Chapter 26: Six Degrees of Inner Turbulence

Day 36

Costa Verde, California

"Whose home is dis, chère?"

Rogue looked up from the laptop on which she'd been typing furiously. "It's mine."

Gambit turned from where he'd been studying the artwork on the walls (very expensive Impressionist pieces) and stared at her incredulously. "It's yours?"

Rogue smiled and licked her lips as she stood and stretched, her back muscles cramped up from being bent over her computer for so long. "In every way that matters. It belongs to my adoptive mother, Irene Adler. She always told me that it was available for when I'd need it."

"Available for when you need it?" Gambit repeated, no sign of accent as he mimicked her words with a questioning lilt.

"Irene was precognitive. She was always saying strange things like that," Rogue explained fondly. "I'm betting that if we explore this house we'd find several things that we're going to need for our mission, along with little notes she's fond of leaving to unnerve us."

"Vraiment?"

"Yes, really."

Gambit seemed almost excited at the prospect. "Then why are we no' explorin', chère?"

"Because I've been busy researching the names and addresses you gave me," Rogue replied as she walked past him. Gambit grinned and followed her down the hall and into the kitchen, the smile fading as she headed to the fridge. She turned her head just enough so that he could see her arrogant smile as she pulled a small Post-It from the sleek metal exterior of the refrigerator door and tossed it to him.

As Rogue opened the door and began to pull out the makings for sandwiches, Gambit caught and read the small note.

"Rogue and Gambit,

Your favorite foods have been delivered. Enjoy.

Love,

Irene

P.S. No, Rogue, I did not supply Rocky Road ice cream. Have him take you out for ice cream."

"Take you out for ice cream?"

Rogue looked up from where she quickly put together ham and cheese sandwiches for him and her and laughed quietly. "I love Rocky Road ice cream. She deliberately didn't put any in the house."

Gambit crumpled the note and tossed it with unerringly accuracy into the garbage can across the room before sliding into the bar stool directly across the island counter from Rogue. "Why?"

Rogue smiled coquettishly. "She may be a precog, Gambit, but she's still my mother. She likes you."

He shrugged and reached for his sandwich, still not grasping the full implications of the note. "Most women do, chère."

Rogue rolled her eyes and fought the urge to smack the obtuse Cajun upside the head. "She's playing matchmaker, Gambit."

He froze mid-bite, before grinning broadly and turning flirtatious eyes onto her. "Even yo' mama approves, chère. What say we do away with all this pretendin' we aren' attracted and give in to our animal urges?"

Rogue licked her lips slowly and leaned across the counter, her face hovering only inches from his. His darkly dangerous eyes sparked at her and his lips curved upward automatically. His every sense was reaching for her even as his fingers dropped his meal back onto the plate and slid across the counter toward hers.

Rogue's smile turned from flirtatious to condescending in a second and she used her superior strength to send him flying off his chair and onto the floor. "It's not pretending, Gambit." As she laughed deeply at his sprawled position, even she felt the note of dishonesty that tainted the statement. True, it wasn't pretending, she was leaning far closer to ignoring than pretending.

"Besides," she continued as she returned to her sandwich, "Irene was in love with Mystique. Her judgment is, at the very least, suspect."

New York City, New York

"I thought I saw something, but I guess it was just my imagination."

"Lucas Bishop, X.S.E. Officer extraordinaire, admitting that maybe he imagined something? I am shocked," Pulse said delightfully as he teased his companion mercilessly.

"I maintain that I saw something, I'm just changing my statement to say that it was nothing," Bishop replied quietly, his eyes still intent on the screens. "Go see if Sage has returned yet."

Pulse knew an order when he heard it and shrugged as he left. Bishop waited until he was gone before he rewound the video file to the very beginning and watched again. There was a flash of red just at the corner of the screen when the stream from the cameras had first connected. A long-haired redhead was entering the Hellfire Club, her face obscured by the camera angle. There was something terribly familiar about the way the woman was carrying herself, however.

Bishop froze one of the frames of the stranger and went to work on increasing the sharpness as he zoomed in. He didn't know why he was so interested in the Hellfire's newest prey, but there was something almost...foreboding about it. There was a tension to his work, as if there was a lot more on the line of knowing who that was than he knew.

"The X-Men aren't going to be pleased," Sage announced as she closed the front door behind her with a soft click. Pulse raised an eyebrow inquiringly but didn't say anything. He gestured for her to precede him into the bedroom where he and Bishop set up the monitoring station.

"Aren't going to be pleased about what?" Bishop asked quietly, turning from his ministrations on the computer to watch Sage sidle into the room.

Her smile was glacial as she nodded to the monitor behind him where a program was buzzing quietly as it sharpened the snapshot of the anonymous redhead. "Jean Grey, Professor Xavier's protégé, courting with the Black Queen."

Bishop's mouth didn't quite fall open, but it did a likeable impression as he turned back around in time to see a perfect profile of the young telepath form clearly on the screen. "That's unexpected."

Sage nodded and moved closer so that she could lean over Bishop's shoulder and point to the tall brunette at Jean's side. "That's Selene, the Black Queen."

Pulse leaned over Bishop's other shoulder, purring lightly into the air in an exaggerated fashion. "I love a woman who knows her way around a leather cat-suit."

"That's not real leather," Sage replied as she glared at him.

"Looks leather."

"It's human skin."

Pulse reeled backwards. "Did I say love? I think I meant like. Heavily like, but just like. In fact, I could do without."

Bishop smothered a smile and with a few deft keystrokes resumed the live feed. "Tell me more about the Black Queen."

Sage slipped into the seat beside him and began to speak, her calm but calculating voice soothing the sudden tension in the room. "Selene is a mutant, just like Shaw, but unlike Shaw she's," Sage paused as if struggling to find the words, "branched out. She sometimes calls herself a 'Daughter of the Moon', sometimes a 'sorceress'. Very little is actually known about her, with the exception of the fact that she's been with the Hellfire Club since the very beginning. As in, centuries ago. She's always been present at some incarnation of it, never aging, never changing."

Bishop nodded, not shocked by the existence of such a being. "She's an External."

Sage's eyes widened. "An External?"

Pulse pulled himself to a sitting position on top of the dresser and explained dryly. "Particularly nasty breed of mutant. Very hard to kill, very slow to age, big pain in the ass. Wolverine is one."

Bishop nodded. "We've encountered a few in our time. I don't recall Selene, though; the Hellfire Club is pretty much ancient history in my time."

Sage smiled and this time it was warm and brought an uncomfortable feeling to Bishop's chest. "Hopefully she's dead and gone and I had a hand in it." She shook her head slightly at the thought she even now doubted could ever come true before continuing her explanation. "Selene has numerous abilities, and no one knows which one was her true mutation. She's telepathic and telekinetic; she has complete control of all inanimate objects, and incalculable magical abilities. One of which is the ability to steal life energy and souls. She uses the life energy to keep herself young looking. When she over-projects herself in battles her true age begins to show."

"When has the Hellfire Club done battle?" Bishop asked, turning to the computer and drawing up a blank document. His fingers flew over the keyboard as he began to organize his thoughts into a report for his superiors.

Sage's smile faded and she sighed. "Our current enemy may be the X-Men, but there are always wars to be fought, Bishop. The New York Branch of the Hellfire Club has done battle with the barbarian necromancer Kulan Gath, the Fantastic Four, the Avengers, pretty much every group of Do-Gooders in the world has come at us with everything they've got and we're still standing."

Bishop's fingers paused as he turned sharp eyes to Sage. "Us?"

Sage stiffened as she realized her slip. "Them."

Pulse had closed his eyes as if to rest but slid one of them open to study the silent battle of wills going on. He sighed and slid off the dresser, pacing heavily as restlessness boiled within his body. He was unused to spending so long in one place with little to do.

In the future Pulse was a loner who spent his days admiring his recent acquisitions, his recent lovers, or making plans to acquire new versions of both. Rather than steal for the money or even the thrill, Pulse was a thief because it was the only thing he knew how to be. He had no family, no friends to speak of; all he had was 'the game'. The plans that consumed his mind as he sought avenues into the most secure of structures, and the adrenaline rush of heated aftermath that had him seeking out female company.

Pulse sighed and clenched his fists as they began to itch from inactivity and turned to the duo still staring intently into each other's eyes. "This is getting us nowhere."

Bishop broke eye contact to glance over at Pulse. "You're right, for once. Though all this information is interesting, it has no bearing on our current mission. Jean Grey's presence in the Hellfire Club is none of our concern."

"It might be," Sage interjected quietly. She leaned forward to gesture to the live feed of the front doors. "Selene often keeps her plans secret from the rest of the Hellfire Club. Perhaps we can use this to our advantage."

"How so?"

"Rogue told him that I was in Bayville at the mansion with Xavier. Selene bringing Jean Grey into the Club is another tie back there. If I were to suddenly return to the Hellfire Club, I could say that I was assisting Selene in isolating Jean for possible recruitment," Sage explained as she stood and moved to the window. She stared down on the small building, her body tense as she continued. "Shaw wouldn't ask Selene about it because that would be admitting that he didn't have as solid control over his Queen as everyone believes."

"You were in Bayville with us, how will you explain getting away?" Pulse asked, uncomfortably reminded of his own abandonment and eventual escape.

"I'll say that she took me to the mansion to use me as a witness, but once it became clear that the X-Men weren't going to help her she released me," Sage murmured as she clearly started to think too deeply about her plan to pay attention to the two men.

"That sounds improbable," Bishop derided, "why would they believe that?"

Sage's attention snapped back into the here and now and with a look of determination she turned to him. "Because Rogue is an X-Man, even if she is a," Sage smirked at the pun, "rogue one. Releasing me is the sort of ambivalent action they would expect from people they presume to be children, even mutant children. The White Queen believes herself to be a better telepath than me, so a few errant 'thoughts' supporting my story and it'll be accepted."

"I thought the White Queen was one of the best telepaths in the world, second only to-" Pulse started only to be interrupted by Sage again.

"Xavier and Jean Grey, yes. It doesn't take a lot of skill to read minds," Sage explained, "it does take tremendous skill however to build shields strong enough to prevent anything of that sort. Xavier wanted a spy, one that was secure in every way. He trained me well, so well that even he can't read my mind without permission."

Bishop stood and crossed his arms as he glowered at her. His emotions were easily read from his face even if he wasn't broadcasting disapproval over the psychic plane as if from a loudspeaker. "I don't like it, but it seems we have a plan."

Pulse stopped pacing long enough to gape at them. "I could have sworn Rogue said something about waiting for her to get back before making any moves. You know, 'observe', and all that?"

Bishop shrugged, turning to stare down at Pulse. "Best way to observe is from the inside."

"Well, yeah, but it's still really dangerous. Rogue...she's kind of our heaviest hitter, you know? The one who rides in to save the day?"

Bishop smirked. "She can't be in two places at once, and we can't afford to wait. Don't worry, Gus," Bishop wrapped his hand around the smaller man's shoulder. "If anything goes wrong, I'll save you."

Sage smiled slightly as she slipped past the male bonding moment to retrieve her Hellfire uniform from the bedroom down the hall. She could almost hear Pulse swallow heavily before he whispered theatrically, "Bishop, no offense, but you're not a busty brunette in spandex. I'd rather be saved by Rogue."

Day 36645

Bayville, New York

His body was stiff from remaining in the same place for so long and though he forced his heart to remain in a steady rhythm, his mind made up for the forced placidity by racing through his plan again and again, determining the variables and how they might affect him.

He was a thief and no matter the discomfort, he always walked home with the prize.

There were usually officers all over the building, crawling through every room in pursuit of various tasks. Pulse, however, had chosen this late time for a reason. Close enough to the late night shift change that any patrolling security would be down in the locker room preparing to leave and that anyone arriving would be there waiting to punch in. Since it was night there weren't as many people wandering around, which worked purely to his benefit.

Using his fingernails Pulse slowly pried open the vent slats until he could see into the room below clearly. He concentrated for a few seconds and his eyes began to glow slightly. One by one the lights in the room shut off starting with those closest to him. In the darkness of the room the sole security camera blinked red obstinately for several seconds before it too succumbed to his mutant power and lost power.

Pulse pushed at the vent roughly and sent it flying to the floor with a loud clang. He pushed himself out of the tight vent headfirst and through a fit of skill managed to turn himself midair and avoid a concussion. Moving quickly in the dark Pulse fixed the room so that no one would know he'd exited the ventilation system there.

He pressed himself against the frame of the door and listened for any foot traffic outside the door. After hearing nothing for several minutes he pulled the door open and walked out brazenly. It was one of the oldest "tricks" in the book; act like you belong there and people will believe you do.

It helped, though, that he was wearing a X.S.E. uniform.

Normally this type of intrusion into a government building wasn't something Pulse would attempt. The government had a habit of 'shoot first, shoot some more, and eventually ask questions' kind of approach to intruders and Pulse had a healthy appreciation for his skin that meant he'd like to keep it hole-free.

Still, when he'd first started receiving information about the X.S.E.'s latest "Top Secret" project, he'd known he couldn't resist. Project Marvel was covered up by the most layers of security he'd ever seen, and even after cracking the firewalls and decryptions the most the world's best computer hackers could get was a location. A room number within one of the most heavily armed mutant bunkers of the world.

A mysterious benefactor had paid a hefty sum just to find out what it was that was being hidden within these walls. The money was already in his accounts, now Pulse need only glean the information. There was no better way to secure that information than to steal the project itself. Not only was it the best way to accomplish his latest commission, but it was an excellent opportunity to double his intake. If his client just wanted information about the project, there was a good chance that whoever it was would also pay a good price for the project itself.

At least, that's what the greedy little bastard inside him hoped.

With a quick glance at his watch Pulse realized he had only five minutes before the hall patrols resumed. With a small smile to the clump of scientists walking past, faces drawn and worn from too many late nights, all with a large "M" tattoo over their right eyes declaring them mutant, Pulse hurried down the hall. He was already on the correct floor having made sure to place his exit point from the ventilation system as close as possible to the mysterious room number where Project Marvel was encased.

His eyes stared menacingly at each camera he passed, the light glow of his power taking the power from them so that his face would never make it onto any digital file. Within seconds of leaving the sight of anyone within the halls he was running, his eyes still glowing with power and glancing at the numbers as he passed.

As he moved further and further into the building, his access to the numerous escape routes dwindling with each step, he muttered the numbers under his breath, a bad habit but one he'd never been able to discipline out.

"713, 714, 716, 717," he panted into the silent air, before jarring to a stop without warning. His eyes shined as he retraced his steps, freezing between the doorways to rooms 714 and 716. The wall was smooth, with no pockmarks or electronic paraphernalia to indicate that a door had ever been there.

A half-smile slid across his face as he ran nylon-gloved fingers down the smooth wall. "Tricky, tricky, tricky," he muttered under his breath as he moved to room 716 and opened the door. His eyes brightened as he glanced around the room, taking in the desks and computers and the walls, his power amped up high enough that it was only the glow of it that illuminated the room. It was simply a room, however, with no hidden depths to be plundered.

As Pulse shut the door behind him and reentered the hall he again glanced at his watch. He had only one minute before the new shift of guards, with their fresh eyes and endless energy, would be reestablishing their hold on the building.

Pulse opened the door of 714 and stepped in quickly, his eyes, his power, immediately sliding around the room. As his gaze reached the far wall a door shimmered into sight, the electronic illusion collapsing under the cessation of power. A large grin spread across his face as he softly shut the door behind him, crossing to the new door quickly. In the same lettering that decorated all the other doors he'd passed, the numbers 715 shined in the dim glow of his power.

The door was locked, to be expected, and with the ease of a professional Pulse removed his tool set and went about opening it. Outside the door he could hear the rhythmic footsteps of guards as they moved through the building, making sure all exits were secure. Once that was done, they would begin checking the rooms themselves, starting on the bottom floor and making their way up. Once that routine had finished, it would start over. Again and again the guards would move through the building, randomizing their movements throughout the night until the morning when a new shift of guards would come and take over, doing the same thing.

It wasn't a bad security outfit, especially considering that not only were the mutant guards well-armed and trained, but also had various abilities. Add in the self will and ability to change the routes and checks, the guards were the best security the X.S.E. had.

That was mostly likely why it was so very easy for him to break the security on the door and enter the most secret room within the building.

In the sudden rush of adrenaline and excitement that followed his breakthrough made him careless, however. As he opened the door and stepped through he overlooked the most basic of alarms...a trip-wire attached to the door, entirely physical in nature and not affected by his abilities. As the door pressed inward, against the wire, it stretched taut and many floors below a small bell rang delicately just above X.S.E. Officer Lucas Bishop's desk.

Within seconds he was running up the stairs, his gun sliding into his hand with ease.

Pulse wasn't aware of his impending capture and moved further into the room with excitement. The door opened onto a small landing that overlooked what appeared to be living quarters. There were no computers, no laboratories, nothing that Pulse had come here expecting. His excitement dimmed with his confusion and his brow furrowed as he moved to the small set of stairs.

The room was dimmed, the only light emanated from a small lamp on a bedside table. For being a secret cell deep within the utilitarian headquarters of a mutant police force, the room was surprisingly opulent. A plush couch in deep red was in the center of the room, with a matching sitting chair and the accompanying "living area" accoutrements; a television, entertainment hard drive, hidden surround sound speakers in the walls. In the far corner a small kitchenette could be seen, bare essentials only.

In the opposite corner a large curtain sectioned off the bed, only the very end of the frame visible. It was from there that the light came from and Pulse moved towards it without being able to stop himself. Where was the research, the valuable project that was making waves in the criminal underworld?

Pulse pulled back the curtain and found his breath stalled in his throat.

It was a girl, just a mutant girl who slept peacefully on unaware that the slavering wolves of greed were scratching at her door.

A sound at the door had him ducking beside her bed, the curtain sliding back into place. Pounding steps echoed through the silent room and the girl began to stir. With a silent curse, Pulse forced power through his mind and slid his hand across her mouth, yanking her out of the bed and in front of him the new intruder ground to a halt just in front of the curtain.

Pulse stood slowly, his eyes providing more than enough light to recognize the man holding the gun pointed in his direction. "Hello, Bishop."

"Pulse," the dark man said quietly, his eyes seeking confirmation that Rogue was not hurt physically. "Let her go."

"I've been paid good money to figure out what she is," Pulse said slowly, "I can give that money back very easily, if you let me go."

"You're a criminal, the only place you're going is jail," Bishop replied, stepping forward threateningly.

"If you're going to be like that," Pulse replied with a step back, dragging Rogue with him, "I'm not going to be able to play nice." Rogue was wide awake by then, her green eyes dazed but aware of the situation. If not for the sheer shock of someone else's skin on hers, a sensation she'd felt only in fleeting chances, Rogue could have used her hand-to-hand experience to knock Pulse off and allow Bishop the chance to capture a notorious thief. As it was, it was all she could do not to faint, and the buzzing at her temples told her that it was still a distinct chance.

"You don't carry weapons, Pulse," Bishop started, forcing his voice to be calm and soothing. "It offends your moral code and endangers your own life, so you told Mutant Weekly in that recent interview." Bishop grinned. "Very cheeky, to give an interview only days after breaking into the Louvre."

Pulse nodded his head in his best approximation of a bow. "Mentioned you by name."

"My superiors loved that," Bishop agreed with some sarcasm before abruptly switching back to the point. "She's nothing special, just a friend I'm helping out. Let her go."

"A friend with Level Ten security wrapped around her?" Pulse scoffed and maintained his easy camaraderie even though the cold concrete of the wall was against his back.

"You can't escape, Pulse, not now. You're trapped," Bishop said gravely, "so don't make this situation any worse."

"I've broken into X.S.E. Headquarters, Bishop," Pulse replied savagely, a very sudden turn to his easy words of before. "I'm looking at twenty years, easy. Why not have a little fun before I go?"

"Please..."

Pulse froze at the soft voice that whispered from the soft body he held against him. "What?" He didn't know why he was so shocked that she could speak, but when she turned gorgeous eyes onto his own he found even that one word was a struggle to voice.

"Please."

For some reason he couldn't fathom, Pulse listened. He removed his fingers from her throat and his hand from around her waist and let her step away and into Bishop's arms. At the door, several of the very guards he'd sought to avoid had found the open door and investigated, deducing the situation with seconds and moving to back Bishop up.

Within minutes Pulse was restrained and being removed from the room, but her voice followed him up the stairs as he was forced to exit.

"He touched me."

Day 36

Bayville, New York

He had returned in the early night, only the small trace of brimstone that wafted through her open window alerting her to his presence. He didn't move from where he'd first appeared, didn't speak or seek any of them out.

Not that her 'brothers' knew he was there. As usual they remained oblivious to all but the obvious. Wanda sat on her windowsill in the deep night, almost wishing that she had the courage to be a friend to him and to climb to the roof and offer comfort. He was clearly hurting, his feelings and his pride damaged by betrayal of the closest kind.

Though she didn't know why, she almost felt that they were kin in that emotion. Thinking about it, however, only gave her blinding migraines. Toad and Quicksilver insisted that she leave that avenue of thinking alone and she listened, if only because she wasn't entirely sure why she would feel betrayed in the first place.

Sometimes, like tonight, when the decrepit house was in rare silence and she had the will to force herself to examine her mind past just her surface thoughts, it almost felt like there was another person living within her. Not a stranger, but almost like a different version of herself; a dark, bitter version of herself that sometimes surfaced in battle and made her harsher in her actions than she'd like.

A soft scuffle above drew her attention and Wanda's eyes drifted upward though she knew she could not see Nightcrawler where he sat on the peak of the roof. The scuffle continued, drawing closer until almost languidly the small blue spade at the end of his tail became visible just over the edge of the roof. It was all the proof of his presence he would give.

Just as she silently supported him in his grief, not knowing the cause or the reason he would come here for his comfort, Wanda almost intuited that he was doing the same for her.

Why he cared was something of a mystery for both of them.

Translation:

Vraiment? Really?

Author's Note: This is un-beta'd so any mistakes here in (spelling, grammar, OOC-ness) are my own. You can mention them to me and I might endeavor to fix them, but if you're snitty about it I'm more likely to reply snarkishly.

That being said...reviews feed me. FEED THE AUTHOR. FEED THE AUTHOR!