(An: I'm free! We're not going on the evil trip of doom! -does a dance- And Wolfsbane, I'm doing an entire -story- on Rahmyness. In the -upcoming series-. That goes ditto for Romy and Kurtty.)
Mr. Sinister watched the monitor with rapt attention. The two subjects of the group he was interested in were in a seperate cell from the others, a special cell. He was interested in them because they were powerful, and because they were without control.
It was unfortunate that they hadn't sent the Summers boy with this mission. He would've been an interesting subject as well, but two were good enough.
He was interested in their reaction when they discovered that the chemical he'd put in the paint on the walls would block their powers. If they responded well to that, they would do even better when he offered them it permanently.
-
Remy blinked. He had no idea where he was. The overpowering smell of vanilla was the only thing he was really aware of. He shifted a bit, and discovered that the reason was because he was very, very close to Rogue. He edged away, having gotten the idea that she would slap him if he got within five feet of her.
When he attempted to sit up, he ended up nearly falling over, thanks to a wave of dizziness and a headache. He sat there for a moment, head spinning, as he tried to get his bearings. Haven't felt dis bad since de mornin' after Mardi Gras...
Now that he was away from Rogue's hair, he noticed the entire room smelled of fresh paint. There was something beneath that main scent, but Remy's head hurt too much for him to identify it.
He blamed the headache for not realizing the big thing right away. When he did, he couldn't believe he'd been stupid enough to miss it. He wasn't blowing anything up.
Experimentally, he rubbed a hand on the wall. There wasn't any tell-tale red glow, so he found it safe to pull them away.
While his fingers weren't causing any trouble, they were covered in something, the same color as the smooth stone walls.
He sniffed them. Coconuts? he wondered. Jus' about everythin' I touch blows up, I've joined a group of cut-rate superheroes, and now I smell like coconuts. Yep folks, welcome t' insanity. May I take y'r order?
Nearby, Rogue stirred. She sat up, rubbing her temples. "Somebody get the number of that bus," she mumbled, looking around. "Where are we? And why do Ah smell like coconuts?"
"Apparently," said Remy, "it's the air freshener fragrance preferred by maniacs."
"Where do ya think the others are?"
"Probably in coconut scented summer homes of deir own," Remy suggested.
Rogue gave him an odd look, then rubbed the walls like he had. She took off her glove and did it again, fingers made even paler by the white smudge. She smelled her fingers and wrinkled her nose. "Who in the world makes paint scented like coconuts?"
"De same person who sells glowy eye contacts?"
"Shut up," said Rogue, but not unkindly. She rubbed her fingers together. "Would you think Ah was absolutely nuts if Ah asked if Ah could touch ya?"
"And y' mean what by touch me?" Remy asked. "'Cause if y' mean t' bitch slap m', I'd like t' know why first."
Rogue pulled a face. "Don't be stupid, swamp rat," she replied.
Remy cocked his head. "Swamp rat?" he mouthed.
"Ah've spent too much time with Logan lately," Rogue said, by way of explanation. "So can Ah touch ya or not?"
Remy smirked. "Whatever y' want, chere."
"Don't call me that!" Rogue glared at him for a moment, then reached out and gently touched his face. After a second, she pulled her hand back as if burned, and stared at it. "Power negating chemicals smell like coconuts. That's one for Beast," she murmured.
"Who's Beast?" Remy asked.
"A teacher at the Institute," Rogue replied, her eyes still focused on her ungloved hand.
"And de Institute is...?"
"We didn't tell ya anythin', did we," Rogue murmured.
"Nope," Remy replied cheerfully. "But, t' tell y' de truth, even if y' were all like de weird guy dat kidnapped us, if y' offered m' a way outta N'Awlins, I woulda followed y' witout a word."
"Ya really must be desperate ta get outta there." Rogue took her eyes off her gloves and returned them to Remy's face.
Remy shrugged. "Well, I woulda gotten banished anyway, and what better way t' leave den wit' a bunch o' teenagers and a hairy maniac in spandex?"
Rogue snorted at that. "When ya put it that way, we sound like a bunch of idiots."
Remy grinned. "And nobody would get dat idea jus' by lookin' at y'."
"Shut up," Rogue said again, glaring at him.
"So, purely out of curiousity," said Remy, "what were y' expectin' t' happen when y' touched m'?"
Rogue grimaced. "Usually when Ah touch someone skin-on-skin, Ah absorb 'em- powers, energy, memories, whatever. It's really annoying."
"Dat must suck," Remy murmured.
"Yeah, pretty much so," said Rogue, looking at the walls now. "How are we supposed to get out of here?"
"Good question," said Remy. "I've been tryin' t' figure out a way since I woke up."
He stood up and tilted his head back. "De paint only goes up to a point," he mused. "Way way up dere's a window. If we could get to it I could blow it up and we could get out of here."
"What about the others?" Rogue asked, also standing.
"We worry 'bout dem later," he replied. He pulled something out of his pocket and pressed a button on it. The little metal stump turned into a long, silvery stick.
"Do ya always carry around a retractable metal stick?" Rogue inquired, eyebrow raised.
"Oui," said Remy, then paused. "Dat sounded really weird, didn' it?"
"Yeah," Rogue agreed, nodding. "What is that thing anyway?"
"It's a bo staff. Preferred breaking-and-entering tool of theives in N'Awlins."
Rogue shook her head. "That's just weird."
"Hey, it works," Remy replied with a shrug. He twirled the staff as he stared up at the window, contemplating the best way to go about it.
Then of course the wall opened up.
Remy dropped his stick and stared.
Mr. Sinister was no longer wearing that annoying holowatch, so he was revealed in all his spider-like glory. Needl"ess to say, it was pretty damn creepy.
He smiled. "Enjoying your stay?"
"Not really, no," said Rogue, who had gotten over it. "Ah don't really care for coconut."
Mr. Sinister shrugged. "It's an aftereffect of power negaters. But I suspect you really don't mind."
"All right, what do ya want?" Rogue asked, hand on her hip.
"What would give you the idea that I wanted something?"
"Yah're a supervillain," said Rogue. "Or at the very least a megalomaniac with aspirations. And since ya went to the trouble of kidnappin' us instead of killin' us, ya want somethin' from us."
"You're very perceptive, Rogue," said Mr. Sinister, and his tone was almost indulgent, like a person talking to a small child.
"Please, cut the crap," said Rogue. "Are we gonna fight or are ya gonna make an offer?"
"All right, all right, straight to the point," Mr. Sinister said, holding up his hands. "It's really very basic. I want your powers."
"And bah that ya mean...? Cause if ya want us ta be brain-washed super-soldiers then we can skip straight ta the butt-kickin' part."
"No, no, nothing like that," Mr. Sinister replied. "Just a little shot and your powers are gone."
"And let meh guess, we smell forevah of coconuts afterward," Rogue snapped. "Ah'm not buyin'. Gimme that stick, Cajun."
Remy handed it to her. His bearings back, he added, "It's a staff."
"All right, Mr. Spider-guy, ya have thirty seconds ta explain why ya kidnapped us and/or give us directions to our friends," said Rogue, twirling the staff. "Ah may not be able ta knock ya out but I damn sure as well can make ya regret comin' near meh."
"Touchy touchy," said Mr. Sinister, shaking his finger. "Surely you don't like not being able to touch?"
"Tick tock," said Rogue, her teeth clenched.
"All I'm offering you is freedom," said Mr. Sinister. "I can completely remove your powers. One little shot and poof! gone. And you, Remy, I can leaven your powers down to a more manageable level."
Remy just sneered. "T'anks, but I don' take t'ings from strangers."
Mr. Sinister sighed. "I really hoped it wouldn't come to this. I don't understand what's wrong with my strategy. I offer you the one thing you want- control- and yet still I never win out without force. Perhaps it's my appearance. All right, listen. I'll give you one last chance. Just accept now and I won't have to get nasty."
"Time's up," Rogue said, and threw the stick at Sinister, with surprising accuracy.
He rolled his eyes and sighed. The stick clattered against his chest, leaving a mark... that promptly disappeared. "Now that we've established that you can't hurt me... can we move on?" He snapped his fingers.
Two of the mutants who worked for him stepped up. One of them handed him a box. "Maybe I haven't explained myself well enough. I don't like to fight. I like my subjects to be willing." He opened it. Inside were two syringes. "There's a chemical in these, that'll drain off your powers. I want them for my experiments. Seeing as they seem to cause you nothing but trouble, I don't understand why this is such a bad thing."
For the first time since Sinister had arrived, Rogue faltered. "What are the side effects?"
"For the first few days, perhaps dizziness, nausea, headaches, and yes, possibly the prevailing smell of coconuts, but considering the gains, I see no reason why these would deter you from getting rid of them," Sinister replied, with a small shrug. "And anyway, they fade quickly."
Rogue bit her lip.
-
Meanwhile, a few miles away from Sinister's complex, another jet was landing next to the X-jet. It was the Blackbird (1). Out of it stepped more people in spandex, who Logan had referred to as Scooter, Red, and Porcupine, as well as Ororo.
Jean put a hand to her temple. "They're long gone," she announced.
"Where would they go, though?" Spyke asked, looking around.
Cyclops wasn't paying them any attention. "Ok, they fell into a really big hole," he said.
"What?" asked Spyke and Jean in unison.
Cyclops gestured at the hole he was standing by. "The coordinates they left are this hole," he replied. "They must've been stuck. But how did they get in there, and more importantly how did they get out?"
Storm, seeing that the other X-men were nowhere to be found, returned to the jet and pressed a few buttons. She then leaned out of the doorway of the jet. "Cyclops," she called. "I've got a lock on Logan's communicator."
-
"So... do we have a deal?"
"Where're de others?" Remy asked, certain that if Rogue said something now she might do something stupid.
"As you so wisely put it, in summer homes of their own," said Mr. Sinister. "But not coconut scented; the reason the paint was fresh was because we'd just started on this section of holding rooms."
Rogue frowned. "Or in other words, jail cells."
"If you wish to be less eloquent about it, then yes, I suppose so," said Sinister uncomfortably. "But they are unharmed, just unconcious."
Rogue and Remy exchanged uneasy glances. If given thirty more seconds they probably would've made a big mistake and taken those shots, but an exploding ceiling doesn't give you much time for negotiations.
-
Storm landed, another gust of wind carrying down her companions. Cyclops adjusted his visor (with which he'd blasted the big hole in the ceiling).
"Storm! Scott!" Rogue shouted.
The mutants beside Sinister whirled. Mr. Sinister himself sighed. "More of you?" he muttered. The mutant on Sinister's left screeched (2) and everyone but Jean, Mr. Sinister, and the other mutant covered their ears. The glass from the high window clattered down on Remy and Rogue, not that either of them noticed. The lights above everyone else shattered with loud cracks.
Jean put out her hand and the screeching mutant went flying into a wall, instantly silenced.
The second mutant glared and began to stretch, wrapping around the entire group of the X-men.
Remy grabbed the stick out of Rogue's hand, vaulted over Sinister's head, and pulled something out of his pocket. Rogue thought it might be a deck of cards, which was surrounded by a red glow. He threw it. The cards came spilling out and all smacked against the mutant on various places on his body. The mutant let out a faint moan, snapped back to his original shape, and passed out. Remy blinked.
"Impressive," said Mr. Sinister.
Cyclops put up a hand to his visor. "Let them go."
"I never kept them anywhere," Mr. Sinister replied. "We were negotiating."
"Riiight," said Spyke. "Can we just skip to the part where we kick your butt?"
Mr. Sinister shook his head. "Such quaint phrases."
Rogue ducked around Sinister and ran to the other X-men.
"I'd hoped I wouldn't have to do this," he murmured. He let out a shrill whistle and from down the hallway there was the sound of pounding feet.
Cyclops pressed the button on the side of his visor. A very large hole appeared in Sinister's side as he was slammed against the wall by the force of the blast.
Mr. Sinister went down, and did not stir.
Cyclops blinked (you couldn't really tell). "Is he... dead?"
"If not he's very, very unconcious," said Remy, bending over him and picking something up. "Keys," he explained, twirling a few around his finger.
"Just don't blow 'em up before we get the others, swamp rat," Rogue replied. "Ah do suggest we get the others before the owners of those feet arrive."
To make an unecessarily long story short, they fetched the others and were out before the very confused reinforcements arrived.
-
"Why jets?" Remy said, following everyone else into the X-jet.
"What's the matter with jets?" Scott asked.
"It's jus' dat I really don' feel like embarrassing m'self dis soon after meetin' y'all," Remy replied.
"Surely ya don't get airsick," Rogue said, buckling herself into her seat.
Remy just glared at her. "If y'r gonna be dat way 'bout it, den I'll jus' keep it," he muttered.
"Keep what?" Rogue asked, curiousity peaked.
Remy fished around in his pockets until he came out with a pair of gloves.
"What all do ya keep in there?" Rogue asked.
"Mostly theif stuff," said Remy with a shrug. He pulled on the gloves.
"What's up with the gloves?" Rogue asked, noticing that they were already glowing bright red.
"I lose contact wit' somethin', it blow up. I keep on gloves, dey charge, not'in' else does, and I don' have to worry 'bout anythin' else," he replied, renewing the search until he came up with two syringes. "I t'ink dis one's yours," he said, handing her one labeled "Rogue".
"Ok, ya just went waaaay up in mah book," said Rogue.
"That means you went down on her list of people to kill," Evan informed him.
"Shut up, Porcupine," Rogue snapped.
(And that's that. The next chapter might be out tomorrow or tonight depending on how much free time I get.)
(1) I know that technically the Blackbird and the X-jet are the same, but I'm not really sure if there's another X-flying thing so yes...
(2) The reason I used Ruckus and the bendy guy? To be honest, I couldn't remember anyone else.