This is Casablanca. Men like to get drunk here. Alas, only tourists get drunk here. Most of the locals, of course, are too Muslim for tequila...or even wine.
Still dizzy from his experience with Goblet of Death, Pete Wisdom has found his way to one of these taverns. He wears the Lockheed puppet on his hand...especially when he's drunk. Once, Magik bewitched Lockheed...to where he could change back-and-forth from the hand puppet to the Flock.
Here, he sits. He surveys the puppet on his hand, and occasionally talks to it. Only in moments like these, does he have any affection, whatsoever for Lockheed. Otherwise, he considers Lockheed a pest. And with good reason: Lockheed, whenever he's the Flock, has never once warmed up to the idea of Pete Wisdom and his puppet's usual wearer, Jubes Lee, being a romantic couple.
He's yet to find the rest of his team. But then, the circumstances, he comes to realize, just might be the perfect opportunity to consider retirement...from Black Air, Excalibur, and X-Force.
Before him, erotic dancers dance. In the service of Black Air as well as MI6, Wisdom was sent to Arab countries many times. It's easy to understand why. In the Middle Ages, Britain and the Middle East were enemies. Now, they are again. Sometimes the ice thaws...but of course, it'll never be Mediterranean. Not as long as Anglicans and Muslims love killing each other.
There's nothing Muslim about these exotic dancers. And to think that Egypt allows belly-dancing in certain circumstances... Wisdom, of course, is NOT biased against that. Allah might've been Ali's father...but he sure as Jahannam isn't Wisdom's.
Through drunk eyes, Wisdom thinks he recognizes one of them. But of course, he's drunk; he can't know for sure. One of them, to him, bears stark resemblance to Cleo Nefertiti.
Poor Wisdom; he'll always love Cleo. And, at the same time, he'll always hate her for all of those venom-bolts she's stabbed him in the back with. If she wasn't as fast as an asp, he just might try doing the same thing to HER back, with one of his own fire-knives. Sexually, he has. But of course, to that end, he wouldn't mind swapping one of his fire-knives for a fire-SCIMITAR...
Shit; Nefertiti's probably working for Goblet of Death... Funny thing, though; in Wisdom's experience, all of Death Goblet's sidekicks have been complete strangers to Excalibur. Not only that, but they can all do magic...to some extent. Nefertiti is no witch. Alas, as seductive as she can be, especially with Wisdom, she might as well be.
God, Wisdom loves to see Nefertiti dance... He'd marry her, if he actually believed in marriage.
Onward, he drinks. While drunk, he thinks he sees the Lockheed puppet come to life a few times. Alas, he hears no reaction from the crowd; clearly, Lockheed isn't coming to life. Just like Chris Young, he's drinking himself lonely tonight.
To his dread, Nefertiti has recognized him. She pulls up a stool, sits next to him, and tempts him with her bare arms. Now, he doesn't know whether to fuck her or run outside and look for his fellow Excalibur-mates.
"Hi, handsome and British," she says, teasing him. "Long time, no fire-knives."
"Shouldn't be such a secret." He drains the rest of a bottle of Catalan tequila. "I've been bested by the Goblet of Death. We all have. Mother England is now defenseless...along with the Celtic rest of the UK. And just like Chris Stapleton, that annoying country music singer they have over in the States...'we've got nobody to blame but us."
She narrows her eyes. "Goblet of Death... Where have I heard that name before?"
"If it's love you want, I haven't got it." He drinks a shot of tequila. "I'm helplessly in love with an annoying little Chinese mutant named Pubes." Involuntarily, he points the puppet's mouth at his own face. "Uh...JUBES, I mean." Involuntarily, he puts his puppet hand back where it was.
Cleo scoffs. "I thought that dragon hated you."
"He's a Flock. And yes," he hiccups, "he does, VERY much. He thinks me and little Jubes shouldn't be together."
"He's right." She smiles, and fixes his raven hair with her seductive polished fingers. "You're not husband material, Peter. You're a British secret agent...like James Bond, only manlier." She drags her feminine hands all over the sleeve of his black coat. "You'll never marry Diana Rigg...but at least you'll always look good with a pistol up your ass."
"Sing praises to me, my love. Alas, it'll be of no use. I've sworn an oath to the crown of the UK. I've been separated from my team. Therefore, I must search the deserts and the seven seas for them, until..."
Nefertiti stands close to him, and adjusts her top. Her fatty boobs bend and stretch a few times, as she does this.
"You, are," he stammers, "VERY much a Temptress. Alas, I think you should go pick a fight with Storm, or something. One of my teammates might find me first, and I'd hate for one of them to think..."
She takes one of his shot glasses, and drinks what's in it.
That's it; Wisdom can't take it anymore. He sighs. "Fine," he says, smiling, wobbling, and facing her. "Your place or mine, Asp?"
Tonight, they fuck like lions. She wins. He ties both of his wrists to the headboard, and blindfolds him. She poisons him all over, with her asp-bites. It might as well be Bane's Venom, from DC Comics.
As for him, his fingers light up, while his hands are tied. They smoke, too. Alas, there's nothing near them to catch fire. No mutants will be breaking Casablanca's fire code tonight.
The Lockheed puppet has fallen to the floor. He's probably very pleased with Wisdom right now...because he's cheating on Jubilee with Asp. Lockheed should be more forgiving. First of all, Wisdom doesn't even know if Jubilee is still alive. Second of all, if he were an actual human man instead of a Flock, he'd likely understand a man's compulsive attraction to Asp better. On the other hand, Lockheed would probably be gay, if he were a human man...
Alas, Lockheed can't stay. So, he transfigures into the Flock. Using stealth, he flies downstairs, and sleuths around for traces of Wisdom's teammates. Just as importantly, though, he keeps his senses out for any nearby traces of Goblet of Death; Excalibur's latest big challenge.
Near the Moroccan Ministry of Magic, there's a wizarding bank. It turns out Arabian wizardry has goblins, too. Just as the British ones do, these goblins manage the wizarding bank.
While it's like goblins to despise wizards, there are a few who do so more than they should. And of late, the Goblet of Death has gotten through to some of them. For that, they've assembled a guild...and call themselves the Goblins of Death.
Tonight, they meet in a conference room on the top story of the wizarding bank. They've cast goblin night spells all over the windows and grates, so that passing wizards won't know that anyone's still in the bank.
The night goblins in this guild seem to specialize in certain metals. There are zinc goblins, tin goblins, aluminum goblins, mercury goblins, silicon goblins, thallium goblins, indium goblins, germanium goblins, gallium goblins, cadmium goblins, and lead goblins. Goblins, by nature, are magical metalsmiths. If only Goblet of Death could recruit more goblins that specialize in precious metals...or even copper or nickel...
Tonight, they meet in secret. Their duties to the Goblet of Death are precious to them. Funny; for once, these goblins care about something more than metalwork, or getting rich...
In the vaults above them, Lockheed sneaks in. Somehow, he's resistant to goblin magic. He finds a secure perch, and listens in on the secret meeting. With luck, he'll get out of here alive, and report his findings to Wisdom.
Then again, he should probably just wait for Jubilee to find her way back to him. At least Jubilee speaks a fluent Sleazeworldian...
As Lockheed dreads, alas, it's part of these goblins' mission to spy on Wisdom and Lockheed, and try to make sure they don't reconnect with the rest of their team. Shit; now Lockheed knows that some of the locals are TRYING to punish him with Wisdom, and vice versa... But at least Lockheed has found out firsthand that as good as the goblins are at forging metalcraft, their talent for vigilance clearly needs honing. Down there, those poor guys still don't seem to know that Lockheed is eavesdropping on them.
Lockheed waits, to overhear one of them accidentally let slip Goblet of Death's next big plan... Alas, it seems that Goblet of Death is so secretive, it seems to keep secrets within secrets...if you can imagine such repression. Lockheed's pretty sure that even MI6 doesn't repress so much information within repressed information. Black Air might... But then, it's too bad Lockheed doesn't like Wisdom enough to ask him. Even if he did, Lockheed doesn't talk much...although he does know some English. But then, he'd have to be the Flock to speak it. And most times he spends with Wisdom, of course...as much as he dreads them...he's transfigured himself into the puppet.
On into the night, the Goblins of Death meet. Funny; they're just as taciturn at this meeting as they likely are with wizards, while helping them with their money matters in the bank by day. Lockheed shouldn't expect better. He should just give thanks that at least he doesn't have to be Bill Weasley's puppet... Although personally, he wouldn't mind having Fleur Delacour for a master... Or any veela in general...even if they did work for Goblet of Death...