Chapter Twenty-One – Hurry, Remy
Pink Floyd - Time
Just a note, because we've got 'Wade' and 'Ward' in the next few chapters, and I'm not going to call Ward 'Grant', I'll be referring to Wade as Deadpool unless someone's actually speaking to him and using his name, to avoid confusion.
A new message from Ward arrived before they'd been in the air twenty minutes. He appeared to have decided to ignore the fact that Skye had told him she had met her soulmate, simply reiterating his demand that she hand herself over in exchange for Ace Peterson, at which point he would then tell them where to find Deathlok, who otherwise would start killing civilians in a crowded restaurant district during the evening dinner rush.
Phil dictated messages for Skye to type back, agreeing to his demands, and they had a few nervous minutes until Ward sent her an address in Oakland with instructions to come alone.
"He'll change it at the last minute to San Francisco, hope to have the rest of us trapped on the wrong side of the Bay trying to do surveillance on that address," Phil murmured. "Thank God for Remy: we've got time to get there ahead of him."
Jemma headed down to the lab, but she couldn't concentrate on anything and found herself just sitting clutching her phone. Remy had told her that he was inbound on another flight but he'd be about an hour behind them. "Remember what I told you about Hunter," he'd told her before he had to go. "Je t'aime, mon ange."
I have to let my friend take a bullet for me. I have to trust Remy.
A gloved hand came gently down on hers, pressed on her fingers. "Yah're going to crack the screen if yah squeeze it any harder," Rogue said softly.
Slowly, Jemma unclenched her fingers, glanced up at the younger girl. Rogue was watching her from those huge green eyes, her expression sympathetic. Fitz stood just beyond her, and to Jemma's surprise she saw that he'd changed into black tactical gear, a gun sheathed on his thigh.
"Why are you…?" she asked, gesturing at his outfit.
He only smiled tightly. "Another shooter's never a bad thing," he quoted one of Phil's favourite sayings. "We've been one down for a while now. I can shoot. I've been practicing. Maybe I'll never be able to snipe the wings off a gnat at five hundred yards, but I can shoot well enough at close range."
"Are those ICER rounds?" Jemma had to ask.
"No." His blue eyes met hers resolutely. "They're not. I'm not interested in taking Grant Ward prisoner. We've been down that road. It doesn't end well."
Jemma took a deep breath. "You'd better give me a gun as well, then."
"Jemma, you're not a shooter." It was Phil's voice, from where he stood framed in the lab doorway. "It's true that Fitz has been practicing, he's put in countless hours on the range over the last few months. But you…"
"Give me an ICER then, a taser, something! I'm not going in there unprepared and defenceless, waiting for someone to save me like some stupid heroine from an old movie if something goes wrong! I went undercover at HYDRA, I can do this!"
Phil looked at her silently for a long moment, and then he nodded. "All right. But I don't want you visibly armed. I need some people who can blend in with the scenery. Find a small ICER gun that will fit inside your jacket and not be obvious. My taser's in the top left drawer of my desk, if you want that too."
As she stood and headed for the door, he added "Oh, and everyone wears bulletproof vests under their clothes. I'm not taking any risks. It's barely above freezing and foggy as hell in San Francisco today so you'll be glad of the extra layers anyway."
Bulletproof vest. Jemma stopped by the door, and said without looking at Phil;
"Don't forget to remind Bobbi and Hunter to wear theirs when you speak to them. You know Hunter doesn't like to wear one."
"Good point, I'll remind him. Go on, Jemma. Check the lockers and find one to fit Anna-Marie as well."
It was almost dark and bitterly cold by the time they landed, in an abandoned lot Bobbi and Hunter had scouted for them. They left the Bus's cloaking device on and Mack to guard it and man the command centre to co-ordinate their movements – about which he was furious but resigned.
"Don't die out there, Turbo," he muttered, giving Fitz a bear hug. "And look after our little lady." He'd adopted a very paternal attitude towards Rogue, who adored him and treated him as her personal teddy bear. He was so much bigger than her she never had to worry about their faces possibly brushing when she hugged him. He levelled a huge finger at Jemma. "And the Cajun will kill the lot of us if you get so much as a scratch on your hide – so don't."
"I'll try." Her fingers tightened on the phone in her pocket. Hurry, Remy. Jemma had the terrible feeling that everything depended on Remy's arrival in time, despite the presence of Deadpool, who'd been convinced to put on a long black duster coat over his sleeveless shirt and cargo pants, into which Fitz and Mack had hastily fixed some clips and straps to hold his katanas crossed upside-down on his back, the hilts concealed beside his thighs. Deadpool was sticking very close to Skye, who of all of them was the only one unarmed as per Ward's demands, though she'd taken Coulson's advice and put on a bulletproof vest under her clothes.
May came striding in then, looking as calm and unruffled as always, though a certain tightness around her eyes betrayed her stress. Jemma impulsively gave her a hug, feeling May tense with shock, though after a moment she relaxed into the embrace and returned it.
"It's all right, Jemma," May murmured quietly. "It's all going to be all right. Don't worry."
Remy told me that the best outcome he can foresee today is that you will almost die, how can I not worry? Jemma didn't say it aloud, just hugged on for an extra moment before letting go and climbing into the back seat of the SUV. Rogue slipped in beside her, tugging automatically at her gloves, black leather ones today. The cold weather made it easier for her and the only exposed skin was the pale oval of her face beneath the long green hooded coat she wore.
Fitz climbed in on Rogue's other side, and Jemma was surprised at just how badass he looked in black combat gear. He handled himself comfortably, relaxed with the gun at his side. She recognised Hunter's lethal, economic movements, and realised just who'd been training her oldest friend.
"I hope you didn't pick up Hunter's habit of making smartass remarks as well as his shooting techniques," she said lightly. Fitz grinned across at her.
"No. I did finally come up with the catchphrase for CSI: SHIELD, though."
"And what's that?" Coulson, getting into the front passenger seat, twisted to look at Fitz with a wary expression.
"CSI: SHIELD. Whatever you do – don't touch Lola."
There was silence for a beat, and then all four of them started to laugh.
May got in then, starting the engine, glancing in the mirror at the three giggling in the back seat, and then across at Coulson, stifling his own chuckles. A slight smile curved her lips as she pressed her foot on the gas.
"Come on baby, let me take you for a ride," Deadpool patted the motorbike seat behind him. Skye sighed, tossing him a helmet. He gave her a quizzical look. "What am I supposed to do with this?"
"Wear it so that we don't get stopped by the cops?"
"Oh – all right then. Since you asked so nicely." He yanked it on, buckled the strap. Skye swung her leg over the pillion and he let out a little grunt of pleasure as he felt her slight body lean against his back, her arms sliding around his lean waist. "Mm. Feels good baby, but next time I want you to sit in front so I have that beautiful ass on my lap."
She pinched him lightly. "Get your mind out of the gutter, Wade."
"Very hard to have it anywhere else considering where you've got your hands…"
"They're on your belt."
"Exactly. Pretty much right on the danger zone."
Skye blushed, glad he couldn't possibly see her face, as she realised just what he was implying. He laughed, as though he could see her blush anyway, and gunned the bike off the ramp after the SUV. She tightened her grip with a gasp, felt one strong hand come down to press on hers, holding her firmly against him, and for the first time in a very long time, Skye felt suddenly, irrationally safe. She pressed closer to Deadpool's broad back, held on tighter to his lean waist. He put his hand back over hers whenever he didn't need it to control the big bike.
They met up with Bobbi and Hunter close to the on-ramp of the Bay Bridge, just in case Ward did demand that they go over to Oakland after all, but it was just a few minutes later when Skye's phone pinged with an incoming email.
Change of plan.
And just as Phil had guessed – and Remy had obviously known – the new address was in San Francisco. Some fifteen blocks away, but they had an hour to get there and scout the location, an hour they wouldn't have had if they'd had to come across the Bay – more time for Remy to arrive, Jemma couldn't help but think, checking her own phone. The fog was rolling in thicker than ever and she wondered suddenly if he would be delayed, if his flight would be able to land. Was he on a commercial flight? He didn't say… oh God, Remy, please hurry.
"All right," Phil said once they'd found a quiet spot to hole up three blocks away, in an old closed-down store, "you're up, Rogue."
She smiled nervously, if a little proudly. Since she and Deadpool weren't known by sight to Ward, the two of them were going to stroll casually, on foot, past the address he'd given them and scout it closely.
Deadpool had objected – vociferously and repeatedly – to being asked to leave Skye, but in the end it was Skye who had persuaded him to capitulate, with a hand on his arm and a quietly voiced Please, Wade. He looked almost as though he was going to start objecting again now, right up until the moment that Skye took off her motorbike helmet, wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down for a thorough kiss.
The rest of them all looked away tactfully. Until Hunter got bored. "Come the fuck on, we haven't got all night," he said loudly.
"Be careful." Skye pulled back from Deadpool.
"It's not me we need to worry about, babe." He stroked a gloved finger down her cheek. "I'll be back to collect on that promise."
"Promise?" she frowned. Was he talking in riddles again?
"The promise you just gave me with that kiss. Of a very hot and steamy night indeed. Remember, we're gonna do show and tell with our soulmarks later." He grinned wickedly, took Anna-Marie's hand on his arm and strolled out with a wink over his shoulder at a blushing Skye.
They walked quickly. It was too cold to dawdle, would look suspicious if they strolled along. No, they walked fast, huddled close together, Rogue's head almost touching his shoulder, just a young couple hurrying home in the chilly evening, well bundled up. Deadpool's trained eyes spotted at least five people who were hanging about far too suspiciously for the cold weather, though, and as they approached the target building he pulled out his phone and started texting, again a perfectly normal thing to do – if he hadn't been texting descriptions and locations of the lurkers to Coulson, anyway.
"Wade!" Anna-Marie's gasp alerted him, and he looked up to find they'd come face to face with a tall, dark-haired, very handsome man. He stood directly in their path, staring at them. Deadpool had seen plenty of photos of him that day.
"'Scuse us, buddy," Deadpool drew Anna-Marie aside, acting the part of a boyfriend quite legitimately concerned when some guy confronted them randomly on the street, putting himself between her and Grant Ward.
"There a problem here?" He tried to sound wary but unaggressive, though every instinct was screaming for him to draw a katana and put it through Ward's throat before the bastard could take another breath. They didn't know who was with him, though, who was guarding Ace Peterson, what orders might be given to Deathlok if he jumped the gun and killed Ward too early.
"No problem," Ward scanned his face dismissively, took a good look at Anna-Marie. He might have thought she was Skye, Deadpool realised belatedly; they were a similar height and build, and with Anna-Marie's distinctive white-striped hair hidden under her hood, he'd have needed a good look to be sure. "Just thought you were someone I know."
"Ah'm sorry, ah've never seen yah before," Anna-Marie said, flashing her huge green eyes at him. "Ah think ah'd've remembered yah." She gave him a shy, but blinding smile, and Ward actually smiled back perfunctorily before turning away.
"Were you flirting with him?" Deadpool had no problem acting the part of the outraged boyfriend as they walked away. He heard Grant Ward's derisive snort behind them and decided the arrogant bastard wasn't suspicious.
Anna-Marie giggled into her hood. Once they were out of earshot – neither of them looked back – she whispered "Did you see his eyes? They were like a shark's. Flat, and dead."
"They'll be a lot deader by the time I'm done with him," Deadpool muttered, realising his hands were actually shaking with rage.
"Steady, Wade," Anna-Marie squeezed his arm gently. The passed May at the corner, her face half-turned away from them, scanning the next block. She nodded at them, and they both nodded back but kept walking, turning down the next cross-street and getting into the SUV at the kerb.
"Good job, excellent info," Bobbi murmured as she started the engine and pulled out. "You spotted two guys I'd missed on the drive-by."
"Came face to face with Grant Ward too," Deadpool said cheerfully.
Bobbi nearly drove off the road. Instead she pressed her foot down harder on the gas. "You can tell Coulson about it," was all she said as they headed back to their temporary hideout.
I can actually hear the ominous music swelling in the background…
Something went unexpectedly wrong there for the SHIELD crew. Did you spot it? They'll find out their mistake next chapter…