I tried to gamble with ya
But you was using crooked dice
Somebody gotta suffer
Somebody sure gotta feel some pain
If it's gonna rain down misery
How come it always fall on me?"
(Life,Love, and Money by Dixon and Glover)
Read me!: So yeah, it's been a while. It's not my fault, really. It was an Internet problem, problem with my card, my server, my everything. It just refused to work and refused to get fixed, so I'm late, yeah, but the good thing is that I'm back and there will another chapter on Thrus. to make up for the update I missed. I think you guys for reading and I apologize again.
John forced the flame to extinguish, and closed his eyes his back pushed against the wall. He forced his mind off the fight. They weren't there to fight, no he was there to kidnap Rogue from their boss, and, wait, keep her hostage while their boss's plans played out? He shook his head. No, no focus, they were getting Rogue out, that was all he could think about because everything else was spinning his head in circles.
They flew past him toward the direction Remy had gone. He didn't know who had set off the alarm, but it was damn inconvenient. They had been careful, as careful as they could be with barely five hours prep time. Usually he wasn't into planning their jobs. He got bored listening to Remy talk about breaking codes, disarming alarms, hoping over laser motion detectors. Just give him the climax, the thrill, and a little fight in between and he was happy. Remy made stealing shit into some sort of religious act.
Another group rushed past. John held his breath when he recognized the front runner, Sabertooth, broad backed and growling was leading a band of mutants. The very mutants he'd help Remy contact and organize. He frowned. He knew just how lethal each member was, their powers, and their weaknesses. He itched to step in front of them, test his theories; get rid of the nervous energy coursing through his body. Let Remy be the hero.
Fighting his instinct, John pushed himself further into the shadows, stepped backward, soft soled shoes silent on the hard floor, they ran past. He clenched his fist activating the flame thrower. A small ball of light formed around his hand, engulfing his skin in an tingling warmth. Cursing, he turned on his heel and headed in the opposite direction. He was supposed to find Rogue, there was a plan, stealth was the key.
He had one job to do. He was supposed to get John the security codes, tell him exactly where Rogue was, when he found out that was. He was in the lab, could see the computer, was almost at his goal, but somehow, someone, had tripped an alarm. He could blame John, but his vision had been blurring since he stepped foot in the facility. He was tried and off is game. He could done it.
They filed in looking, Sabertooth sniffing. He hated being out of the action but it had been his decision to put him in front of the computer. John couldn't sit still long enough to hack, or be out of the action long enough to get anything done. So even though Remy was more adept at stealth, more equipped to break Rogue out, he was stuck here, surrounded by his enemies; forced to keep his mouth shut and hold his breath. All for the sake of the plan, his plan, for stealth.
Screw stealth. This once and only this once he was too tired to follow the plan. Besides if he sat crouched in the shadows much longer one of two things would happen. He would either fall asleep, blissful since his eyes had suddenly gone heavy and he was unable to control the yawning, or the second scenario which was directly related to the first. He would fall asleep slumped against a cabinet, drooling on his black shirt, and Sabertooth would pull him out and rip him to pieces. He'd have to leave John to finish the job. Really that wasn't an option. So he was going to have to break the rules.
He stood. They were in front of him oblivious of him, for the moment. There was a second where he could have slipped out the door and down the hall, and stuck to the plan. He reached into his coat, pulled out his boe staff. Silently, it extended to it's full length his other hand pulled free a few cards. Grained metal in one hand, slick plastic in th other, he grinned.
"Dis a private party?" He asked. They whirled around comical as all five did it at the same time. The hackles of Sabertooth's back rose. "Or is de Gambit invited."
Those were the only words he got out before he was rushed by all five. He laughed, disembodied, hollow as he jumped onto the lab table, smashing glass, scattering papers. His staff twirled catching the big cat across the face, titanium rung against bone, but it hardly fazed the beast. Remy's fingers flew to his pocket pulling out a card while he pushed the end of his staff into Scrambler's stomach. The card dropped into the middle of the pack scattering them as it blew.
Remy ducked barely missing a swung fist. He bent backwards into a handspring and landed on the other side of the table. He shoved the counter top into two of the charging mutants. Lights started to flash, annoying, red, and almost guaranteed to give someone a seizure. As if the alarm hadn't been bad enough.
Vertigo and Scalphunter tumbled backwards with the force of the shoved table. Sabertooth was up again, recovered from the blast, claws extended out the ends of is fingers, eyes dilated as he charged. Gambit jumped backward and tossed more cards, trying to knock the big cat off his game. Sabertooth kept coming, ignoring his charred flesh and running blood.
Arclight was charging him too. Short black hair bouncing as she jumped over her fallen comrades and brushed past Sabertooth, ignoring his growling protest. Gambit swung his staff. The metal rod rushed past her shoulder as she dodged. She threw a punch. Gambit swiveled to the right avoiding the blow and struck again. This time the staff connected with her side throwing her off just enough to give him time to head for the door. His fingers were on the door when he felt the rumble. It rushed up his body, knocking him off balance. He hit the door his face knocking the knob. He tried to remain standing, but the shake increased. He fell, his knees hitting the floor. His staff rolled from his fingers into a lab table.
A glance over his shoulder confirmed that he hadn't been the only victim of Arclight's powers. The others were down too. She was grinning arms outstretched and heading straight for him. He scrambled toward his dropped staff fingers closing over cool metal when she hit him. The force was more than he expected, even when he knew what she was capable of. He sailed through the door, knocking it off it's hinges and hit the wall. His staff was left in the lab.
"You shouldn't have crossed us." She offered in sympathy and raised her arm to hit him again.
Gambit dodged her fist. Her arm buried in the plaster by his head as he rolled to his feet. She cursed and yanked it backward, but Gambit was already up. His ribs were aching, his head splitting, but he was whole. The others where probably already up. He needed to warn John and pull the five away from the cells he was sure Rogue was imprisoned in.
It only took one touch. Remy flinched as his body roared. He pulled backward, trying to shake the feeling. He felt like his skin was detaching from his muscle, the muscle from the bone. The touch had lasted less than a minute but that was all the time Sabertooth needed. They had all recovered faster than he'd thought possible.
Sabertooth's fist was like a brick smashing into his jaw. He flew backward his back slamming into the wall, denting it as he slipped back to the floor, trying to shake the dizzying array of misfiring nerves. A clawed hand fisted in the front of his shirt, pulling him to his feet. Remy gasped, tried to fight back, but his arms were aching, his skin still tingling.
"Interesting to find you here," the words rushed past his lips, garbled, growled, the animal inside his body taking over. Victor Creed had always had a very loose hold on his mutation. Over the years it seemed to have taken over body and soul he was becoming the animal he was named for. The others were silent, ornaments shimmering the background, desperate to come to the front, but afraid of the one in front.
Remy scrambled to hold onto something, anything, that he could charge. There was nothing. The big cats clawed hand closed around his neck and squeezed. Blackness rushed on him.
The voices stopped him, garbled, and loud followed by explosions. John called his friends name, but there was no response. The action kept on the noise reaching deafening levels until it ended with a screeching whine. The feedback made him yelp and jump as he pulled the ear piece out and dropped it to the floor. It was still whining as he rubbed his ear hoping he wasn't going to have permanent damage. He opened and closed his mouth several times trying to pop his ears. He reached for the still whining ear piece and pushed the small button that would have been near his lobe. The static and whine died.
John swallowed. Something had happened to Remy. There went his door codes, his directions, the fucking plan. He tried to be pissed at the cocky Cajun for dragging him into this, but he had been just as willing. Besides all this meant was that he was in charge, the mission was now his mission and stealth, he grinned, stealth was going to take a back seat, 'cause he was going to blow the entire building apart. Save the both of them.
Sparks rested on the ends of his fingers as he heard footsteps coming toward him. He could blow the plan wide open, take action. He paused the steps were getting closer, their voices louder. He knew them. He stood in the open fire dancing contemplating his next move. Just as they rounded the corner he slipped into the shadows, hiding down a darkened corridor, trying to avoid the flashing red lights.
The voices belonged to two men wearing lab coat, and holding stacks of folders nearly an inch think with papers. They worked there. He watched them for a moment before making up his mind. Maybe, this one, blowing things up wasn't the answer. He slipped into the hall, following. Maybe stealth was a good idea after all.
Her powers weren't working. She didn't know how she knew, it was like something was missing, like how she'd felt after the cure. Empty, hollow, it made her ache. Her mind was still scrambled, people popping up, trying to take over and her only barely able to push them away. The strongest psyches were wearing her out, even ones she hadn't thought about in years pushing, pulling, and slamming into the walls the Professor had helped her build, that she had painstakingly up held.
She didn't know how long she'd been out. All she really remembered was the car accident, that tree heading right for her. Everything else was a fractured blur. The pieces were too small and too many to put back together. She knew she'd slept because of the dreams, bits of memory had rushed over her when she slept combining and swirling together.
Scrambler was at the fore front, laughing, jabbing, memories filled with death and maniacal delight at the sight of blood. Then there was Gambit, still strong, hated being trapped, but he gave her memories she could live with, human, mistakes, but she felt emotion, a life. Scrambler, Sung, was empty, too broken by his past to be human. The others joined in, faces where they didn't belong, watching and commenting, fighting for their turn, for their story to be told. Her mind was exhausted, her body was still tired. She didn't know how long she could go on.
"You're awake, excellent."
Rogue looked up, hands spinning in the fabric of her shirt, twisting as she listened, fought the fear. Her door opened light flooding into the darkness, stinging her eyes. She pulled her shirt tighter. A man stepped through holding a needle. She stiffened.
"This is just a little something to help you relax."
He advanced, smiling. He flipped the switch on the wall turning on the lights as he shut the door behind him.
"Essex wants to talk to you."
He lunged for her without warning. Rogue moved, thankful for the danger room sessions and her quick reflexes. His hand flew out stopping his fall. She didn't hesitate. Her leg flew out catching him across the face. The needle skidded across the floor stopping on the wall to her right. The doctor grunted, falling onto his hands and groaned. She kicked again her foot digging into his stomach and knocking him onto his back. That's what he got for under estimating her. She ran for the needle. She'd give him a dose of his own medicine and get out.
The world started to spin. Rogue faltered. The syringe doubled, swirled and she was forced to close her eyes. She still felt like she was spinning. Her stomach heaved, empty but still angry. She fell her knees striking the floor, cracking on the cement. She opened her mouth, her eyes watered and she heaved again, gagging as nothing came up.
"So feisty."
Rogue forced her eyes open her hand still on her stomach. She looked up. There was a woman standing in the doorway, grinning.
"So much fun today. I had no idea work could be this entertaining." She waved her arm.
The spinning increased, her vision narrowing into a tunnel, her stomach churned. She gagged, bile rushing up her throat burning her insides as it splattered on the floor, yellow and foaming. Her lips brimmed with spittle, her throat was on fire, everything was still spinning.
"Goodnight."
Somehow the needle had gotten into the woman's hands. Rogue tried to roll away from her but every movement was agony. She hardly felt the prick in her arm before, once again, the world faded away. The dreams started immediately. This time it appeared to be Gambit's turn again.
John scanned the files lazily, his feet propped on the computer console. To the back of his chair and by the door lay the unconscious bodies of the lab workers. He originally thought following them would lead him to Rogue. Instead it had led him to Remy's original destination, the control room.
They didn't seem to be bothered by the fact that the door was in the hallway, or that there were dents in the walls, scorch marks everywhere. It was all everyday. They stepped over the rubble, mumbling to each other and laid their files onto a still upright table.
They had been quick work, a blow to their back of their heads and hardly a squeak out of either of them. They'd dropped like sacks of sand and hadn't made a sound since. He'd started with the files first, hoping to find something on Rogue. There were mutants in the file, but non of them were her. It was strange each on was a little stranger than the next. Physically deformed, with amazing powers, there were at least eighty different mutants. The most disturbing was the red inked word next to each name, inferior genes.
He knew who the people were, the Morlocks. He had only been there once but it was hard to forget their faces, or in one case the near lack of one. What did the files mean, inferior genes. He shouldn't care. After all they were only in this to save Rogue, and well now, probably, Remy as well. He wasn't there to ruin the job they'd actually done. He closed the file and lay it on top of the other's.
He ignored it and flipped on the computer. His eyes scanned files, bookmarks, useless shit, DNA strands, math problems. He clicked past them faster than he could read them only knowing it was useless. He didn't know how he got to it, but the file stopped his insane clicking. He paused on the exit button and looked. It was a map. He took his feet off the console and looked closer at the lines and scrawled handwriting. It was a map of the NY city sewer system.
There were several spots circled in red, names scrawled in unintelligible script next to each circle. These were the Morlock tunnels. His eyes flashed to the files, inferior genes, and back to the map.
He sighed, eyes widening, "Well shit."
"Really, I was just thinking it was my lucky day."
John jumped to his feet flames sparking to life on his palms as his whirled around. He didn't wait to see who it was before he tossed the first fire ball. The woman jumped out of the way, too fast for his first toss. She tossed her short locks out of her eyes and smiled.
Arclight, it had to be Arclight. So he'd called her a man a couple of times, teased her because he knew they were on the same team, that at least Essex didn't want him dead, so she wouldn't kill him. No here she was super strength and all looking to tear him to pieces. He really should watch who he teased.
"Lucky, 'cause you get to see me," John mocked, "I'm flattered." He tossed another ball of flame, it was hotter than the last and moving faster. She jumped, sailed over the flame and landed on her feet, closer to him than before. The ball of fire struck the desk behind her, the papers burst into the flames. He could use that to his advantage.
His eyes darkened when she started to shake the floor. The computer screen burst a shower of glass hitting his back, but he stood his ground. He called on the fire growing behind her. It jumped forward, licking at the walls trying to find something to latch on to. John focused, ignored the wave rushing over him forcing him backward into the shattered glass, he forced the flames to grow hotter. The wave glowed, white, nearing blue before she turned around. She screamed. He ran. He couldn't afford to get in a fight not now. Not when he was the only thing standing between Essex and Remy, Rogue, and the Morlocks.
All he could see were their faces, innocent, children, shunned, despised, belittled, because of what they were. He couldn't let it happen, not when he had been responsible for so much death before. He didn't like to have regrets. He didn't like to think about the past, but he couldn't do it again. He couldn't stand back, not this time.
There were other behind him. He could feel them. He dodged, jumped and set the halls to burn. When he hit fresh air, they were still behind him. He didn't loose them until he hit the woods and jumped into his car. He sped down the road, knowing that it was only a matter of time and he needed help.
John didn't get nervous. His first trip to the institute did little to shake him. It was just another home, somewhere else for people who weren't related to him to yell, scream, and hit. He hadn't seen the charms of the foster system yet. He'd scoffed at the classes, their lessons on control, math, grammar, freaking Spanish, it was just complete crap. Scott tried to befriend him, a big brother. He'd set his sweater on fire, claimed it was an accident. The professor sat him down tried to get in his head, figure out what it was that made him tick, he'd tried to close off his mind concentrating of giving nothing away. The professor called him on, something about projecting. It was all predictable, ignorable, stupid, except for Bobby.
His roommate was different than the rest. Bobby was happy, smiling, laughing, pulled John to the side to tell him something he thought was funny. Gave him a sweatshirt when he'd arrived, still too proud to accept Ororo's offer to take him shopping. He never mentioned the times John got in trouble, never talked about where he'd come from, his family, or his old friends, and he never asked John about his. Bobby was different. Bobby was what made him stay when he thought he'd run away. He didn't think he'd ever had a friend before, at least one that didn't need anything from him. He'd even managed to trick the poster boy into causing a little mayhem, sabotage to Scott's car, hair dye in the girl's shampoo.
He didn't figure anything would change that, but when he'd reached seventeen and Rogue had shown up things did. It wasn't that he wanted Rogue. He'd prefer a girl he could touch, but it was just that Bobby had her, and she wanted Bobby. It left him wondering what was wrong with him.
Rogue didn't know where he'd come from, didn't know his past, but it was like she was throwing it back at him. He wasn't good enough. She just wanted Bobby, she ignored his attempts at flirting, his attempts to get her attention. When he'd finally met Bobby's family he realized there was no point in him trying anymore. Magneto sealed the deal, promised him something he never thought he'd have, control, power, status. He ignored the conflicting parts of his brain and focused on the anger. Somewhere in there he'd let his mind catch up with his actions and tried to go back, but it was too late by then. He had his lot in life. He was one of the bad guys. He'd never been cut from the mold of a hero. Not a Bobby, perfect from birth, or Scott, or even freaking Wolverine. He was hopeless.
"What are you doing here?"
John shoved his sweating palms into his pockets forcing himself to be calm. Bobby wasn't. There was frost forming on his fingers steam curling out of his mouth and nose as he breathed. Bobby had once been the only person he trusted, now Bobby was enemy, and all of it was his fault.
"Chill, iceboy, I came here to talk, not fight."
"Sonova bitch, you kidnapped Rogue, who knows what else you're up to." Ice was forming in his palm.
"Forget the act, nobody's here to see it," John spat, so much for being civil. "Besides I have something you want."
He paused eyes melding from solid to hazel. "Talk." He straightened his jaw throwing out his chest. "If you've hurt one hair on her head." The hero trip really was nauseating.
John rolled his eyes, "Why do you care anyway. She's not your girlfriend anymore."
Bobby narrowed his eyes. John nearly grinned.
"Something about you not being man enough downstairs."
"You sorry bastard!" The stream of ice was wholly unexpected but it was surprising how fast it could travel the fifty feet between them. John barely had time to pull out his lighter and melt the stream. He jumped out of the way before Bobby could send another blast. Bobby was strong, but John hadn't spent the last four years sitting on his ass. He had some new tricks to show the all-star.
"You forget I didn't come here to fight," Bobby pulled his hand back, frost melting. John pushed his luck and added, "Dumbass."
His eyes glazed over, frosty and white, but he didn't move a muscle. A smile inched it's way across Bobby's face. John raised a brow. That wasn't really the reaction he'd expected, the anger, but the smile. Bobby was probably thinking about what he was going to do to him when the conversation was over.
Arms encircled his shoulders, pinning him in place, squeezing the air out of his lungs. John froze his fingers pressing against the starter or his lighter. It fell from his fingers. He watched the bottom half tumble to the ground, fluid spilling into the grass. 'Shing' whistled past his ears and he felt metal pressed against his throat. The tip dug in drawing blood with an uncomfortable sting.
"What are y' doin' here bub?"
He should have known, that smile wasn't for nothing. Bobby was too good to get his hands dirty. He was leaving the eviscerating to Wolverine. John wasn't stupid. He'd expected the man to be there, he'd just hoped that he wasn't. He knew coming here meant possible death, but he tried to hang onto his trump card. Rogue, Rogue was what would get him in.
"Didn't know you cared, Wolvie," he snarked pushing the quiver out of his voice. "I've missed you to."
The blade pushed a little deeper and he could feel the line of blood rushing down his adam's apple and soaking into his collar. Maybe that was pushing it.
Kay, there it is. So give me some feedback, please, makes sweet puppy eyes
Preview for the chapter on Thrus.
He still felt strange, his body humming, his limbs aching and his head felt like he'd been on a bender. He groaned and tried to roll to his feet, but his legs refused to work and he flopped uselessly onto his side, gasping for breath from the effort. He could feel the sweat forming on his brow, dripping down his face, stinging his eyes. It didn't matter that he was shaking, freezing, his body didn't believe him. The sweat was just going to make him shake harder.
Numbly he reached for the blanket, his fingers fat and useless slipped against the cotton. Frustrated he clamped his jaw only to bite the end of his tongue. He cursed and lay still. It was going to ware off. He knew that. It was just going to take a while. He had no idea how long the bastard had held onto his arm. It was probably a little longer than necessary, he had, after all, nearly blown his head off. He was just going to have to wait it out.
He closed his eyes, hoping sleep would come, relieved that Essex only believed in the minimal torture of his 'patients'. The bed he was on was soft, softer than the floor, and there was air blowing in from the ceiling. It was clean, a toilet in the corner. He'd been in much worse.
A chill rushed up his spine, and he thought of reaching for the blanket again when he heard a voice. It could be a hallucination. He'd heard so many people before he blacked out that there was really no way to tell what had been real. He'd thought he'd heard John, warned him, but he didn't even know if he'd actually been speaking. Not to mention his rambling might have given his friend away. Their entire mission was a bust. He'd failed miserably at heroism.
There it was again, snuffle, a voice soft and garbled, but a voice he knew. He forced his eyes shut and tried to concentrate. For a moment the extra effort did nothing but make the world blur. He pushed past it, forcing himself into a more conscious state. Her voice drifted to him, the rustle of leaves on the wind.
"Rogue?"
He spoke softly, not sure that his words would carry, that he was actually hearing her. He said her name again, louder, with more purpose. His voice echoed, booming against the large empty walls. The response was another whisper of sound.
"Rogue is that you?"
He needed to get closer to the sound. He narrowed his eyes and tried to pinpoint it's origin. Was it coming though the walls, the ceiling, in front of him? His toes barely broke his fall, his knees struck the ground next followed by his palms. His skin slapped against the hard floor failing to keep him upright, but softening the blow as his face struck the floor. He inched toward the right his hand touching the wall, supporting him as he lifted his torso.
"Rogue?"
"You're not there. Ah don' know ya."
She was clearer this time. He pulled his body against the wall resting his ear against the metal. His fingers hummed, the semblance of power resting under his skin. It begged to come forth, but he couldn't tap into it. The room was sucking, suppressing, his mutant ability.
The cool metal did little to stop the chills running over his body. His shirt was wet around the collar, down, his back and under his arms. He curled his legs toward his chest, tucked his bare feet under his legs willing them to warm against his own body. His arms he tucked under his arms. Gritting his teeth he tried to talk to her.
"Rogue, it's Remy..."
Yah. It's good to be back. I'm sorry about all the delays. I'm going to finish this story. No worries on that.
