The three of them drove out of the compound before anyone spoke. The only sound was Remy occasionally sniffling and clearing his throat. Finally, Kurt could take it no longer. He figured that Remy wasn't solely angry at either he or Anna Marie and it probably had to do with the bigger picture. Even so, it made it even harder to get along with him. He said, "The main entrance to the Green Clan is on one-sixteenth street, right? And we're taking that one because they already know we're coming?"
"That's right," Remy replied and it almost sounded as if he were challenging Kurt to question him, as he had done earlier. "All we'll need to do is go through their homes, looking for any evidence of any remaining MGH." He paused to cough, "I don't care about empty vials, paraphernalia, or anyone who is visibly high, so long as they're not dangerous or in need of medical attention. But, if we see anything that has not been used, anything to indicate they're storing it, it's over."
"How many houses are there?" Kurt asked, and hoped it wasn't something he should have remembered. The devils in the details had never been his favorite expression; he didn't often like to look for the devil.
"Nine," Remy replied. "It's common among mutant communities to place the strongest, most valuable members in the biggest and best houses. Same goes here, so we'll start there. Also, we do have allies among them, in the lesser houses, led by a kid named Dirk." Whether he was trying to soothe their nerves or was just telling them need-to-know information, it wasn't obvious.
"Why wouldn't they evenly distribute their strongest members among all of their dwellings?" Kurt asked and he often asked somewhat philosophical questions when he was uncomfortable.
Remy shrugged, "Maybe they don't care if the weaker members die off, maybe it's some kind of respect thing. They earned it by being genetically superior so they get the best provisions." He coughed again, and said, "I only report what I see. I'm not a psychologist. And you won't catch any of them down there getting their hands dirty."
Apparently, he was angry with Emma, Kurt deduced, and he wasn't sure what else he might say, for fear of getting his head bitten off. But, before he could stop his smart mouth, he said, "It's the same with MacTaggert Hall. No one wants to spend time there, but everyone has an opinion about how those mutants should be treated."
Remy had done his research on the two rookies and he had known Kurt spent some time in MacTaggert Hall, the dorm hall at the Institute designated for mutants who were way weird and needed extra accommodations. Most of these mutants were physically mutated, like Kurt, but they could not function well, or even normally, as Kurt could. Remy could understand what drove Kurt to give a damn about these mutants, and he treaded carefully as he responded, "I didn't realize there were complaints about the way they were treated."
"Not written ones," Kurt replied and he couldn't believe he had even started this topic. Certainly not with someone like Remy, who couldn't possibly understand what it would be like to be signaled out because of the way he looked or the things he needed to function.
Remy heard and felt the bitterness in Kurt's voice and passed his dark brown eyes over him quickly. He wasn't sure what he might say, so he said nothing, letting Kurt assume what he would. Probably nothing good.
Kurt figured Remy wouldn't know whether or not anyone complained in a dorm he had never been in. Remy may have been the head of a group that documented the woes of the less fortunate and assisted them in their assimilation, but that didn't mean he could ever actually get it. He hadn't grown up poor, he had never been ugly, he had never wanted for anything, and so really, how could he relate? All he had was empathy, which Kurt honestly thought was bullshit, and more of a selfish reaction to another's emotion than it was useful. The only thing Remy probably, honestly, felt was pity. And perhaps disgust. However, Kurt supposed, taking a moment to calm himself, his bitterness would not be as helpful as his ability to be better than that. Better than Remy. He could actually relate with these Morlocks; he was ugly, had been homeless and had felt what want was. He would do this job well.
Remy drove much faster than Clay and they made good time on their way to the Green Clan's dwellings. He pulled against the curb as close as he could get to the subway's entrance, only a mere three blocks away. Because of the close quarters in the SUV, Remy turned towards the window and stifled two successive sneezes. "Jesus, excuse me," he said, and he wondered then if Jean was right about that sinus infection because his head hurt from his forehead to his cheekbones. He couldn't wait until the next couple of days were over with, then maybe he could get a decent night's sleep.
Exiting the car, he, Anna Marie and Kurt walked down the stairs and to the old aqueduct shed as he had done a little over forty eight hours ago – though it seemed like a week ago, at least.
If Anna Marie was bothered by the smell of rotting fish, he wondered what her reaction might be to the general stink of the underprivileged. Before they entered, he said to her, "Do your best to keep a poker face. If they see your disgust they won't take as kindly to you."
She nodded almost solemnly. He continued with, "The most important thing to remember is that we're in their territory now. They can see better than we can, keep your flashlight at the ready, but aim it at the ground."
Kurt, whose eyes were able to see perfectly in the darkness, said, "You use it as a weapon, don't you?"
Remy gauged Kurt's tone before he answered. Once again, Kurt was not being condescending. "If I have to," he said. He opened the door to the maintenance shed, and he went in before them.
New York City had been a culture shock to the small southern town raised Anna Marie – but this was indescribable and nothing like she had imagined it would be as they drove here. She had thought that it would be hard to fit through what she assumed were winding tunnels, but there was enough room for even Remy to stand upright. She had also assumed that it would contain mutants just sitting there like beggars on the street, but at first glance she saw no one.
Then, completely round yellow eyes popped out in front of her. She swallowed a scream, and managed only a little squeak. The orbs closed and then opened, and they scanned the three agents from head to toe.
And then Remy spoke to it. "Hey, Randi," he said quietly to the small mutant with eyes that took up most of her face.
As Anna Marie's eyes adjusted to the dark, the eyes became part of a form. 'Randi' was ugly, hardly humanoid, with large yellow eyes, and an odd-shaped head. Like a flat face attached to a lump that started behind the eyes and nose, leaving no forehead or crown of the head. Randi had a small beak of a nose and lips that were the same color as the rest of the face was and were very small. His or her teeth were tiny and widely spaced and there was no neck to speak of, just folds of skin that drifted into the torso. All of the existing extremities, and there were five of them, were the same size and not distinguishable as arms or legs.
"Randi with an 'I'," the mutant responded in a singsong voice – apparently, Randi was a she – as she flapped an arm or leg at Remy. Her voice was as ugly as she was, and sounded as if it was hardly in use with its squeaks and tears. It managed to sound both monotone and happy at the same time.
Remy smiled and continued along. During a census he had taken his first year in the MCRT, he had asked Randi how to spell her name, by asking, "Randi with an 'i' or a 'y'?" He couldn't have known at the time that she did not know anything beyond what she called herself and the ability to recognize faces. As far as he can figure now, there's no reason she should be able to do even that, considering she doesn't seem to have room in her head for a brain big enough to support speech or facial recognition. She relies mostly on instinct and belongs to no tribe or clan or family. She is alone and will probably always be alone. But, for whatever reason, when Remy asked her how to spell her name, she was able to mimic part of what he said and always repeats that same phrase whenever he sees her.
Kurt looked at Anna Marie and together they were wide-eyed. They passed through what appeared to be a makeshift door frame, maybe for structural reasons. The wet, moldy smell that they had smelled upon entering was diminished slightly as their visibility heightened. At their feet, lining the walls were evenly spaced bottles with candles wedged partially inside, reminding them of what Italian restaurants did sometimes.
Between most of the lights were little carts holding things from blankets to pieces of glass. Various mutants were either sitting by the carts, as if watching them or were sifting through them. One of the sitting mutants reached out towards them, and like a magician, produced an interesting-looking pale pink flower seemingly out of thin air. He extended his hand further, nearly touching Anna Marie's ankle with it.
"Ignore him," Remy replied, without turning around.
Anna Marie did as she was told and stepped around the man and his pretty creation. He made a sound that perhaps qualified as speech and pushed his flower towards her.
Before Anna Marie could bend down to touch it, Remy stepped on it and flashed his light into the mutants eyes, earning a hiss. To Anna Marie, he said, "He means well, but those flowers are poisonous." He was glad now that he had told her to 'go for demure' earlier, because he wasn't sure it would have stopped with the flower.
If this was a tour, he would have explained that these mutants, like Randi, belonged to no one; they were the castaways among a castaway society. He added, sensing her discomfort, "We're almost there."
The green paint that signaled their arrival wasn't what Kurt had expected as a marker for a clan. He supposed he had expected some sort of gang symbol or some ancient insignia, as opposed to three not quite parallel slashes on another half-rotted door-frame. "This is it?" he asked.
Remy simply nodded and knocked on the wood part of Red's house.
Two whole minutes passed, which to Kurt seemed like an eternity, but Remy didn't seem fazed by it. Kurt had read the description of Red, but words on paper didn't do the mutant justice. Six foot four or five, with a chest more than double the width of his own, Red was the biggest unfriendly mutant he had ever seen. Colossus, or Piotr Rasputin, Kurt's friend, would dwarf Red, but Kurt didn't find Piotr scary anymore.
Also, Colossus had only two arms and well, looked normal. Red was troll-like, with longish arms and squat, thick legs. He reminded Kurt of something from The Lord of The Rings trilogy; movies he had thoroughly enjoyed. Kurt felt a surge of excitement, belying the fear he had felt at first. He watched as Red crossed all four of his arms at his chest and looked at Remy. "What do you want?" he asked him, his voice gruff and a deep baritone.
Again, Remy didn't seem scared or fazed. Mostly annoyed. "You know what I want Red. Your cooperation." Remy expected Red to act manly and petulant, trying to show his clan that he wasn't scared of the prospect of any of them going to prison. He just hoped it didn't come to physical blows, because he was almost sure even his agility and expertise with his bo staff wouldn't be enough today. However, he didn't let anyone see it.
Unlike Remy, Red was a predator, a hunter. And he smiled slowly. Remy may have been able to hide his emotions, but not the quality of his voice. "You want that, you'll have to go through me first." He puffed up his chest, as if he was a gorilla.
"That isn't exactly how it works," Remy said.
"Maybe in your world, no, but in mine, I make the rules."
"I hope that works out for you in prison, Red." If he hadn't been sick, Remy might have played Red's game a bit better; he would have put on the charm and said something to boost Red's confidence and sense of himself while at the same time gaining access to what he wanted. Today, however, his threats were weak and Red knew it. He turned away to cough, and was upset by the surprising acoustics present in the tunnels.
"Hope you brought enough handcuffs," Red said. "And have fun dragging me to the surface. Cuz I won't go quietly."
It was an old game the two of them played many times, the back and forth wasn't rehearsed so much as in actual words, but in the give and take between the men involved. A word game that sometimes resulted in something physical. This was the reason Remy didn't treat them as if they were stupid, because Red was not. He had to do what he had to in order to keep his subjects loyal, and that meant playing hard to get with a force he ultimately could not defeat. But his people didn't know that. And so the game continued. Both men were very much aware of it.
But Kurt was not. To him, it appeared Remy was losing his ground. So, he took his arrogance, and stepped right in between the two, and inserted himself into their give and take. "It's Red, right?" he asked, not giving Red a chance to answer, he continued, "My name is Kurt, and I think I can level with you here."
Remy shut his mouth, because it had fallen open, and he took a lesson from Red, crossing his arms over his chest as Kurt dug himself into a deep, deep hole.
Kurt continued as Red looked down at him with confusion. "The reason we don't want you to have MGH is because of its danger to your and your communities' health. Not to mention it's a crime to use it and sell it. When I was younger, I was in a similar situation. But instead of selling drugs, I sought refuge in a church. We can offer you that same refuge, outside of a prison cell, if you come with us."
Red got over his sense of confusion and continued to stare down his bulbous nose right into Kurt's face and surprised him by laughing a huge, rattling belly laugh. Then, dismissing him as easy at that, he turned to Remy, and said, "You've run out of tricks, have you? Low of you to think bringing your lap dog would help your cause." Still laughing, he stepped aside, and dramatically motioned them inside, "Look at whatever you please. Then get the hell out."
The ride back to the complex was quieter than the ride from it. Kurt had taken the back seat, leaving Anna Marie the front. Remy could feel Kurt's embarrassment like a thick, suffocating sweater. He felt guilty not saying anything, and he felt bad that Kurt had to learn the hard way, but he wasn't going to reassure him of anything. For one thing, Kurt's pride had enough and he would take it badly, and maybe more so, because Remy thought it was a lesson in humility that Kurt desperately had needed to learn.
Furthermore, he was angry that Kurt had made it quite obvious that he hadn't read Remy's reports, because in one of them was practically the entire description of Red's clan mentality. And for someone who prided himself on his own intelligence, Remy thought Kurt would be smart enough to read a goddamn manual before jumping into the fray. And where the hell was his partner? Anna Marie should have done something to make him shut up. Didn't they remember anything from The Academy? And now, he was beginning to second guess his own decision. Maybe he shouldn't have taken either one of them. Because what if Red had something to hide? And what if Kurt had made him angry? Yeah, Kurt could teleport, but would it be fast enough? And, after seeing how he and Anna Marie did not yet have a feel for the other one, would he leave her there? And Red could surely snap her neck easily. Vampiric skin or not, surely her skin's ability to take someone's mutant powers or life force wouldn't be fast enough. They were both under his tutelage, but he had assumed they knew more than this by now. Logan spoke highly of both of them, but Remy was having a hard time seeing it. And he didn't want to be the one to have to say anything about it.
He stewed about it most of the drive back, not a fan of doling out lectures, and finally when the entrance to The Rotunda was in sight, he said, "Both of you will turn in separate reports detailing what happened today; I would like a copy and you will also give one to Scott. It would be wise to consider the possibility that your partner might throw you under the bus to make themselves look good. It would also be wise to think about what it means to have one. I will be in D.C. for the next day or so, and that will be plenty of time to get it done."
After giving them their instructions, he left them, deciding he should take his own advice. He would have to tell Clay about Dr. Bridges' email and probably owed him an apology for not telling him where he was going and why he was going. But then again, he already knew that Clay would understand.