A/N: Wow, you guys reviewed even WITHOUT a bribe! ^_^
Rogue151: Smith is the strong, silent, do-you-actually-expect-me-to-talk-to-you? type. And you MUST see the Telling, it kicked butt!!! Yet, ironically, it left me cussing out the writers for the ending. I can't believe they DID that!!! AAARGH!!!!!!!!!!! I'm OK really. = )
Amanda14: OK, no more Bond movies for you! Seriously, how do you come up with that stuff??? There might be some brotherhood, I don't really know at this point. But there IS going to be a certain somebody in this chapter…
Yumiko: This soon enough for you?
Panther Nesmith: That thing about her powers took forever to come up with. I spent over an hour sitting on the coach bouncing ideas off my lil bro. But I got there eventually. And I do have some romance ideas in mind. Just be patient.
SorrowRain: I plan on having plenty of action in this fic, so don't worry.
Thank you to all my wonderful little reviewers! Here's a whole new chapter, just for you! Enjoy!!
"Excuse me, are you Detective Black?" Agent Corprew asked the sandy haired cop in front of them. The man nodded.
"Yes, Ma'am. May I 'elp you three?"
Corprew nodded. "My name is Detective Rita Newman," she said, showing him her badge. "These are my partners, Detective Christa Ingelsted, and Detective John Sherman."
" 'Ello!" said Detective Black, shaking everyone's hand in turn. They were standing in the middle of the London Police Department. It wasn't a particularly crowded building, which Rogue liked. She had enough to worry about without having to make sure she wasn't about to touch anybody.
"So," said Black after the introductions, "Wot brings you folks to London?"
"Perhaps we should discuss this in a more secure location?" Agent Smith said, glancing at the people around them.
"Yes, of course." Black led them to an interrogation room. They all sat around the single table.
"Now," said Black, "Why exactly are you 'ere?"
"We're on an undercover assignment to break a Coke smuggling ring," Corprew explained.
"I'm afraid I don't know anything about that."
"We know," Rogue said. "That's not why we're here. Yer investigating the Pracket case, right?" Black nodded. "We think the guy who robbed 'em is one of the smugglers."
"Is that right? 'Fraid I can' be of much 'elp to you. The case is pretty cold at this point. The guy didn't leave be'ind any fingerprints, an' nobody saw a thing. All we've got to go by is a strip of cloth an' a strand of 'air. An' before you even ask, the follicle wasn' attached, or we'd know who 'e is."
"Have you done an analyses of the hair and cloth?" asked Smith briskly.
"Yes, sir, we 'ave."
"And?" asked Smith, putting more emphasis on the word than was necessary.
"The 'air was dark brown, almost black. Not too 'elpfull. The cloth was much more informative. The material was tan, prob'ly from a coat or something. In fact," he said, looking at Rogue's trench coat, "It looks a lot like that coat you're wearing."
Ten minutes later the trio was standing outside in front of the Police Department. The conversation with Black had ended shortly after he told them about the cloth, as that was the only piece of evidence he had.
"Now what?" Rogue asked her comrades. Smith looked at her like she was an idiot.
"We talk to the Pracket's," he said as if that were obvious. His know-it-all attitude was severely getting on Rogue's nerves, but she kept her feelings to herself.
"Black already questioned them, and they didn't see anything," Rogue said.
"I've been on this job for twelve years, I think I know what I'm doing."
"And I don't?" Rogue fixed him with an icy glare. Even without the goth makeup, it was nerve-wracking.
"Well one can't expect a *kid* to know how to handle *grown-up* jobs."
There was a very long string of four-letter words Rogue liked to have used at that moment, but Corprew spoke first.
"Let's just go talk to the Pracket's. It's not as if we have any other options." Rogue had to agree with her, so they immediately hailed a cab and rode to the Pracket's house…
…Where nobody was home.
"So much fer that brilliant idea," Rogue said as they left the Pracket's driveway. "Lahk Ah said earlier: now what? It's almost noon, and we're not any closer to findin' that dang stone!"
"Look, I saw a couple venders in a park not to far back," said Corprew. "Let's grab something to eat, and then we can figure out what we're going to do. Agreed?"
"Agreed," said both Rogue and Smith at the same time.
They walked most of the way in silence, which was just fine with Rogue. She shoved her hands into her pockets to ward of the slight chill of the air. Normally she wouldn't have felt it through her thick black gloves, but the green ones she had on now were considerably lighter. Rather than dwell on her cold hands, Rogue decided to enjoy the scenery around her.
The road was lined sparsely with trees that had only a few brightly colored leaves left. The rest littered the ground in a thick blanket that rustled every time the wind blew. Every now and then a bird would sing out from its perch in the trees.
The park was more of the same: bare trees, birds trying to hide in the naked branches, and a leaf covered ground. Small benches were scattered here and there. In the very center of the park stood a group of food and drink vendors, surrounded by a large mass of people. Behind them were several large white tents, also flocked by people. To many people, in Rogue's opinion.
"Place sure is popular," she said, unconsciously checking that her gloves were secure. "Anybody know what the huge crowd is here for?"
Corprew shrugged. "My guess is that it has something to do with those tents."
"Alright," said Smith, "new plan. We recon the tents, and then get lunch. Whatever's going on over there may have attracted our thief."
They nonchalantly approached the tents, trying to blend in with the crowd. Ducking under the flap of the first tent, they found themselves surrounded by paintings.
"It's an art show," Rogue said unnecessarily. "Which means the thief prob'ly is here."
"But not in this tent," Corprew said. "The pictures are to big for him to steal. He's probably in a tent with smaller stuff like sculptures or jewelry or something of that nature."
Rogue nodded. "We should split up, we'll get done faster that way." To her surprise, Smith actually agreed with her.
"Right. We'll each take a different row of tents. If you see a guy with a tan trench coat, signal with these." He handed each of them a seemingly ordinary watch, which they promptly put on. "They're two-way communicators that are activated by tapping the watch face." He then handed them each something that looked very similar to a hearing aid. "If you hold the watch near your face and say anything, the signal will be transmitted into these receivers. Understood?" Rogue and Corprew nodded, and they all split up to begin the search.
The first three tents Rogue tried contained objects much to large to be of interest to a pickpocket. After that was a tent filled with woodcarvings, followed by one with painted plates. Another tent held sun catchers, and still another held pieces of wire that had been molded into the likenesses of people running and swimming and the like. So far there had been no sign of the thief. It was getting rather monotonous.
Rogue was about to declare the whole thing pointless when she stepped inside a tent filled with pocket watches, most of which were maid out of either silver or gold. There, standing not ten feet in front of her, was a man in a tan trench coat. She gently tapped the watch and then brought it up to her face, under the pretense that she was scratching her ear.
"There's a guy in a tan trench coat in the tent with the watches, not sure if it's our thief though—never mind. He just stole one of 'em. He's headin' outside, Ah'm followin' 'im."
Without waiting for confirmation Rogue stepped outside behind the guy. She was careful to lag behind a bit, in case he looked back and saw her. He was moving fairly quickly, although not fast enough to call attention to himself. Every few minutes he would turn a corner, forcing Rogue to keep a running commentary going on her watch.
"He just turned right…now left…left again…right…He's stopped under the huge maple…now he's heading up the fifth row of tents…"
"I see him," Corprew's voice cackled through her earpiece.
"Me two," said Smith. "I'm closing in."
Rogue looked up in front of the man and saw Smith and Corprew coming towards them. The thief obviously saw them as well, because he turned suddenly and started jogging between two tents. The trio followed after him. He had cleared the tents and was now heading for the edge of the park. Looking over his shoulder, he saw that his pursuers were hot on his trail, and broke into a dead run. They did the same.
The three agents followed him out of the park and through a maze of streets. The man was obviously skilled at eluding cops. He would get to a T intersection, start heading right, and then abruptly turn left. When he came to a similar intersection, he would start heading left and Rogue, expecting the same trick, would prepare to go right—except this time the thief actually *would* go left. Or he'd pretend to be heading in one direction, and then he'd just keep going straight, right in between two houses. Rogue gave up trying to predict his next move, and just followed him as best she could.
The chase wore on for twenty minutes with no end in sight. They followed him over fences, through people's yard's, across semi-frozen ponds (something Corprew swore she'd never do again). He was tireless, and he was keeping up a pace that would have dropped most people ages ago. Too bad his hunters weren't "most people."
This thought seemed to dawn on him when he looked back and saw that Rogue was only a few feet back, and the other two were on her heels. Rogue watched him pull something out of his pocket and hold it in the air. Whatever in was started to glow crimson, and then he threw it at her. It landed directly in front of her, an Ace of Spades. Rogue didn't know what this was about, but she knew it couldn't possibly be good, so she jumped clear of the card. As she did, it exploded in the spot where her foot had been. This guy was a mutant? The thought had barely registered in Rogue's head when he began tossing cards left and right, forcing her to either put up an acrobatic display, or be incinerated. She took the first option.
"Man, Ah feel lahk Ah'm in a friggin' Danger Room session," she muttered as she dodged yet another card-bomb.
"AARGH!!"
Rogue turned just in time to see Corprew fall to the ground, clutching he left leg. A hole had been charred through her pants, and her leg was burned.
"He got me!" she said through gritted teeth. "That little son of a …"
"Rogue, You stay with her. I'll go after him," Smith said. Rogue shook her head.
"He's a mutant, so Ah've got a better chance than you. You just make sure she's okay!"
Rogue ignored Smith's shouts of protest and ran in the direction the thief had gone. She soon found him climbing up a fire escape of an apartment building, and started up after him, the metal steps clanking under her feet. As she ascended the last flight of steps she reached into her pocket, pulling out the gun. It was time to quit running around.
"Police, freeze!" she shouted, pointing the gun at the crook. He was lounging in one corner of the roof, idly shuffling a deck of cards. It was the first time Rogue was able to get a good look at him. Dark, unruly hair that fell above his eyes, a mischievous grin surrounded by the black stubble of a beard, and the most amazing eyes Rogue had ever seen. The irises were not green, like hers, or brown like Corprew's. Nor were they gray, or blue, or hazel, nor any other color that Rogue had seen. They were red. *Blood* red. The sclera was not the plain whiteness to which Rogue was accustomed, but an impenetrable blackness. They were the type of eyes children expected to see on the faces of the monsters come to devour them in their beds, glaring menacingly from the dark recesses of their closets. Yet on his face, a face so easy-going and playful, the eyes appeared, not menacing, but beautiful.
"Bonjoir cherie," he said, his voice thick with a Cajun accent. "Now why you be pointin' dat t'ing at Gambit?"
"Where's the diamond you stole?" Rogue asked without preamble. Gambit cocked his head to one side, feigning ignorance.
"Diamond? Gambit don' remember any diamond."
"Don't give me that crap. In case yeh haven't noticed, Ah've got a loaded gun an' it's pointin' at yer head. So tell me, where's the diamond you stole?"
"You callin' Gambit a t'eif? I've never been so insulted in my life!"
"Oh, please. Ah saw yeh take a watch from the art show. Now make with the diamond, er Ah'm gonna pull this trigger."
He stopped shuffling his cards, the playful expression gone now.
"Whatever you say, chere." Gambit slowly reached inside his coat, pulling out a foot-long metal rod. Rogue guessed it was some kind of container, so she said, "Open it."
Gambit nodded, took the rod in both hands, and twisted it. The ends shot out on either side, making it into a five-foot staff. Before Rogue could react he swung the staff in an arc, slamming it down hard on the gun. It fell from Rogue's grip, clattering on the ground at her feet. The thief knocked it away with his staff.
"You didn' t'ink Gambit was gonna give up dat easy, did ya?" Rogue noticed that his smile was back.
Moving swiftly, he swung the staff at her ankles in an attempt to knock her off her feet. She jumped the staff, spun around, and landed a back kick squarely in the middle of his chest, knocking him back a step. Then, using the momentum from the kick, Rogue tried to backhand his face. Gambit grabbed her wrist, twisting her entire arm until she was forced to turn her back to him. Rather than try to elbow his solar plexus, which he was sure to be expecting, Rogue tore of the glove of her free had with her teeth.
Gambit, confused by her sudden lack of action, said, "What be da hold-up, che—" He never got to finish his sentence, for a pale hand had lightly touched his face. In a matter of seconds his unconscious form crumpled to the roof. Rogue knelt beside him, and began searching his pockets for the Keystone. Unfortunately he had a lot of pockets, and almost all of them were full. She found—among other things—the pocket watch he had taken from the art show, a deck of cards, three wallets, a gold bracelet, another deck of cards, two Rolexes, a lock picking kit, yet *another* deck of cards, some cash, some cards that *weren't* in a deck, a diamond ring, several credit cards, and still more playing cards. One pocket held a small brown envelope. Rogue turned it upside down, and the Keystone fell into her open palm.
It looked exactly as it had appeared on the screen in the CIA briefing room. The diamond was only about a centimeter wide, and clear as glass. The golden K glittered in the sunlight, as did the fine silver chain on which it hung. Rogue dropped the stone back into the envelope, which she placed in her pocket. She then tapped her watch, activating the communicator.
"Ah've got the Keystone. Let's go home."
A/N: Sooo whatcha think? Sorry if the fight scene was a little short; those things are hard to write. You'd think a girl who's taken karate for 2 years could write a fight sequence, but noooo. That would be too easy.
Ah, well. How'd I do with the description of Gambit's face? I've been trying to give more colorful descriptions, instead of just hair and eye color. Am I succeeding? Constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated!
Um, if you review this chapter you'll get…a set of adamantium claws!!! Woooo!
Oh, and Amanda14, you'll notice that Gambit had a LOCK-PICKING KIT. And what'd you think of the watch communicators?