Salutations and appreciations go to Tedabug, Yellowdragon Fly, Aimee Belle,
Yawning, Turtle Dove, ddrinki4 and Lita of Jupiter.
+= Translated from Yaitata'í Indian ( a language and tribe that doesn't actually exist---simply an amalgamation of different genuine tribal words and artistic licence on my part for the purposes of this story.)
Chapter.11.
Naroapa Impokiro, 'A Cidade do Vulcão', deep in the Amazon...
"I guess dis is de place, hien?" Remy retorted off-handily, in belie of his amazement at one of the most intricate man-made structures he had ever seen. Neither had laid their eyes upon anything quite like it; here or in the furthest reaches of the known universe that they had travelled on more than one occasion. Not even the mighty Shi'ar Empire had managed such a feat, they were sure.
"I have never seen anything like it." She fairly gasped as she stepped closer to the edge of the high up opening that turned out to be set close to the top of the side of what looked like the peek a volcano, holding to the edge with just one hand. Before lay a rounded basin type crater, lined with trees due to thousands of years of inactivity and in the centre of this was a city---perfectly preserved.
"Careful 'Roro." Remy warned as he watched Ororo step that bit closer to the edge, unconsciously the tips of her boots overlapping the sheer edge, drawn to the stunning spectacle by an invisible thread.
It was truly awe inspiring...more than breathtaking. A central alter--- palace of some sort---formed the focal point. It's tendril like walls towering with natures grace, the forests grace, on a high plinth above the rest of the city that wound around it in a spiral formation, weaving down like a brilliant stone maze to create a conical effect. But it was the intricacy of the architecture that was most astounding; the sun-bleached white stone carved not into the practical yet beautiful oblong blocks of most ancient cities of the Americas but into the most bewildering circular forms. The buildings of the city were linked to one another, almost like a never ending weaved knot, caressing and holding to each other in a timeless dance. A natural structure born of man's hand. An oxymoron yes, but true all the same. Both yearned for a closer look, their desire caught on the tips of their tongues. The sound would come. A spent rapture.
*
At the city gates...
Two great stone centurions stood guard; soundless, their white eyes unseeing, limbs unmoved, spears held straight up to the heavens. Some spare guyropes and a little skilful improvisation with the sturdier trees had gotten them down here safe enough and now they were before the gateway to this wondrous place, beneath its blue shadow. The towering wooden doors stood slightly ajar with their reticent watchers; abandoned and left to their fate.
"Are we going to just stand here or are we going in?"
"Ladies firs'." Remy bowed graciously with an ostentatious flurry of the hand towards the gigantic doors.
Storm rolled her eyes, "Why thank-you kind sir." She replied with exaggerated politeness and a despairing shake of the head as she made for the door, with Remy not that far behind.
"Don' try an' deny it," Remy jested as they passed through the slight opening, "yo' femmes still can' get enough o' chivalry in a guy---no madduh 'ow much yo' protest."
All jesting and tomfoolery stopped as soon as they passed through the gates and into the lost city. The sight that greeted them was at once stunning but at the same time horrifying. Amongst the expertly carved buildings that towered around them like the most wonderful pieces of sculpture was a scene that could have come from Pompeii itself.
"Goddess!" Ororo whispered in exclamation at what she saw. Figures. Corpses. Everywhere---the population of a teaming metropolis in a death- mask state of stasis. All about them, as if caught by the quick snap of a camera shutter, an instant in time captured for all eternity. They stood, in their life like sate but distilled in a cocoon of grey ash. The pair walked further in, their mouths practically agape at the unexpected spectacle; the streets of polished cobbled stone uneven beneath their feet.
"What de fuck..." Remy said slowly in his disbelief as he ventured forwards, coming close to the body of a young man, stilled in a half- running pose, as if he were fleeing towards the gates.
"I can not believe this...it looks like..." She didn't finish the sentence as she advanced upon the 'statue' of a woman, her hands flung in the air, an expression of utter terror upon her face. Ororo stepped closer, almost daring not to breathe lest she blow the figure away. "What happened to them?" She asked, mainly to herself, the question made in an act of rhetorical disbelief.
Non-the-less Remy answered, "I don' know chère---it look like dey were--- burned?" He shook his head, perplexed, "I don' know..." He repeated as he moved on to another figure; a man who was dressed in some kind of uniform. The contours and outlines of plated armour and the delicate folds of material were still discernable, though all was monotone with deep black shadows cast by the sun.
"But how could they have been left in such...perfection." Almost like she was unable to stop herself, Ororo reached up to the woman's face, upon which was the hanging globule of a tear shape, running down her rounded cheek. Her fingers hovered close to it, just a millimetre away; the vague shake in them obvious the closer she moved them. "Such preservation--- surely it is not possible in such a climate..." Smooth digits went closer and eyes watered with fixed amazement, "It is not possible..." As soon as they came into contact, just the slightest touch, the figure began to disintegrate. Storm quickly pulled her hand away but it was two late; the defined bulk of ash flittered away into the ether. Simultaneously collapsing to the ground and dispersing into the air until there was nothing left. No trace that the person had ever been. She watched; the soft grey scattering to nothing in the golden light. Parrots cried over head; a lively squawk in defiance of the death.
They moved on through narrow streets that sloped gently upwards, speechless for a time as they bore witness to a time and a place that had been cast like stone yet with all the fragility of a dry sand castle. City streets were full of the vibrancy of life, stalls set out on the roads selling fruit, meat, fish, clothes. The people walked, the people ran. Some seemed calm, others were not. Dogs barked as soldiers overran the streets. It was clear that the city was in a state of siege---the corpses of hundreds of what appeared to be Conquistadors, terrorising the citizens. Or perhaps something else instilled the look of utter horror on certain faces.
"Looks like dey were invaded." Remy said as he came up to a cluster of those soldiers; headed up the road whilst all around them were heading down.
"I do not have a good feeling about this Remy." Tantie's warnings were suddenly fresh on her mind. A mind that was now clear of the pressures of the forest, this oasis of captured life somehow existing outside of everything that made life elsewhere tick. She could once more feel the omnipotence over her powers; the dulcet prick of an electrical current, the heavy roll of thunder, the coursing drive of the rain, running through her as hot blood. Her life force. It was given back almost like this place existed out of time and space. But these matters were of little concern to her at this moment. "Whatever happened to those unfortunate souls, surely it must---."
"Don' say it chère," Remy held a hand up in her direction to halt her, his eyes diverted as if entranced by the group of running soldiers. Where were they running to? "I know what dis means---yo' don' 'ave t' spell it out." He concluded grimly as he walked towards the ashen figures as they turned a bend in the steep street; their eagerness still palpable. Boots tapped the cobbled floor with an ominous echo as the Cajun turned with them; the palace...temple causing the shadow that had rendered their colouring an onyx soot. The surrealism of De Chirico.
Remy LeBeau stood in its shadow now---the first outsider for near half a millennia to be in its presence. Ororo was not far behind. The temple of tendrils stood in an open square with the sculpted bodies of nymphs-like creatures and noble warrior men, rising to a converging peak at which the head of woman sat with the stern look of a matron; the flat curving lines like the virgin statue that sat on Tantie's table, the one she adored so. But this woman, this female idol had a presence that was all her own. A matriarch that demanded respect, demanded worship. Ororo was open to it--- recognising her as one of her ilk, a kindred spirit of those she worshipped and became on the flat arid plains of Kenya.
The steps of the temple rose before them, a challenge to be overcome, a pilgrimage to be walked.
"It must be in there."
"Yah..." Remy said, his voice sounding raspy as the torridness became more pressing; sweat running like rain.
Ororo glanced over to him at her left, the apprehension mutual. "Remy, this does not feel..."
"...right." He finished her sentence for her. "We've come dis far---it'd seem...churlish not t' go de whole way."
"Churlish?" Ororo laughed sardonically to which Remy cocked his head and shrugged. "Never-the-less, it seems are quest is over---nearly."
"Hmph...nearly's de word petit."
Ororo looked at him, his tone confusing her. He appeared to be captivated by something else, that look on his face telling her that something was about to happen. She followed his eye-line, then, and only then did she understand it. Up there, on the medieval style battlements that ran along all of the taller buildings that penned them in stood warriors---live tribes men. All with bow and arrows, primed and aimed, ready and waiting; dark harbingers in their shadow likeness against the fading light. Instantly they recognised them, the black and red swathes of paint across dark coffee skin of those illuminated on their left-hand side identifying them as the people of their former encounter, their keen attackers. There must have been at least a hundred of them, their lethal cargo trained on the two X-Men; tense hands barely holding back the shots that would cause instant death---a fierceness in their eyes that yearned for retribution.
"So how do we get out of this one hot-shot?"
* * *
Chula Vista, Southern California...
The grapple hook line chinked against the marble balustrade, cutting into its grainy granite with a fierce bite. The only noise in the soundless night. The titanium wire strained suddenly as it dropped over the rounded edge of the balcony; an ornate decoration for the forth floor window of the plush manor house that sat in the splendid desert landscape of the Pacific south-west, just over the boarder from Mexico. A quick gust brushed across the orangey pigmented ground, whipping the sparkling grains of ruby-esque sand up into the balaclava-covered face of the black glad figure that was scaling the side of the mock-Spanish mansion; its pristinely white façade shining in perfection against the midnight blue and red all around. Brittle palms dotted the grounds like miniature black explosions as fireflies sparked; fallen stars.
As the figure reached just below the balcony, they paused for a moment, securing the stiff glinting wire around several clips on the belt around their mid-riff. With a dull snapping sound, like a piece of board being waved back and forth, the wire was tugged twice; its security assured. Placing their feet against the plastered wall of the house, the figure lent back so that they were practically perpendicular, laid underneath the overhang of the small balcony, using it like a cover. Once they resumed their steadiness they reached into a compartment on the military jacket they were sporting, pulling out a gun type object. But it was far too flawlessly cylindrical and resembled more a flare gun than one of lethal intent. With a soft *clack* a short lever, like a hammer, was pulled back and taking the object in both hands, the object was pointed upwards at a target high above the balcony. A short puffing sound went off as the lever was released followed by a quick cracking sound. The small piece of black netting from within the weapon had certainly made short work of the spying eye of the security camera that was just above the floor to ceiling sliding windows. Turning their body with a sharp controlled movement the shot was repeated, temporarily taking out the other camera on the right. It was a race against time now---it would only be so long before the guards realised that two of their screens had been taken out.
Moving quickly the dark figure placed the 'gun' away and took hold of the wire once more. With one concerted effort and all their body strength pushed into their arms, they pulled themselves from below the balcony and used the momentum of that movement to pitch one leg up and catch hold of the edge of the balustrade. Once purchase had been gained it was a simple matter to let go of the wire and with in the blink of an eye grab onto the marble rail and flip themselves over it. Rubber bottomed boots made sure the landing on the other side was completely soundless; a crouching position adopted until safety from sight was assured.
Before they moved again it was time to dispense with the balaclava. It was a relief to have it off, the heat being trapped between the thick black wool and the almost reptilian quality of her cerulean skin. Tucking it into the top of her left boot for safe keeping, Darkholme stood slowly as her eerily saffron eyes scanned over the huge window panel; her reflection against the white of the balcony behind her making it hard for her to determine if the room was occupied. After, with great pains, obtaining the floor plans to the Chula Vista Assassin's leader's base of operations, it hadn't been difficult to ascertain that this forth floor guest bedroom was the weakest point of security in the whole compound. Not that she was happy at having to be here in the first place. It seemed to her a useless distraction, but if it was a full on clan war he wanted then it was a war like no other he would get. She had been issued with this task; all she had to do now was concentrate on carrying it out. The price was right so she had no reason to quibble.
Slipping silently over to the door, Mystique retrieved a circular object from her jacket and placed it on the window, close to where the handle was positioned on the other side, near to the solid marble jamb. As she pressed the clear plastic down it became like a suction cup against the glass. When she took her hand away from it, it stayed in position whilst she pulled out a slim pencil type tool. Flicking it on, a sharp crimson beam shone from its end as she followed the outside line of the circle, a stream of bluish smoke rising from it as it cut into the glass. In no time at all, the hole was cut; the tip of the plastic plate caught quickly in her left hand to prevent it and the piece of removed glass from clashing loudly with the concrete floor of the balcony. Instead she placed them carefully down and then reached into the small gap, slowly lifting the catch inside and with her other hand pressed flush tot the glass, sliding it open soundlessly. Breaking and entering under these more---traditionally covert---methods weren't especially Darkholme's forte but she was proficient enough when the job called for it. More than proficient---she prided herself on the quality of her work, whether it was to obtain secrets through pillow talk or plain professional murder. But the hardest part of this particular job, one she'd working on for the past three months in one capacity or another was still a way off. She stepped into the dark unoccupied room.
*
The place Mystique needed to get to was not all that far from the guest bedroom where she had gained entry. But getting from point A to point B on the next floor had been predictably slow moving. More cameras, an unexpected foot patrol and a young daughter getting up for a glass of milk had all been obstacles that, in truth, had been over come easily, but had added more than ten minutes onto the fifteen tops that she wanted to be in the compound, grounds and all. Much to her chagrin. But a little way further down the hallway, back pressed against the wall to avoid the camera in the corner at the far end, up a short flight of stairs and she was there. Senor Philippe Fernandez's private Guild Ceremonial room.
The lock on the ostentatiously golden gilded doors was surprisingly easy to pop. A simple jam of her bow knife and hey-presto. It was pitch black in the windowless room that sat atop of the grand house, on the fifth and final floor. Although she couldn't see it Raven could sense that the space was vast and fairly lofty, covering the area of almost the entire house if the blueprints she'd procured in San Diego were correct. She waited close to the door for a moment, just to make certain nobody was happening by, although that was a scant possibility as they would have to make specific effort to come up and there was no reason for anyone to be coming anywhere near here tonight. She had made certain. But there was nothing from the other side of the door so she moved off it; flicking on the small head of a torch attached above her right breast pocket. From what small amount of space that it lit up there appeared to be a central gangway that she was sure must lead to the alter that she needed to get to. She did not rush but nor was she overly cautious as she made her way down, taking a measured stride; all the time her eyes and ears wide open. Her foot steps made not a single sound against the fleecy runner.
Soon her white light began to pick out the contours in the dark of a towering construction, dark and deep shadows forming to create a massive place of ceremonial splendour. She stopped, about two feet away from the alter that was adorned with Mexican style icons like the art works that had adorned the hallway in certain spots on the way up here. Opening the button on the pocket beneath where the small torch was attached, she dipped just two of her fingers in and took out a square folded pouch of pale blue airmail paper. Unfolding it carefully she held it open before her lips, being vigilant not to disturb the fine white powder contained with in it until she was ready. Then, with a short sharp inhale, she then released it just as quickly as it was drawn in, dispersing the fine light dust into a delicate cloud in the gloom. As the tiny sparkling particles settled back down to earth with a gentle flurry they highlighted what she had suspected; several criss-crossed red beams. An intricate laser alarm system that would set the whole house screaming if she were to come into even the merest contact with the thin neon ruby lines. Not a problem, she thought with a deliciously smug smile. Tripping the system wasn't an option, she didn't have the specific details of layout of the room and it would take her too long to locate the electronic sensors that fed the motion detector. Plus, any interference at all would more than likely alert the guards that sniffed around the place like blood-hounds. Strange for a house full of professional assassins to be so security conscious. But as long as they didn't catch her 'scent', which she was confident they wouldn't, she'd be fine.
The whole matter was just a question of time, slipping through the hour glass. The second option was much quicker, and easier for someone with the physical abilities to implement. Placing the now empty slip of paper back into her pocket, Darkholme turned around and took a few steps back, creating some space. Turning back to the nave-like area, the patterns and spacing of the beams were etched on her memory as if chiselled into solid stone, though no longer visible. Tensing her body she suddenly adopted the pose of a gymnast; arms up in the air, one leg stretched out, the tip of the toe pointing to the ground. With a bursting run she leapt into the air just before the position of the first now invisible red line, landing clear the other side and then somersaulting again, touching the ground fleetingly and then again, touching the ground and again until she came down close to the alter. 10.0; a perfect landing. Not a single beam broken or neared by even a centimetre.
But she had no time for self congratulation. She knew exactly what she was looking for and where to find it. She was also safe in the knowledge that from this far in, security was so lacks as to be non-existent. Their over confidence in the barriers they'd erected thus far being shattered in minutes by one woman. There was a small set of steps ahead of her, flanked on either side by beautifully carved wooden mahogany panelling. She skipped up them quickly, coming to a stop at what was the epicentre of the alter- piece. This was where all things precious to this particular clan of Assassins was kept. The entire history of their rise to power, their collection of spoils gleaned from their constant one-upmanship of the San Diego Thieves. She'd learnt all about it---studied and memorised the histories of both clans in meticulous detail.
Mystique was now presented with a row of miniature casket style boxes set on a bench that was about waist height. She ignored them as soon as she recognised them as the assassin's tithes; the like of which were a tradition to present in all the clans of the world whether they be thief or assassin. But what she was after wasn't something quite so precious, although given the damage that the possession of a simple coin could cause one could argue that it was. Above this bench was a cupboard set into the rounded stomach of a Mexican goddess idol. Darkholme opened up the small latticed doors via their delicate hanging brass handles. She smiled darkly as her eyes fell upon the small box inside and quickly she reached in and opened it but was careful not to move it one jot. Stealth was in the details. There inside the velvet lining was her loot. She gazed upon them for a second; a pirate startled by a cachet of gold coins. But she only needed one---one would do almost all the destruction desired. Dipping her hands in, she retrieved the flat metalic disk on top of the pile. The light of her torch caught it, making the golden surface shine with the power of the fireflies that danced outside. The Chula Vista insignia blazed for a second and was then gone, tucked into the left breast pocket.
"But we can't very well take without giving, can we?" She sneered as from the same pocket she pulled out a similar looking coin but this time the dragon insignia upon its moulded surface was that of the thieves clan that she had so successfully infiltrated. "Lopez sends his regards." She smirked.
With that she dropped the incriminating coin into the box and snapped the lid shut, instantly regretting her haste as the sound echoed in the lofty room. She froze, her ears listening keenly into the darkness. Nothing. She moved swiftly then, no more messing around, closing the latticed doors quietly, the final part of this job had to be completed quickly.
Going to the left of the goddess statue there was another cupboard of sorts, again set into the pregnant stomach of a female idol. Three letters lay inside, half folded into themselves, the rough old paper browned at the edges. To them, this assassin turned thief for the night left a fourth; a large red waxed seal binding it over, stamped with the San Diego dragon, the one that adorned the official stamp that only Velasquez Lopez had access to. Or so the theory went...But the seal had already been broken, the letter would be presumed to have been read and left in this reverential place. And so the mechanisms were in place. All she had to do now was sit back and wait. Wait for the white devil and the weather witch to bring her quarry to her. With equal stealth and speed, Raven Darkholme left the Chula Vista Assassin's compound as effortlessly as she had entered.
* * *
Naroapa Impokiro...
The arrows rained down as dense as water would; zipping through the air with horrendous noise as they travelled in unison towards their targets. Ororo only had a split second to react now that full control over her powers had been restored to her. Wild white eyes that glowed heralded the wind that swept through the narrow street behind them and out into the piazza style square; carrying with it the dust of the soldiers it had collected to its breast on the way. With a graceful sweep of her hand the arrows diverted in a spiral formation; caught up in a gentle whirlwind that deposited them like the clatter of so many falling branches, onto the hard ground. They made a break for it with the time Storm had brought, darting for the steep steps across the square, only to be greeted by several more adversaries once they were a quarter of the way up. They were advancing down too quickly for Ororo to implement her powers for diversion purposes; hand to hand combat was once again unavoidable.
"Stormy---heads up, girl!" Ororo turned just in time to get ready to catch the compact adamantium staff winging its way over to her. She caught it expertly, whizzing round as if were a baton, causing each end to snap out quickly into its full length. Just in time to fend off a blow that was raining down on her.
For his part Remy unclipped his modified staff, but didn't bother to activate it as he rammed the end into the kneecap of the tribe man immediately in front of him, making his leg buckle and sending him tumbling down the steps head first. It gave Gambit the space to advance some more towards the towering summit and face his next opponent head on. But then, with his devil-may-care grin plastered on his face he changed tack and waited instead for the native to come to him. Just as he neared him, his poised, ready to strike, Remy used what was left of his upward momentum to forward-flip over the man. Landing at the other side of him with perfect balance, all it took then was a light kick into the centre of his chest, sending him to join his compadre in a heap down below.
"Evah get de feelin' dere are some parties dat yaw jus' no' welcome at?" He quipped whilst giving yet another attacker a bloody nose with the flat of his palm.
Ororo ducked, swerved and swept her leg along the ground, sending three down at once from the step above her. "Remy LeBeau, you are the king of the understatement." She bellowed over as she stood back up straight only to be forced to duck back down again as a man brandishing a blade literally jumped down several steps towards her. Lifting her arms and inadvertently dropping her staff, she pushed him, making sure he sailed straight over her. But not before he'd gotten a blow in himself; just nicking her side, the sharp blade slicing through her cotton top and opening up the surface of the skin. It was no worse than a paper cut really, it could have been a lot worse but that didn't stop her from momentarily losing her usual composure. Eyes steamed white once more as the sky above the temple became a sombre version of itself, filled with foreboding clouds. Distant thunder growled angrily.
"Now, now Stormy," Gambit near laughed, not accustomed to seeing the queen of cool letting the mask slip. "Maybe dis place ain't so good fo' yo' after all, hien?"
Storm had respite enough to throw him a pursed look over her shoulder, "Just save the wise cracks and watch your back my friend."
"Wha---." *Clunk!*. "Fuck!" The large rounded edge of a heavy club cracked into the back of Remy's head before he had chance to heed her warning, just beneath the place where the skull curves inwards, the most vulnerable and possibly painful spot. Though he was still extremely lucky; if that had of been a blade he'd let his guard down on, his head would have been split in two right now. Time to get serious. He suddenly found himself as pissed with these jokers as Storm was. Quickly he turned around, confronting the club bearer who was getting ready to deliver what perhaps would have been a killer blow. "No' today, chump." He flicked the switch on his staff, administering a quick, sharp shock as he jabbed it into the man's ribs. To hell with no harming, if they were playing for keeps then so was he. But he knew full well as he watched the now unconscious man collapse to the ground still twitching that it hadn't been severe enough to kill, but maybe, hopefully, the others would think that it had been. And now the top was in sight---just a kick, right-hook and a jump away.
Storm had a swifter way though---her winds, warm and strong, rushing upwards and throwing her adversaries to their fate. She landed with a lightness of step next to Remy on the broad flat of top of the pyramid type construction that supported the temple. But for all her skill of landing, she soon found herself rudely grabbed, by Remy, and thrown to the side into an alcove created by the convergence of two huge statues; hidden in their cooling shadow. Another assault of arrows came flooding in, chipping at the walls around them, shattered stone and dust flying; the closest one landing not a millimetre from Remy's right bicep. But they were fairly impervious from where they were and it gave Gambit the chance he needed to cast his cunning thief's eye over where they now found themselves. More arrows cut the air and stone with deliberate tension.
In a matter of seconds Remy took in the wide stone entrance, blocked with a large slab that seemed to be anchored to a lever system and two giant stone sprockets to the right of it. Getting it open quickly would probably not be too much of a problem. The only snag lay in the fact that it was on the right side and they were pinned in on the left, under danger of another attack by arrows. From where they now were Storm's winds couldn't be one hundred percent relied on to keep them out of harms way whilst he triggered the pulley system.
"Any ideas?"
Remy smiled to himself, his over worked brain clicking a devilishly simple plan into place. "Yah, actually." Cocky and self-assured; just the way she liked him. He moved out of the alcove a fraction, but was still protected by the huge stone leg at his back. If he was going to do this he had to be damn quick about it. Taking his staff into his right hand, javelin-like, he burst into a run, pulling his arm back so that his weapon was level with his shoulder and then threw it with all his force and precision at the mechanism. But before he let go, nifty fingers flicked the switch back on, making the end spark with lively blue light. More weaponry hailed in; he practically threw himself in the air to avoid it, balling his legs beneath him and forward rolling. It was 'on the hop' but he still managed to make it look like the most elegant action known to man. The Cajun charmer had a knack and no mistake. To top it all off his wing-and-a-prayer plan was working too; the jolt of electricity triggering off the pulley mechanism as he'd hoped, with a latent roar the massive slab of light stone began to yawn open, revealing its black gulf.
He landed close to it and immediately spun around, checking Ororo's whereabouts; giving a small smile for her as she bounded over with a few nimble strides. "Quick girl!" He shouted as he crouched, ready to roll under the slab before the next assault came in, "I don' know 'ow much longer dat's gon' hold." He spared a glance to his right; his staff was already sparking madly, looking ready to blow as the ropes that held tightly to the sprockets starting to smoke and summarily caught aflame in a vicious burst of hot vermilion. But she was there with him in no time; both rolling under the door into the black, mere seconds before the fire ripped through the ropes completely, the electrical current in the staff reached breaking point, shattering the ancient pulley system to pieces as the fuse box exploded and the door slammed back down with a thunderous bang that shot through the city. The last barrage of arrows did nothing more than crack and splinter into the impenetrable slab; impotent.
*
+"No more!"+ An aged voice rang across the square from high on the battlements. All activity ceased and the atmosphere became almost ghostly. As the sky cleared of its dark mark overhead, the man who had spoken stepped forwards. Rich eyes watched the door, a face that had creased over the years with sincere lines, held an expression of regret. +"We have failed---there is nothing more we can do."+ He said to all and no-one at the same time with a wise air. The Chief of the Yaitata'í tribe stepped forwards from his lofty position, a feeling of dread flowing through his veins as swift as his blood.
Slowly his neck craned back until old eyes fell on the feminine face atop of the temple they had so desperately tried to defend---bitter in there failure to do so after half a millennia of their ancestors fending off any would-be interlopers. But it was beyond them now. + "We must trust all to Yolocan-Uato now."+
With a rattling cry, bellowing deep from his chest, the leader of this band of defenders called his forces back, away from the doomed city that it was their ancestral duty to protect. But now they had no choice other than to retreat to their forest home, and pray that the ancient fires of Yolocan- Uato would not wreak the terrible anger upon their people for the intrusion on her slumber.
* * *
Inside the Yolocan-Uato Temple...
Remy and Ororo couldn't see all that much in the impenetrable gloom as they scrambled to their feet. Their narrow escape preserving them for now but as for what the immediate future held? They had no idea what they'd walked into here.
Gambit absently rubbed at the back of his head; now that the adrenaline rush had passed the pain returned with vengeance. "Damn---de homme got me good." He grumbled as he ruffled his thick hair with the action.
"Serves you right for not paying attention," Ororo tried to stop a good- natured smirk, "How many times have I warned you in Danger Room sessions?"
"Oui, oui chèrie---no need t' rub it in." He shot back with fond annoyance, grinning at her in the relative dark. Then he turned his attention to the more serious matters, trying to work out where they were and what to do next. He tilted his head back as he turned in a slow circle, studying the space. There was nothing really to see; a chamber? A hall? A corridor? He turned to her with a wicked grin, "Alright den---if yaw in 'fearless leader' mode , yo' wanna tell meeeAAARGH!"
Without warning the floor beneath them slopped down like a trapdoor falling open; sending the pair sliding down, not giving them even the ghost of a chance to save themselves from plummeting into a dark abyss.
"YYYAAAARRGH!!" They cried in unison as they came off the edge of the slope and fell down into an unknown space, lit by the merest shard of light. They both seemed to hear the sloshing splash before they felt the wetness on their impact; the water was warm, almost hot like bathwater as they were pulled under. There was no time for them to gain their bearings; both realising as they continued to sink down, their throats burning as they tried to hold in the last breath they'd managed to snatch before going under, that if they didn't ditch their heavy backpacks they were unlikely to be remerging any time soon.
Ororo thrashed from side to side as she worked off the thick straps, feeling suddenly buoyant as it eventually slipped off, letting her kick for the surface. As she broke through the gently swaying top of the almost viscous water she threw her head back, the stale air bursting from her lips as pulled in a fresh one. But even that gave her no relief; the air above the water suffering from the stench that characterised the stagnant pool they'd landed in.
"GACK!" Remy rose up to Ororo's left, spitting out some of the dark water that had gotten into his mouth; its taste beyond foul. "Jésus!" He exclaimed amid a fit of coughing and spluttering; not daring to open his eyes just yet as he felt the sluggish water still running over them from his hair.
Ororo swam over to him slowly, her chin pushed back as she tried to keep it as far away from the filthy surface as she could. "Rather a junior mistake don't you think?" She laughed as she reached him and then looked up at the gaping section of floor that had deposited them down here; muck dripping down from its edge into the pool with loud splotches.
"Hmph! De classic booby-trap, non?" Remy replied wryly as he treaded water at her side, turning to look up at where she had her eyes fixed. As their vision adjusted to the gloom they could just about make out that what they were languishing in was a pit of some sort, no bigger than eight foot square, at most.
Ororo swam over to the far wall where there appeared to be something about a foot above water level attached to the wall. "What have you got left in your trousers?" She asked as she touched against the protruding objects, just about being able to make them out as jaguar heads, mainly by feel rather than sight as she glided both hands over one of them; the surface slippery with a thin layer of algae.
"Excusez-moi?"
Ororo turned to look at him over her shoulder, her hands still clinging to the grainy wet surface of the animal idol as dark droplets dripped from the white of her hair plastered close to her head. "The pockets on your trousers---what have you got left in them? Everything else we had was in our bags---we have nothing to get us out of here. This space is far too small and deep down for me to conjure a wind." That last fact was something she was trying not to think about to much.
"Righ'." Remy murmured as he dipped his hands low into the murky warm depths, feeling at his pockets. His machete was still attached to his belt as was his water canteen. There were a few more bits and pieces but most of them would have been ruined by such a severe soaking in the water and in any case wouldn't have done them all that much good had they been functioning. But suddenly he stopped searching, the soft lapping sound his movements in the water were creating ceasing instantly. He took in a deep breath through his nose.
"What's dat smell?" It had pervaded over that of the water, just in the last few seconds, a kind of natural gassy scent...His eyes fell on the jaguar heads and widened in realisation. "'RORO! GET DOWN!"
Without having to ask why she followed his lead, ducking below once more. It seemed it was opportunely timed as she dared to open her eyes and look up, just in time to see three furious red balls of fire rip across the surface, emanating from the mouths of the revered jungle cats. Once the flames had gone they shot back up, wiping the water from their face, both coughing this time.
"At leas' we know we ain't gon' freeze t' death down 'ere."
The quip won him no favour. "Have you got anything or not?" She was beginning to feel pretty crowded in here.
"Wait a minu'e...I migh'...yes!" He exclaimed, pulling his hands back up from the water Remy revealed two solid steel spikes. He threw them over to Ororo, "It gon' be a struggle but it's de best I can do chère. Yo' go firs' den chuck 'em back down."
Storm gripped the two cold lengths of steel; fat at their tops until they narrowed down to a harp, hard point. Holding them firmly in her hands she inquired. "And what if you miss them?"
"Yo' doubtin' mah ability t' catch?" He pretended to be offended to which she simply smiled as she glided past her companion until she met with the wall at his back, opposite the flaming heads. She then dug the spikes into the moisture swelled bricks with a determine plunge. Thankfully they cut the surface easily enough, the warm water having softened the stones somewhat.
"Hurk!" Ororo exhaled harshly as she heaved herself up; digging in the first spike into the black, soft wall, quickly followed by the second one. This was going to be pain staking work, the task not helped by the extra weight saturating her clothes and filling her boots. "Huurrrck!" She planted the first spike higher; at first struggling to yank it from the wall, only to drive it in just as deep with the third strike. By just an inch or two, she lifted herself from the water.
*
An hour or so later...
They walked up the broad curve; now confident in their approach after no more signs of imminent danger. But after their first encounter with ancient trickery they had still taken pains to be ultra cautious, studiously avoiding all other booby-traps; Remy still rather peeved at falling, no pun intended, into such an obvious trap---he wasn't called a Master Thief for nothing. It had taken them half-an-hour or so to get out of that pit, exhausting them even further before they had even begun to face the true 'delights' of what this place held in store for them. Their clothes had only just started to dry out.
As they walked along the passage way they were at least guided by a modicum of light spilling in from the arched ceiling, letting them know that they were at least close to the top of the temple; having had to find their way though most of the spiralling maze, that twisted like the city did, in the dark. The walk had been more-or-less silent; partly due to concentration and partly avoidance. They had so far encountered no more of the ashen corpses that littered the rest of the city and nor had they heard or seen any evidence that the tribe of protectors had somehow contrived to gain entrance and were following them. As they passed through smooth stone thorough-fares, lined with gigantic circular columns that were adorned with the nameless deities of a long forgotten race, each was lost in the annals of their own personal worlds. Minds winding around past and present situations.
Ororo pressed her hand lightly along the gentle swerve of an animal's body as it wound around on of the columns on her way past it. The texture as smooth as the day it was carved; the large cat contorted into an improbable dance of reverie, its long protruding tongue a lashing tendril, its eyes--- wild staring orbs. She wondered as her fingers fell from the tip, what noble peoples had resided here and created such brilliance. What inspired them to construct such beauty and what brought them to their premature end? The answer seemed worryingly obvious. Whatever it was that was kept here, surely it was secluded, at obvious pains, for a reason. The attacks they had suffered on two occasions in the past twenty-four hours now began suddenly to make more sense to her as she thought about it. They simply didn't want them here not so much because they were intruding but moreover because they couldn't risk letting outsiders getting their hands on the Carcoccia. Tantie Mattie was right---whatever it was had such awesome power that it would be disastrous for anyone to possess it.
"Remy?"
"Oui?"
Ororo stopped and waited patiently for him to do so. A couple of yards past her he eventually did, half turning towards her as he rubbed his forearm over across his forehead---the heat catching up with him only when he stood still. But it was accompanied by an odd feeling that had been building in him the further they'd travelled into the heart of the temple. Endlessly around and around. "Qu'est-ce que c'est, mon chère?"
"I do not think we should do this," She shook her head regretfully, "I know I agreed no matter what but this thing---we have seen what it can do."
He turned to her fully, "We don' know fo' sure---." He started, doing an about-turn on what he practically admitted earlier in agreeing with her fears.
"Do not be so naive Remy," She cut in sternly, "Of course we do. We have seen this kind of thing enough times in our lives to know. There are certain forces in this world that should be left alone. Beings and objects that have powers for whatever reason that should not be exercised or twisted to the perverted wills of others. For when they are the results can be...catastrophic." She searched his hard set face for any response to reason but found none. "We have no right to disturb what has been dormant for an age."
Remy came towards her, still no evidence of yielding in his manner. Stopping just half a foot or so away from her in a shaft of dark blue that came from above, making the shadows deep and his eyes black, he said. "Non' we don'---but yo' t'ink if we don' do dis then it gon' be safe?" He didn't wait for an answer. "Tell me---whose de one bein' naive? If we leave 'ere now, dey'll jus' send someone else. Now dey've got de scent, dey'll stop at nuhddin to get dere hands on it---don' yo' see dat?"
"We could---."
"We could what?" He surprised her slightly with the ire in his voice as he cut across her. Surprised himself a little too if truth be told. Continuing somewhat more calmly, he said, "When de Guild wants somet'in' dis bad it gon' take mo'e dan a disapproving school teacher to stop dem." He raised an eyebrow at her and gave her a lop-sided smile. "We gotta get dis---if it only means dat we stop some uddah prick wit' less respect from gettin' hold o' it."
Ororo threw her head back slightly and uttered an incredulous laugh, "But do you not see Remy," Her head fell back down and she fixed him with serious eyes. "That is exactly who will get hold of it---right when we deliver it into their hands. Willingly." She moved, walking past him, prompting him to turn with her progress around him "Can you live with that on your conscience?"
"Remy's lived wit' a lot worse petite." He said quickly and instantly regretted it. But before Storm had time to reproach him for it, he said, "Besides---who say's dey will?"
Ororo looked confused for a moment before the expression turned to curiosity. "What are you planning LeBeau?" She asked with an uncertain smile as she began to move backwards, carrying on along the wide corridor. The mysteries of the way his mind worked at times would never be fully open to her she was sure. But then again that was always apart of his allure. Was that what was worrying her? The fact that there were dark corners of his head and heart that she doubted anyone would be able to reach. Even her?
His face became unreadable once more, with that trade mark wicked grin, almost lost beneath the growth that was almost counting for a full on beard in the current dimness. "Watch dis space chère, dat's all I'm sayin'." He replied intentionally cryptically. "De Gambit's always got an' ace up 'is sleeve."
"You can be so infuriating at times," She laughed, still edging carefully backwards as she talked to him, "Do you know that? Completely infuriating."
"Oui---an' don' yo' jus' love it?" Again with the exasperating yet endearing arrogance. She rolled her eyes at him and was about to turn around, never breaking her step, when suddenly--- "Wait!" Remy's warning did not come in time as she felt her boot brush against something on the floor, snagging against the back of her foot. But it was too late to do anything about it. All at once Remy dived towards her knocking her to the ground as on either side of them long sharp wooden spikes shot from concealed spaces in the walls and pillars; long enough to interlock with each other; the jagged, gnarly teeth of a shark.
Remy eventually lifted his head up a little from Ororo's shoulder; his arms wrapped about her protectively as his body sprawled over hers. He couldn't lift it very far though; a spear stretched out an inch or two above his neck not allowing him to. Never-the-less he was able to turn to his left and right, checking to see just how pinned to the spot they were. He looked down at the ground by their feet; the incredibly thin length of rope that had been very close to the stone ground, sagged after being triggered.
"Trip wires an' 'idden spears. Hmph!---I give dem five outta ten fo' originality. Eight fo' execution." He looked down at Ororo, his face directly above hers as she lay beneath him, her arms about his bare back. "An' ten outta ten t' yo' fo' stupidity an' no' payin' attention, hien?"
"If you are so bright, then why did you not see the wire before I tripped it and not during?" She countered breathlessly, her heart still pounding. She could feel his too---beating in time with each other as their bodies pressed together.
"Nobodies perfect."
"Remy LeBeau---the things you will do to get a woman on her back." Storm sighed in mock chastisement, making Remy chuckle huskily---suddenly more conscious of the fact that he was laid between her legs. A creaking noise began above them and they both tore their eyes away to look up at the spikes slowly receding back into their concealment. As soon as enough space had been cleared Remy pushed back onto his knees and then took hold of Ororo's hands, pulling them both up to their feet.
He reached out and caught hold of her chin, clasping it lightly, tipping it slightly. "Eyes open from now one, hien?" He told her, almost softly.
Ororo's eyes searched over his face, looking for what, she did not know. "Yes." She replied simply as he let go of her and moved on. She stood for a moment, the heat from his hands still on her skin. The palms of her hands too she realised, buzzed with the same heat, where they had lain over the taut expanse of his back. She looked down at them and then back up at him as he carried on alone the curving path of the corridor---he was burning up and it wasn't as if the temperature of the air was all that sultry anymore as night time settled outside. Or maybe it was just her not being able to feel it anymore.
*
"We gotta be close t' de centre." Remy said as they came to a stop in front of the first doorway they'd encountered in the entire place. The whole temple had been constructed like some kind of mammoth helter-skelter--- nothing more than a huge elaborate spiral; a tower with one purpose. "Dis mus' be it."
This part of the temple was completely cylindrical, not sloping like the rest; it had levelled itself out. All around on the outer walls were eyelet slits, only large enough to admit the passing of arrows. Remy walked over to one of them, peering through it with one eye close as if sneaking a look through a key hole. They were high up, extremely high; apart from the clear starry night sky he could see all over the city, noting that there was no sign of life down there anymore, and out of the dipping volcano top that cradled it so protectively; the dark expanse of forest painted beneath a canvas of sky. As he turned back around he tried to swallow down; his saliva thick and too sticky to glide down easily and all water they'd had had been used up long ago now. If he admitted it to himself he felt like shit, he really did and it had been getting worse the higher they'd travelled. The blood in his veins fairly bubbled. He leant back against the wall, closing his eyes for a moment after he'd checked Ororo wasn't looking- --he didn't want to concern her.
Storm was busy getting a feel of the place. She came close to the tall door that was set into two arching columns, the like of which characterised the whole place. Coming close to them she held her outstretched palms not an inch away from the door, moving them up and down like she was feeling for something. Her intuitions could sometimes feel the innate forces of nature that extended outside of the weather; all life connected with invisible strings, earth's personal rhythm. After a while she began to sense a tremendous natural force; tumultuous and powerful---like fire. Her fingers crackled and sparked in response. She withdrew them, taking a step or two back.
By now Remy had come back to her side. "So what yo' t'ink chère?" He asked as he ran a careful eye over the door and then turned to Ororo, "We in or are we in?"
The familiar white mist consumed her eyes as she stepped back even more, almost as far as she could before the wall stopped her. "We are in." She said as she raised her hands, bringing them together above her head until her palms were about an inch above apart. A growing wind that she did not intend to create inadvertently began to fill the space as a small ball of white light, fizzing with electric blue tendrils came into being between her hands. It grew and it grew until it consumed her hands; a bright orb binding them together. Suddenly throwing her hands forwards, Storm catapulted the ball of raw electrical power at the door, smashing it to pieces instantly and what wasn't destroyed by the initial blast soon burnt away to nothing.
They walked towards it, clearing the smoke left behind with flailing arms, going through the opening without hesitation.
"I don' goddamn believe it." Remy growled. There was nothing there. It was simply a vast, round empty room. But it was absolutely scorching---like a sauna put on the highest setting. This must have been where it was coming from, he thought, like a central furnace.
The pair walked further in, one going to the left the other to the right. The only distinguishing features about the room where two appendages that looked like rounded stone bolts, set exactly half-way around the room on either side, above which flames burned in a small port in the wall, throwing their orange glow across the room. The only other thing in there was another doorway, directly opposite the one they had come in so that each feature in the room divided it into quarters like the points on a Celtic-cross. But this second door was not blocked with an easily surmountable gateway like the other one but was modelled after the main one at the temples entrance; a solid slab blocking their path.
"Jus' when yo' t'ink yo' got t' de end o' de puzzle." Remy remarked more wearily than in humour as he placed his hand on the bolts rough surface.
Ororo checked over the other one in a similar manner, but her mind was still wondering about this force she could still feel; a red hot torrent. "Where is it coming from?" She asked softly to herself.
Remy heard her. "De floor." He said, gazing down at it and tapping his boot a couple of times against the hard ground. The heat was so strong that he could feel it even through the thick, tough soles. This must have been what was making him feel increasingly out of sorts, he was absolutely positive now.
Ororo took her attentions from the bolt and crouched to the ground. He was right; it was coming from down there, she could sense it clearly now--- deep, deep down beneath their feet. Tentatively she touched her hand to the ground, just her finger tips. She pulled in a quick harsh breath through her teeth more in shock than in pain as she whipped her hand away; the floor was like a bed of burning hot coals. Quickly she stood back up.
"Where do'y t'ink it comin' from?"
Ororo simply shook her head but she had an idea---a fairly unpleasant idea. Surely they would have...no, there was no way a city would have been built here if it was still active? Surely...
Remy turned back to the bolt, trying to suss it without having to disturb it. "I t'ink dere like keys or somet'in'." He guessed as he looked over to the one that Ororo was near and then back to his, running his thumb over the engraving in its centre of a mysterious symbol.
"So if we turn them?" She studied the one on hers too but it offered absolutely no clue---just a nonsensical squiggle to an outsiders such as they were.
"The door should open---dat's de t'eory anyway." He finished and then his eyebrows knitted together. "But we can't be certain dat it ain't anuddah trap. Mebbe dey both need t' be moved at de same time---mebbe only one needs t' be turned. But which one, hien?"
"You tell me Monsieur Voleur de Maitre."
Remy winked at her over his shoulder, "Dere's only one way t' find out chère," He grinned and then turned back to the bolt, getting a firm hold of it as it roughly filled his palm, "Trial an' error---an' pray dat dere won't be too much error." His fingers gripped on it tighter, "If I turn dis an' nuhddin' 'appens, den yo' twist yaws, comprendre?"
"Alright." Ororo somewhat reluctantly agreed as she went back to her bolt, taking hold of it, ready. "But if something does happen?" She asked suddenly just as he was limbering up to turn it.
"Den dat depend."
"On what?"
"On wedduh it be good or uddahwise." He laughed, but it faltered a little, "Well--- 'ere goes." Remy grabbed it as firmly as he could, readjusting his grip slightly to account for the moisture on his uncovered finger and then began to turn it with all of his strength. It didn't budge initially; his teeth clenched as he strained against it. But finally the Cajun felt something give; the rumbling grind of stone against stone, vibrating through his hand. Ever-so-slowly, he moved it, anti-clockwise. The noise it gave off was deep and rather ominous as it gradually began to twist more freely the further he pushed it but that was quickly forgotten as it began to work. Both turned to look at the doorway, the light coloured slab moving upwards in accordance with its model far below. Remy laughed again but it was with relief this time as the slab raised higher and higher and higher... "It workin' chère."
One could say the wayward X-Man was tempting fate or perhaps that he simply spoke too soon as the final section of the slab disappeared up into the wall, instantly drawing in both bolts at the same time. Ororo reacted swifter than her companion on this occasion; letting go of the chunky knob before it dragged her hand into the black hole. But Remy didn't have as much time to gain his wits; once the bolt had plunged back into its deep setting a clamp of sorts closed around it, trapping Remy's forearm an inch or two past the wrist.
"Huuuurrr-AH!" Instinct reaction was for him to pull, but even as he was doing it he knew the action was futile and would probably only serve to make the contraption tighten around his arm, like a Chinese finger trap. That was page one crap---he really was acting like an amateur at the moment.
Ororo was at his side in shot, only having narrowly avoided the same fate. "Goddess---Remy!" She frantically ran her hand around the closure about his arm, looking from something, anything, "What can I do?!"
"Fo' a start yo' can calm down." He gave her an odd look, "What's wrong wit' yo' girl? It not like yo' t' get so twitchy." For a moment he tried to feel about the inside with his trapped hand, remembering everything he'd been taught, all that training, stored safely his mind after the years of putting it into practice. But there was nothing he could get his hands on, no facet of the mechanism inside that he could trip; his long fingers reaching out into nothing but space.
"What can I do?" She asked again, having regained some of her composure; he was right, it wasn't like her to panic so, but she'd been doing it more and more as the days had past. Being scared for the safety of a teammate and a friend was one thing, but what if they were more than that? Was he beginning to mean more to her than that?...
"Jus' wait---we gotta t'ink 'bout dis rationally. De trap works like a shutter, so if I pull it jus' gon' get tighter. But pushin' won' help edduh, I can'---."
*DDDDUUUUUBBBRRRRRRRRKRKKRK!!!* The floor began to rumble and then the walls around them. Whatever was latent having been sprung into life by their actions. At first slim jets of thick white steam began to rise from the minute cracks and unseen crevasses in between the twisting slabs that made up the floor as the noise became louder and louder and the tremors more violent in their nature.
"Okay---so now yo' can panic." Remy deadpanned to her over the veritable earthquake volume noise. The shaking became so bad that Storm was having trouble staying on her feet. To their total horror they could only look on as the first stone in the centre of the floor fell away, a hot red light shinning up through it like a torch. It became terrifying and glaringly obvious then what this temple was---Ororo suspicions and fears realised. It had been built, for whatever reason, like a flume above what was still very much an active volcano. More pieces of the floor began to fall away, from the centre outwards.
Instantly Ororo grabbed for his arm, feeling around the edge of the stone that had it held fast. There had to be something here, she reasoned with herself, forcing a calm over herself.
"Go Stormy!" Remy implored her, he had no idea what was about to happen to him, how he'd get himself out of this one, but he didn't want her in the firing line, as it were. "Get yo'self outta 'ere now!"
"No." She cried back sternly as the room began to fill with the toxic heat and fumes from the raging lava below. They both coughed furiously as the acid air burned down their throats. "I am *gaack—cough!* I am not going without you." She shouted definitely. The floor continued to cave, picking up momentum, a sudden larger blast from below throwing them both off balance; Remy falling back against the wall, all his weight hanging on his arm, almost breaking his collar bone with the unexpected jolt, making him wince silently. Ororo fell backwards but quickly regained her footing, clamouring quickly back over to him. As she came near to him her smoke- reddened eyes couldn't hide the note of fear in their glassy reflection. Not at all for herself, she could die a thousand deaths, but all for him.
When she was at his side once more, Remy took hold of her with his left hand, holding the side of her head somewhat roughly but only to make her look him in the eyes and see his seriousness. Red irises burned with all the need and love he felt for her, everything she'd meant to him over the years and perhaps everything she could have meant if only they'd had the chance---but it was looking like that wasn't on the cards for them anymore.
"Ororo." He never called her that, "Listen t' me---yo've gotta go, or nedduh of us are gettin outta 'ere. If dis is de end fo' me den so be it--- but I'm not gonna take yo' wit' me, yo' hear! Don' make me responsible fo' dat!" He ran his thumb over her cheek, his fingers closing around the back of her head, sinking into her hair, feeling its softness perhaps for the last time. The thought almost killed him inside... "Please.." He pleaded.
Ororo squeezed her eyes shut, rare tears that she could no longer pretend were not within her spilled from the corners tracing clear track through the fine layer of dirty soot type dust that was being to cover both of them. She shook her head vigorously, "No Remy---I will not give up. I can not leave you here!"
Remy released his hold on her, almost pushing her from him as he did so. "Damn it 'Roro!" He spat out furiously, probably the most vitriolic she'd ever heard him in her life. "Get out---NOW!"
"I can not!" Half the floor had gone now and the heat was unbearable; red and orange plumes spitting up dangerously.
"Fine!" If she wouldn't go without him, Remy surmised that he only had one option left. He suddenly grabbed at something on his belt; Ororo stepped back as he drew it up. It was his machete. Gripping it awkwardly in his left hand, he laid it as close to the end of his right arm as could, near to where the wall had claimed it.
Ororo gasped in shock, stopping just short of covering her mouth in horror, "You can not!"
"I ain't got all dat much choice chère. If yo' can t'ink o' somet'in bedduh, feel free t' let me know. Anytime 'bout now will do." He turned from her, unable to stand it anymore; angry at her for refusing to leave him, even angrier at himself for putting her here. This wasn't about saving the world or anything else she would gladly give her life for, this was his stupidity and nothing more. He took in a deep breath, the fumes stinging, clenched his jaw and drew the blade back. The sweat poured as he readied himself; his whole body as tight as a drum. Clammy finger assured their grip on the black plastic of the handle and he closed his eyes. The blade rushed down.
"Wait!" Ororo caught his arm halfway down---the gravity of the situation pushing her mind into overdrive, forcing her to get a grip. An old trick of Achmed's remembered---all she needed was something small.
"It de only way 'Ro---let go o' mah fuckin' arm!" He growled before sparing a glance at the ground, there was only a thin layer left, three or four bricks wide, circling around the edge of the room, the rest a hell-like gulf---spitting fire-and-brimstone and all.
"I think I can trip it open." She fell to her knees, rifling through his pockets to see if there was anything left. "All I need is something small." Bits of metal fell to the floor but nothing that was small enough to be of any use. But as she bent down further into the lowest pocket something tapped again and again at the under side of her chin.
Of course!
Quickly Ororo got back to her feet and as she did so she took hold of the precious sapphire about her neck, still there on its thin chain after everything. With one yank she ripped it off, the links burning against her skin, taking some of it away as they dragged around. "This should do it--- just hold still." She blinked her eyes, clearing the stinging from the smoke as she took hold of his arm with her left hand and then pushed the tiny blue nugget in between his arm and the edge of the stone that surrounded it.
Remy held his breath, his face set in a determine grimace as Ororo dug the gem in, almost burrowing it into his arm, making him clench his hidden hand into a fist as blood poured from the wound it had made. He could feel it shaking on the other side with tension as the jagged sapphire was pushed deeper and deeper. Although he was sure this pain was preferable to the other.
"Ggggrrrrrrrrr---ahhh!" With a grinding noise the hole loosened slowly, the binding slats opening up and at last his arm was free.
But there was no time for jubilation, the ground was down to the last two layers and the door was half a room away. "C'mon!" He grabbed Ororo's hand and they ran---they ran faster than they had ever ran in their lives, still only keeping one foot fall ahead of the falling bricks as the last of the floor gave up its resistance. They were almost there, almost to safety--- Remy's heart raced as with one last giant bound he made for the doorway, pulling Storm with him. But as he leapt for it he suddenly felt a force tugging back. His free hand just about managed to grab hold of the column before he was pulled back completely, giving him enough leverage to hook his foot around it too, getting through the thresh-hold. But he was only halfway in and struggling to hold on at that.
"AHH!" The floor had fallen from underneath Ororo and she was now hanging from Remy's left arm, dangling perilously above oblivion as molten rock and flames licked and raged beneath her.
-TBC-
Hehe..aren't I a rotter! Promise I'll be as quick as I can with the next update and reviews get me writing twice as fast!
+= Translated from Yaitata'í Indian ( a language and tribe that doesn't actually exist---simply an amalgamation of different genuine tribal words and artistic licence on my part for the purposes of this story.)
Chapter.11.
Naroapa Impokiro, 'A Cidade do Vulcão', deep in the Amazon...
"I guess dis is de place, hien?" Remy retorted off-handily, in belie of his amazement at one of the most intricate man-made structures he had ever seen. Neither had laid their eyes upon anything quite like it; here or in the furthest reaches of the known universe that they had travelled on more than one occasion. Not even the mighty Shi'ar Empire had managed such a feat, they were sure.
"I have never seen anything like it." She fairly gasped as she stepped closer to the edge of the high up opening that turned out to be set close to the top of the side of what looked like the peek a volcano, holding to the edge with just one hand. Before lay a rounded basin type crater, lined with trees due to thousands of years of inactivity and in the centre of this was a city---perfectly preserved.
"Careful 'Roro." Remy warned as he watched Ororo step that bit closer to the edge, unconsciously the tips of her boots overlapping the sheer edge, drawn to the stunning spectacle by an invisible thread.
It was truly awe inspiring...more than breathtaking. A central alter--- palace of some sort---formed the focal point. It's tendril like walls towering with natures grace, the forests grace, on a high plinth above the rest of the city that wound around it in a spiral formation, weaving down like a brilliant stone maze to create a conical effect. But it was the intricacy of the architecture that was most astounding; the sun-bleached white stone carved not into the practical yet beautiful oblong blocks of most ancient cities of the Americas but into the most bewildering circular forms. The buildings of the city were linked to one another, almost like a never ending weaved knot, caressing and holding to each other in a timeless dance. A natural structure born of man's hand. An oxymoron yes, but true all the same. Both yearned for a closer look, their desire caught on the tips of their tongues. The sound would come. A spent rapture.
*
At the city gates...
Two great stone centurions stood guard; soundless, their white eyes unseeing, limbs unmoved, spears held straight up to the heavens. Some spare guyropes and a little skilful improvisation with the sturdier trees had gotten them down here safe enough and now they were before the gateway to this wondrous place, beneath its blue shadow. The towering wooden doors stood slightly ajar with their reticent watchers; abandoned and left to their fate.
"Are we going to just stand here or are we going in?"
"Ladies firs'." Remy bowed graciously with an ostentatious flurry of the hand towards the gigantic doors.
Storm rolled her eyes, "Why thank-you kind sir." She replied with exaggerated politeness and a despairing shake of the head as she made for the door, with Remy not that far behind.
"Don' try an' deny it," Remy jested as they passed through the slight opening, "yo' femmes still can' get enough o' chivalry in a guy---no madduh 'ow much yo' protest."
All jesting and tomfoolery stopped as soon as they passed through the gates and into the lost city. The sight that greeted them was at once stunning but at the same time horrifying. Amongst the expertly carved buildings that towered around them like the most wonderful pieces of sculpture was a scene that could have come from Pompeii itself.
"Goddess!" Ororo whispered in exclamation at what she saw. Figures. Corpses. Everywhere---the population of a teaming metropolis in a death- mask state of stasis. All about them, as if caught by the quick snap of a camera shutter, an instant in time captured for all eternity. They stood, in their life like sate but distilled in a cocoon of grey ash. The pair walked further in, their mouths practically agape at the unexpected spectacle; the streets of polished cobbled stone uneven beneath their feet.
"What de fuck..." Remy said slowly in his disbelief as he ventured forwards, coming close to the body of a young man, stilled in a half- running pose, as if he were fleeing towards the gates.
"I can not believe this...it looks like..." She didn't finish the sentence as she advanced upon the 'statue' of a woman, her hands flung in the air, an expression of utter terror upon her face. Ororo stepped closer, almost daring not to breathe lest she blow the figure away. "What happened to them?" She asked, mainly to herself, the question made in an act of rhetorical disbelief.
Non-the-less Remy answered, "I don' know chère---it look like dey were--- burned?" He shook his head, perplexed, "I don' know..." He repeated as he moved on to another figure; a man who was dressed in some kind of uniform. The contours and outlines of plated armour and the delicate folds of material were still discernable, though all was monotone with deep black shadows cast by the sun.
"But how could they have been left in such...perfection." Almost like she was unable to stop herself, Ororo reached up to the woman's face, upon which was the hanging globule of a tear shape, running down her rounded cheek. Her fingers hovered close to it, just a millimetre away; the vague shake in them obvious the closer she moved them. "Such preservation--- surely it is not possible in such a climate..." Smooth digits went closer and eyes watered with fixed amazement, "It is not possible..." As soon as they came into contact, just the slightest touch, the figure began to disintegrate. Storm quickly pulled her hand away but it was two late; the defined bulk of ash flittered away into the ether. Simultaneously collapsing to the ground and dispersing into the air until there was nothing left. No trace that the person had ever been. She watched; the soft grey scattering to nothing in the golden light. Parrots cried over head; a lively squawk in defiance of the death.
They moved on through narrow streets that sloped gently upwards, speechless for a time as they bore witness to a time and a place that had been cast like stone yet with all the fragility of a dry sand castle. City streets were full of the vibrancy of life, stalls set out on the roads selling fruit, meat, fish, clothes. The people walked, the people ran. Some seemed calm, others were not. Dogs barked as soldiers overran the streets. It was clear that the city was in a state of siege---the corpses of hundreds of what appeared to be Conquistadors, terrorising the citizens. Or perhaps something else instilled the look of utter horror on certain faces.
"Looks like dey were invaded." Remy said as he came up to a cluster of those soldiers; headed up the road whilst all around them were heading down.
"I do not have a good feeling about this Remy." Tantie's warnings were suddenly fresh on her mind. A mind that was now clear of the pressures of the forest, this oasis of captured life somehow existing outside of everything that made life elsewhere tick. She could once more feel the omnipotence over her powers; the dulcet prick of an electrical current, the heavy roll of thunder, the coursing drive of the rain, running through her as hot blood. Her life force. It was given back almost like this place existed out of time and space. But these matters were of little concern to her at this moment. "Whatever happened to those unfortunate souls, surely it must---."
"Don' say it chère," Remy held a hand up in her direction to halt her, his eyes diverted as if entranced by the group of running soldiers. Where were they running to? "I know what dis means---yo' don' 'ave t' spell it out." He concluded grimly as he walked towards the ashen figures as they turned a bend in the steep street; their eagerness still palpable. Boots tapped the cobbled floor with an ominous echo as the Cajun turned with them; the palace...temple causing the shadow that had rendered their colouring an onyx soot. The surrealism of De Chirico.
Remy LeBeau stood in its shadow now---the first outsider for near half a millennia to be in its presence. Ororo was not far behind. The temple of tendrils stood in an open square with the sculpted bodies of nymphs-like creatures and noble warrior men, rising to a converging peak at which the head of woman sat with the stern look of a matron; the flat curving lines like the virgin statue that sat on Tantie's table, the one she adored so. But this woman, this female idol had a presence that was all her own. A matriarch that demanded respect, demanded worship. Ororo was open to it--- recognising her as one of her ilk, a kindred spirit of those she worshipped and became on the flat arid plains of Kenya.
The steps of the temple rose before them, a challenge to be overcome, a pilgrimage to be walked.
"It must be in there."
"Yah..." Remy said, his voice sounding raspy as the torridness became more pressing; sweat running like rain.
Ororo glanced over to him at her left, the apprehension mutual. "Remy, this does not feel..."
"...right." He finished her sentence for her. "We've come dis far---it'd seem...churlish not t' go de whole way."
"Churlish?" Ororo laughed sardonically to which Remy cocked his head and shrugged. "Never-the-less, it seems are quest is over---nearly."
"Hmph...nearly's de word petit."
Ororo looked at him, his tone confusing her. He appeared to be captivated by something else, that look on his face telling her that something was about to happen. She followed his eye-line, then, and only then did she understand it. Up there, on the medieval style battlements that ran along all of the taller buildings that penned them in stood warriors---live tribes men. All with bow and arrows, primed and aimed, ready and waiting; dark harbingers in their shadow likeness against the fading light. Instantly they recognised them, the black and red swathes of paint across dark coffee skin of those illuminated on their left-hand side identifying them as the people of their former encounter, their keen attackers. There must have been at least a hundred of them, their lethal cargo trained on the two X-Men; tense hands barely holding back the shots that would cause instant death---a fierceness in their eyes that yearned for retribution.
"So how do we get out of this one hot-shot?"
* * *
Chula Vista, Southern California...
The grapple hook line chinked against the marble balustrade, cutting into its grainy granite with a fierce bite. The only noise in the soundless night. The titanium wire strained suddenly as it dropped over the rounded edge of the balcony; an ornate decoration for the forth floor window of the plush manor house that sat in the splendid desert landscape of the Pacific south-west, just over the boarder from Mexico. A quick gust brushed across the orangey pigmented ground, whipping the sparkling grains of ruby-esque sand up into the balaclava-covered face of the black glad figure that was scaling the side of the mock-Spanish mansion; its pristinely white façade shining in perfection against the midnight blue and red all around. Brittle palms dotted the grounds like miniature black explosions as fireflies sparked; fallen stars.
As the figure reached just below the balcony, they paused for a moment, securing the stiff glinting wire around several clips on the belt around their mid-riff. With a dull snapping sound, like a piece of board being waved back and forth, the wire was tugged twice; its security assured. Placing their feet against the plastered wall of the house, the figure lent back so that they were practically perpendicular, laid underneath the overhang of the small balcony, using it like a cover. Once they resumed their steadiness they reached into a compartment on the military jacket they were sporting, pulling out a gun type object. But it was far too flawlessly cylindrical and resembled more a flare gun than one of lethal intent. With a soft *clack* a short lever, like a hammer, was pulled back and taking the object in both hands, the object was pointed upwards at a target high above the balcony. A short puffing sound went off as the lever was released followed by a quick cracking sound. The small piece of black netting from within the weapon had certainly made short work of the spying eye of the security camera that was just above the floor to ceiling sliding windows. Turning their body with a sharp controlled movement the shot was repeated, temporarily taking out the other camera on the right. It was a race against time now---it would only be so long before the guards realised that two of their screens had been taken out.
Moving quickly the dark figure placed the 'gun' away and took hold of the wire once more. With one concerted effort and all their body strength pushed into their arms, they pulled themselves from below the balcony and used the momentum of that movement to pitch one leg up and catch hold of the edge of the balustrade. Once purchase had been gained it was a simple matter to let go of the wire and with in the blink of an eye grab onto the marble rail and flip themselves over it. Rubber bottomed boots made sure the landing on the other side was completely soundless; a crouching position adopted until safety from sight was assured.
Before they moved again it was time to dispense with the balaclava. It was a relief to have it off, the heat being trapped between the thick black wool and the almost reptilian quality of her cerulean skin. Tucking it into the top of her left boot for safe keeping, Darkholme stood slowly as her eerily saffron eyes scanned over the huge window panel; her reflection against the white of the balcony behind her making it hard for her to determine if the room was occupied. After, with great pains, obtaining the floor plans to the Chula Vista Assassin's leader's base of operations, it hadn't been difficult to ascertain that this forth floor guest bedroom was the weakest point of security in the whole compound. Not that she was happy at having to be here in the first place. It seemed to her a useless distraction, but if it was a full on clan war he wanted then it was a war like no other he would get. She had been issued with this task; all she had to do now was concentrate on carrying it out. The price was right so she had no reason to quibble.
Slipping silently over to the door, Mystique retrieved a circular object from her jacket and placed it on the window, close to where the handle was positioned on the other side, near to the solid marble jamb. As she pressed the clear plastic down it became like a suction cup against the glass. When she took her hand away from it, it stayed in position whilst she pulled out a slim pencil type tool. Flicking it on, a sharp crimson beam shone from its end as she followed the outside line of the circle, a stream of bluish smoke rising from it as it cut into the glass. In no time at all, the hole was cut; the tip of the plastic plate caught quickly in her left hand to prevent it and the piece of removed glass from clashing loudly with the concrete floor of the balcony. Instead she placed them carefully down and then reached into the small gap, slowly lifting the catch inside and with her other hand pressed flush tot the glass, sliding it open soundlessly. Breaking and entering under these more---traditionally covert---methods weren't especially Darkholme's forte but she was proficient enough when the job called for it. More than proficient---she prided herself on the quality of her work, whether it was to obtain secrets through pillow talk or plain professional murder. But the hardest part of this particular job, one she'd working on for the past three months in one capacity or another was still a way off. She stepped into the dark unoccupied room.
*
The place Mystique needed to get to was not all that far from the guest bedroom where she had gained entry. But getting from point A to point B on the next floor had been predictably slow moving. More cameras, an unexpected foot patrol and a young daughter getting up for a glass of milk had all been obstacles that, in truth, had been over come easily, but had added more than ten minutes onto the fifteen tops that she wanted to be in the compound, grounds and all. Much to her chagrin. But a little way further down the hallway, back pressed against the wall to avoid the camera in the corner at the far end, up a short flight of stairs and she was there. Senor Philippe Fernandez's private Guild Ceremonial room.
The lock on the ostentatiously golden gilded doors was surprisingly easy to pop. A simple jam of her bow knife and hey-presto. It was pitch black in the windowless room that sat atop of the grand house, on the fifth and final floor. Although she couldn't see it Raven could sense that the space was vast and fairly lofty, covering the area of almost the entire house if the blueprints she'd procured in San Diego were correct. She waited close to the door for a moment, just to make certain nobody was happening by, although that was a scant possibility as they would have to make specific effort to come up and there was no reason for anyone to be coming anywhere near here tonight. She had made certain. But there was nothing from the other side of the door so she moved off it; flicking on the small head of a torch attached above her right breast pocket. From what small amount of space that it lit up there appeared to be a central gangway that she was sure must lead to the alter that she needed to get to. She did not rush but nor was she overly cautious as she made her way down, taking a measured stride; all the time her eyes and ears wide open. Her foot steps made not a single sound against the fleecy runner.
Soon her white light began to pick out the contours in the dark of a towering construction, dark and deep shadows forming to create a massive place of ceremonial splendour. She stopped, about two feet away from the alter that was adorned with Mexican style icons like the art works that had adorned the hallway in certain spots on the way up here. Opening the button on the pocket beneath where the small torch was attached, she dipped just two of her fingers in and took out a square folded pouch of pale blue airmail paper. Unfolding it carefully she held it open before her lips, being vigilant not to disturb the fine white powder contained with in it until she was ready. Then, with a short sharp inhale, she then released it just as quickly as it was drawn in, dispersing the fine light dust into a delicate cloud in the gloom. As the tiny sparkling particles settled back down to earth with a gentle flurry they highlighted what she had suspected; several criss-crossed red beams. An intricate laser alarm system that would set the whole house screaming if she were to come into even the merest contact with the thin neon ruby lines. Not a problem, she thought with a deliciously smug smile. Tripping the system wasn't an option, she didn't have the specific details of layout of the room and it would take her too long to locate the electronic sensors that fed the motion detector. Plus, any interference at all would more than likely alert the guards that sniffed around the place like blood-hounds. Strange for a house full of professional assassins to be so security conscious. But as long as they didn't catch her 'scent', which she was confident they wouldn't, she'd be fine.
The whole matter was just a question of time, slipping through the hour glass. The second option was much quicker, and easier for someone with the physical abilities to implement. Placing the now empty slip of paper back into her pocket, Darkholme turned around and took a few steps back, creating some space. Turning back to the nave-like area, the patterns and spacing of the beams were etched on her memory as if chiselled into solid stone, though no longer visible. Tensing her body she suddenly adopted the pose of a gymnast; arms up in the air, one leg stretched out, the tip of the toe pointing to the ground. With a bursting run she leapt into the air just before the position of the first now invisible red line, landing clear the other side and then somersaulting again, touching the ground fleetingly and then again, touching the ground and again until she came down close to the alter. 10.0; a perfect landing. Not a single beam broken or neared by even a centimetre.
But she had no time for self congratulation. She knew exactly what she was looking for and where to find it. She was also safe in the knowledge that from this far in, security was so lacks as to be non-existent. Their over confidence in the barriers they'd erected thus far being shattered in minutes by one woman. There was a small set of steps ahead of her, flanked on either side by beautifully carved wooden mahogany panelling. She skipped up them quickly, coming to a stop at what was the epicentre of the alter- piece. This was where all things precious to this particular clan of Assassins was kept. The entire history of their rise to power, their collection of spoils gleaned from their constant one-upmanship of the San Diego Thieves. She'd learnt all about it---studied and memorised the histories of both clans in meticulous detail.
Mystique was now presented with a row of miniature casket style boxes set on a bench that was about waist height. She ignored them as soon as she recognised them as the assassin's tithes; the like of which were a tradition to present in all the clans of the world whether they be thief or assassin. But what she was after wasn't something quite so precious, although given the damage that the possession of a simple coin could cause one could argue that it was. Above this bench was a cupboard set into the rounded stomach of a Mexican goddess idol. Darkholme opened up the small latticed doors via their delicate hanging brass handles. She smiled darkly as her eyes fell upon the small box inside and quickly she reached in and opened it but was careful not to move it one jot. Stealth was in the details. There inside the velvet lining was her loot. She gazed upon them for a second; a pirate startled by a cachet of gold coins. But she only needed one---one would do almost all the destruction desired. Dipping her hands in, she retrieved the flat metalic disk on top of the pile. The light of her torch caught it, making the golden surface shine with the power of the fireflies that danced outside. The Chula Vista insignia blazed for a second and was then gone, tucked into the left breast pocket.
"But we can't very well take without giving, can we?" She sneered as from the same pocket she pulled out a similar looking coin but this time the dragon insignia upon its moulded surface was that of the thieves clan that she had so successfully infiltrated. "Lopez sends his regards." She smirked.
With that she dropped the incriminating coin into the box and snapped the lid shut, instantly regretting her haste as the sound echoed in the lofty room. She froze, her ears listening keenly into the darkness. Nothing. She moved swiftly then, no more messing around, closing the latticed doors quietly, the final part of this job had to be completed quickly.
Going to the left of the goddess statue there was another cupboard of sorts, again set into the pregnant stomach of a female idol. Three letters lay inside, half folded into themselves, the rough old paper browned at the edges. To them, this assassin turned thief for the night left a fourth; a large red waxed seal binding it over, stamped with the San Diego dragon, the one that adorned the official stamp that only Velasquez Lopez had access to. Or so the theory went...But the seal had already been broken, the letter would be presumed to have been read and left in this reverential place. And so the mechanisms were in place. All she had to do now was sit back and wait. Wait for the white devil and the weather witch to bring her quarry to her. With equal stealth and speed, Raven Darkholme left the Chula Vista Assassin's compound as effortlessly as she had entered.
* * *
Naroapa Impokiro...
The arrows rained down as dense as water would; zipping through the air with horrendous noise as they travelled in unison towards their targets. Ororo only had a split second to react now that full control over her powers had been restored to her. Wild white eyes that glowed heralded the wind that swept through the narrow street behind them and out into the piazza style square; carrying with it the dust of the soldiers it had collected to its breast on the way. With a graceful sweep of her hand the arrows diverted in a spiral formation; caught up in a gentle whirlwind that deposited them like the clatter of so many falling branches, onto the hard ground. They made a break for it with the time Storm had brought, darting for the steep steps across the square, only to be greeted by several more adversaries once they were a quarter of the way up. They were advancing down too quickly for Ororo to implement her powers for diversion purposes; hand to hand combat was once again unavoidable.
"Stormy---heads up, girl!" Ororo turned just in time to get ready to catch the compact adamantium staff winging its way over to her. She caught it expertly, whizzing round as if were a baton, causing each end to snap out quickly into its full length. Just in time to fend off a blow that was raining down on her.
For his part Remy unclipped his modified staff, but didn't bother to activate it as he rammed the end into the kneecap of the tribe man immediately in front of him, making his leg buckle and sending him tumbling down the steps head first. It gave Gambit the space to advance some more towards the towering summit and face his next opponent head on. But then, with his devil-may-care grin plastered on his face he changed tack and waited instead for the native to come to him. Just as he neared him, his poised, ready to strike, Remy used what was left of his upward momentum to forward-flip over the man. Landing at the other side of him with perfect balance, all it took then was a light kick into the centre of his chest, sending him to join his compadre in a heap down below.
"Evah get de feelin' dere are some parties dat yaw jus' no' welcome at?" He quipped whilst giving yet another attacker a bloody nose with the flat of his palm.
Ororo ducked, swerved and swept her leg along the ground, sending three down at once from the step above her. "Remy LeBeau, you are the king of the understatement." She bellowed over as she stood back up straight only to be forced to duck back down again as a man brandishing a blade literally jumped down several steps towards her. Lifting her arms and inadvertently dropping her staff, she pushed him, making sure he sailed straight over her. But not before he'd gotten a blow in himself; just nicking her side, the sharp blade slicing through her cotton top and opening up the surface of the skin. It was no worse than a paper cut really, it could have been a lot worse but that didn't stop her from momentarily losing her usual composure. Eyes steamed white once more as the sky above the temple became a sombre version of itself, filled with foreboding clouds. Distant thunder growled angrily.
"Now, now Stormy," Gambit near laughed, not accustomed to seeing the queen of cool letting the mask slip. "Maybe dis place ain't so good fo' yo' after all, hien?"
Storm had respite enough to throw him a pursed look over her shoulder, "Just save the wise cracks and watch your back my friend."
"Wha---." *Clunk!*. "Fuck!" The large rounded edge of a heavy club cracked into the back of Remy's head before he had chance to heed her warning, just beneath the place where the skull curves inwards, the most vulnerable and possibly painful spot. Though he was still extremely lucky; if that had of been a blade he'd let his guard down on, his head would have been split in two right now. Time to get serious. He suddenly found himself as pissed with these jokers as Storm was. Quickly he turned around, confronting the club bearer who was getting ready to deliver what perhaps would have been a killer blow. "No' today, chump." He flicked the switch on his staff, administering a quick, sharp shock as he jabbed it into the man's ribs. To hell with no harming, if they were playing for keeps then so was he. But he knew full well as he watched the now unconscious man collapse to the ground still twitching that it hadn't been severe enough to kill, but maybe, hopefully, the others would think that it had been. And now the top was in sight---just a kick, right-hook and a jump away.
Storm had a swifter way though---her winds, warm and strong, rushing upwards and throwing her adversaries to their fate. She landed with a lightness of step next to Remy on the broad flat of top of the pyramid type construction that supported the temple. But for all her skill of landing, she soon found herself rudely grabbed, by Remy, and thrown to the side into an alcove created by the convergence of two huge statues; hidden in their cooling shadow. Another assault of arrows came flooding in, chipping at the walls around them, shattered stone and dust flying; the closest one landing not a millimetre from Remy's right bicep. But they were fairly impervious from where they were and it gave Gambit the chance he needed to cast his cunning thief's eye over where they now found themselves. More arrows cut the air and stone with deliberate tension.
In a matter of seconds Remy took in the wide stone entrance, blocked with a large slab that seemed to be anchored to a lever system and two giant stone sprockets to the right of it. Getting it open quickly would probably not be too much of a problem. The only snag lay in the fact that it was on the right side and they were pinned in on the left, under danger of another attack by arrows. From where they now were Storm's winds couldn't be one hundred percent relied on to keep them out of harms way whilst he triggered the pulley system.
"Any ideas?"
Remy smiled to himself, his over worked brain clicking a devilishly simple plan into place. "Yah, actually." Cocky and self-assured; just the way she liked him. He moved out of the alcove a fraction, but was still protected by the huge stone leg at his back. If he was going to do this he had to be damn quick about it. Taking his staff into his right hand, javelin-like, he burst into a run, pulling his arm back so that his weapon was level with his shoulder and then threw it with all his force and precision at the mechanism. But before he let go, nifty fingers flicked the switch back on, making the end spark with lively blue light. More weaponry hailed in; he practically threw himself in the air to avoid it, balling his legs beneath him and forward rolling. It was 'on the hop' but he still managed to make it look like the most elegant action known to man. The Cajun charmer had a knack and no mistake. To top it all off his wing-and-a-prayer plan was working too; the jolt of electricity triggering off the pulley mechanism as he'd hoped, with a latent roar the massive slab of light stone began to yawn open, revealing its black gulf.
He landed close to it and immediately spun around, checking Ororo's whereabouts; giving a small smile for her as she bounded over with a few nimble strides. "Quick girl!" He shouted as he crouched, ready to roll under the slab before the next assault came in, "I don' know 'ow much longer dat's gon' hold." He spared a glance to his right; his staff was already sparking madly, looking ready to blow as the ropes that held tightly to the sprockets starting to smoke and summarily caught aflame in a vicious burst of hot vermilion. But she was there with him in no time; both rolling under the door into the black, mere seconds before the fire ripped through the ropes completely, the electrical current in the staff reached breaking point, shattering the ancient pulley system to pieces as the fuse box exploded and the door slammed back down with a thunderous bang that shot through the city. The last barrage of arrows did nothing more than crack and splinter into the impenetrable slab; impotent.
*
+"No more!"+ An aged voice rang across the square from high on the battlements. All activity ceased and the atmosphere became almost ghostly. As the sky cleared of its dark mark overhead, the man who had spoken stepped forwards. Rich eyes watched the door, a face that had creased over the years with sincere lines, held an expression of regret. +"We have failed---there is nothing more we can do."+ He said to all and no-one at the same time with a wise air. The Chief of the Yaitata'í tribe stepped forwards from his lofty position, a feeling of dread flowing through his veins as swift as his blood.
Slowly his neck craned back until old eyes fell on the feminine face atop of the temple they had so desperately tried to defend---bitter in there failure to do so after half a millennia of their ancestors fending off any would-be interlopers. But it was beyond them now. + "We must trust all to Yolocan-Uato now."+
With a rattling cry, bellowing deep from his chest, the leader of this band of defenders called his forces back, away from the doomed city that it was their ancestral duty to protect. But now they had no choice other than to retreat to their forest home, and pray that the ancient fires of Yolocan- Uato would not wreak the terrible anger upon their people for the intrusion on her slumber.
* * *
Inside the Yolocan-Uato Temple...
Remy and Ororo couldn't see all that much in the impenetrable gloom as they scrambled to their feet. Their narrow escape preserving them for now but as for what the immediate future held? They had no idea what they'd walked into here.
Gambit absently rubbed at the back of his head; now that the adrenaline rush had passed the pain returned with vengeance. "Damn---de homme got me good." He grumbled as he ruffled his thick hair with the action.
"Serves you right for not paying attention," Ororo tried to stop a good- natured smirk, "How many times have I warned you in Danger Room sessions?"
"Oui, oui chèrie---no need t' rub it in." He shot back with fond annoyance, grinning at her in the relative dark. Then he turned his attention to the more serious matters, trying to work out where they were and what to do next. He tilted his head back as he turned in a slow circle, studying the space. There was nothing really to see; a chamber? A hall? A corridor? He turned to her with a wicked grin, "Alright den---if yaw in 'fearless leader' mode , yo' wanna tell meeeAAARGH!"
Without warning the floor beneath them slopped down like a trapdoor falling open; sending the pair sliding down, not giving them even the ghost of a chance to save themselves from plummeting into a dark abyss.
"YYYAAAARRGH!!" They cried in unison as they came off the edge of the slope and fell down into an unknown space, lit by the merest shard of light. They both seemed to hear the sloshing splash before they felt the wetness on their impact; the water was warm, almost hot like bathwater as they were pulled under. There was no time for them to gain their bearings; both realising as they continued to sink down, their throats burning as they tried to hold in the last breath they'd managed to snatch before going under, that if they didn't ditch their heavy backpacks they were unlikely to be remerging any time soon.
Ororo thrashed from side to side as she worked off the thick straps, feeling suddenly buoyant as it eventually slipped off, letting her kick for the surface. As she broke through the gently swaying top of the almost viscous water she threw her head back, the stale air bursting from her lips as pulled in a fresh one. But even that gave her no relief; the air above the water suffering from the stench that characterised the stagnant pool they'd landed in.
"GACK!" Remy rose up to Ororo's left, spitting out some of the dark water that had gotten into his mouth; its taste beyond foul. "Jésus!" He exclaimed amid a fit of coughing and spluttering; not daring to open his eyes just yet as he felt the sluggish water still running over them from his hair.
Ororo swam over to him slowly, her chin pushed back as she tried to keep it as far away from the filthy surface as she could. "Rather a junior mistake don't you think?" She laughed as she reached him and then looked up at the gaping section of floor that had deposited them down here; muck dripping down from its edge into the pool with loud splotches.
"Hmph! De classic booby-trap, non?" Remy replied wryly as he treaded water at her side, turning to look up at where she had her eyes fixed. As their vision adjusted to the gloom they could just about make out that what they were languishing in was a pit of some sort, no bigger than eight foot square, at most.
Ororo swam over to the far wall where there appeared to be something about a foot above water level attached to the wall. "What have you got left in your trousers?" She asked as she touched against the protruding objects, just about being able to make them out as jaguar heads, mainly by feel rather than sight as she glided both hands over one of them; the surface slippery with a thin layer of algae.
"Excusez-moi?"
Ororo turned to look at him over her shoulder, her hands still clinging to the grainy wet surface of the animal idol as dark droplets dripped from the white of her hair plastered close to her head. "The pockets on your trousers---what have you got left in them? Everything else we had was in our bags---we have nothing to get us out of here. This space is far too small and deep down for me to conjure a wind." That last fact was something she was trying not to think about to much.
"Righ'." Remy murmured as he dipped his hands low into the murky warm depths, feeling at his pockets. His machete was still attached to his belt as was his water canteen. There were a few more bits and pieces but most of them would have been ruined by such a severe soaking in the water and in any case wouldn't have done them all that much good had they been functioning. But suddenly he stopped searching, the soft lapping sound his movements in the water were creating ceasing instantly. He took in a deep breath through his nose.
"What's dat smell?" It had pervaded over that of the water, just in the last few seconds, a kind of natural gassy scent...His eyes fell on the jaguar heads and widened in realisation. "'RORO! GET DOWN!"
Without having to ask why she followed his lead, ducking below once more. It seemed it was opportunely timed as she dared to open her eyes and look up, just in time to see three furious red balls of fire rip across the surface, emanating from the mouths of the revered jungle cats. Once the flames had gone they shot back up, wiping the water from their face, both coughing this time.
"At leas' we know we ain't gon' freeze t' death down 'ere."
The quip won him no favour. "Have you got anything or not?" She was beginning to feel pretty crowded in here.
"Wait a minu'e...I migh'...yes!" He exclaimed, pulling his hands back up from the water Remy revealed two solid steel spikes. He threw them over to Ororo, "It gon' be a struggle but it's de best I can do chère. Yo' go firs' den chuck 'em back down."
Storm gripped the two cold lengths of steel; fat at their tops until they narrowed down to a harp, hard point. Holding them firmly in her hands she inquired. "And what if you miss them?"
"Yo' doubtin' mah ability t' catch?" He pretended to be offended to which she simply smiled as she glided past her companion until she met with the wall at his back, opposite the flaming heads. She then dug the spikes into the moisture swelled bricks with a determine plunge. Thankfully they cut the surface easily enough, the warm water having softened the stones somewhat.
"Hurk!" Ororo exhaled harshly as she heaved herself up; digging in the first spike into the black, soft wall, quickly followed by the second one. This was going to be pain staking work, the task not helped by the extra weight saturating her clothes and filling her boots. "Huurrrck!" She planted the first spike higher; at first struggling to yank it from the wall, only to drive it in just as deep with the third strike. By just an inch or two, she lifted herself from the water.
*
An hour or so later...
They walked up the broad curve; now confident in their approach after no more signs of imminent danger. But after their first encounter with ancient trickery they had still taken pains to be ultra cautious, studiously avoiding all other booby-traps; Remy still rather peeved at falling, no pun intended, into such an obvious trap---he wasn't called a Master Thief for nothing. It had taken them half-an-hour or so to get out of that pit, exhausting them even further before they had even begun to face the true 'delights' of what this place held in store for them. Their clothes had only just started to dry out.
As they walked along the passage way they were at least guided by a modicum of light spilling in from the arched ceiling, letting them know that they were at least close to the top of the temple; having had to find their way though most of the spiralling maze, that twisted like the city did, in the dark. The walk had been more-or-less silent; partly due to concentration and partly avoidance. They had so far encountered no more of the ashen corpses that littered the rest of the city and nor had they heard or seen any evidence that the tribe of protectors had somehow contrived to gain entrance and were following them. As they passed through smooth stone thorough-fares, lined with gigantic circular columns that were adorned with the nameless deities of a long forgotten race, each was lost in the annals of their own personal worlds. Minds winding around past and present situations.
Ororo pressed her hand lightly along the gentle swerve of an animal's body as it wound around on of the columns on her way past it. The texture as smooth as the day it was carved; the large cat contorted into an improbable dance of reverie, its long protruding tongue a lashing tendril, its eyes--- wild staring orbs. She wondered as her fingers fell from the tip, what noble peoples had resided here and created such brilliance. What inspired them to construct such beauty and what brought them to their premature end? The answer seemed worryingly obvious. Whatever it was that was kept here, surely it was secluded, at obvious pains, for a reason. The attacks they had suffered on two occasions in the past twenty-four hours now began suddenly to make more sense to her as she thought about it. They simply didn't want them here not so much because they were intruding but moreover because they couldn't risk letting outsiders getting their hands on the Carcoccia. Tantie Mattie was right---whatever it was had such awesome power that it would be disastrous for anyone to possess it.
"Remy?"
"Oui?"
Ororo stopped and waited patiently for him to do so. A couple of yards past her he eventually did, half turning towards her as he rubbed his forearm over across his forehead---the heat catching up with him only when he stood still. But it was accompanied by an odd feeling that had been building in him the further they'd travelled into the heart of the temple. Endlessly around and around. "Qu'est-ce que c'est, mon chère?"
"I do not think we should do this," She shook her head regretfully, "I know I agreed no matter what but this thing---we have seen what it can do."
He turned to her fully, "We don' know fo' sure---." He started, doing an about-turn on what he practically admitted earlier in agreeing with her fears.
"Do not be so naive Remy," She cut in sternly, "Of course we do. We have seen this kind of thing enough times in our lives to know. There are certain forces in this world that should be left alone. Beings and objects that have powers for whatever reason that should not be exercised or twisted to the perverted wills of others. For when they are the results can be...catastrophic." She searched his hard set face for any response to reason but found none. "We have no right to disturb what has been dormant for an age."
Remy came towards her, still no evidence of yielding in his manner. Stopping just half a foot or so away from her in a shaft of dark blue that came from above, making the shadows deep and his eyes black, he said. "Non' we don'---but yo' t'ink if we don' do dis then it gon' be safe?" He didn't wait for an answer. "Tell me---whose de one bein' naive? If we leave 'ere now, dey'll jus' send someone else. Now dey've got de scent, dey'll stop at nuhddin to get dere hands on it---don' yo' see dat?"
"We could---."
"We could what?" He surprised her slightly with the ire in his voice as he cut across her. Surprised himself a little too if truth be told. Continuing somewhat more calmly, he said, "When de Guild wants somet'in' dis bad it gon' take mo'e dan a disapproving school teacher to stop dem." He raised an eyebrow at her and gave her a lop-sided smile. "We gotta get dis---if it only means dat we stop some uddah prick wit' less respect from gettin' hold o' it."
Ororo threw her head back slightly and uttered an incredulous laugh, "But do you not see Remy," Her head fell back down and she fixed him with serious eyes. "That is exactly who will get hold of it---right when we deliver it into their hands. Willingly." She moved, walking past him, prompting him to turn with her progress around him "Can you live with that on your conscience?"
"Remy's lived wit' a lot worse petite." He said quickly and instantly regretted it. But before Storm had time to reproach him for it, he said, "Besides---who say's dey will?"
Ororo looked confused for a moment before the expression turned to curiosity. "What are you planning LeBeau?" She asked with an uncertain smile as she began to move backwards, carrying on along the wide corridor. The mysteries of the way his mind worked at times would never be fully open to her she was sure. But then again that was always apart of his allure. Was that what was worrying her? The fact that there were dark corners of his head and heart that she doubted anyone would be able to reach. Even her?
His face became unreadable once more, with that trade mark wicked grin, almost lost beneath the growth that was almost counting for a full on beard in the current dimness. "Watch dis space chère, dat's all I'm sayin'." He replied intentionally cryptically. "De Gambit's always got an' ace up 'is sleeve."
"You can be so infuriating at times," She laughed, still edging carefully backwards as she talked to him, "Do you know that? Completely infuriating."
"Oui---an' don' yo' jus' love it?" Again with the exasperating yet endearing arrogance. She rolled her eyes at him and was about to turn around, never breaking her step, when suddenly--- "Wait!" Remy's warning did not come in time as she felt her boot brush against something on the floor, snagging against the back of her foot. But it was too late to do anything about it. All at once Remy dived towards her knocking her to the ground as on either side of them long sharp wooden spikes shot from concealed spaces in the walls and pillars; long enough to interlock with each other; the jagged, gnarly teeth of a shark.
Remy eventually lifted his head up a little from Ororo's shoulder; his arms wrapped about her protectively as his body sprawled over hers. He couldn't lift it very far though; a spear stretched out an inch or two above his neck not allowing him to. Never-the-less he was able to turn to his left and right, checking to see just how pinned to the spot they were. He looked down at the ground by their feet; the incredibly thin length of rope that had been very close to the stone ground, sagged after being triggered.
"Trip wires an' 'idden spears. Hmph!---I give dem five outta ten fo' originality. Eight fo' execution." He looked down at Ororo, his face directly above hers as she lay beneath him, her arms about his bare back. "An' ten outta ten t' yo' fo' stupidity an' no' payin' attention, hien?"
"If you are so bright, then why did you not see the wire before I tripped it and not during?" She countered breathlessly, her heart still pounding. She could feel his too---beating in time with each other as their bodies pressed together.
"Nobodies perfect."
"Remy LeBeau---the things you will do to get a woman on her back." Storm sighed in mock chastisement, making Remy chuckle huskily---suddenly more conscious of the fact that he was laid between her legs. A creaking noise began above them and they both tore their eyes away to look up at the spikes slowly receding back into their concealment. As soon as enough space had been cleared Remy pushed back onto his knees and then took hold of Ororo's hands, pulling them both up to their feet.
He reached out and caught hold of her chin, clasping it lightly, tipping it slightly. "Eyes open from now one, hien?" He told her, almost softly.
Ororo's eyes searched over his face, looking for what, she did not know. "Yes." She replied simply as he let go of her and moved on. She stood for a moment, the heat from his hands still on her skin. The palms of her hands too she realised, buzzed with the same heat, where they had lain over the taut expanse of his back. She looked down at them and then back up at him as he carried on alone the curving path of the corridor---he was burning up and it wasn't as if the temperature of the air was all that sultry anymore as night time settled outside. Or maybe it was just her not being able to feel it anymore.
*
"We gotta be close t' de centre." Remy said as they came to a stop in front of the first doorway they'd encountered in the entire place. The whole temple had been constructed like some kind of mammoth helter-skelter--- nothing more than a huge elaborate spiral; a tower with one purpose. "Dis mus' be it."
This part of the temple was completely cylindrical, not sloping like the rest; it had levelled itself out. All around on the outer walls were eyelet slits, only large enough to admit the passing of arrows. Remy walked over to one of them, peering through it with one eye close as if sneaking a look through a key hole. They were high up, extremely high; apart from the clear starry night sky he could see all over the city, noting that there was no sign of life down there anymore, and out of the dipping volcano top that cradled it so protectively; the dark expanse of forest painted beneath a canvas of sky. As he turned back around he tried to swallow down; his saliva thick and too sticky to glide down easily and all water they'd had had been used up long ago now. If he admitted it to himself he felt like shit, he really did and it had been getting worse the higher they'd travelled. The blood in his veins fairly bubbled. He leant back against the wall, closing his eyes for a moment after he'd checked Ororo wasn't looking- --he didn't want to concern her.
Storm was busy getting a feel of the place. She came close to the tall door that was set into two arching columns, the like of which characterised the whole place. Coming close to them she held her outstretched palms not an inch away from the door, moving them up and down like she was feeling for something. Her intuitions could sometimes feel the innate forces of nature that extended outside of the weather; all life connected with invisible strings, earth's personal rhythm. After a while she began to sense a tremendous natural force; tumultuous and powerful---like fire. Her fingers crackled and sparked in response. She withdrew them, taking a step or two back.
By now Remy had come back to her side. "So what yo' t'ink chère?" He asked as he ran a careful eye over the door and then turned to Ororo, "We in or are we in?"
The familiar white mist consumed her eyes as she stepped back even more, almost as far as she could before the wall stopped her. "We are in." She said as she raised her hands, bringing them together above her head until her palms were about an inch above apart. A growing wind that she did not intend to create inadvertently began to fill the space as a small ball of white light, fizzing with electric blue tendrils came into being between her hands. It grew and it grew until it consumed her hands; a bright orb binding them together. Suddenly throwing her hands forwards, Storm catapulted the ball of raw electrical power at the door, smashing it to pieces instantly and what wasn't destroyed by the initial blast soon burnt away to nothing.
They walked towards it, clearing the smoke left behind with flailing arms, going through the opening without hesitation.
"I don' goddamn believe it." Remy growled. There was nothing there. It was simply a vast, round empty room. But it was absolutely scorching---like a sauna put on the highest setting. This must have been where it was coming from, he thought, like a central furnace.
The pair walked further in, one going to the left the other to the right. The only distinguishing features about the room where two appendages that looked like rounded stone bolts, set exactly half-way around the room on either side, above which flames burned in a small port in the wall, throwing their orange glow across the room. The only other thing in there was another doorway, directly opposite the one they had come in so that each feature in the room divided it into quarters like the points on a Celtic-cross. But this second door was not blocked with an easily surmountable gateway like the other one but was modelled after the main one at the temples entrance; a solid slab blocking their path.
"Jus' when yo' t'ink yo' got t' de end o' de puzzle." Remy remarked more wearily than in humour as he placed his hand on the bolts rough surface.
Ororo checked over the other one in a similar manner, but her mind was still wondering about this force she could still feel; a red hot torrent. "Where is it coming from?" She asked softly to herself.
Remy heard her. "De floor." He said, gazing down at it and tapping his boot a couple of times against the hard ground. The heat was so strong that he could feel it even through the thick, tough soles. This must have been what was making him feel increasingly out of sorts, he was absolutely positive now.
Ororo took her attentions from the bolt and crouched to the ground. He was right; it was coming from down there, she could sense it clearly now--- deep, deep down beneath their feet. Tentatively she touched her hand to the ground, just her finger tips. She pulled in a quick harsh breath through her teeth more in shock than in pain as she whipped her hand away; the floor was like a bed of burning hot coals. Quickly she stood back up.
"Where do'y t'ink it comin' from?"
Ororo simply shook her head but she had an idea---a fairly unpleasant idea. Surely they would have...no, there was no way a city would have been built here if it was still active? Surely...
Remy turned back to the bolt, trying to suss it without having to disturb it. "I t'ink dere like keys or somet'in'." He guessed as he looked over to the one that Ororo was near and then back to his, running his thumb over the engraving in its centre of a mysterious symbol.
"So if we turn them?" She studied the one on hers too but it offered absolutely no clue---just a nonsensical squiggle to an outsiders such as they were.
"The door should open---dat's de t'eory anyway." He finished and then his eyebrows knitted together. "But we can't be certain dat it ain't anuddah trap. Mebbe dey both need t' be moved at de same time---mebbe only one needs t' be turned. But which one, hien?"
"You tell me Monsieur Voleur de Maitre."
Remy winked at her over his shoulder, "Dere's only one way t' find out chère," He grinned and then turned back to the bolt, getting a firm hold of it as it roughly filled his palm, "Trial an' error---an' pray dat dere won't be too much error." His fingers gripped on it tighter, "If I turn dis an' nuhddin' 'appens, den yo' twist yaws, comprendre?"
"Alright." Ororo somewhat reluctantly agreed as she went back to her bolt, taking hold of it, ready. "But if something does happen?" She asked suddenly just as he was limbering up to turn it.
"Den dat depend."
"On what?"
"On wedduh it be good or uddahwise." He laughed, but it faltered a little, "Well--- 'ere goes." Remy grabbed it as firmly as he could, readjusting his grip slightly to account for the moisture on his uncovered finger and then began to turn it with all of his strength. It didn't budge initially; his teeth clenched as he strained against it. But finally the Cajun felt something give; the rumbling grind of stone against stone, vibrating through his hand. Ever-so-slowly, he moved it, anti-clockwise. The noise it gave off was deep and rather ominous as it gradually began to twist more freely the further he pushed it but that was quickly forgotten as it began to work. Both turned to look at the doorway, the light coloured slab moving upwards in accordance with its model far below. Remy laughed again but it was with relief this time as the slab raised higher and higher and higher... "It workin' chère."
One could say the wayward X-Man was tempting fate or perhaps that he simply spoke too soon as the final section of the slab disappeared up into the wall, instantly drawing in both bolts at the same time. Ororo reacted swifter than her companion on this occasion; letting go of the chunky knob before it dragged her hand into the black hole. But Remy didn't have as much time to gain his wits; once the bolt had plunged back into its deep setting a clamp of sorts closed around it, trapping Remy's forearm an inch or two past the wrist.
"Huuuurrr-AH!" Instinct reaction was for him to pull, but even as he was doing it he knew the action was futile and would probably only serve to make the contraption tighten around his arm, like a Chinese finger trap. That was page one crap---he really was acting like an amateur at the moment.
Ororo was at his side in shot, only having narrowly avoided the same fate. "Goddess---Remy!" She frantically ran her hand around the closure about his arm, looking from something, anything, "What can I do?!"
"Fo' a start yo' can calm down." He gave her an odd look, "What's wrong wit' yo' girl? It not like yo' t' get so twitchy." For a moment he tried to feel about the inside with his trapped hand, remembering everything he'd been taught, all that training, stored safely his mind after the years of putting it into practice. But there was nothing he could get his hands on, no facet of the mechanism inside that he could trip; his long fingers reaching out into nothing but space.
"What can I do?" She asked again, having regained some of her composure; he was right, it wasn't like her to panic so, but she'd been doing it more and more as the days had past. Being scared for the safety of a teammate and a friend was one thing, but what if they were more than that? Was he beginning to mean more to her than that?...
"Jus' wait---we gotta t'ink 'bout dis rationally. De trap works like a shutter, so if I pull it jus' gon' get tighter. But pushin' won' help edduh, I can'---."
*DDDDUUUUUBBBRRRRRRRRKRKKRK!!!* The floor began to rumble and then the walls around them. Whatever was latent having been sprung into life by their actions. At first slim jets of thick white steam began to rise from the minute cracks and unseen crevasses in between the twisting slabs that made up the floor as the noise became louder and louder and the tremors more violent in their nature.
"Okay---so now yo' can panic." Remy deadpanned to her over the veritable earthquake volume noise. The shaking became so bad that Storm was having trouble staying on her feet. To their total horror they could only look on as the first stone in the centre of the floor fell away, a hot red light shinning up through it like a torch. It became terrifying and glaringly obvious then what this temple was---Ororo suspicions and fears realised. It had been built, for whatever reason, like a flume above what was still very much an active volcano. More pieces of the floor began to fall away, from the centre outwards.
Instantly Ororo grabbed for his arm, feeling around the edge of the stone that had it held fast. There had to be something here, she reasoned with herself, forcing a calm over herself.
"Go Stormy!" Remy implored her, he had no idea what was about to happen to him, how he'd get himself out of this one, but he didn't want her in the firing line, as it were. "Get yo'self outta 'ere now!"
"No." She cried back sternly as the room began to fill with the toxic heat and fumes from the raging lava below. They both coughed furiously as the acid air burned down their throats. "I am *gaack—cough!* I am not going without you." She shouted definitely. The floor continued to cave, picking up momentum, a sudden larger blast from below throwing them both off balance; Remy falling back against the wall, all his weight hanging on his arm, almost breaking his collar bone with the unexpected jolt, making him wince silently. Ororo fell backwards but quickly regained her footing, clamouring quickly back over to him. As she came near to him her smoke- reddened eyes couldn't hide the note of fear in their glassy reflection. Not at all for herself, she could die a thousand deaths, but all for him.
When she was at his side once more, Remy took hold of her with his left hand, holding the side of her head somewhat roughly but only to make her look him in the eyes and see his seriousness. Red irises burned with all the need and love he felt for her, everything she'd meant to him over the years and perhaps everything she could have meant if only they'd had the chance---but it was looking like that wasn't on the cards for them anymore.
"Ororo." He never called her that, "Listen t' me---yo've gotta go, or nedduh of us are gettin outta 'ere. If dis is de end fo' me den so be it--- but I'm not gonna take yo' wit' me, yo' hear! Don' make me responsible fo' dat!" He ran his thumb over her cheek, his fingers closing around the back of her head, sinking into her hair, feeling its softness perhaps for the last time. The thought almost killed him inside... "Please.." He pleaded.
Ororo squeezed her eyes shut, rare tears that she could no longer pretend were not within her spilled from the corners tracing clear track through the fine layer of dirty soot type dust that was being to cover both of them. She shook her head vigorously, "No Remy---I will not give up. I can not leave you here!"
Remy released his hold on her, almost pushing her from him as he did so. "Damn it 'Roro!" He spat out furiously, probably the most vitriolic she'd ever heard him in her life. "Get out---NOW!"
"I can not!" Half the floor had gone now and the heat was unbearable; red and orange plumes spitting up dangerously.
"Fine!" If she wouldn't go without him, Remy surmised that he only had one option left. He suddenly grabbed at something on his belt; Ororo stepped back as he drew it up. It was his machete. Gripping it awkwardly in his left hand, he laid it as close to the end of his right arm as could, near to where the wall had claimed it.
Ororo gasped in shock, stopping just short of covering her mouth in horror, "You can not!"
"I ain't got all dat much choice chère. If yo' can t'ink o' somet'in bedduh, feel free t' let me know. Anytime 'bout now will do." He turned from her, unable to stand it anymore; angry at her for refusing to leave him, even angrier at himself for putting her here. This wasn't about saving the world or anything else she would gladly give her life for, this was his stupidity and nothing more. He took in a deep breath, the fumes stinging, clenched his jaw and drew the blade back. The sweat poured as he readied himself; his whole body as tight as a drum. Clammy finger assured their grip on the black plastic of the handle and he closed his eyes. The blade rushed down.
"Wait!" Ororo caught his arm halfway down---the gravity of the situation pushing her mind into overdrive, forcing her to get a grip. An old trick of Achmed's remembered---all she needed was something small.
"It de only way 'Ro---let go o' mah fuckin' arm!" He growled before sparing a glance at the ground, there was only a thin layer left, three or four bricks wide, circling around the edge of the room, the rest a hell-like gulf---spitting fire-and-brimstone and all.
"I think I can trip it open." She fell to her knees, rifling through his pockets to see if there was anything left. "All I need is something small." Bits of metal fell to the floor but nothing that was small enough to be of any use. But as she bent down further into the lowest pocket something tapped again and again at the under side of her chin.
Of course!
Quickly Ororo got back to her feet and as she did so she took hold of the precious sapphire about her neck, still there on its thin chain after everything. With one yank she ripped it off, the links burning against her skin, taking some of it away as they dragged around. "This should do it--- just hold still." She blinked her eyes, clearing the stinging from the smoke as she took hold of his arm with her left hand and then pushed the tiny blue nugget in between his arm and the edge of the stone that surrounded it.
Remy held his breath, his face set in a determine grimace as Ororo dug the gem in, almost burrowing it into his arm, making him clench his hidden hand into a fist as blood poured from the wound it had made. He could feel it shaking on the other side with tension as the jagged sapphire was pushed deeper and deeper. Although he was sure this pain was preferable to the other.
"Ggggrrrrrrrrr---ahhh!" With a grinding noise the hole loosened slowly, the binding slats opening up and at last his arm was free.
But there was no time for jubilation, the ground was down to the last two layers and the door was half a room away. "C'mon!" He grabbed Ororo's hand and they ran---they ran faster than they had ever ran in their lives, still only keeping one foot fall ahead of the falling bricks as the last of the floor gave up its resistance. They were almost there, almost to safety--- Remy's heart raced as with one last giant bound he made for the doorway, pulling Storm with him. But as he leapt for it he suddenly felt a force tugging back. His free hand just about managed to grab hold of the column before he was pulled back completely, giving him enough leverage to hook his foot around it too, getting through the thresh-hold. But he was only halfway in and struggling to hold on at that.
"AHH!" The floor had fallen from underneath Ororo and she was now hanging from Remy's left arm, dangling perilously above oblivion as molten rock and flames licked and raged beneath her.
-TBC-
Hehe..aren't I a rotter! Promise I'll be as quick as I can with the next update and reviews get me writing twice as fast!