Behold, he is coming with the clouds ... and all tribes of the earth will wail on account of him.
- Revelation 1:7

Scott was more concerned about his teammates than about the thief, even though the latter was doing his best to break free. He had the thief walking in front of him, arms pinned behind his back, and wished more than anything that the X-Men carried handcuffs like Batman.

"You gonna let him get away, jus' like that?" the boy demanded, twisting around. He was younger than Scott, probably sixteen or so, but he had a sly, streetwise look that made Scott suspect they weren't going to be able to hold him very long.

Cyclops propelled him towards the other X-Men saying, "If it means making sure our people are okay - yeah, we are."

The thief made a disgusted noise and said something uncomplimentary in French. Cyclops ignored him, focusing instead on the others. Storm was standing on her own, with Rogue hovering anxiously nearby, and Jean was crouched next to Professor Xavier. From the look of fierce concentration on her face, he knew that she was trying to talk to him telepathically. He had to remind himself not to look at her longer than was appropriate. Now was not the time for distractions like that.

"Has anyone seen Wolverine?" he asked. Rogue had said something about going to find their erstwhile teacher, but then the thief had arrived and his priorities had shifted.

"Not since we landed," Rogue said, shaking her head.

"Someone lookin' for me?"

Cyclops turned around to see Wolverine striding across the churned mud of the recent battlefield. He was rubbing the back of his head and looked angrier than usual, which was saying something. "Yeah. Where have you been?"

Wolverine drew even with the thief and stopped, glaring at him with eyes narrowed. "Gumbo here decided to give me a concussion."

The thief gave him a broad grin. "Oops."

Wolverine's eyes narrowed further. "I'd return the favor, but I don't hit kids."

The grin vanished at the insult, replaced by a surly expression. Cyclops bit back a smirk; Wolverine had found his weak spot in seconds. Typical.

Wolverine gave the thief a last disdainful look and turned his attention to Cyclops. "How's Xavier?"

It was Jean who answered, rising and brushing off her hands with a simple, "Awake".

And the professor was indeed awake, if a bit dazed. Scott felt the atmosphere relax nonetheless. Without Professor X, they would be in a lot of trouble.

The professor shook his head as though to clear it and grimaced. "Awake, and in one piece - although I have felt better."

"I'm sorry, Professor," Rogue said immediately. "I didn't know-"

"It's all right, Rogue," the professor said, holding up a hand. "Next time, however, I would appreciate some warning."

As relieved as he was, Cyclops had some questions he wanted answered, and he saw no point in waiting any longer. Without loosening his grip on the thief's wrists, he said, "Professor Xavier, I don't understand. What happened here? Why didn't you bring us in the first place?"

The professor nodded. "An explanation is in order. Mesmero has used his powers several times in the last few weeks; Cerebro has detected them all, but the locations were always too far away for us to reach before he moved on."

"But Illinois is close enough," Cyclops said, beginning to understand the events of the last half-hour. It made sense; take the 'copter and leave the faster jet for the backup team so that they would arrive at roughly the same moment.

"Yes, although it was a near thing. Storm and I arrived just as he was getting ready to depart. I thought that we would be able to hold Mesmero until Wolverine arrived with reinforcements. The fight proved otherwise."

"He attempted to take over my mind," Storm put in, shivering. "The professor was forced to telepathically knock me unconscious. Not something I'd care to repeat, but the alternative would have been far worse. Thank you, Charles."

"You're welcome, Storm. Now, I take it that Mesmero has escaped once again?"

"Yes sir." Cyclops released his grip on the thief's wrists, pushing him forward. With Wolverine present, he was more confident about their ability to keep the thief in their custody. No one sucker-punched Logan twice. "We did get someone, though."

"I see." The professor regarded the thief for a moment. "Who are you, and what business do you have with Mesmero?"

"He killed my brother," the thief said, grudgingly. Cyclops moved around to the thief's side, ready to act just in case he tried that exploding card trick with the professor. The other X-Men had gathered around and behind Professor Xavier in a semicircle - except Wolverine, who stood on the thief's other side and slightly behind him.

"Henri?" Storm asked, and got a short nod in reply. "Mesmero spoke of the Assassins, but you are Thieves' Guild, aren't you?"

The thief stiffened, but said blandly, "Guild? Never heard of it."

Storm stepped forward, putting a hand on her chest. "My name is Ororo. I was trained by Achmed el-Gibar, in Egypt."

There was a moment of silence, and then the thief broke into another grin. "Ororo, yeah. I heard it was you, stole that sapphire from Gideon."

"It was a ruby from Candra, and that was a long time ago," Storm said, smiling back. Scott wasn't surprised, and none of the X-Men seemed to be either; Storm's childhood career as thief wasn't talked about very often, but they all knew about it.

"Yeah, that was it." The apparent slip of memory didn't fool Cyclops; it had been a test, and the thief proved it by continuing, "The best pickpocket in Cairo, and the only one ol' Achmed let walk away - and wit' his blessin' at that. Legend in your own time, even over here."

Scott wasn't sure, but he thought he saw Storm blush faintly at the praise. She cleared her throat and gestured at the other X-Men, saying, "You can trust these people."

"In that case," the thief said with an ironic half-bow, "Remy LeBeau, je suis votre service."

"How did the Guild become involved with Mesmero?" Storm asked.

Remy shrugged. "Cochon showed up one day, asking would we do a job for him in Paris. Not our turf, but we got connections, hahn? But the guild masters, they turn him down flat. He wanted us t' steal from people connected to the Assassins' Guild. Thieves and Assassins, we don't get along too good, so we show him the door. Only, on his way out, I saw him give Henri the evil eye, right, and next thing I know Henri's on a plane for Paris."

Softly, Jean said, "He pulled a mindbender."

"If that's what you call it," Remy said. A card, the ten of diamonds, appeared in his hand and he walked it through his fingers in what looked like a nervous habit. "I followed, but it was no use. Henri walked right in, stole whatever it was, walked back out. Didn't try to hide. Assassins had themselves an easy target that night." He closed his eyes briefly, then looked at the ground. "Spent his last breath handin' th' bag to Mesmero."

The small, icy sensation in the pit of his stomach had grown as he'd listened to the story, and now it took all the willpower Scott had not to shudder. The same thing could have happened to any of the hypnotized X-Men. It could have happened to Jean. Or - might as well drag out all the nightmare scenarios while he was at it - to his own brother, Alex.

And if it had... If it had, then revenge wouldn't sound like such a bad idea, he was sure of that.

Remy abruptly flicked the card away and shoved his hands into his duster's pockets. In a much harder voice, he finished, "And now the blood feud's started up again, meanin' N'awlins ain't safe for Thieves nor Assassins nor anyone caught in the middle, so the rest of my family is gonna die, all on account of that 'mindbender.' And you let him get away."

The last sentence was openly accusing, but aside from an uncomfortable shifting, none of the X-Men acknowledged it. Cyclops tilted his head; Remy was right - they'd let Mesmero get away. But the alternative - letting Mesmero be killed by a revenge-driven boy - was unthinkable.

He looked at Jean, silently asking her to do something. She gave him a "why me?" look, then asked, "Ah - how did he get away?"

"Magic trick, petite. Like that guy, Copperfield - makes airplanes disappear? Easy if you know how. Didn't think he did," Remy added, energy flaring briefly around his eyes. Cyclops understood. The thief wasn't as mad at them as he was at himself.

Wolverine shook his head. "More important question here is, 'where did he go?' "

"The mountain," Rogue said. Cyclops started; she was half-hidden behind Storm and keeping quiet, and he'd almost forgotten that she was there. Her face, pale even through the red lens of his visor, grew more animated as she explained. "That's where it is. He has to bring the keys to the mountain. All the things he's been after - they're keys to unlock the doors it's trapped behind."

Storm, who hadn't been with them when they first encountered Mesmero, quietly mused, "So he is being controlled by something more powerful."

"How you know that?" Remy asked. The question was directed in Rogue's direction, along with a frown.

"I saw it in his memories." She glanced at the professor, apparently still feeling guilty.

Remy gave her an exaggerated once-over, saying, "Huh - you went crawlin' through that mess of slime and still came out lookin' this good?" He winked and grinned a little wider. "Quite a trick, chere."

Rogue blinked hard several times, obviously taken aback and trying not to show it. She wasn't the only one. Scott's eyebrows rose behind his visor, and he saw similar expressions on Jean, Wolverine and Storm. Even the professor looked startled. And for good reason: as far as Scott knew, no one had ever flirted openly with Rogue. It bothered him a little, for reasons he wasn't willing to analyze at the moment, and because he didn't like it when people threw his team off their rhythm. If this guy was going to be disruptive, he was going to have to go.

"I... I - ah... thanks," Rogue managed to get out.

The professor cleared his throat. "The question remains - where is Mesmero going?"

"Tibet," a new voice rang out. Cyclops spun around, one hand on his visor's control dial. The man advancing towards them was tall, built like a linebacker, and had enough weapons to level a small country. One arm gleamed like metal. Armor, or something else? "Mesmero is going to Tibet. And that's where we're going."

Wolverine brandished his claws and took a fighting stance. "Oh yeah? And just who are you, bub?"

The man had a scar across one eye; the other one was perfectly blank. Whoever he was, Cyclops thought he had the appearance of someone who'd seen a lot worse than four mutant teenagers and three mutant adults. He certainly didn't look intimidated by Wolverine.

"My name is Cable."